“It’s a true delicacy, your Highness,” Columbus quipped. “Comes around once in a lifetime.”
Someone in the room groaned. Dion glowered at him.
Elara spent the next five minutes detailing the image of Ouroboros and what she and Columbus had uncovered in the King’s Library. Columbus watched the king’s complexion grow wan as the conversation turned to the eldocks’ den and to Ophidian’s Mouth.
“No,” the king said once Elara was finished.
“Father—”
“I forbid it. I will not subject my people to the horrors of that place. It cannot be done.”
“But it has been done,” Columbus added. “Several times, the princess said.”
“A handful among the legions lost. Would you risk your life on such odds?”
“I have, and I am.”
“Yes. While the dead of your crew feed the carrion above. You may care little for your charges, adventurer, but I take my responsibilities more seriously.”
“Inaction leads to the grave as surely as defeat, my Grace. The suffering just lasts a little longer.”
The king grit his teeth angrily. “Don’t speak to me of suffering, boy. You have no idea what we’ve suffered through.”
“This is true. Which is why I find it odd that when given an opportunity to change your people’s fortune, you seem more intent on preserving your own skin.”
“What did you say?” King Atlas shouted, enraged.
“Columbus,” Elara warned.
“What?” Columbus said. “I’m the one risking life and limb here. You think the man could show a little more gratitude.”
“I’ll show you gratitude!” the king roared as he pulled his sword from its scabbard and leaped from his chair.
“Stop!” Elara shouted, raising her hands between them. “Stop this, both of you!”
The room went quiet. None of those gathered had ever heard Elara raise her voice with such ferocity. Even her father was taken aback. “You quibble over words while the sea bleeds beneath us and the sky tumbles overhead. And for what? Pride? Fear?” She turned to Columbus. “You. You are a guest in this kingdom and ignorant of our ways, but this man is our king and my father. If you ever speak to him in that manner again, I swear on my life I will kill you myself!” She turned to her father. “And you. Father. No one knows how much you have lost more than me. But Columbus is right. The time for waiting out storms is done. The end has come, and if we don’t stand and face it together, there won’t be a tomorrow for any of us. A moon ago I visited the Seer, and the Fates revealed to me that Atlantis could be saved. They said I would meet the Star Rider in Gaia’s Craw and I did. The same Fates showed him where we could recover the first key and we did. I beg of you, let us seek the second one. The Gods have put their faith in us. Now, we must put our faith in them.”
The room fell silent. All eyes went from Elara to the king. Eventually, he spoke.
“You move me, daughter. Perhaps some part of your mother lives in you yet.”
Columbus suspected this was a rare compliment and one Elara had probably waited a lifetime for. Still, when he looked at her, her face hadn’t changed. She was too focused on the goal to revel in personal moments. For a brief moment, Columbus did it for her.
When King Atlas walked toward the window, the eyes of the room remained rooted to him. None of them noticed his limp had disappeared, but everyone could see a change had occurred.
“Keys,” King Atlas muttered as he looked out over the sea. “It is a fitting token the slaves chose for this quest. I imagine it gave them a moment of wry amusement before the end. If such a moment could be had.” He glanced back at Columbus. “You see, in Atlantis, keys are an outlawed thing, for our ancestors saw them for what they truly were—devices forged of mistrust and deceit. Keys are the closed gate, the high fence, and the drawn shutter that tempts and seduces our curious nature. They are the glimpse we cannot turn away from. The apple we cannot wait to taste. What one man finds worthy of hiding, another cannot help but covet. The slaves knew this. I suspect you know it too.”
Columbus fought hard to hold his gaze. Thankfully, King Atlas spared him by looking back out to sea.
