Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis

by E. J. Robinson

  Through the throng slipped a short, lithe figure, head turning on a stick until it zeroed in on a bumbling oaf seated between three maidens. The small figure made her way over.

  “Fanucio,” Nyx said. “Have you seen Columbus?”

  “Oy!” Fanucio exclaimed. “I’m wearing a mask. How did you know it was me?”

  “I could smell you from across the room.”

  Fanucio’s misshapen teeth shone as if this was the best compliment he could be given.

  “Now, can you please tell me where Columbus is?”

  “He’s coming! They needed to fit him for some proper clothes. At least, that’s what the handlers told me. Didn’t you see him in the healer’s ward?”

  “I tried, but they’d moved him somewhere else. Fanucio, we need to tell him.”

  Fanucio excused himself from the maidens and pulled Nyx toward the banquet table. “Now, don’t be getting your britches into a tizzy. The captain’s been through a lot. What say we let him enjoy the party?”

  “I told you what the Fates showed me.”

  “Aye. But wasn’t you also warned them nymphs might lie? Rather’n get all in a frump over it, I say enjoy some food and spirits, maybe find some more lads to dance with. Let the cap’n worry about these things when he needs to. Ooh, have you tried these?”

  Fanucio scooped up a handful of something that looked like eyeballs before funneling them into his mouth. With a grunt, Nyx turned and walked away.

  It was an hour into the service when a stately figure made her entrance through a side door. She had hoped to go unnoticed, a task made all but impossible when one took in the red dress she wore, its chiffon and silk fabric perfectly matching her sculpted locks and the surfeit of gems that winked from behind her golden mask. As a murmur ran through the room, she rubbed her pale, naked arms impatiently, hoping to see him before he saw her. It was not meant to be.

  “Every time I think you can’t look any more beautiful, Princess, you make a fool out of me.”

  Elara turned. Columbus was clad in dark green, his golden hair piling over the black mask he wore.

  “And every time you open your mouth,” she replied, “I grow keener of fools.”

  Columbus laughed, and Elara felt her nervousness ebb away. They both raised their masks, eyes twinkling in the light. “Maybe I should become a jester then, just to be near you.”

  “You need no appointment for either.”

  They stood silent, not knowing what to say. Then Elara turned to look out over the crowd. Despite the losses to the Gadeir, the success of their mission had raised the people’s spirits. While no one was outwardly celebrating, there was a tranquility to the room she would have thought impossible a few days before. It was as if everyone there had taken a large collective breath and exhaled. Even her father, so notoriously gruff and withdrawn, appeared to be of lighter spirits. He was seated at a table in the mezzanine, the two gem-encrusted keys within his reach. When he smiled at some random comment, Elara thought he looked like the kings of old.

  “This is the Atlantis of my dreams,” Elara said. “And it’s all because of you.” Columbus looked down at his feet. “What? You solicit compliments with ease, but the moment one is offered freely, it makes you uncomfortable?”

  “Compliments are one thing. Expectations are another. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

  “As if you could. To think of all the stories I’ve heard about men from the upper realm. If you are what they have to offer, then we are a poorer race for having spurned your friendship for so long.”

  His eyes searched hers. Something about that look troubled her.

  “Elara,” he said. “There’s something I should tell you.” Before he could finish his thought, a clanging sound stole across the air. Everyone turned to see the king striking his golden cup with a knife. The music died. The room grew still.

  “Citizens of Atlantis and venerable guests,” King Atlas began. “Tonight, we honor those brave Atlanteans who gave their lives so that our realm might endure. There is no greater sacrifice—no higher calling—than this. In my lifetime, I have seen many battles, defeated many foes. They all pale in comparison to what awaited us in that abyss. Evil. There is no other word for it. And yet despite these foul abominations, we persevered. No. We did more than that. We triumphed. And our triumph is a stark reflection of the courage shown by your mothers and brothers, your fathers and sisters. It is by their hand that Atlantis lives!”

