by E J Pay
Gileaus and Namaah and I have all been moved to the upper rooms of the fortress. Their physical wounds are healing, but their emotional wounds are leaving the bigger scars. As promised, Abraxas has stopped using the power of the jade on Gileaus. But Gileaus has not returned to who he was a year ago. He has seen too much, heard too much, been through too much. A life with me is harder to bear than he thought it would be. He is distant from me when we are together. The only thing he ever says is, “I’m sorry.” I don’t know how much longer I can listen to him saying that to me.
Namaah returns to serving me as soon as she is able. The cut Demetrius made on her cheek is scarring now, a near-perfect match to the scar on the other side. We have stopped most of our communication for now. Both of us wanting to protect the other. I let her care for me and serve me. I feel overwhelming guilt sometimes and I cry the entire time she tends to my needs. But she is quiet and calm. She wraps her arms around me and pats my hair. Once a tear fell from her face onto my robes. We held each other tighter then.
But I have a deal with Abraxas. Whatever the future holds for those I love most, it is only getting better as I do what he asks of me. So, plans are made, travel arrangements are paid for, and we head east to Atlantis. Gileaus has room on the wagons and ship near me. We try to talk to one another, but too much guilt and fear live between us. I don’t know if we will ever be able to love each other as we used to. We have been broken by the evils Abraxas has placed on us. If I ever find a way to exact revenge for our sufferings, I will do it. For now, I just want to keep us alive and safe.
After a week of dusty land travel and another two by sea, I hear the clarion call, “There she is! There she is! Atlantis straight ahead!” There is bustling all around me as the crewmen man their posts and prepare to dock. I am drawn to the bow of the ship, eager to see this city in its glory.
Atlantis is a strange island. Years of building have made it a network of ringed land and moats. If I could see Atlantis from above, it would look like a massive target. The land and moat rings furthest from center are largest, each circle shrinking in width until the center island is reached. A giant canal drives through the rings, allowing boats to move between the layers of the island city.
As we pull close to the first band of the island, my mouth falls open. There is an enormous wall made of fiery red stone surrounding it. The top of the wall is shining brass, bolted securely to the rock beneath. I learn from the ship’s sailors that the stone walls of each land ring were quarried from the moats. These strange red walls came from the depths of the island itself. Our ship pulls into the Atlantean canal and we wait before enormous gates. The gates are nearly 50 feet high and made of wood and iron. They are decorated with the same brass that rests on the top of the wall. Sentinels stand guard in towers built above the gates. They saw us coming long before our own ship saw their shores.
I feel a hand brushing mine. I turn to see who is at my side. It is Namaah. Tears stream down her cheeks. The beauty of what stands before us is more than she or I ever imagined possible. I turn my attention back to the gates and the gilded sign that announces the city. The sign is made of a black stone and is covered in precious metals. Etched into the stone is one word.
Atlantis
I shudder from head to toe. I have seen this sign before. Whether in dream or in memory, I do not know, but the feeling is overwhelming. I ache inside. I sink to my knees and let my tears flow. Namaah rests her hand on my shoulder, her eyes still on the gates before us. There is a burning in my chest, a yearning for something beyond those gates. I reach my hand to my chest and grasp my hamsa medallion. It burns in my hand. As my fingers brush the black pearl resting in its palm, I see flashes of memory. Large fish with people on their backs. People who are only half human. An octopus with the face of a woman. They call to me like an ancient world reaching into my soul. Are they here? Are they close? Can I reach them?
There is a loud moaning as the gates open for us to pass through. I cannot keep my eyes open long enough. Blinking is an obstacle I would remove if I could. As we pass through the opposite sides of the gate, I see homes and shops, not unlike those in Argos and Sparta. People here mill about, going about their daily business. Few look up when they see the diplomatic colors raised on our ship. They are unimpressed. Ships like ours pass through daily in Atlantis. I allow my eyes and mind to rest for a moment so I can take in the view of the city around me. I stand and move to the side of the ship, Namaah follows.
