Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis

by E. J. Robinson

  Just then Dion cleared his throat and Elara said, “Until evening bell.”

  Columbus bowed again as Elara turned and melded into the crowd. At the same time, Vespucci approached.

  “Congratulations, Columbus,” he said. “You’re the first man in history to lay siege to a library and be praised for it.”

  Columbus nodded, unwilling to let the man spoil the moment. “Worry not, my friend. Nyx saved you a book before the haul was lost. It even has pictures.”

  Nyx laughed, but Vespucci took the insult in stride. Behind him, a very attractive female attendant approached. “Your new rooms are this way, mariner.”

  “New rooms,” Columbus boasted to his companions. “We’re moving up in the world.”

  As they headed off, Columbus and the attendant exchanged smiles, prompting Nyx to make a gagging gesture with her hand.

  The suite of rooms was high atop the central tower with a view of the ocean and islands beyond. After a thorough bathing in a golden basin, Columbus retired for a much-needed rest. When he finally awoke, he found Nyx alone on the balcony watching the sun set.

  “There are parcels in the foyer,” he said.

  “Garments, I was told,” Nyx answered. “I guess they want us to look our best for tonight.”

  Columbus plopped down in a chair, rubbing cheeks that were smooth for the first time in a long time. “Or maybe they’re giving us the apple before the spit.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Always look first to the darker side of things.”

  “When you live as long as I have, Brommet, and see what I’ve seen, you will too. Beyond ship and sea, mighty perils await.”

  He said it theatrically, but she refused to laugh.

  “You joke too often.”

  “And you too little. Humorless women make terrible companions. It gives them lines on their face. In fact, I see one forming now.”

  He reached out to touch her forehead, and she slapped his hand away. He repeated it several times until she laughed. Then he got that feeling again. The one that told him the girl would bring him nothing but pain.

  “Have you seen Vespucci?” he asked.

  “He came in while you were sleeping but left shortly after.”

  Columbus’s forehead creased. “And he said nothing?”

  “‘These will do,’” she repeated in a nasally tone. “I figured he was talking about the lodgings.”

  “The man cares not one whit for the rooms. He’s up to something.”

  Columbus stood, crossed to the bevy of packages, and retrieved the one with his name on it. He was headed for his room when Nyx called out.

  “Captain?” Nyx said. “It’s not bad here, is it? I mean, when we’re not being shot at or threatened with death. What I’m saying is, I like it. I like her. Can we help them?”

  Columbus hesitated. He didn’t want to admit he liked the princess too. But he also didn’t want to give Nyx false hope. For better or worse, she was part of his crew and he might need her to make some hard choices. At the same time, he needed everyone to keep up appearances. As Nyx was unable to keep her emotions in check, he decided the best thing to do was allow her to enjoy the evening. He could always rein her in later.

  Columbus held up his hands and grinned. “In a realm made of magic, anything is possible.”

  As he disappeared, Nyx looked worriedly back out to the sea and the storm raging above.

  The grand ballroom was another marvel of Atlantean architecture. Rising several stories into the air, its ceiling and walls were made entirely of glass, revealing the interior of the city and the Garden of the Blest beyond. Alchemical chandeliers floated magically throughout the room, changing colors in time with the globes on the walls. But the most awesome site was the golden fountain at the room’s center, which featured a dozen golden mermaids holding tridents. Water would spray from those fountains only to coalesce in the air—taking on the forms of animals or symbols—only to slowly evaporate back to water, filling the fountain’s pool to repeat again.

  As Columbus passed through the entryway, the party was already in full swing. Discordant but pleasing music filled the room, though he saw no sign of musicians. Still, it set a mood Columbus had not experienced up until that moment. Warm. Peaceful. Almost happy. It made him look anew at the garments he’d been given. Black pantaloons, black silken shirt, and a red vest brimming with tassels that he suspected were meant to connect in some fashion. He’d given up after aligning three or four for risk he’d never get the damn thing off again. Now, he regretted not taking the time to do it right.