  The crowd roared with approval. King Atlas waited for the cheers to die down before addressing those at the mourning table.

  “I salute them as I salute you. But there is still much work to do. With help from our northern brethren, we have recovered the second key.” All eyes turned to Columbus, who looked uncomfortable with the attention. “That’s right. Who would have thought it possible? That our enemies should become allies? And yet, my own daughter foretold of his arrival. The Anak-Ta Eleece. A new age is surely upon us.”

  “Lies,” a voice in the room said.

  The crowd startled, whispers rising as heads jockeyed to see whom had spoken. King Atlas shot to his feet and slammed a heavy fist onto the table. “Who said that? Reveal yourself!”

  Through the crowded room strode a man in black, his bearing rigid, his identity hidden behind a white mask. Columbus craned his head, hoping for an early glimpse. He’d had an ill feeling since he woke to find the king by his bedside. Things had been going a little too well for his taste. Now, this stranger looked to upend everything. Columbus had a good idea who he was and why he’d only uttered a single word.

  The man stopped at the foot of the mezzanine. “I beg forgiveness, Your Grace, but this man,” he pointed to Columbus, “is no more your ally than your savior.”

  The king stomped forward. “If you would make accusations, reveal yourself!”

  The man stripped the mask away. The room gasped.

  “Vespucci?” Columbus whispered. He had expected Dion. Instead, the Italian explorer stood firmly in the face of the indignation leveled at him. That alone filled Columbus with a heavy dread. His instinct told him to flee, but there was no place to go.

  “Eel-tongue,” King Atlas hissed as he tromped down the stairs. “You have provoked my ire for the last time. Guards!”

  As the Gadeir closed in on Vespucci, he raised a hand. “Before you condemn me, Great King, won’t you at least allow me to explain how my kinsman deceives you?”

  King Atlas held up his hand, and the Gadeir halted. “Speak quickly. These words will be your last.”

  At the front entrance, Nyx appeared, harried. Columbus saw her take in the scene in an instant before realizing she was too late. It’s never easy to see those close to you suffer. But the fact that she was hurting for him was almost too much to bear.

  Vespucci continued. “Two days ago, our intrepid captain admitted, however reluctantly, that he had come here in the pursuit of treasure. What he failed to explain was that he had only a single object in mind. The Trident of Poseidon.” Gasps spilled across the room. Even the king was momentarily taken aback. “I submit that even the accord reached between you was made with the sole intention of recovering this object.”

  Elara looked at Columbus. He refused to meet her eyes. He knew what he would find there. From the moment he arrived in Atlantis, all its citizens had questioned his intentions. All but one. The worst part of his betrayal wasn’t knowing how she would now question others, but how she would question herself.

  “The trident hasn’t been seen in Atlantis in over two thousand years,” the king said. “Even if it still exists, I’ve seen no evidence it is hidden here.”

  “Allow me to present it, sire.” Vespucci held up the red leather book for everyone to see. “This was taken from your private library, stolen by one of my companions at the behest of our captain.”

  Columbus locked eyes with Nyx, who shook her head, perplexed.

  Vespucci continued. “It is an account of the creation of your realm, written b
y the very slaves who constructed the quest Columbus now leads for you. It details with stunning clarity how the trident was stored within the Temple of Poseidon and how its pommel can transmute anything it touches to gold. And as anyone from our world can tell you, Columbus desires for nothing more than gold.”

  King Atlas turned to Columbus, but the mariner couldn’t hold his gaze. He recognized the look of disappointment. He remembered it on his own father’s face as he set out from the family home, in defiance of the man whose name he bore. He wanted to stop this, to speak his truth. But Vespucci wasn’t done.

  “His deceit delves much deeper, my lord. The keys on which he’s pinned the hope of your people lead to the trident itself. Don’t believe me? See for yourself! The trident symbol not only adorns this book, but the keys themselves.”

  King Atlas didn’t have to look. He’d seen the symbol with his own eyes.