“You might also be surprised to learn in all the days the slaves toiled here, they never saw the inside of a cage. We set no bars to hold them, crafted no irons to stay their feet. Instead, we gave them free rein to do our bidding because…where were they going to go? It’s only recently that I’ve come to understand that even freedom can be a kind of prison if the sacrifices made achieving it are forgotten. This, the slaves also knew. Each day they paid its price. We on the other hand…” He shook his head before looking to Elara. “Now, I am asked to trust in visions I cannot see, foreigners I do not know, the slaves who had every right to hate us, and the Gods I have cursed since the day I first drew breath. If I say yes, I send my people to the dark heart of the world, a place that has haunted my nightmares for longer than I care to remember. And if I say no, it may be my hand that draws the veil over this realm for good. Poseidon, why must I bear these costs?”
“No one can answer that, Father,” Elara said. “But please know you do not have to bear them alone.”
King Atlas took a heavy, measured breath before he turned to survey the room.
“I cannot trust what is foreign to my heart, but I can trust those in this room. If salvation is to be had, you are the key. I will let you decide.”
The silence didn’t stand long. A chair scraped across the floor as a familiar woman stood.
“I will go, My King,” Thetra said.
Elara smiled in approval. A second later, Sareen also stood.
“As will I,” Sareen said.
A gruff warrior shuffled to his feet. “My sonstave is yours, sire.”
“And mine!” another bellowed.
“And mine!” shouted another.
In a rush, the Gadeir stood, committing themselves to the task. King Atlas physically swelled with pride as every man and woman in the room stood ready and waiting.
“Now, all we need is someone to lead,” Columbus said.
“I will lead them,” Elara said.
A chair slid back as Dion stood. He raised a fist to his chest and bowed his head. None of the others bothered to challenge him.
“You honor me, sons and daughters. But Atlantis is still my kingdom and I have sat idly on its shores far too long. If we are to secure our freedom, it will be me that leads the charge.” He raised his sonstave into the air. “For our people!”
The Gadeir cheered.
“For the Gods!”
The Gadeir cheered louder.
“For Atlantis!”
The Gadeir roared until the room was deafening.
King Atlas growled, “Let’s go kill something.”
The Gadeir spilled from the room with a roar, the king within their ranks. As they stormed down the corridor, Columbus and Fanucio appeared behind them. Nyx took in her captain’s smile, his swollen chest, and felt a flicker of pride. Then he saw her and his smile disappeared.
“He enters alone and leaves with a king’s escort,” Nyx said. “Well played.”
“Is there anywhere you can’t eavesdrop?” Columbus asked. When Nyx shrugged, he turned to Fanucio. “Find Monday and Tuesday. I have a feeling their size will come in handy. Meet us down at the holding pens.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Fanucio said before limping away.
Columbus turned back to Nyx.
“I know, I know,” she said. “This is where you tell me I can’t come with you.”
“Actually, I need your services in a different way.”
Columbus paused and looked down the hall. Nyx thought she saw movement there but couldn’t be sure. To be safe, Columbus drew her aside and whispered his plan into her ear.
The vanguard broke the surface of the sea like a pod of dolphins, shimmering in the sun as they galloped across the water. Sixty Gadeir accompanied the king, tapering out in skein formation with Elara
on his left and Dion on his right. Columbus rode next to Elara with Fanucio and the Pygmies behind them.
With each mighty thrust of his eldock’s fluke, the cool seawater sluiced over Columbus’s legs, chilling him while heightening his awareness. Even then, he understood he was making a mistake. He was breaking every cardinal rule he’d ever learned about warfare. Never go into a fight unless you know what you are up against. Never attack an enemy on his own ground unless you’re sure you could win. And his personal favorite, never pursue a cause that doesn’t also advance your own. Columbus could have sat this battle out or hung back on the fringes until the tide turned in one side’s favor, but in that moment as the group thundered across the sea, Columbus felt a kinship with the Atlanteans. A camaraderie that said it was more than a bond of shared needs. It was the feeling of being a part of something bigger than yourself. He suspected this was what all soldiers felt as they rushed toward the enemy, knowing death was the most likely outcome. Later, he would go back to compartmentalizing his feelings. For now, however, he let himself enjoy the thrill.
