Chapter 4.
His gold encircled cross dazzled brightly beneath the burning sun. It had not been touched in some hours for its owner was stricken in deep thought. Their boats approached the Pillars, Era’Mi, the fingertips of Poseidon’s encircling arms. Here ended the safety of Ra Atl’Antek, these once uncharted waters were only whispered of amongst the first chosen’s people. He had sat and listened to his king two suns past, leaving the warmth of his love to be seated amidst the cold walls of Poseidon’s temple before his leaders. It is your time, Thu’Ra. Each moment the chosen had looked up at his king he had been met only by the apathetical gaze of the golden mask, instilling in his mind visions of horrors and wonders alike with equally as unembellished emotion.
Atl’As’ frail voice had been echoing in his mind since his people sailed out of the canals of Atlantis to begin their journey across the Atlantic. Their fleet a mile wide, their vessels, though reed woven, were enormous, riding the ocean waves with the greatest ease. The warships of Poseidon were deadly in ways that the people from within the Pillars could not begin to comprehend.
Thu’Ra rested at his warship’s beak, sweat beads covered his hugely muscular body causing him to frequently wipe the drench from his face. Spread before him upon a supply crate was a map Atl’As had bestowed upon the chosen. Lost in interest he stared intently at one particular area of the diagram. His king insisted the map had been graphed by the Equi’Dae with utmost precision, the landmass sketched at the southern most point was a place Thu’Ra had never once heard his leaders speak of. The mountainous regions stood at its eastern stretches and green fertile plains running off to the west beneath filled his mind with thoughts of a haven untouched by the hands of man. In the depths of his daydream he thought of what Poseidon might have seen upon first stepping amidst the valleys and fields of his own continent.
The first chosen took great pleasure in seafaring, how he savoured the moments before landing upon shores unknown, only to wage war upon people whom had done him no wrong. For the orichalcum, Thu’Ra, Atl’As would remind him when he saw the doubts or guilt in his chosen’s eyes. Mere expeditions, we are a flourishing people. His endeavours felt more like conquests than mere expeditions.
The great blue expanse simply enthralled him however, he could watch the ocean waves rise and fall for eternity. To live on the seas without trouble, with his love and children by his side was a fantasy he often fell upon as time itself passed him by.
The very morning after returning from Amek’Ra, Thu’Ra had been seated within the banquet hall of the temple. In his company, Atl’As, Imr’As, Tetu’Ra and Ma’At. His king’s undying voice resonated in his mind as he sat with that most revered company, such a strange moment, and one that only troubled Thu’Ra from the very instance he was seated.
As though wishing to avoid making a direct point, for some moments after Atl’As was settled he remained quiet, looking upon each of his guests, searching for some words to begin his purpose. Those that eventually came confused the chosen as much as they captivated him.
“At the dawn of the new age, a number of children escaped from an island that sank to the west now lost. Far spread were these children, some made to the coasts of Amek, others further. Those who reached the lands to our east discovered a harbour of immeasurable resource, and so began a conflict for greed and power.
When the world was young, my children, and our gods roamed the earth, they knew no better than that of the pettiness of man, in their passion confrontation was inevitable. It is said in our most ancient stories a people were lead by a first lady, and a giant who wielded weapons made from ores within the earth. They cast out their brothers and sisters, and so drifted Poseidon, alone, pursued still by those whom he had once called kin.
Once the safety of their land resided, and Ra’Atlantek expanded outwards before him, he stumbled upon a continent far greater in resource and tactical positioning than those lands that had a mere pond to share amongst their still struggling inhabitants.
Poseidon took with him as he was banished all the knowledge his people knew of cultivation and craftsmanship, and upon arrival our god began raising our great nation from the very soil of this fertile land, populated then only by stranded, primitive people of an age long forgotten.”
“Father, I am a child no longer, you gather me to an assembly to tell me the fables of our past?-” The boy made effort to proceed though the deep powerful voice of Tetu’Ra cut his immature tone short. Each word the aged male spoke seemed to ooze with a wisdom that mesmerised any who heard them.
“Listen to your father’s words, Imr’As, I know not of an occasion when he has uttered one without good cause.” Imr’As had been recognised as little more than a child the day Thu’Ra set sail towards the coasts of Amek’Ra. To the first chosen he was still nothing more than that, in mind he was an infant, in body not much more, in age however, due to the customs of his people, he was recognised as a significant member of the Atlantean sovereign. He was sure all that sat in his presence agreed on the child’s petulance and immaturity, but none were willing to note it aloud in the presence of Atl’As.
Amidst an awkward glance of eye contact towards Tetu’Ra, and then his father, Atl’As continued, impartial to his son’s interruption.
“Since our founding we have farmed this continent for its ores and minerals, animals and soils, we have founded harbours to our north, to our west, we pursue these lands for resources, for a resource. One that we have now truly depleted upon our lands and one that we have not yet discovered on another. Since Poseidon first stepped foot upon our shores our nation has progressed in ways that men before us could surely not have even fathomed, yet without this resource our advances cease, and so does our nation.”