As I look upon the life of this first ring of the island, I see a lower class of people. Everyone here is a tradesman, a servant, a merchant, or a soldier. There is no nobility here. Tall buildings that house the families are kept clean, but in some disrepair. A few workmen are arguing over how to properly repair a roof they are standing on. Several groups of children are playing together near the edge of the canal, throwing sticks to see whose will travel fastest. There are women gossiping nearby as they wash the fine clothing of their masters. There are also dilapidated buildings on the far edge of the ring where the very poor have made their home. I recognize the signs of poverty in their dirty clothing and thin, drawn faces. Sticks with fabric draped over them build the homes of the most deprived. Sickness grows among them.
It takes only half an hour to clear the outer layer of the island. Our ship is in a new ring of water, facing a new wall. But this wall is not red, it is white. It is clean and pure before us, unblemished by the poverty growing in its sister. It is taller than the first wall and is topped with tin that has images of Greek gods etched into its glistening surface. We stop once more at another gate guarded by large towers and guards. This gate is made of the same wood as the first but has both brass and tin decorating its surface. There is no sign to introduce us this time, so I keep my eyes and ears open. Some of the crew come to join Namaah and me at the edge of the boat.
As we pass through this second series of gates, we enter into the part of Atlantis where the government is run. The buildings are all clean and large. Columns and marble decorate every edifice. There are signs labeling each of the buildings and their purpose. In the distance, I see the shape of the hospital. A small cry escapes my lips and I cover my mouth. In my memory I see a woman with dark hair and eyes, leaning over me while I am tied to a bed. “If you are going to save this world, my love, we had better cut you loose,” she says. Her words and voice echo in my mind. My heart burns and I would give anything to see her again. But a memory is all it is. The ship moves on and soon we are out of the second band of Atlantis. My knees are weak and my heart is heavy. I lower my eyes to the streets and see men, politicians, walking this way and that. Some are talking to one another, some are whispering. Many more look up when they see our ship’s flag. Several wave as Abraxas calls out greetings from the prow of the ship.
The ship slows even more as we approach the third wall. This wall is the most ornate of the three. Gigantic black stones with white grains raise it to a height that exceeds the other two walls. This wall is topped with a copper-gold metal, orichalcum, one of the crewmates tells me. The metal is studded with jewels and stones. Merchant ships line the ring around this section of the city, bringing their goods directly to the privileged. Several small openings in the wall allow for these goods to be carried to their destination. The gates here are decorated by the metals of all the Atlantean walls. They, too, are covered in gems and stones. As these doors swing open, a cool breeze blows through my hair.
You are so near, it says to me. I am startled at first by the communication. I usually initiate conversation with the elements.
Please, I say in a hum, what is it that I am so near to?
Could she really not know? Has she forgotten? What does it matter if she has? She is here now. The wind’s many voices speak to each other before the mother-voice combines to address me again.
You are here to fulfill your destiny, she tells me.
What is my destiny? I don’t remember anymore.
Worry not, my child. We will
remember for you for we are always here. When the time arrives, we will help you.
There is a sudden rushing of the wind that swirls around me. The burning that has been growing in my pearl is cooled and calmed and the air grows still. All around me, crewmen are straightening their robes and scarves that were scattered by the wind. A few are chasing supplies that tipped over. None of the crew noticed me speaking to the wind. But Namaah did. She brushes a few loose strands from her face and takes my hand. There is so much she tells me in that touch. She knows I can communicate with the elements. She knows the air around us is our ally. She will be there to help me with anything I need. I squeeze her hand in acknowledgement of all she intends and all she means to me. Together, we turn to the inner ring of Atlantis.
This portion of the island is reserved for the elite. Politicians, wealthy merchants, and heirs to vast estates elsewhere in Greece make their home here in this city. All of the buildings are marble-clad homes. Columns and spires, statues, mosaics and murals cover their walls. Gardens abound here. It feels like the Garden of Eden is trying to grow in every corner it can find. Fruit trees and beautiful flowering bushes line the streets and walkways. Women in fine robes, jewels dripping from their necks, walk idly by, talking to one another or staring serenely into the distance. Servants wearing finer clothing than I am used to seeing on this class, run about managing the affairs of their masters’ homes. There are even pets in this area of Atlantis. The few children here are playing with small dogs. I see one woman wearing a snake as though it were a necklace.