  “This proves nothing,” Elara said. “The Anak-Ta Eleece was sent here to save us.”

  Vespucci shook his head indignantly. “How can he save you when it is these very actions that will seal your fate? You don’t have to take my word for it. Ask the girl. She’s read the book. She’s also visited the Seer.” He turned to Nyx. “Tell them. Tell them what awaits the people of Atlantis when the keys are used.”

  All eyes turned toward Nyx, who paled.

  “Tell us, child,” King Atlas said softly.

  Nyx looked to Columbus, only to find his eyes downcast. “Using the keys will awaken Poseidon’s immortal guards—” The room erupted. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t be defeated! The Fates told me only one true of heart can claim the trident and use it to save Atlantis!”

  Vespucci chuckled with derision. “One true of heart? And where is this person to be found? Surely not this man, who has lied to you all at every turn. Who has stolen from the kings of our realm and seduced their queens. No, he is not the one.”

  Elara turned to Columbus again, her heart breaking. “What he says…is it true?”

  “I tried to tell you.”

  “But your promise?” Her lip quivered. “The question of the future you asked the Fates? Was it not how Atlantis might be saved?”

  The look on her face was too much to bear. Columbus knew he had to tell the truth. “I asked only after the trident.”

  A pitiable moan escaped Elara’s throat as she stumbled back. Immediately, citizens stood and jeered angrily. At a table, Fanucio stuffed food into his shirt as fast as he could.

  Finally, the King seemed to come to his senses. He roared, “Guards! Seize him!”

  Several Gadeir pushed through the crowd and took Columbus by the arms. He looked back at Elara, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, Elara,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you. I—”

  Before he could finish, a powerful quake rocked the city, sending shockwaves through his bones. The alchemical lights flickered and dimmed. A second more powerful jolt brought the glass ceiling down as people screamed and clamored for the exits.

  Columbus bolted through the crowd. King Atlas saw him fleeing and shouted, “After him!”

  The Gadeir grabbed Fanucio and hauled him away. He left a trail of food in his wake.

  Nyx pushed her way through the crowd to plead with the king. “Please, King Atlas. Columbus is a good man. I know he can still help you!”

  King Atlas said nothing as she was dragged away.

  Across the room, the Pygmies were corralled by guards.

  “They love us, they hate us,” Monday said. “I wish they’d make up their minds!”

  Through the chaos, Elara made her way to the king. “Father, I beg you. Spare him. He doesn’t know any better.”

  When he looked down at her, she was stunned by the revulsion in his face. “No, but you did. This is your fault. I knew it was wrong to trust them. Just as I knew it was wrong to trust you. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  His words cut like daggers. Elara turned and rushed away. King Atlas rubbed his eyes before he realized there was one person still near him.

  “Such fortitude in the face of misery, my lord. I commend you,” Vespucci said, tapping the red book in his hands. “Now, would you like to hear how your city can truly be saved?”

  King Atlas sighed, seeing what he was reduced to.

  Columbus pulled his mask down to hide among the revelers rushing through the city’s dim central colonnade. Then he spotted a group of Gadeir who had set up a perimeter ahead. They were removing the masks of the people who passed. With more guards behind him, Columbus cursed and lowered his head, stepping behind a taller man and his family. He was about to skirt past when one Gadeir caught his eye. Before he could utter a word, Columbus ripped the sonstave from his hand and fired a blast into the air. The crowd instantly panicked, overwhelming the guards and allowing Columbus to run ahead.

  A larger crowd had amassed outside the transport tubes. It appeared the earthquake had stopped them from working.

  As Columbus turned for the stairs that led to the eldock pens, someone shouted and pointed to him. A hand latched onto Columbus’s coat, pulling it off as he hurdled over the glass walkway to the floor below.

  Alarm klaxons rang through the city, the lights flickering in time with Columbus’s heart. He heard more guards approaching ahead and turned down another corridor, narrowly dodging a patrol of Gadeir hustling past.

