Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis

by E. J. Robinson

  Near the back of the room Columbus found a trough like the one he’d discovered in the labyrinth. Once again, he lowered his torch to it. This time, the fire spread across both sides of the room, revealing an intricately designed mosaic that spanned fifty paces or more. Each section showed an image. Each tableau showed one part of a larger story.

  The first panel displayed a startling truth. The Athenians were not the aggressors Columbus was led to believe. In stark detail the mural revealed the Atlanteans were the aggressors, looking to extend their dominance beyond the seas. War ensued. Only when Atlantis was attacked did Poseidon raise his leviathans, not to destroy the enemy, but to protect both sides from the destruction of another jealous God.

  “This is it, isn’t it?” Columbus whispered. “The true history of Atlantis.”

  More, the voice insisted.

  Columbus continued.

  After Atlantis had been claimed by the sea, Poseidon sought to make his own Elysium by endowing it with all the wonder and functionality of the higher world. Glorious winged creatures with brightly colored feathers patrolled the skies above, endowed with the voices of angels. Beneath the sea, his famed water horses, which would come to be known as eldocks, kept everything in balance.

  Paradise was complete but for one thing.

  The Atlanteans. They refused to share their birthright.

  Columbus moved on, seeing with his own eyes the manifestation of corruption. The images grew darker.

  The Athenians forced into bondage, consigned to the depths of the city.

  The eldocks taken captive and enslaved with the bridle.

  The sirens shot from the sky, retreating to the caves.

  War ensued.

  Bloodshed.

  Atlantis fell into darkness.

  The penultimate image, a devastating revelation. This one showing a single ray of light shining down on penitent figures kneeling in this very room. At the foot of Poseidon.

  “So, it wasn’t the Atlanteans whose prayers were answered. It was the Athenians.”

  Yes.

  “But if Poseidon knew the Atlanteans were the problem, why didn’t he enact his justice on them?”

  The flames near the second image flared. Paradise. Columbus thought he understood.

  “If one is unworthy, all are unworthy?”

  Yes.

  “That’s why the slaves engineered the quest.”

  Yes.

  “And why your kind stayed behind. You could have left for the surface anytime, but you didn’t. Instead, you remained here in bondage, as your children were feasted on in the labyrinth; all so the quest would endure.”

  The eldock said nothing. It didn’t have to.

  “And the sirens?”

  Innocent.

  Columbus groaned. He felt sick to his stomach. It was too much. Too painful to contemplate. He’d never felt more insignificant in his life. He’d come here expecting adventure, but had found only pain, some of which he’d brought on himself. If only he had his ship. He could slip aboard and set sail for some corner of the world where the names Poseidon and Atlantis meant nothing. He knew who he was. He was a mariner. A loner. He belonged to the sea and nothing else. So, why did this hurt so bad?

  “No one can accomplish what you’re asking.”

  The final image was illuminated. A small figure riding atop a star. The Star Rider.

  The Anak-Ta Eleece.

  “I can’t,” Columbus said. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  It is in your blood.

  “I’m not worthy.”

  For her.

  Did he mean Elara? He saw her again, standing in the garden, pleading with him not to enter the Void. He knew then he didn’t deserve her pity. Or her love. He shook his head, about to refuse this final plea when the entire cavern lurched, throwing him from his feet. The quake split the earth, opening a chasm that lit with magma below. Columbus scrambled across the broken marble, diving to avoid the rocks that fell from above. The rumbling grew to a deafening roar. The murals cracked and toppled. The raised statue split and fell into fire. He shot out of the temple doors as the entire building crumbled behind him.

  Across the subterranean floor, the columns snapped like twigs, giving rise to gouts of lava that threatened to bring the entire city down on top of him.

  Just when Columbus thought the cataclysm would go on forever, it stopped.

  Smoke billowed through the cavern, the heat nearing unbearable levels. Coughing, covered in soot, dust, and ash, Columbus stumbled to the canal. The spotted eldock was nowhere to be seen. Somehow, Columbus knew it was still there. And he knew what he had to do.

  “Fine. If I’m going to die, it won’t be down here. Take me to Gaia’s Craw.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Gadeir! Quell that fire!” King Atlas bellowed through the smoke, pointing to the flames that had broken out near the central colonnade. “And someone turn those damned horns off! I can’t hear myself think!”

  The sirens that flooded the city mercifully went silent, giving way to the wails of the injured and dying.

  King Atlas had been conferring with Vespucci and his senior staff in the Nave when the quake first struck. It felt like the entire city had been shorn off its foundation. People were tossed violently from their feet. Half the alchemical lights blew in an instant. Walls crumbled. Support beams groaned as the towers bucked and swayed. Many of the glass walkways shattered and collapsed, raining down shards on the unprotected, leaving them gashed and bleeding. Many citizens fled for the transport tubes only to find them flooding with actual water, drowning those unlucky enough to find themselves caught in transit.

  If there was any bright side, it was in how quickly citizens responded to help the wounded. King Atlas felt a sliver of pride that none of his people panicked. The true measure of a civilization came when times were at their worst, his father used to say. If that was true, this was an elevated realm, indeed.

