Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis

by E. J. Robinson

  The girl’s cockiness faded. “Next?”

  “Hadn’t thought that far ahead? In making your choice, you now force me to make one too. I can send you back, losing one of my people in the process, or we can take you along and pray you cause us no further trouble. Do you see the position you’ve put me in?”

  Nyx’s gaze shifted between Columbus and Elara. Then her lip started to tremble. Elara softened.

  “Every decision comes with consequences. You defied my wishes, the wishes of your captain, and you will be punished for it. Later. For now, you may come with us, but only if you promise to do as you’re told.”

  Nyx gave a curt nod. Anything else might let loose the tears brimming in her eyes, which would have been humiliating. Still, it wasn’t enough for Elara.

  “To an Atlantean, a promise is the greatest gift we can offer another. It means we place our name, our worth, and our belief in another’s hands. Do you understand?”

  This time Nyx verbally agreed. Satisfied, Elara told her team to continue. Nyx sulked along behind them.

  “Apologies, Princess,” Columbus said. “I don’t know what she was thinking.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? She seeks your approval.”

  “My approval? The girl doesn’t care what I think. She’s hard-headed and believes she has an answer for everything.”

  Elara smiled. “Remind you of anyone?”

  It was a ridiculous comparison. Yes, the girl was brash, but in a clumsy, uncalculated way. If she did indeed seek Columbus’s attention, it only underscored how different they were. He had never needed anyone’s approval. Since the day he left his father’s house, Columbus had one goal in mind: assuring his own legacy. And you couldn’t do that if you were worried about stepping on toes or feelings. Currying favor was just another way of following rules and Columbus made his own rules. Still, he could see the princess had taken a liking to Nyx. Perhaps she’d even invite her to stay once Columbus had secured the trident and departed. At the very least the girl might prove a capable distraction. So why did her presence bother him so?

  They moved quietly over a grassy berm, through another thatch of trees before following an old stone path overgrown with weeds. At last, they came out at the rear of the cyclopean tower, which loomed even larger up close. The massive blocks that made up the base were nearly as large as a man and riddled with cracks.

  Through the brush to their right, Dion returned. Thetra translated his gestures.

  “Path is clear,” she reported. “No sirens visible, but there are some tracks two hundred yards to the north that look like they were made this morning.”

  Elara nodded. “Set up a perimeter. Dion and Thetra will take the northern quadrant near the siren tunnels. Sareen, you have the west. Fanucio… Where’s Fanucio?”

  “Here!” Fanucio shouted, limping through some brush, out of breath. “Sorry. Had a wee bit of trouble, what with the sand and all, but look what I found!”

  He’d tied something to the bottom of his peg leg.

  “Is that…a coconut shell?” Columbus asked.

  “A half a one, yeah,” Fanucio beamed. Someone sniggered, which quickly led to laughter. Fanucio frowned. “I know it ain’t much to look at, but it works good on sand. Plus, it smells nice.”

  More laughter followed. Even Dion’s features lightened briefly. Then, Elara held up a hand.

  “Enough. Fanucio, you’ll stay here.” She looked around. “Where are the little ones?”

  Columbus scanned the area, but they were nowhere in sight. “I’m sure they seized the initiative and are out on a patrol of their own.” Elara looked dubious. “Don’t worry, Princess. If a battle breaks out, those two will be the first to answer the call.”

  “Hope it’s for our side,” Fanucio muttered.

  “Columbus and Nyx are with me,” Elara said. “The rest of you—”

  Just then, a tremor rattled the ground. Something fell from the tower. Everyone waited nervously until it stopped.

  “You said the Void only shrinks following a tremor, right?” Nyx asked. “Is there any way to distinguish those from the regular ones?”

  Elara shook her head. Nyx looked to the top of the tower again, noting the Void was already touching it.

  Columbus chuckled. “You wanted adventure, Brommet. Let’s get to it.”

  Nyx sighed and followed Columbus and Elara as they hustled across the open expanse toward the front of the tower.

