by M. Arcturus
Suddenly, she felt a tugging near her feet. Startled, she looked down to see a young black firebird with a long tail of fiery feathers. Now that it had her attention, it instantly started pecking at the ground, acting like it did nothing more than mind its own business. When Selené went the other direction with its game by ignoring it in response, the Bennu gave a cute little chirp as if its feelings were hurt. Feeling remorseful, she knelt down to pay it some of her attention. It waited a moment before meeting her eyes. They then stared at each other just long enough for her to be entranced with its body language as it swayed with jerky bird-like movements. Then it hopped over to the row of columns which led to Juron’s chamber. As it approached the final column right beside Juron’s door, it looked at her, then continued by hopping up the column using the shadow-laced carvings as a staircase. After it hopped along the top of Sylvia’s arm, it disappeared when it reached the top of the door. It peeked its head back out of the shadows, and using a head nod, it gestured for her to follow.
Taking the hint, she gave the firebird a smile in thanks and followed suit. Moving like a shadow up the column, she quickly discovered that the little bird made it look much easier than it actually was. The foliage motif carved on the column made for the perfect hand and footholds, but this was nothing like the statues she used to climb as a child growing up in the Temple of Baalat. She did her best to stifle her breathing, but the thick layer of dust made it really difficult to keep a firm grip on the column. At one point, she lost her footing and some particles of dust floated down to the floor. As she clung tightly to the column, fearing that she’d been seen by the guards below, she saw that only one of them glanced up in her direction. The others showed no interest in the falling dust, or the slight scuffing sound of her shoe slipping from the foothold. She remained still, utilizing the gifts of the shadow cloak to blend deeper into the shadows. Seeing only shadows, the guard looked away. After waiting a moment to collect herself, she continued on.
The torchlight below created enough shadow for her to crawl along the top of Sylvia’s arm. Moving slowly, she tried not to slip or displace any more dust. Despite her best effort, dust flew up here and there, but none of it drifted down directly in front of the guards. She slowly inched her way across until she reached the crack at the top of the door. Selené couldn’t see through the small opening, but she strained her ears, and the conversation inside could be heard.
“The ship will be arriving at your port just after nightfall. Don’t expect the Emperor of China to take it lightly should you refuse the shipment,” the foreigner said with arrogance.
“I do not deal with pirates. Our ports will not receive the ship, and that is final!” Juron commanded in response.
“She is a mercenary! Not a pirate!”
“That’s bad enough! Had I known that they were going to send a pirate, I wouldn’t have made the deal. You can tell the Emperor that I don’t care if accepting this cargo would save his empire. I have my own domain to watch over without taking on his problems, too,” Juron said more gruffly.
“What about your shipment? Are you sure there is nothing that can be done to persuade you?”
There was silence, and then a small creaking sound, almost like a little jewelry box was being opened, wafted up to Selené’s ear. It felt like an eternity before another sound was spoken or produced. Though faint, she thought she heard what sounded almost like the shuffling of papers.
The envoy continued, “Well, I suggest you have a good day; with your attitude, you may not have too many more of them!”
Selené reflexively clung onto the sculpture when the door swung open and hit the wall below with force. The loud bang produced from the door hitting the wall almost caused Selené to lose her grip. Too self-absorbed to notice, the envoy stomped out past the guards in a brisk jaunt, which at first appeared to be out of frustration. However, as he rounded the corner toward the main palace doors, there appeared to be a slight bounce of satisfaction in his step. His obnoxious arrogance made her sick to her stomach, so she looked away. The door below shut as swiftly as it had swung open. As quickly as she could, she crept across Sylvia’s arm, climbed back down the carved column, turned the corner, and took the robe off.