Our ship slows and I turn my face from the view. Namaah lets go of my hand when I turn away. Gileaus is behind me and then we are face to face. I pause for a moment, not used to being this close to him. He looks into my eyes for just a moment then reaches up to caress my face. He bends forward, kissing my lips so softly I have to lean in to feel it. When he pulls away, his eyes are glistening. My heart is racing and I have a thousand things to say to him. He brushes my hair from my face, staring deep into my eyes and heart.
“I love you, Athena,” he whispers in the space between us. “I always have. I’m sorry our lives have come to this.” There is something so final in the way he says it; like he knows something I do not. For him, the end is near. He can feel it. I wish I could push those feelings away for both of us.
“I love you, Gil,” I whisper in return.
“Will you forgive me for all the wrongs I have caused you?” he asks. The ship is buzzing with the movement of men carrying things to shore. But in this moment, there is just the two of us: just me and Gileaus.
“Always,” I whisper. “Gil, I know Abraxas was controlling you.” I reach for his hand. He shudders at my touch.
“I gave him room to enter in, Athena,” he whispers. “If I had not been filled with pride, had I not wished that I could have everything - you and power in this world - he could not have worked his magic in my heart. “But I want you to know his power is gone, Athena. I haven’t given him any more control over me.”
“I know.”
“But that isn’t all, Athena,” he continues. “My desire for power is gone. I have seen too much of the evil it can really do. There is so much evil in the pursuit of power and I have seen the worst of it. I cannot live that way, Athena. I don’t want that anymore.”
He reaches his hands to my cheeks one more time, taking hold of my face softly. He looks into my eyes, his own eyes a pitiful mess of sorrow and regret, and again lowers his lips to mine. This time the kiss is long and soft. We are lost in each other for several moments before some of the crew call out to taunt and tease us. But we do not part. We let them laugh. We let them call out. We are saying goodbye.
As Gileaus, my Gileaus, pulls away and lowers his hands to his side again, I feel like my heart is going to break. I am letting go of the man I love and he is letting go of me. I have a destiny to find. I don’t know where it will take me and I don’t know who it will hurt. This parting is painful, but it is necessary. Maybe in some way, Gileaus will be able to find a way to escape Abraxas and his cruelty. Maybe he will be able to lead a happy life away from the politics and wealth that bring so much sorrow. Maybe I will be able to find what I have been moving toward my entire life. Maybe I will be able to fulfill the purpose I was sent to fulfill. Maybe we will find meaning in all of this.
Chapter 39
We are staying in the home of a wealthy landowner here in Atlantis. From the information I have gathered, he is funding Abraxas’ rise to power. The room I am given overlooks the inner circle of Atlantis: the island of the temple. When I sleep, I dream of that temple. I ride the back of a fish. I head willingly toward something that calls to me. It isn’t long before that temple fills me with fear: fear of the unknown, fear of the unexpected, fear of failure. Eventually I embrace it and allow myself the chance to live and serve the people of Atlantis. I awake in a heavy sweat, my heart pounding through my chest. I look at the temple, glistening in the quiet moonlight. It calls to me, begging me to remember. Remember what?
I sit for hours each day, watching the temple gleaming across the water. It is domed and covered in plated gold. Priests of the god Poseidon are constantly working on it, cleaning its surface, and tending to the gardens surrounding it. I wonder what urged men to build it in the first place. I wonder what kind of power it holds that it brings me here. I wonder what weakness it suffers that it must be guarded by three rings of land.
I am lost in these thoughts today when there is a knock at my door. Namaah moves past our guard to answer it. I hear Abraxas before I turn to see him.
“Well, Pearl,” he says, “I hope you have been enjoying your stay in the city. Atlantis is the center of all that is good in the world.” I seriously doubt that considering my present company. “Have you been out to see the government center yet?” I turn slowly in my chair so I can see his face clearly.