  Up a wide set of steps and flanked by two dry fountains was the biggest set of stone doors Columbus had ever seen. They were ornately carved with thousands of stars and scores of constellations. Some he recognized from reading the work of Ptolemy. Cassiopeia. Orion. Ursa Major and Minor. Others he didn’t know at all. He was aware the Babylonians and Sumerians had also studied the stars, but images that looked like goat-fish and ziggurats were alien to him.

  “We mustn’t stay in the open long,” Elara said. “Is that the symbol the Fates revealed?”

  Columbus looked to the relief over the doors and saw the symbol of the open book inlayed in gold. It shimmered in the light.

  “Yes,” Columbus replied.

  Elara put her shoulder to the door. It didn’t budge. Columbus and Nyx tried to help her, but that proved fruitless as well.

  “Is there a mechanism to unlock it?” Columbus asked, scanning the area.

  “Actually,” Nyx called from the windowed ledge she’d scaled. “I can see a beam blocking it from the inside. Boost me through here and I’ll see if I can move it.”

  A few moments passed once Nyx slipped inside. Then, the sounds of a beam striking the ground was followed by the giant doors grating open.

  “You are going to love this.” Nyx grinned.

  The entranceway smelled of dust and mildew. Columbus saw the beam Nyx cast aside had come from a collapsed archway above. They worked their way carefully through the debris and into the main body of the tower. There, they froze in stunned silence at what they found.

  The room was over two hundred feet in diameter, and every inch of the walls was crammed with books, parchments, cartography maps, and pictures of such impossible clarity their very existence defied reason. The shelves that lined the walls were irregular with no conceivable pattern. One section was as small as a cubby hole; the next, thirty feet tall and a dozen feet wide. The only spaces that weren’t covered were the stained windows that let light steal through tableaus of the Gods at play. They were all there. Zeus with his lightning bolt. Aphrodite hypnotizing mortal men. Charon the Ferryman with a coin in his hand. Pan the Satyr playing his pipes. And, of course, Poseidon, trident in hand, watching over them all.

  Mesmerized, Columbus walked across the room until the light of the golden trident lit half his face. Then, Nyx sneezed, and Columbus turned.

  “Dust,” she said, eyes cast down in shame.

  Nearby, Elara was clearing dirt from the ground, revealing a wood floor inlayed with intricate geometric patterns. How had any of this survived the scourge of time? Mildew alone should have reduced the wood and books to rubble.

  Another small tremor shook the tower. Dust rained onto Columbus. He looked up to see other wooden floors above them, pie-shaped sections in staggering intervals that resembled a staircase only a Titan could scale.

  “It must be bigger than the Library at Alexandria,” Columbus whispered in awe. “How many books do you suppose there are?”

  “I have no idea,” Elara answered.

  “This is a treasury unlike any other. And to think your people let the sirens keep you from it.”

  “It wasn’t the sirens alone. Atlantis was created by men and women who believed acquiring knowledge could lead to a higher state of being. So, they pursued it with an unrivaled furor. But too much knowledge can be as dangerous as none.”

  “The Bible warns of the same.”

  “Bible?”

  “A book of my religion, handed down from God to men. The first man and woman, Adam and Eve, bit an apple from the Tree o
f Knowledge and in doing so were cast from Garden of Paradise forever.”

  Elara nodded. “Much like Pandora. Our allegories may differ, but the meaning is the same. Knowledge without wisdom is a poison. And wisdom can only come from experience.”

  “My father had a saying he used every time I fell or scuffed a knee. He said ‘God created scars for a reason. It reminds us everything comes for a price.’”

  “This is why Atlantis gave up the written word. And, for a time, they were better for it.”

  “But you read. I’ve seen it.”

  “I’m a princess,” she said, almost embarrassed. “The royal family has a small library of their own, though we don’t speak of it.”

  Across the room, Nyx called out. They made their way to her. She’d found a small doorway that housed a lift tube that resembled those from the city. It rose all the way to the top where the open sky broke through. Unfortunately, the tube was broken in several sections and probably hadn’t worked in centuries.