  As Columbus walked down a short set of stairs, he was struck by the aroma of the banquet tables that aligned the eastern wall. The diversity and artistry of those many dishes made his mouth water. The citizens must have found the same true as they stood in long lines before returning to the bevy of scarlet-covered tables spread about the room.

  Columbus scanned the room for Elara but couldn’t find her. He did spot King Atlas, however, seated on a golden throne in a broad mezzanine. He was wearing a navy cloak with sable epaulets and a thin golden crown on his brow. He was surrounded by a coterie of elitists, who stood poised, laughing at his every word, blissfully oblivious to the fact that their monarch clearly wished he was anywhere else. Still, Columbus spied no goblet within the king’s reach, which was a welcome surprise.

  A shout beckoned from the center of the room. It was Fanucio trying to get his attention. As Columbus made his way to him, he saw his first mate had taken refuge behind a table laden with serving plates. Half were brimming with food while the other half looked as if they’d been licked clean. He, too, wore Atlantean attire, though it looked as if his had been put together by a child. The charcoal coat fell to the floor, covering the ill-fitting white fabric beneath.

  “Captain!” Fanucio shouted. “By my word, join in! Look,” he waved his hand across the table with a flourish. “Food. And it’s edible!”

  Columbus looked over the spread, settled on what looked like a turkey leg, and sat down.

  “Delicious, ain’t it?” Fanucio said. “Now, ask me what animal it comes from.”

  “I’d rather not,” Columbus said.

  “That’s the thing! I couldn’t name it if I wanted to!”

  Columbus looked at his first mate askew. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Aye! They do things with grapes here that’ll pop your cork.” Then he winked at a nearby Atlantean woman. “Big’uns and little’uns too.”

  “Have you seen the princess?”

  “Not yet. I don’t see her as the type who likes making a grand entrance. Your ruffian pal’s behind you though.”

  Sure enough, Dion sat two tables away. He ate from a plate overflowing with food. He was surrounded by his fellow Gadeir, all looking as serious and backlogged as him.

  “And the crew?”

  “Eh? Oh. The wee ones stopped by for some grub before disappearin’ again. And I saw Vespucci skulking ‘round. Man’s got a gift for bending ears, I’ll give ‘im that. Hey! There’s the lass!”

  On a crowded dance floor, Columbus spotted Nyx among a group of Atlantean youths. Someone had done her hair up and even applied coloring around her eyes to mock the appearance of gems. She wore a red gown that glistened as she twirled and a matching necklet that made her look older than her years. With every spin she laughed, long arms moving gracefully to the music as if she was having the grandest time. Columbus smiled a moment before his brow furrowed.

  “I’ll call her over,” Fanucio said.

  Before Columbus could stop him, Fanucio whistled loud enough to draw the attention of the entire room. Nyx waved in response before excusing herself and heading over.

  “Phew,” Nyx gasped as she plopped down at the table. “These fish boys might be poor dancers, but they learn quick. I was just showing them a tordion.”

  “What’s that?” Fanucio asked, his mouth full.

  “It’s
a five-step dance similar to the galliard. It’s very big in the courts of France.”

  “And how do you know what’s big in the courts of France?” Columbus asked.

  Nyx shrugged. “I’ve been around.”

  The answer troubled Columbus again. The girl was an enigma. Highly educated, well spoken, not to mention trained in a variety of skills. Why on earth had she sought him out? It certainly wasn’t to join his crew. What was she really after?

  “Our li’le boatswain cleans up right nice, don’t she?” Fanucio asked, tipping cups with her before they both belted them back. She must have noticed Columbus’s stare because she changed the subject quickly.

  “I spoke to Thetra earlier,” she said.

  “Who?” Columbus asked.

  “Thetra? Gods, Columbus. She went to the isle with us. The twin? Sister to Sareen? She said the king is going to honor her with a gemshard. The tiny gems that decorate their faces? Apparently, it’s like an award or something. She said I could probably get one if the king gets crocked enough tonight.”

