Cornelius-once called Cronos, and later Chronos; the sole surviving Titan in the Middle Realms; Ph.D. from MIT with degrees in computer science, political engineering, and theoretical physics; and Professor Emeritus of Stanford University-sat in the lotus position staring into the depths of the program running on his tablet computer. . traces of red and blue chaos that looked much like a butterfly in flight. He had missed the last Council meeting in order to implement the last lines of code. It had been worth the time and effort, though; it would give him a glimpse of their future.
Audrey would have called it “unscrambling a tangle in the weave of Fate.”
He called it meticulous programming and multivariate transcendental calculus.
He looked up, resting his old eyes, and taking in where he was (for sometimes he became so absorbed in the mathematics of the thing. . that he forgot what precisely that “thing” was).
Had he a map he could have pointed to the Aegean Sea, between modern-day Greece and Turkey. A place once called Ieiunium Aequora or “Hungry Water” by Byzantine sailors for all the ships that entered the region vanished.
Today no such thing occurred. It was just another stretch of water among a million other stretches of similar waters. . with a tiny rock of an island.
Millennia ago, however, that rock had been the high point of an archipelago upon which sat the grand city- state of Altium, grandest city of Atlantis. It had perched upon its hills like a bejeweled crown.
Under dark water, and accessible only through a submerged cavern guarded by beasts of mechanical construct, the city lay buried and sleeping.
In grottoes and forever in shadows were palaces, streets, gold-paved plazas, statues of heroes and gods and Titans and the mighty things that came before them; libraries with mountains of moldering scrolls; paintings that showed earthly paradises, battles among races that no longer lived, and portraits of the most beautiful men and women who ever existed-now all so faded, one could barely see a glimmer of their glory. It made him sad to think of how all was lost to Time.
Among this decaying splendor was the temple where Cornelius now sat, whose central domed chamber was held aloft by ivory mammoth tusks and columns of cracked crystal, and whose floors was paved with turquoise and lapis and jade.
This was the Chamber of Whispers, where Zeus had hatched his plan to overthrow the Titans.
Cornelius shifted on the uncomfortable stone bench, and rearranged the Dodger Stadium seat cushion he’d brought along with him.
Much better.
Within this chamber, holding the Council’s most precious secrets, was the Vault Eternal. The mad genius and master mechanic, Daedalus, had fashioned it to be impenetrable, with locks so intricate that even after a thousand years of study, Cornelius had only a hint of how it worked. To open it required three keys and three combinations simultaneously applied.
Proof against any thief.
One of the three keys was held by him.
Another key was held by Lucia, who had perched on the bench to his left.
She had toweled off from her recent swim through the entrance and had slipped into a set of ordinary sweats. Even in the gray cotton she looked elegant. Women had talents that eluded his scientific senses. . and he appreciated that.
Lucia was wise, but always competing with the beauty of her younger sister, the ferocity of her older sister, and with herself (never quite perfect enough to live up to her impossible standards).
“
Gilbert sat opposite them. He glanced at his watch as if expecting someone to show (and indeed this was a possibility), but the deep worry on his face was something Cornelius had never seen on the Once King.
Kino sat on Cornelius’s right and wore black slacks and white shirt. He and Cornelius had come here together in Gilbert’s submersible. It had been a quiet, unpleasant journey.
Aaron stood apart from them, still dripping in his EVERLAST trunks, his chest hair plastered to his muscular chest.
Henry was missing.
In absentia also was Dallas-called before the Council by special summons. Her tardiness would no doubt be an excuse for Lucia to try to punish the girl.
No surprise, really, that neither had showed. It was not in their natures to respond to authority.
Audrey, however, had also failed to arrive. . and she was never late or shirked her responsibilities once she accepted them. It was a dark omen.
“I suppose we have a quorum,” Gilbert admitted, and glanced again at his watch.
“Have we all seen Fiona’s e-mail?” Lucia asked.
They nodded. Cornelius opened the document on his computer.
Fiona’s e-mail was a pledge to help the Immortals defend themselves from “the looming threat of Infernal machinations and incursions into our world” as well as a plea to help her find new leadership to stop this threat.
“I’m enormously pleased with this development,” Lucia said. “Fiona has matured far beyond my expectations. We need to bring her onto the Council; perhaps some sort of internship?”
“She is a child still,” Gilbert protested.
“Hardly,” Aaron muttered. “She has fought and won a war in Hell! What more proof do you need for abilities?”
“Of her abilities?” Kino said. “None.” He made a sideways slash with his hand. “But she is barely a woman and in desperate need of our guidance.”
“Yes, guidance,” Lucia said. “Which brings me to the other matter, one our spies in the Lower Realms have brought to our attention. Eliot.”
Kino stood. “The boy is now a landed Infernal Lord who is also half Immortal. This is a disaster! His powers will grow beyond our measure, and his mind will warp until it is evil.”
Aaron shook his head. “I don’t believe that. Not Eliot.”
Gilbert looked uncomfortable between the two men, and he stood as well. “I do not wish to discuss Audrey’s children if she is not here.”
“There is no discussion necessary,” Lucia told them. She got to her feet, and her cheeks flushed. “This has already been decided, last year-for just such a contingency. You all put your mark to the document, even you, Gilbert! Do not evade responsibility when it becomes difficult.”
They stood in silence (save Cornelius, who remained seated in silence). They knew exactly what she was talking about.
Last year when they had proclaimed Fiona a young goddess and Eliot a hero within the League, the Council had feared this very thing: one or both of the children’s Infernal sides would call to them, and they would succumb to its temptations.
Each Council member had signed a Warrant of Death so action could be taken without delay. All that remained was for Lucia to fill in the date and the document became binding. . and every one of the League’s members would be compelled to find and destroy Eliot.
Cornelius rubbed his hands to ease the arthritic ache within his bones.
In truth, his loyalties were conflicted, for he liked Eliot and Fiona. There were grandchildren to him. . at least, that was how he had begun to think of them.
His own children were lost. Zeus had met his fate. No one had seen him since Ultima Thule, and Cornelius knew in his heart he was dead. Poseidon had taken his own life in a flash of light, and his ashes were now scattered across the seas he so loved. And Kino? The Lord of Death was so far from the child Cornelius had reared, he might as well be dead to him.
He sighed.
Violence was no stranger to
