Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis
Page 20
“She was beautiful,” Columbus said.
“Many that knew her say so. The memories I have of her are vague and not particularly endearing. What I wanted to show you is through here.”
She triggered a secret lever, and a doorway behind the portrait swung open.
The hidden library was paltry when compared to the Tower of Illumination, but it was impressive nonetheless. The walls were lined floor-to-ceiling with tomes. Oddly, each glimmered with a high polished sheen as if they’d only been recently bound. Odder still, there was no smell of decay, no dust motes in the air. Were the Atlanteans craftsmen at every trade?
Light spilled in from two rectangular windows high atop the far wall, illuminating a single chair and a square table. Stacks of books lined the table along with rings of wax from an untold number of candles.
“So, this is where you spend your free time,” Columbus said.
“People think the life of a princess is glamorous, but as a child, I was most often told I was in the way. This became my refuge. They call it the King’s Library, though I doubt any king has looked upon it in a century or two—my father included. Here, I learned of Atlantis—the true city state—by those who lived it. A thousand years’ worth of history at my fingertips. What curious child could ask for more?”
“Why not use this to rebuild? Elara, the mechanisms alone—”
“Led my people to generations of apathy and indolence. I would not have us return to that path. It’s only in the last century that we’ve begun to emerge from those dark ages to learn that the true value of this life comes from overcoming its hardships, its struggles. Your people knew this.” She touched a scar on his shoulder, reminding him of their earlier conversation. “Mine must learn it again.”
She ran her hand over the books, emitting a subtle trill that sounded like rain. “Medicine, mathematics, language, the arts—these are the foundation upon which every civilization is built. To survive, we must do more than uncover our past. We must define our own reason for existence.”
“But surely there’s something in here that can help you stop the Void from collapsing?”
“I have searched and searched. But you must remember, the Void is not a geographical phenomenon. It is a construct of a God. To undo magic, one must first possess magic, and nothing within these walls offers that.”
Elara’s desperation was clear. Columbus swallowed and asked the obvious question.
“Why reveal this to me?”
“Because I need your help. I need someone to look through these with a fresh pair of eyes. To tell me if I’m missing something. The lore of the slaves is fragmented. We are to blame. My people mocked it, only realizing its importance long after it was gone. And in a few hours’ time, we are supposed to go in front of my father and tell him the location of the second key and how to retrieve it. If we cannot do that…”
Columbus understood. “Tell me what you have so far.”
The tension in Elara’s shoulders eased. She turned to the two stacks of books on the table.
“These are the only volumes that reference the slaves and their lore. The first stack was written by my ancestors. I’ve looked through them for anything that mentions keys, the Void, its creation, or the symbols the Fates showed you, but I’ve found nothing that resembles a snake biting an apple from the Tree of Knowledge. The second stack was written by the Athenians. As you know, I do not read or speak their language.”
“Let’s have a look.”
Elara offered to bring another chair in, but Columbus deferred. He thought better on his feet. Because he couldn’t read her language, she sat at the table and read for him, detailing titles, subject matter, sectional headings. If something struck him as interesting, he asked her to expound upon it. While she read, he walked the small room, running his hands over the leather-bound volumes and occasionally looking out the window.
Elara had read for the better part of an hour when something she said struck Columbus. “Stop. Go back.”
“To which part? The description of Sheria?”
“Before that. You said something about a pilgrimage and nomads.”
Elara turned several pages to find it. During the eighth span of Agenor, Emperor ______ (blessed is his wisdom and forbearance) did on this occasion, the third of his reign, approve a pilgrimage to the foremost southern continent in hopes of fostering a new haven for his people. By sea, two vessels and one military escort born two hundred and sixteen souls east one full moon save six and return west by four, encountering calm seas and no hostile forces, where after they arrived at an arid land, the location a confluence of many rivers. While the terrain was bare, and the soil desiccated, water was plentiful, and the region remote enough to prove tactical advantage by both land and sea. A nomadic race of hunter-gatherers inhabited the land but were deemed too primitive to provide opposition or support. But before their sacrifice could be struck, their chief, an aged man of _____ years, strode toward the adjunct, showing neither fear nor resolution, where he placed both forefingers to thumbs in lemniscate form and spake the words in his tongue to say, “One is the All.” So, stunned was the adjunct by this display that the people were spared and made custodians of the river haven for an age to come. From the tail, the eater is reborn.”
“Incredible,” Columbus said. “If my suspicions are true, I believe we’ve just uncovered the founding of Egypt.”
“Egypt? But they are a sworn enemy of Atlantis.”
“It tracks, though. The ‘foremost southern continent’ is surely Africa. And this expedition headed west only to turn back east, which suggests entry through the Nile. The land there is arid, and there are several rivers.”
“But Egypt has been a dynasty for thousands of years. Surely their civilization dates back further?”