Elara rode gracefully in her saddle, chin held high, forearms taught. She looked truly regal in that moment, every bit the princess one might imagine of a fantasy realm. Even the king looked spryer and haler as he rode point, his red-gray hair whipping in the wind, skin lit with spray. This is what he was born to do, Columbus thought. Could I ever look this majestic?
Of all the riders, one looked more in his element than any other. Dion sat high in his seat, powerful legs gripping his eldock. His face was stern, as if carved from granite. His eyes were narrow, and there was an intensity that smoldered like a fire awaiting the first gust of wind. If this was to be his moment of redemption, Columbus had little doubt he would either succeed at his task or die. He made a note to ask Elara about Dion’s story again should they survive.
As they pushed past mountainous islands, more monuments of Atlantis’s Golden Age were revealed. A crumbled stone figure holding a bronze shield. Carved effigies of the Greek Gods. A grand harbor rusted over with ruin. A series of empty bronze hands that once carried transport tubes across the sea. Columbus could only imagine what it all must have looked like in its glory days. It reminded him that all empires, no matter how great or small, all eventually succumbed to time. It is the one extricable force that even the Gods could not defeat.
At last they arrived at the Isle of Lethe, the Isle of Oblivion. Its granite peak, dark and foreboding, rose high into the air. A small bay wrapped around to the north. When they entered it, the sun fell from view, casting them all in shadow. To the west, Columbus finally saw a low, hooded cave entrance fifty-feet wide. Ophidian’s Mouth. The name was perfect. It loomed like a half-opened mouth, poised to swallow them whole. Columbus felt a chill run up his spine. The animal part of his brain told him to avoid that place at all costs. The poise of the others allowed him to push that feeling back.
As the king reined his eldock to a stop, the others fell in around him, halting when his mighty hand rose into the sky. Only the ripple of the water coursing away made any sound. Then, the eldocks grew restless. Columbus mentioned it to Elara.
“Do you think they sense more of their kind inside?”
“They sense something,” Elara answered grimly.
Columbus swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He felt a familiar fluttering in his chest. His hand instinctively rose as if he could wipe it away, but he knew the true source lay elsewhere.
King Atlas noticed his discomfort. “Are you frightened, adventurer? Surely you’ve never looked upon a place so bleak.”
“Once,” Columbus answered. “The queen of England’s boudoir.”
The king’s eyebrow lifted. “For what purpose?”
“To end the War of the Roses.”
“Did it work?”
“Only after three days of hell. Personally, I don’t think the peace was worth the sacrifice.”
King Atlas bellowed with approval. “With queens, it never is!”
Columbus smiled, but it was perfunctory. His eyes kept returning to the cave entrance. In his heart, he knew something evil lived in there.
And it was waiting for him.
Nyx had been lying in bed pretending to sleep for the better part of an hour. She had been waiting for Vespucci to leave, but unlike every other hour since they’d arrived, he appeared intent on staying where he was. Finally, she grew tired of waiting and headed for the door.
“Nyx,” Vespucci called, his voice smooth and grating at the same time. “I see the grown-ups have left you behind again.”
“I don’t see what concern that is of yours, signore.”
“My concern is for you, dear girl. You have proven your value time and time again, and yet Columbus continues to treat you like one of his servants. Were you under my command, I would have given you a rank and duties worthy of your talents.”
“Your generosity knows no bounds.”
She turned for the door again.
“Headed somewhere?” Vespucci asked.
“If you must know, I was going for a walk around the garden. I need some fresh air after being cooped up in here all morning.”
“Well, enjoy yourself. I’m sure your friends will be back in no time with even more tales of grand adventures that you took no part in.”
Nyx smirked, then left.