  “And that idea appeals to you?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Some of them look all right.”

  Columbus shook his head, his irritation increasingly visible. “Brommet, in our line of work we travel to a great number of places and encounter a broad range of cultures, most of them primitive. I would think a wise person might consider some discretion when it comes to partaking in the customs and rituals of heathens. Not that your appearance wouldn’t benefit from a chicken bone through the nose or tribal tattoos covering every inch of your skin.”

  “Captain,” Fanucio chided, “she’s just having fun.”

  “Fun?” Columbus hissed. “We’re not here to have fun. We’re here to recover the damn trident!”

  His outburst drew the attention of several, including Dion. Columbus sat back, waiting until the moment had passed before leaning in again.

  “That’s what the keys are for. I didn’t say anything earlier because I didn’t want to spend the next several days looking at your sour faces. We need to face facts. Atlantis is dying. And all this,” he waved his hand with a flourish, “will only distract us from the task at hand.”

  “But Atlantis has survived thousands of years—more,” Nyx said.

  “Aye, and it’s just our bad luck to arrive for its final act. Look out there. Go on. Look, and tell me what you see.” He pointed beyond the windows—beyond the garden—to the Void itself. “That thing is the will of their Gods. Gods far more powerful than you or me. This kingdom with all its power and all its creations has been unable to stop it. Now we’re expected to? Two sailors, two Pygmies, and you? Nyx, this isn’t our home, and we’re certainly not its heroes. I am no hero. And the sooner you get that through your thick little skull the better off you’ll be. You said you wanted adventure. Well, lass, this is it. But adventure is born of risk and great peril and the only way to survive it is to harden your heart. Do that and with some fortune, you might escape with your life and a little treasure for your troubles before the towers and voids of the world come crashing down around you. Don’t, and you are as doomed as they are.”

  Nyx had paled. Even Fanucio had stopped eating. But Columbus wasn’t finished. “Atlantis and her people are lost. Growing close to them now will only cause you more pain in the end.”

  “But you care for Elara,” Nyx said, her eyes welling. “I can see it.”

  “No. I pity her. There’s a difference. She refuses to accept the reality of her plight. As do you. When you first spoke your desire on the ship, I laughed. And then I saw you in the tower and thought, why not? But now I think my original assessment was true. You have the skill to be a privateer, perhaps even the heart. Unfortunately, you lack the stomach. What I can’t decide is if it’s the woman in you or the child.”

  With a sob, Nyx stood up and ran away. Fanucio stared at his captain.

  “That was mighty cold, sir,” he said.

  Columbus grabbed a cup of Atlantean wine and sucked half of it down.

  “I did her a favor, and we both know it. The sting will wear off soon enough.”

  Fanucio sighed and pushed his plate away. “Me mum said something once. How when people speak with venom, it’s most often directed at those they love.”

  “Love?” Columbus laughed. “Fanucio, please tell me you’re not going soft on me too. I don’t love that girl. I don’t even know her.”

  “Aye. But I remember you loving someone like her once. Full of spit and fire, she was. With more adventure in her heart than any man I’d met before. Or since.”

  “You overstep, my friend,” Columbus warned.

  “Apologies, Cap’n. Sometimes I can’t help it, what being a man with one foot and all.”

  Fanucio stood, tipped his hat, and limped away. Columbus listened to the sound of that click-thump recede before rising.

  The night was warm and pleasant with a cool breeze that filtered in from the east that almost made this world worth dying for.

  Columbus stood on the balcony, nursing his cup of wine. He knew he’d crossed the line with the girl, but in the end, he’d be proven right. This was no place for one like her. No place for feelings. The sooner she was gone, the sooner he could get back to being himself. That was what he wanted, right?