Noticing the pale morning light coming in through the main entrance of the palace, she doubled the robe over her arm a few times. She looked back up at her hangout above the door to see what effect the rising sun had on the shadows she had desperately clung to only moments before. The sun’s rays had not yet reached the crown of Sylvia’s head, but it had begun to cast a golden light on the top of the brown glittering columns causing the shadows to recede. She became exceedingly thankful that she left when she did. The robe was growing less effective out of weakness. So, with haste, Selené took it back to her quarters and hung it in her wardrobe until she could return it to Kajaka.
After witnessing the confrontation with the envoy, she realized she no longer felt comfortable telling Juron about her dream. Something had changed, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe if she spoke with Pandora or confirmed Juron’s refusal of the shipment with someone down at the port, her restless thoughts could be put to ease. Getting herself ready to face the world, Selené frowned when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror of her vanity. Even pulled back in a ponytail, her hair looked like she had been struck with a bolt of lightning. After a thorough assessment, she decided to clean up a bit before heading off for the hills leading to port. There was no doubt that Selené would need to be presentable the next time she left her quarters; more people would be out and about.
Meanwhile, Kajaka sat in the gardens before the early morning rays of the sun, rubbing the neck of the black firebird.
“I wish I could have helped her more, but our kind took a pledge to not directly interfere with Atlantean affairs.” He looked down at the Bennu trying to dismiss his regret. “Thank you for leading her to a hiding place,” he said softly. The Bennu looked up for a second, gave a nod, and then went back to eating its pomegranate. “You better head back to your host. We’ll need you again soon enough,” he smiled as the bird eyed him out of irritation. “I know. You’re tired of being accused of destroying civilizations. Maybe events will play out differently this time.” The Bennu was not buying it and continued to glare at him. “Okay, I get it. Optimism is not your forte. Regardless, you’d best be off. Your host will die unless you return to her. We’ll see you on the ship tonight.” The Bennu took one more seed of pomegranate, ruffled its feathers and flew off toward the sun.
Feeling the wind grow stronger, Kajaka pulled his long, thick, black hair back into a loose ponytail using a piece of thin, black leather lacing. After wrapping it around his hair a few times, he stood up from the stone bench, straightened his rich green tunic and turned his attention toward the palace. Using his mental eye, he watched Selené return to her quarters with his robe. Satisfied with the safety of both the robe and Selené, he looked around for any observers, and positive there were none, he pulled the hood of his green-feathered cloak over his head and unclasped the front to let his wings stretch out. No one in Atlantis could ever know his feathers were more than decoration. He had used his wings privately on the island before, but it was a huge risk; and he was breaking the oath he had taken before the Council of his home world to never show his wings while in service here. His kind had been hunted to near extinction because of the potent medicinal properties of their feathers. Yet beneath the initial fear was the very strong desire to fly again, to feel the wind on his wings and in his hair. But it always made him uneasy, he was worried that someone would see his wings or worse, see him flying. Kajaka looked around again to be sure there was no one who would see him, then he rose into the air.
Kajaka quickly reached the stone sanctuary he and Shadow called home. He landed on a large semi-oval balcony, which had a double door leading to their loft. Through the years, he had taken for granted the intricate c
arvings in the stucco, which coated the limestone constructing the temple. No longer noticing the roots of the trees growing on top of the temple, merging with the mimicked root-like carvings framing the doorway, he walked up to the door. The glass doors automatically opened before him. As he stepped inside, he smiled at the new stained glass on both doors—evidence that Shadow was at it again. This time he had used soft pinks and lavenders to accent the cluster of beautiful white lilies, which appeared to reach out directly toward the viewer. This one was softer than the stained-glass mosaics Shadow usually pieced together, but it was very appropriate for the door leading to their bedroom.
Walking further into the loft, the sound of glass scraping the floor stopped his advancement. Lying by his feet, precisely cut pieces of glass had been gleaned for yet another rash idea created by Shadow’s artistic vision. He looked around the room noting the mess left behind by his insanely creative mate. Shadow’s lamp still burned on the drawing table as his sketches for his next stained-glass image were thrown about all over the floor.