  He was gathering his breath when he felt a familiar flutter in his chest. And the voice spoke.

  Come to me.

  Columbus looked around, but he knew the voice hadn’t been spoken aloud.

  Come to me, the voice said again. It is time.

  Columbus still didn’t know who the voice belonged to, but he was desperate to leave, to be anywhere else.

  “Where?” he asked.

  Look beyond the light.

  A sonstave blast struck above Columbus’s head as three Gadeir closed in. Columbus fired a blast in return and fled in the opposite direction.

  Aftershocks continued to hit the city as Columbus sprinted through the smoky corridors, the air thick with sulfur and ash.

  Finally, Columbus burst outside and ran toward the Garden of the Blest. He hoped he might be able to hide in there until daybreak and possibly escape to one of the other islands. The feeling in his chest had changed. It was tight, like he was being gripped in a vice. How had things gone so wrong? Was he really the devil Vespucci made him out to be? Yes, he came here for the trident, but in two short days, he’d grown to care for the princess, her father, and their people. Could he really sacrifice them for his gain?

  And what of his crew? Fanucio and the Pygmies had fought valiantly by his side. They didn’t deserve to be left behind in chains. A real captain would have taken responsibility for his actions and done everything in his power to see his people spared. Well, short of dying, of course.

  Nyx had turned on him. If not, how had the book found its way into Vespucci’s hands? Had she given it to him out of guilt? Columbus doubted it. She would have confronted him first. Maybe she would have given it to Elara, but even then, she would have pleaded for him to be spared. Why? What did he mean to her? He had treated her poorly, convinced himself it was the law of the sea. Crew always paid their dues. But this had gone beyond that. Columbus knew why. She resembled Lizete in too many ways, but she couldn’t be his. As much as he loathed the idea, as much as he wanted it to be true, there was no way in the world she could be his. The timeline simply didn’t add up.

  The thought disappeared as Columbus came to a halt. The night was cold, the garden full of mist. Columbus looked back at the city, heard people headed in his direction. He wasn’t even sure where he was until he felt that pull once again, stronger than it had ever been before. He raised a hand to his chest, trying to will it away, but it only throbbed harder. Then he turned and saw it.

  The bridge.

  He was being pulled toward it, toward the Void. What had the voice said? “Look beyond the light.” He stare
d at that dark roiling storm twenty paces away. Was that what the voice had meant? Was that the dark beyond the light? Elara had told him death waited on the other side. She should know. Over the years, her people had sent hundreds, if not thousands, into the Void and none had returned. Even now, he could feel its power coursing through him, the thrum inviting him into its warm embrace. Did he have the courage to find out what waited on the other side? Even if it was oblivion?

  Before he could choose, a large silhouette moved into his path.

  Dion.

  He held his sonstave, grim as ever. Had the giant followed him? He couldn’t have known where he was going, and yet here he was, ready for a confrontation that had been long coming.

  “I don’t want to fight you,” Columbus said.

  More shouts behind him. Columbus looked back and saw lights headed in their direction. He faced Dion again, expecting the familiar sneer. To his surprise, the giant looked almost sad.

  Columbus tossed his sonstave into the grass. “Move aside.”

  The giant hesitated. Then, to Columbus’s surprise, he stepped from the path. Columbus inhaled and walked forward. He had just set foot on the bridge when Elara cried out behind him. He turned to see her and a glut of Gadeir behind him.

  “Columbus,” she said, “don’t do this.”

  But they both knew he didn’t have a choice. One direction lay a quick death, the other an execution. The bridge remained here for a reason. It gave the guilty and the condemned a chance to save their honor and to choose their own fate. The thrumming in his chest told him what was right. The pulsing Void called him. How could he refuse?

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Tears spilled from Elara’s eyes as Columbus turned. He heard her run for him and then shout as Dion took hold of her with his mighty arms. She continued to cry out as Columbus turned for the Void. All sound faded away, leaving only the throbbing of the storm and what awaited beyond.