  “That would have made our job a lot easier,” Elara said. “As it is, we’ll have to take the stairs. It will go quicker if we separate. Each of us takes a level, leapfrogging as they’re cleared. Agreed?”

  Nyx nodded. “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything that appears out of the ordinary.”

  “Well, that’s not vague in the least,” she quipped.

  Columbus searched the first level while the girls headed up the stairs. From time to time, he heard the creak of footsteps overhead, but little else. He rifled through shelves and books, looked under tables and desks. He pored over vellum parchments that disintegrated in his hands. He studied the stained-glass imagery until he thought his eyes might bleed. Up, down, and all around he looked—and found nothing.

  It felt like hours had passed when Elara called out from above. Columbus and Nyx rushed to find her on the fifth landing.

  “I hadn’t noticed it before because of the dust on the floor,” she said, “but there are symbols marking the subject matter of each section. See here? This one shows the image of a pyramid.”

  “And these titles all seem to reference building,” Columbus added, enthusiasm growing. “It’s an index.” He shuffled off to the next section, clearing the dust with his boot until a second symbol appeared, followed by a third. A rock for minerals. A sun above a head for philosophy. A ship for ship building. They continued.

  “Quickly,” he said, “look for one with a key.”

  They spread out, clearing symbols as they went. Columbus returned to the lower floors while Elara and Nyx headed upward. It wasn’t long before another shout rang through the tower, this one from Nyx. She was on the eleventh floor.

  “I found something,” she said, unsure. “It may be nothing, but you should see for yourselves.”

  She led them to a small niche just out of reach of the sun’s rays. There, on the floor, was the symbol of a half-circle.

  “It could be a dome, right?” she asked.

  Columbus leaned down. “Possibly. Or a setting sun.”

  “This is it,” Elara said.

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “The others are inlayed with orichalcum, but this one is cast in gold. And there’s something else. Look.” She knelt and blew the dust away to reveal very fine lettering.

  “Writing,” Columbus said. “What does it say?”

  “It’s the language of the slaves,” Elara answered. “I cannot read it.”

  “I can,” Nyx said, casting a smug grin at Columbus. With a roll of his eyes, he moved aside.

  “To seek the riddle of Cyclops’s crown, scour beneath the papryus bound. But to avoid Icarus’s fate, one must learn to fly before the wind abates.”

  “What does it mean?” Elara asked.

  “It means your slaves were tricky,” Columbus answered. “Either they enjoyed playing games, or they wanted to ensure the right people found what they had hidden.”

  “There’s something else,” Nyx said. “Greek numerals marked around the outside, like one would find on a coin.”

  “This could take ages,” Elara said. “The light is already falling.”

  “We just have to break it down,” said Columbus. “One stanza at a time. First, To seek the riddle of Cyclops’s crown. What is a riddle?”

  “A puzzle,” Nyx said. “And to unlock a puzzle you need all the pieces.”

  “Or a key,” Columbus said. “To seek the key of Cyclops’s crown… What do we know of Cyclops?”

  “He was from the race of giants,” Elara said. “With a single eye in his forehead. They were builders, the cyclops. They built the walls of Tiryns and a labyrinth so large they called it cyclopean.”

  Columbus felt his pulse quicken. “Like this tower. And what sits atop a tower?”

  “Its crown,” Nyx exclaimed.

  “Second stanza. Repeat it.”

  “To seek the key of Cyclops’s crown…scour beneath the papuros bound. Papuros is Greek for papyrus, isn’t it? The first form of paper. And books are bound.”

  “She’s good at this,” Elara said. Nyx beamed. “But we can’t be expected to look under each book. It would take an age itself.”

  “No, the answer’s here,” Columbus said. “Read the rest again.”

  “But to avoid Icarus’s fate, one must learn to fly before the wind abates.”

  “Well, we know Icarus fell for getting too close to the sun.” Columbus’s eyes narrowed. He stood and crossed to the old lift tube that serviced the tower, noting once again how sunlight filtered in near the top where the stones had crumbled away.

  “Elara, when we first saw the tower, what was the one thing you noticed?”