  The king was helping a bloodied woman to her feet when Elara appeared through the smoke.

  “Father!” she cried, rushing to his side. “You’re bleeding.”

  The king was surprised how much relief he felt at seeing her. Then he noticed the worry on her face and felt ashamed. He knew his earlier words had wounded her. Later, when they had the time—if they had the time—he would need to make amends.

  “His Grace was injured by falling debris, Princess,” Vespucci said. “But to our good fortune, he remains in full command of his faculties.”

  “Which include speaking for myself,” the king growled. He turned back to Elara. “I sent Dion to prepare an emergency meeting in the Command Tower to assess the damage.”

  “But the Command Tower is lost. I thought you would have heard.”

  “Lost? How?”

  “It toppled after being struck by the Void.”

  The king grew wan. “It has fallen that far? Poseidon help us.”

  “That’s not the worst news, I’m afraid. More fissures have broken out across the seabed. Currently, the number stands at thirteen, though there may be more. Even at full strength with every resource at our disposal…”

  She didn’t have to finish. He understood the implication.

  “I’ll order a full evacuation. Send the citizens to the Isle of Arcadia. As it’s the closest to the center of the Void, and it will be the last to fall.”

  “If I may interject, Your Grace,” Vespucci said. “While an evacuation of your city is certainly a sound plan, it doesn’t address our most paramount concern. The retrieval of the third key.”

  King Atlas grabbed Vespucci by the lapels and lifted him into the air. “My people are my paramount concern, you worm!”

  “I-I did not mean to suggest otherwise, only that the time for retrieving the key is fleeting. It was estimated we have less than thirty-six hours to stop the Void’s collapse. After this, I would wager that window is much smaller. Please, sire. I can’t breathe.”

  “He’s right,” Elara s
aid.

  “What?” both King Atlas and Vespucci said, surprised.

  “He’s right. Finding the third key is our only hope.”

  King Atlas released Vespucci, who stumbled back, gasping.

  “But you haven’t even deciphered the third symbol.”

  “I don’t need to. It’s an egg. I saw its twin in Gaia’s Craw.”

  “Preposterous,” the king said. “The sirens are not birds.”

  “Not now, but I believe they were once. We’ve all seen the stunted appendages on their backs, the smattering of feathers. And it feels right, Father.”

  “Feels? Since when do you act on feelings?”

  “Since others suggested I do so and were proven right.”

  King Atlas knew who she was thinking of by “others.” “It is my sincere belief that we will find the key in the siren’s den or not at all.”

  “I concur with the princess, Your Highness,” Vespucci said, rubbing his sore throat. “In the book I deciphered, your slaves wrote at great length about the sirens and how they would play a central part in this narrative. And while there’s no telling how this most recent quake has affected them, it could provide just the distraction we need to launch an attack.”

  King Atlas mulled over the point. “My father’s father once tried to root the sirens from their hovel and nearly lost his entire army in the process. The Craw cannot be taken by force. Not by a thousand, not by ten thousand.”

  “Agreed,” Elara said. “Which is why you should send just one.”

  “One?”

  “The sirens appeared en masse to defend the Isle of Illumination. I don’t know whether it was to protect their flank or simply to engage us on open ground. But if you were to stage a similar landing on the same beach…”

  The king saw where his daughter was going. “It would draw a significant portion of their army away from the Craw. It makes sense—from our perspective. Whether they follow through is another matter.”

  “The diversion need not descend into full-fledged warfare, sire,” Vespucci said. “We simply need to turn their eyes away from the prize long enough for one to sneak in and claim it.”

  “And who would this prize-claimer be? You?”

  “Me,” Elara said.

  King Atlas balked. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m the only person who’s been to the heart of their lair. I made it out once. I can do it again.”

  Realizing she was serious, King Atlas grew incensed. “I forbid it. The cost is too great.”

  “Not for Atlantis. Not for you.”

  King Atlas locked eyes with Elara and understood she’d thought this through. What made matters worse was that he knew she was right. This was their only chance. He looked at her again with fresh eyes, for once not seeing her as the shy little girl who used to climb onto his lap during meetings or cry when her brother’s wooden sword stung her fingers. She was a woman, capable and judicious, noble and honest. What a fool he’d been. So blinded by pride and tradition, he’d failed to see her as she truly was: the best parts of him. It made him think of his actions of the past few days. He felt more than a little shame. Elara must have sensed it. She reached out and touched his arm.

  “Father, you’ve prepared me for this since the day I was born. You would give up your own life a thousand times over if it meant the survival of our people. Who would I be if I didn’t offer the same?”

  King Atlas looked down and shook his head. For the first time in his life, he wished he’d never been crowned King. Better to be a simple man with a simple life than carry the burden of so many others. So many deaths. Yet, this was his lot. And it was hers too. Finally, he nodded. “But I will not send you into the heart of evil alone. You will take another with you.” He nodded to Vespucci. “Him.”

  The Italian startled. “Me? B-but Your Grace, I am no warrior.”

  “A warrior cannot serve this mission. But an expert in Athenian lore can.” Vespucci opened his mouth again, but King Atlas waved him off. “Spare me your humility, Ambassador. You read the book, claimed to know it better than any other. Now is your chance to prove it. Unless you’re not the Anak-Ta Eleece, as you suggested? If that were the case, I would have no need of you.”