  As he looked out over the gardens, his gaze kept returning to that truncated bridge that spawned from wavering grass to the abyss. It was a visual metaphor for something he wasn’t sure he wanted to understand. The Void. It terrified him. And yet he found himself drawn to it for reasons he couldn’t fathom. Maybe it was its inexplicable power. Or the totality of its indifference. In a way, it was the manifestation of the end we all had waiting for us. Only this one you could see coming and couldn’t do a damn thing about.

  “Enjoying your evening?” a voice said.

  Columbus turned to find Elara standing in the doorway. She was wearing a light blue dress made of silk that flowed like the waters of the sea. Her arms were bare. Her hair tied up, with the thinnest string of sapphires running across her brow. She looked radiant.

  “It’s just gotten a whole lot better,” Columbus said.

  Elara smiled and stepped out onto the balcony.

  “My grandmother used to come here some evenings. She loved the way the gardens looked in the moonlight. Is yours very different?”

  “Clearer perhaps, but not nearly as romantic.”

  Elara blushed.

  “Do you have stars? I haven’t seen any.”

  “No. We’ve heard of them, of course. And I have seen paintings that attempt to capture their essence, but I imagine few do them real justice.”

  She glanced at his vest and covered her mouth. “You’ve done this all wrong. Here.” She stepped close and began connecting the tassels of his vest, making a pattern. It was an intimate gesture. One that drew Columbus closer.

  “Sometimes when we’re at sea at night and there’s no fear of attack or storm, I take the wheel as my crew sleeps so I can feel the waves beneath my feet as they pass. On especially clear nights, the stars fill the heavens, though none are as beautiful as the ones that dance upon the surface of the sea.”

  “So, you’re a Star Rider in your world and in mine. I would like to see them.”

  He reached up and pushed an errant string of hair from her eyes. “Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

  When their eyes met, it felt like they were destined to kiss. Then, a cheer went up, and Elara stepped back, awkward. “My people needed this.”

  “Any victory is well earned.”

  “It’s not the victory they celebrate. It’s the promise of what it brings. Hope. You gave them this.” Elara watched his smile fade. “Does that trouble you?”

  “I’ve never been good at meeting the expectations of others. They tend to weigh on people. Just ask your father. He wears the crown.”

  Elara looked inside to see the king observing the festivities but not taking part.

  “I don’t have to.
I feel it too.”

  Fanucio hobbled through an exterior corridor, opening the first door he came upon. “Oh! My apologies.” He went to shut the door, but added, “I admire your flexibility.”

  As he closed the door, a sob resounded nearby. Fanucio saw Nyx on a bench near an atrium. She was crying into her arm. He limped over and sat beside her.

  “Go away, Fanucio,” she said.

  “Knew it was me, did you? It’s this damn soap. I’ll never be rid of the smell.”

  When she looked up, her cheeks were wet with tears, but she smiled. Then she laid her head against his shoulder.

  “Why does he hate me?”

  “He doesn’t hate you, girl. At worst, he fears what you represent.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Responsibility maybe? Manners. Duty. All the sh…stuff he swore off when he stepped aboard his first ship.”

  “Have you known him long?”

  “Aye. Since he was a wee lad in Genoa. See, his father was a wool carder and tavern owner and all Columbus knew of life was cleaning up the piss and muck of others. Then, one day, Lorenzo de’ Medici came to town and there was a parade. Lorenzo the Magnificent he was called. Patron of the arts, protector of the people. Ah, lass. He was a sight. One look at that grand peacock—and how the people loved him—and Columbus knew his destiny was elsewhere.

  “He hung about the docks then, learnin’ the tongues of the merchantmen, their skills. One day a caravel put into port. I still recall her name. Flor de Inverno.”

  “Flower of Winter,” Nyx translated.

  Fanucio smiled and nodded. “She was owned by a Portuguese trader. Ugliest bastard you ever did see. And mean to boot. Men used to joke he ate iron for breakfast and shat out nails for supper. I knew that weren’t true cuz I was his cabin boy. Not that it made the job easier. Still, he took Columbus on. And went on to torment him for the better part of a year.”