“In Greece, I read an account of a geographer, Siculus was his name. He said as late as 3,100 B.C., the Nile was sparsely populated, with rudimentary people living in thatched huts as they had for ten thousand years. And then, almost overnight, the valley was transformed. Great temples were erected. Irrigated agriculture was introduced. Metallurgy. Shipbuilding. Government. Medicine. Music. Religion. Art. It was as if a great pre-existing culture had brought with it all their knowledge and wisdom and supplanted it there. No one could ever explain it before.”
“If this is true, how did these people go from custodians to our enemies?”
“A thousand years passed. Maybe two. During which they developed their own identity. Their own nation. Maybe they figured their time serving others was done. Or maybe something happened to ease their fears. It’s not an uncommon story. It’s said Egypt defeated the Atlanteans in war twice. This would make sense in the Antediluvian age. The survivors of Atlantis would’ve been without access to its weapons and advances. It’s sadly ironic if you think about it. The haven they built became both the means and site of their destruction.”
“Ironic and interesting, but how does it help our hunt for the serpent and the apple?”
“Read the last sentence again.”
“From the tail, the eater is reborn.”
Columbus shook his head. “God in heaven, how could I not see it?”
“See what?” Elara said, excited by Columbus’s enthusiasm.
“The Greek word for ‘tail’ is ‘oura,’ and the one for ‘eating’ is ‘boros.’ Ouroboros. The image I saw in the dark wasn’t a serpent eating an apple. It was a serpent eating its own tail.”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
“Ouroboros is one of the oldest symbols in the world. It represents infinity or the cyclical nature of the universe. Just as the snake represents rebirth because it sheds its skin, Ouroboros represents the cycle of life and death. Creation from destruction. One is the All. Plato, the philosopher I spoke of, wrote of Ouroboros in the same dialogue in which he mentioned Atlantis, an account his father heard from the Athenian statesman Solon after he visited Egypt. Egypt. And what’s another symbol for infinity?”
“Your ancestors recognized it and understood a deeper connection was at hand. So did the Athenians since they’ve included it in their lore. The layers here are staggering.”
“I still don’t understand how this helps us,” Elara said.
“Somehow the slaves foresaw the end of Atlantis. They realized the only way to save your people was to go back to the beginning.”
“The beginning of what? These islands were here long before us, long before Poseidon chose it as his kingdom. Are we supposed to return to the sea?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the answer is more literal. Maybe we have to find a serpent.”
Elara snorted. “There are many serpents here, but I know of none that eat their own tail.”
“The leviathan that brought us from the surface makes an interesting candidate. Especially if he’s meant to be the means of our escape. That would be cyclical, indeed.”
“And convenient. Though I must remind you we have no shield to draw this leviathan from…wherever it waits.”
Columbus nodded.
“But it does make me think of something,” Elara said.
Columbus stopped listening. He had seen something on the table next to her. A book near the bottom of the second pile. It was bound in red leather with lettering in gold. He couldn’t read the title clearly, only the last few letters. “—DON.” Something about the ornate scrawl surrounding it made him curious.
“Columbus?” Elara said.
“Hmm?”
“Are you listening?”
“No. I was just imagining what your father would do to us if we’re late.”
“I was recalling a nursery rhyme from my youth.”
“A nursery rhyme? We’re discussing life, death, and the vagaries of infinity here, and you’re talking about nursery rhymes?”
“Wisdom takes many forms,” she chided. “And comes from many conduits, often those least expected. You are a prime example of that.”
He looked around, trying to do anything but look at that damn book.
“Do you want to hear this or not?” she asked.
“By all means, Princess,” he said, inching closer.
“Now, I can’t promise the mnemonic value will come across clearly given the manner of your translation—” Columbus feigned a yawn. “All right. Fine. But don’t say you weren’t warned.”
She took a breath before she spoke.
“Gentle waters carry me to the west, north, and south,
But stay my sails from wind that bear near to Ophidian’s Mouth.
Swallowed whole are many there, lost to light of day.
Deep in labyrinth’s belly, where floe and flame await.”
“Ophidian’s Mouth?”
“It’s the name of the caves to the east where the eldocks breed. The rhyme was devised to keep children away from it.”
“Why? I mean, I understand caves are dangerous, but how?”
Her faced turned wan with some memory. “For starters, the entrance way is surrounded by razor-sharp coral. Enter when the tide is high and you’re likely to get scalped. Go when it’s too low, and the fish will be feasting on you for months to come. But that’s not why my people avoid it.” She hesitated. He wondered why this was so hard for her. “What do you know of the eldocks?”
“You mean other than what I’ve seen? You capture and ride them, much like we do horses.”
“The eldocks appeared shortly after Atlantis fell. History makes no mention of them before—in your world or mine. It is believed Poseidon created them to ease our burden. And for a time, the bond between us was strong. But as our populous grew, our relationship changed. Maybe it was their conscription into our war with the sirens. Or perhaps—like your Egyptians—they simply grew tired of serving others. When at last they rebelled, we turned to hunting them, mostly at sea. Only later when their numbers began to wane did our hunters seek the caves. Many Gadeir were sent in. Few returned. Those that did were changed.”