Outside, Nyx walked to the end of the hall and dashed around the corner, only stopping when she reached the transportation tubes. Vespucci’s last comment gnawed at her, even though she knew that was his intention. It was true enough that Columbus treated her poorly, but all captains did this. Young crewmembers always needed to pay their dues, and sometimes those dues included uncomfortable tasks. Nyx had hoped the job she’d been given might prove her loyalty and her ability to follow orders. What was important to him was important to her.
Still, the manipulations seemed to have no end. Both Columbus and Vespucci treated her like she was vital one moment and nothing the next. She felt like a piece in that game Mansa taught her—chess. Pawns were the lowest piece on the board and almost always sacrificed, and yet they were key to the game as well. Sure, the other pieces could fly about the board with ease, but at the end of the day it was the pawns that sealed the deal. And on rare occasions, if the pawn moved deftly beyond the attention of her enemies, they could reach the other side and be crowned queen.
Nyx depressed the button that opened the transportation tube. While Fanucio and the others had complained about using them, Nyx found them to be a marvel. Sure, they were frightening, the rushing water bubbling up from your feet, threatening to swallow you whole. But once it drew still and the second button was pressed, it became a wild ride. With a smile, Nyx depressed the sequence Columbus had given her, and she was whisked away.
Nyx stepped out in front of the royal suites. As Columbus had promised, there were no guards in sight. The most important Gadeir had accompanied the king to the Isle of Oblivion. Nyx was relieved. She had concocted a story about getting lost just in case she stumbled upon some errant citizen. Part of her was disappointed she wouldn’t get to use it.
At that moment, the water of the tube began to fill again. Fearing someone would see her, she rushed for the door on the left, just as Columbus had instructed her. She entered and closed the door quickly behind her. Placing an ear to the door, she heard the opening of the transport tube outside, but no footsteps followed. Odd, she thought.
Moving quickly, she sped through Elara’s room. At the sight of the princess’s bed and personal belongings, she felt a moment of guilt at this act of betrayal. Then she remembered she wasn’t there to hurt the Atlanteans but help find a way to save them all.
It took her a few minutes to find the hidden mechanism that opened the door behind the painting. Once inside the library, she lit a candle, and retrieved the book on Poseidon. It was right where Columbus had told her it would be. Knowing the others wouldn’t be back for some time, she sat down to read. She soon discovered the things th
e slaves had written about Poseidon’s kingdom was far more troubling than she ever imagined.
Chapter Sixteen
King Atlas used the bay as a secondary staging area. He had given orders to his unit commanders in the city, and they now relayed those orders to the Gadeir squadrons. They knew they had a daunting task in front of them, but every single man and woman appeared ready. Fear, it seemed, was not a commodity the Atlanteans trucked in. Theirs was a life filled with extraordinary battles and unspeakable dangers. Death in the line of duty was more than a possibility—it was the most likely outcome. Therefore, they devoted all their energy to preparing for each individual task as if it would be their last. The fact that the king would be riding with them only heightened their sense of duty. To die in his service and his presence would be the highest honor.
Over the centuries, many details had been amassed about the caves, though they were largely fragments—and often, tales from minds warped by what they’d seen inside. It must have been difficult separating fact from fantasy. Still, enough verifiable intel had been culled and distilled to put together a rough map of their initial pathway. King Atlas didn’t try to gloss over the dangers. Instead, he reminded them of the prevailing tenants of warfare. Remember your training. Stay in tight formation. Keep your eye on the prize.
Despite himself, Columbus found himself getting caught up in the excitement. It was thrill that preceded battle, a condition only those who had faced battle understood. At the same time, Columbus knew that rush often led men to make mistakes. And in warfare, one mistake was usually your last. He decided his best plan of action would be to remain near the back of the column. Should things get too hairy, he could always flee. It’s a narrow pass between bravery and cowardice and only a wise man knows when to step aside and when to keep going.
Once the plan had been relayed, Columbus was handed a sonstave and a breathing mask. He was told it would contain a few hours of air and how to monitor its use. Amazing things. He hoped when he finally left Atlantis—if he left Atlantis—he’d be able to take one with him.
Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis Page 21