  “That its apex pressed against the Void. Why?”

  “This transport tube never fed all the way to the crown.”

  She immediately understood. “There’s another section!”

  “And another entrance.”

  “What of the final stanzas?”

  “Maybe the numbers have something to do with it,” Nyx said from across the room. Columbus was about to dismiss her when something struck him.

  “Tell me the numbers,” he said.

  Nyx read them. “Pena-iota. Deka-penta-iota-iota. Iota-iota. Six, fourteen, and two.”

  Columbus wracked his brain for any hint of a clue. Then he remembered he’d seen a few numbers etched into the stacks here and there, but he dismissed them for being too small. Suddenly, the truth hit him.

  “It’s an index,” he said.

  Nyx’s smile widened. “Section, row, and number!”

  She leaped up and began to scan the stacks again. Columbus waited patiently, praying they were right. After a few moments, Nyx cried out, “I think I found it.”

  Near the top of the stack, wedged in between two larger folios, was a small vellum-bound book with no discernible title on the spine. But at the very bottom, in gold inlay, was the faint image of a trident.

  “Careful,” Elara warned as Nyx reached for it.

  Once retrieved, Nyx slowly peeled back the cover, only to find the pages inside were barren.

  “It’s blank,” Nyx said confused. “Do you think it faded?”

  “No. Look underneath,” Columbus said.

  Nyx turned the book over and her mouth fell open once again. She held it up, but all Elara could see were many tiny dots.

  “Is it code?” Elara asked.

  “Another riddle,” Columbus said. He gnashed his teeth in frustration. This was taking way too long.

  Outside, Elara’s team was patrolling the perimeter as ordered, completely unaware that Fanucio had wandered off on his own.

  His stomach had been growling like an alley cat ever since the Atlanteans had thrust their sustenance in front of him. What kind of a word was that anyway? The worst kind. Offering a shipwrecked sailor seaweed and uncooked fish was like giving a cup of piss to a man dying of thirst. Sure, he’d drink it down, but it would taste like piss and only make him desperate for more. />
  As Fanucio stumbled through brush, he thought of Rosa, the portly innkeeper in Palos who served him watered wine every morning with a bowl of eggs, pork, leeks, and queso manchego. And on those rare occasions when she was feeling particularly generous, she’d give it to him half off, if he graced her with a good drubbing in the back room where the staff couldn’t hear her cries. Not that it mattered. The only thing louder than Rosa’s screams was her snoring, which was why he never stayed in Palos more than a few days. Still, the thought of it made his mouth water.

  Then he saw the plumage of a bird bobbing in a thicket nearby. “Ooh! A squab! I promise me two teeth won’t hurt a bit!”

  He slowly extracted the sonstave the Atlanteans had given him, pushing the red gem up to soften the blast. It was up, wasn’t it? He was almost sure of it.

  Mouthwatering, Fanucio took aim, giggling to himself. “Time for some white meat.”

  With a press of the gem, Fanucio was catapulted back on his hindquarters. The bird’s plumage exploded, followed by the shriek of something much larger. The thicket burst apart as a large bull-like animal—its bald tail smoking—charged. Fanucio screamed and tried to fire another salvo, but his fat fingers couldn’t find the right gem. Just as the monster closed in, he shut his eyes and said a prayer. That’s when two other blasts rang out, and the beast slid to its feet, dead.

  Fanucio opened his eyes, ecstatic to be alive. Then, he saw Dion and Thetra glowering at him from the trees. Fanucio forced a smile, which promptly died away when a familiar note echoed in the distance.

  A siren had been roused.

  Back in the tower, Columbus and the others were too busy looking for the hidden entrance to the apex to hear the commotion outside. They had reached the top floor of the library but couldn’t find a hatchway or set of stairs. The wooden ceiling above was solid, save the four large wooden trusses that held it aloft.

  “I don’t understand,” Elara said. “There has to be a way inside.”

  “We could shoot a hole in it,” Columbus suggested.

  “And risk the entire structure collapsing? No. I’d rather—”