A strange sensation washed over Columbus. “Changed?”
“It was as if their minds had been broken. Their words were jumbled and made little sense. Mostly they spoke of caverns and fire and ice. And ‘the one that sits at the hearth of the world.’ Whatever that means. They called it the seraphim.”
“You’re saying an angel lives there?”
“Some Hebrew scriptures refer to seraphim as angels. But more often it translates to ‘the fiery one’ or ‘serpent.’ There’s another word for serpent. Ophidian.”
Columbus felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “So, something is in there, we just don’t know what.”
Elara nodded. “Entry to the caves was forbidden for many generations, but after the slaves left, our people began to return. Like before, most died, but those who survived told tale of a labyrinth with a great treasure hidden inside. Foolishly, my people began to see it as a test of bravery. Recover the treasure and be blessed by the Gods.” She shook her head. “They called it the Trial of Seraph.”
“And you think the second key might be the treasure?”
“I can’t say for certain. I only bring it up because you said the place you saw this Ouroboros was wet and dark, and that’s how I’ve always imagined the caves.”
“And no one ever mentioned this labyrinth before the slaves left?”
Elara shook her head.
“These guys are their puzzles.”
“There is one last thing. I hesitate to even bring it up because frankly I never believed it to be true.”
“This should be good.”
“From the beginning, the slaves were charged with the eldocks’ care. They fed them, bred them, and even rode them on occasion.”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because until the day they left, the slaves needed no bridle.”
“And the wheel turns,” Columbus mumbled. “We should share this with dear ol’ Dad. Hopefully we can convince him to send a larger party this time.”
“That may be easier said than done.”
“Why’s that?”
“I told you our people participated in the Trial of Seraph? The last time was twenty-two years ago.”
Columbus saw the pain on her face and understood. “Your brother.”
Elara nodded.
“We have a saying up above. I wonder if you’ve ever heard of it. Don’t kill the messenger?”
“No.”
“And that’s why you go first.”
Despite herself, Elara smiled. She rose and strode for the door. Columbus followed her, only to stop in the doorway.
“Oh, almost forgot,” he said.
He returned to the table to blow out the candle. And just before his breath passed his lips, he nudged the books on the table to reveal the title of the red bound book on the bottom.
The candle flickered and went dark, but not before Columbus saw the golden letters spelling Poseidon and the golden trident running through them.
Chapter Fifteen
The mood in the command room was subdued, a far cry from the festive atmosphere of the previous evening. These were Gadeir—the best Atlantis had to offer. Their strange red suits of amorphous armor were notched and scratched, their faces battle hardened. All displayed the gem shards that denoted their rank and accomplishments. Only Dion, Thetra, and Sareen bore new ones. Red as rubies that glinted with the afternoon sun. Had Elara been too busy to receive hers? Or had the king deemed his daughter’s actions at the tower unworthy? Columbus couldn’t imagine that being the case.
Of the fifteen warriors present, five were women, though Columbus noted there was no disparity of treatment between the sexes. Instead, they worked as a cohesive unit, blending rank and role. When a woman spoke, her word carried the same gravity as a man’s. When tasks were assigned, all were distributed equally. It was an odd thing
to witness. Like most men of the modern world, Columbus had always believed the fairer sex had no place in battle. For one thing, they lacked the strength and ferocity to match their male counterparts. For another, women were nurturers by nature, their instinct to create countering man’s instinct to destroy. Columbus considered himself progressive too. To his mind, Isabella was a far better ruler than most of her male counterparts because she had fewer vices and her ego never got in the way. And yet the Atlantean army chose to embrace their women because of their differences rather than exclude them because of it. It gave them more options and different points of view. Columbus was surprised to find that he approved. At the same time, the situation reminded him of Nyx. And his resentment of the girl continued to trouble him.
When the king entered, he walked with a pronounced limp. One of the Atlantean asked him if something was wrong with his foot.
“Nothing stuffing it up someone’s backside wouldn’t improve,” King Atlas said.
Columbus laughed out loud, drawing stares from the gathered. Even King Atlas regarded him a moment, though he said nothing. Columbus had a sense the king liked him despite their initial meeting. Men of their ilk—the kind who knew the feel of dirt and blood beneath their fingertips—often did. That wouldn’t prevent the king from gutting Columbus like a fish if he failed him or his kingdom. Another thing Columbus had to push from his mind.
“So, this hunt for keys continues?” King Atlas said once he’d finally settled at the table.
“Yes, my lord,” Elara said. “Though this part should prove considerably more difficult.”
“Because the tower was such a cakewalk,” Columbus interjected.
Elara cast him an irritated glance before continuing. “Columbus’s visit to the Fates produced three images. The first was the book, which we correctly interpreted as the tower. The second was of this.”
She slid an illustration of the second symbol to the king.
“Is that a snake eating its own tail?”