“I haven’t been to see it,” I tell him. “I haven’t left my room since arriving.”
“That’s too bad,” he says with a hint of sarcasm. “You could have had your guards ask me if they could take you on a tour at any time.”
“I didn’t come here for a tour,” I say.
“Then why did you come, Pearl,” he asks. “You said you had your reasons. You said you had a devotion to the place because your father spoke of it when you were a child. If that is the case, why do you not take a chance to see it?”
I rise from my seat and move to the balcony. Abraxas follows.
“I cannot take my eyes off the temple,” I tell him. “Something about it is compelling to me. If I am going to tour any part of Atlantis, I want that to be it.”
“Perhaps we could arrange that for you,” he says. Sarcasm still laces his tone. “But I do have one treat in store for you tonight. In fact, it’s the reason I even brought you to Atlantis in the first place.” I almost allowed myself to forget that I have a job to do.
“And what is that?” I ask him. “Are you ready for me to sway your favorite politician?”
“Mmmmm…. Not exactly,” he answers. “I have something a little more exciting in store for you.”
“And what might that be?”
“Oh, I don’t think you need to worry over it right now, Pearl. How about you just wait until this evening? Namaah will be given everything you need to get ready.” He turns to my servant and friend. “How does that sound to you, Namaah? Can you make our Pearl into a ravishing beauty tonight?” Namaah bows her head to acknowledge the request. “Excellent,” Abraxas says. “I shall be by to gather you in a few hours.”
I watch as his purple figure leaves the room and heads toward his host. I can hear his footsteps echo down the hall like a ghost in an empty tomb. I shudder at the thought and turn my attention back to the temple.
Within fifteen minutes, there is a knock at the door. A servant woman is there with arms heavily laden with fine silks and linens. Another servant stands beside her with soaps and spices. Namaah allows the women in and they get to work
on lighting the fire under the copper tub in my room. One of the women drops a bucket over the balcony to collect water from below. The water is placed in the tub and she returns for more. After several rounds, the tub is finally filling and warm enough for me to get in. My guard moves from the room to wait outside while Namaah and the other servants tend to my bath.
I am bathed and dried, combed and covered in perfumes. My hair is done in elaborate curls and braids. I am given a gleaming white tunic and am covered in the red silk robes Abraxas brought for me. The edges of the robes are embroidered in gold and gold ropes are wound around my waist. The sandals I wear tonight are gold, white pearls decorating my ankles. Pearls, both black and white, drape around my neck and dangle from my ears. Pink and white pearls are pinned throughout my hair and ruby rings are placed on my fingers. Tonight I look the part of the cousin of an aristocrat.
Abraxas arrives to my room just as the sun is lowering over the horizon. I am backlit when he enters my room and I leave my seat at my balcony. The golden temple behind me reflects its brilliance around my silhouette. I can see the fiery light before me, my shadow walking in the midst.
“Pearl, you look perfect,” Abraxas says as he comes to greet me. He touches my arm and I restrain myself from shrinking away. I must have his trust.
“Thank you,” I reply. “Namaah does all of the magic.” Abraxas glances at Namaah, wondering if I mean my words literally. She bows slightly and he returns his attention to me. “When will I receive my instructions?” I ask.
“You must learn to enjoy yourself, Pearl,” he says. “You will know in good time what I expect of you. For now, let us enjoy the evening together.”
As we leave the room, I cast a single glance back to Namaah. She catches my eye and I motion toward the chair on the balcony. She bows slightly letting me know she understands. Under the embroidered cushion on the wicker seat is a small purse. Inside it is a strand of pearls. I was given so many to wear tonight, I allowed one to slip out of sight. The pearls are for her, for my Namaah. I have included a piece of parchment with the picture of a woman running on it. There is also a well-crafted letter of reference for her. If I cannot do what I am asked to do tonight, if I should fail or refuse, I want Namaah to be free from the punishment that would ensue. I want her to run, to buy herself a way out of this place and into the home of someone respectable. I’ll not have her suffer any more for my sake.