Kajaka grinned hopelessly at the clutter his beloved had left behind. There was no doubt in Kajaka’s mind that Shadow was all bird; and just like a caged bird kicking its seed out all over the floor, there were Shadow’s thoughts on paper scattered about in organized chaos. Resisting the urge to clean it up, he left it all exactly where it was, knowing that if he moved anything, Shadow would not only lose his thought process, but his temper as well. Kajaka had to remind himself that everything was only temporary, and this, too, would pass.
In the corner of the loft, there was a large stone bowl filled with pillows that they referred to as their nest. Following the paper trail to the nest, he could already hear Shadow’s deep breathing. He peered over the edge of the stone bowl and found Shadow curled up, clinging onto a pink pillow. Without opening his eyes, Shadow lifted his huge black wing to receive Kajaka’s warmth. Kajaka embedded himself up against Shadow, happy to be home.
“Were you right about Selené needing the cloak?” asked Shadow.
“Yes, but I’m not sure if she was able to see the papers they were writing on—to communicate what they were truly meeting about. Even if she saw the papers, I doubt if she could see what was written.”
“She may seem naive to us, but she knows more than that. She’s highly intelligent, and I’m sure she will figure it out, but it’s also apparent that she is intimidated by us, and always has been.”
“I agree, but on the other hand, throughout all of these years we really haven’t talked to her either. The only time we get to see her is during the Council meetings, which doesn’t leave much room for personal conversations,” replied Kajaka.
“If she is truly a key member of the Council, we need to change that,” answered Shadow. Shadow had become invigorated with their conversation and was now wide awake. Kajaka could hear the wheels turning in Shadow’s head trying to find the best way to remedy Selené’s tendency to be introverted around them.
Not giving Shadow the chance to voice his ideas, Kajaka stated in a calm and loving tone, “Shadow, I love you, but I think it would be best if we finished this discussion later.” Kajaka leaned over giving him a kiss to let him know that he was tired of talking and wanted some sleep. Though slightly irritated, Shadow took the hint and pulled Kajaka in closer with his wing and together they fell back asleep.
Selené lightly bounded down the main palace steps and looked around her. The mirrored floor of the courtyard usually didn’t catch the rays from the sun because the palace was built on the side of Mt. Caspen, which was the tallest mountain in all of Atlantis. Only in the mornings and at sunset would the sun gently kiss the mirrors. So many alien races had left structures on Atlantis, she often wondered who constructed the palace. Most of their quarters were carved from ancient lava flows, just under the mountain’s surface. There was even a portion of the palace covered by a large glass dome that protected the residents from harsh weather yet allowed them to view the stars at night.
Though the Atlanteans considered the courtyard a marketplace, there was nothing there other than tall white marble pillars and a few temporary businesses, which could be folded up and transported anywhere if needed. The entire courtyard was about the length and width of a colosseum; at one end was the palace, and at the other end was Guardian’s Gate, which was the final military checkpoint to the palace.
Down about five steps, in the center of the marketplace, was a massive fountain that sang softly in the background of everyone’s conversations. It was a beloved gift from the Urilliads.
The fountain was a magnet formed into a five-foot tall cylinder about ten inches in diameter. Orbiting the cylinder were several tuning forks of all sizes, made from a metal unknown to man. They were highly sensitive to emotion. As someone walked by, a series of tuning forks would pull away from the magnet, spin, and strike a jet of water, creating a chord reflecting the person’s mood. As the jets of water shot up from around the basin, arcing all around the cylinder, the tuning forks would spin in the streams, displacing the water; it looked like a dance accompanied by music, which never had the ability to repeat itself. To have the same people walk by, at the same time, feeling the same as they had previously, to produce the same chord, was nearly impossible.
Surrounding the fountain were twenty-four hematite columns, each ten feet apart, forming a square. These pillars were far different from the bland set lining the perimeter of the marketplace and no one knew of their origin. They were carved into figures, making the pillars more like sculptures. Each pillar was encrusted with a different colored gem. Selené’s favorite was the pillar of a mermaid detailed with deep blue aquamarines. The mermaid’s long hair flowed elegantly around her as she blew her onlookers a kiss.