  “But once you reach the upper realm—”

  “Scores of countries you said. A procession of kings you said. I imagine one or two beyond your monarch might find allying with Atlantis favorable.” Vespucci looked to Elara and back. “Did you not claim to be an adventurer like Columbus?”

  “Better, he said,” Elara added.

  Vespucci looked as if he wanted nothing more than to flee. “I prefer explorer, actually.”

  “Then go explore. You’ve been inside once too. It is decided. Go make yourselves ready. You will depart within the hour.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Vespucci said numbly. He turned, but hesitated, unsure where he was supposed to go.

  “Oh, and explorer?” the king said. Vespucci turned back. “You will return with my daughter alive or not at all. Understand?”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Vespucci said before walking away.

  When the king looked back at Elara, he winked. She nearly laughed.

  “Thank you, Father.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. When Dion learns of this, he will do everything in his power to stop you.”

  “Dion will stand by his king’s side as he always has. And he will lead your vanguard to the Isle of Illumination with dignity and honor.”

  “So, you’re saying I should withhold the truth from him?”

  Elara shrugged. “Sometimes it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

  “Did your mariner teach you that?”

  Elara nodded.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  With nothing more to say, Elara turned for the stairs. After a few seconds, the king called out. “There are words that need to be said between us.”

  Elara replied over her shoulder. “Then we will say them upon my return.”

  King Atlas smiled before returning to the aid of his people.

  It was dusk when King Atlas, Dion, and the Gadeir arrived at the Isle of Illumination. Their eldocks bayed as they breached the waters near the southern beachhead. Even here, the smoke from the rent sea clouded the air and left the moon glowing blood red.

  A cry went up in the distance. Dion looked over their forces. Even with several hundred, they would be outmanned. He signaled the king. They know we’re here.

  “Aye,” the king replied. Then he addressed the Gadeir. “Remember your orders. We are to hold the beach here. Front lines stand your ground. Back lines, alternate fire, but only after the sirens breach the trees.”

  Three hundred voices shouted in response.

  Only then did Dion realize the princess wasn’t with them. He signaled the king.

  “Doing her duty,” the king responded aloud. “As you will do yours.”

  Dion nodded grimly, joining the ranks on the beach. In the distance, a score of inhuman shrieks filled the night.

  A half mile away, Elara and Vespucci bobbed in the water just off the shore where the cave entrance loomed. They heard the cry go up and saw shadows filtering past in vast numbers, all headed south to the army of humans that awaited. One group of sirens appeared to scout the beach. When they saw no one, they joined the others, leaving only two sirens to guard the entrance.

  “Please, Princess,” Vespucci whispered. “I beg you to reconsider this course. The only thing that awaits us within that mountain is death.”

  “Look up, signore. Death has already laid claim to this realm and all in it. At least this way, we get to choose the means of our exit. And perhaps earn us some honor in the eyes of Poseidon with what little time remains.”

  In a flash, Vespucci pointed his sonstave at Elara. “Poseidon is your God, not mine. So maybe your blood should be enough to sate him, eh?” He depressed the gem, but nothing happened.

  “Did you really think I would arm
you? The man that betrayed his own captain?”

  “Columbus was not my captain,” Vespucci spat as he tossed the sonstave.

  “No, but he was a man, whereas you are not.” A sword emerged out of the water, its tip kissing Vespucci’s chest. “Which is why you will lead.”

  The pair slipped quietly out of the water, the high cliffs obscuring the moonlight from the beach. They quickly found the stone steps cut in the sheer rock face. Once in position, Elara handed Vespucci a smaller sword. “You see that inlet?” she whispered. Vespucci looked up to see a narrow fissure at the top of the stairs that separated the path from the shelf where the siren guards stood. “Make your way there. When you hear me loose the arrows, I want you to take and hold that position.”

  “What if you miss?”

  “Then you’ll be the first eaten.”

  Elara watched with disgust as Vespucci scampered off. The man was a coward. Had she her druthers, she would have slain him or left him behind, but her father was right. She might need his help. And if all else failed, at least she would die knowing the snake that drove Columbus to his death would face an even worse fate.

  When Elara finally saw Vespucci reach the inlet, she pulled two arrows from her quiver, sinking one into the soft sand. The second she nocked against her bow. On this side of the rock face, the wind was light. She looked up at the two shadows standing outside the cavern entrance, a single torch marking their presence.

  With a firm hand, she drew the bowstring taut, took aim, exhaled, and released. Before the hiss of the arrow was gone, the second was already slipping into place. A thud echoed as the first arrow struck. Before the second siren could react, Elara loosed arrow number two. It must have flown true. Elara heard another thud and nothing after.

  At the tunnel entrance, Elara and Vespucci pushed the siren cadavers over the cliff and covered their blood with dirt. At the same time, a barrage of sonstave fire erupted on the far side of the isle. Elara felt her stomach tightening and thought of her father and fellow Gadeir. Knowing she needed to focus on the task at hand, she tucked her fear away.