One was a proud, boasting European dragon with amethyst embedded in its wings. It stood, wings spread out, protecting its unhatched young lying around its feet. Another one was a refined, scholarly gryphon wearing thinly framed glasses standing on his hind legs. He was holding a skull skyward in one claw and the other claw on his chest as if he was about to spout theatrical quotations. He was encrusted with citrine. While some pillars depicted magical creatures, others were of alien races.
Her least favorite was of a Kymairen. At least that’s what Juron had called the being a long time ago. His eyes, though big and round, were set deep in his head. His broad forehead and tiny nose were sharply folded by a ridge that ran down the center of his face as though it was made of folded paper; except for his mouth, which looked like he was sucking on a softball. If he was hiding a softball in his mouth, there was no way of telling it, for his mouth was full of needle-like teeth. His front teeth were easily three inches long. They were too long for his lips to fully cover them. It was like staring down a black devil anglerfish. Long and stringy, his hair was too thin to cover the back of his head. It hung like seaweed draping down on his visage. She wished he had more of it to cover his entire face.
Selené had never seen one in real life, but if the pillar was depicting actual height, the race of the Kymairens was pretty tall. The only reason he was the same height as the others was because he was crouched down, with his knees bent sharply. One was angled down toward the ground, and the other was angled up, almost even with the bottom of his chin.
She could not tell what his body looked like, and she didn’t want to know. It was bad enough to see his bare arms sticking out from under his worn sleeves and tattered robes. They were long and slender, and the flesh covering them looked loose and flabby. One hand was holding a ruby up into a suggested light source. The other was gesturing for the viewer to come closer to take a look into the ruby. But with him staring down anyone who approached; Selené decided she was going to take a pass on his offer.
He looked so real and lifelike, almost as if he could step down from his perch at any given second. The Kymairen was encrusted with rubies. The gems lined the lapel on his robe, the cuff of his sl
eeves, and the pin stripes of his pants. She avoided going anywhere near the statue like the plague, and tried not to look at him too closely.
Between each pillar was a gorgeous potted silver cherry blossom tree. Diminutive they were; never taller than five feet high. Though they were silver, they didn’t look like metal, but more like a tree covered in spray paint. The bark was soft to the touch, very similar to suede. Unlike the bark, the blossoms were paler and a bit shinier. The tips of the petals were a soft pink. To add to the strangeness of the tree, the whole thing looked like it had been sprinkled in diamond dust, and they had to be watered every other day with a chloroplast solution. They were from a distant moon inhabited by the Mirials, a shy race that had reminded her of kangaroos. She deeply missed their presence on Atlantis. The delegates they sent to attend the Arts and Science Conferences were always so peaceful, and generated within everyone a sense of wellbeing.
She looked past the silver trees and black pillars to the rest of the marketplace. It was amazing that such a place for gatherings was open and often exposed to the mercy of nature. Her eyes drifted past the loud mummers of the marketplace, beyond Guardian’s Gate, and toward the causeway. Selené admired what Pandora had done to the walkway. Using her gifts, Pandora spot-covered the many pillars with beautiful native flowers, such as the allamandas with their flashy golden trumpet shaped flowers, the warm pink five-pointed mandevillas, and the red slender bell-shaped ruellias. On the causeway, Pandora’s flowers sparkled from mist of the waterfall, which ran underneath the grand stone walkway. As her eyes fell upon one of the many cacti-filled Phoenician vases lining the fence along the causeway, Selené reflected back to the day they met.
The priestess was well-known in the main Baalat temple in Tyre, when a stranger came wandering into town. He was looking to marry a priestess, so he could accept his father’s throne. It was common during that time to demand the prince to marry a temple priestess. However, with the advancement of a patriarchal religion, this requirement was rarely followed.