“Orichalcum.”
The first chosen had whispered, still lost in memory his hand had risen unconsciously to caress the midst of the golden cross. He stood and walked to the reed vessel’s starboard looking south. He could see them now, the fingertips of his god, they approached ever closer though he did not feel panic nor trouble. The sight was strangely enticing, and as the vast reed ships floated with the ebb and flow of the sea waves in between the straits, Thu’Ra’s blue eyes fell to wonder.
To his south a densely vegetated cliff peak rose high into the sky capturing the attention of all that sailed, the green summit was flocked with bird species that he took pleasure in identifying. Ake, Atlantic puffins, the birds which had been flown above his head upon his return to Atlantis. He squinted to take site of a second, larger species, that appeared grey and white past their yellow bills, yet could not identify them. A faint smile slowly sprawled out upon his face while he watched the birds flourishing undisturbed.
Those that were air born hovered magically, observing the water with an unending patience before falling like rain down towards the depths of the great blue expanse. The first chosen watched some disappear beneath the endless surface causing white foam to spray upon impact, whilst others emerged, beaks full of glinting silver prey.
“Vessel ahead, to the north, chosen!” From high upon the crow’s nest Emen’Rus called out. His leader turned about to observe his crewmate’s sighting. He first believed his focus to be unusually poor for he could see no vessel before him, however a moment later he noticed a minute craft of design he was unfamiliar with. Thu’Ra leaned forward, grasping the portside reed work, he focused intently at two small figures resting upon a wooden boat that was a simple collection of wood, strung together by some flimsy means. Thu’Ra’s smile grew at the thought of just how crude it was, though as his vision became clear something far more unusual struck the giant.
Their skin, he squinted for disbelief, do my eyes deceive? He had only seen a person’s skin turn to such a colour upon the verges of death. Eba joined the chosen at the beak and glared out at the figures, he stood with mouth agape.
“Have we sailed into the afterlife, Thu’Ra? Poseidon protect us.”
At his captain’s words the chosen’s elong
ated skull spun hurriedly around. He moved across the vessel’s gangway rapidly to look back off of the stern of his ship, ensuring himself Ra’Atlantek was still there.
Returning to the beak, Thu’Ra studied the floating raft, one unmistakable sign became apparent amidst the confusion that enveloped him. Their actions. Thin strands of some material were just about distinguishable leading from the figures arms down into the depths of the blue. He snorted lightly out of his nose in amusement.
“They’re fishermen.” Thu’Ra yelled to his crew continuing to stare with curiosity. Eba’s voice called back, this time from high above, he scaled the solid wooden mast to gain better view of the fair skinned people.
“Chosen, should we seize them? What if they should seek their leaders and tell them of our presence? They’ve surely seen us.” Thu’Ra looked briefly at Eba and shook his etched head in dismissal. A part of the chosen was dearly intrigued to know more of these people, as he was upon sight of any new race he came across, although his immediate paranoia for the thought of them being spirits of the afterlife had hastily resided, a strange suspicion still held onto him.
In all the cycles that had past him in his lifetime he had not once known of a race of people who were so pale in skin and frail looking of body. He knew they could not be dead, though if they carried illness that matched the appearance of their skin his fleet would be doomed long before they reached their destination. Perhaps they were the true reason why his king wanted his chosen subjects to avoid the northern shores of the Parting Sea.
“They are fishermen, captain, let them fish.” Eba nodded and pulled a satisfactory face before all of Thu’Ra’s crew’s attention was drawn abruptly across the water towards another ship within the fleet. Moving portside, the first chosen glared out onto the ocean. The tranquillity of the calm sea was ruptured by a horrifically loud sound of some enormous tightening cranks. Clunk, clunk, clunk. Thu’Ra watched each horrendous turn cause the vessel being captained by Atl’As’ son to jolt deeply in the water.
What’s he doing? Thu’Ra whispered under his breath, continuing to watch Imr’As’ vessel. The prince was leaning off the ship’s beak pointing down at the tiny wooden craft. He waved his arms yelling something in his tongue that the first chosen could not make out for the sound of the ocean breeze and clunking of the colossal cranks that began to raise the warship’s siege weapon high into the air.
Eba joined Thu’Ra once more to look out from his vessel’s beak. “The fool is to launch an assault on that?” The chosen turned his head immediately and glanced at Eba.
“Be wiser with your words, captain,” he sighed shaking his head hesitantly.
“Do you think he’s trying to prove something?” Thu’Ra did not reply though pulled a face to suggest his cluelessness. He could do little more than watch and listen as the great cranks became faster, faster, the sound of tightening ropes and cringing wood became louder the faster they turned until all at once everything ceased. The chosen had not blinked once. The sound of calm sea waves returned to prominence in the air before the lightest flick of a chord was struck. The woodwork upon the vessel groaned as the arm of the colossal sling rotated wildly down and then up and over its frame. The reed ship’s stern and beak rose and fell with the flow of the weapon and the sweeping sound of the giant boulder that all at once became air born.
It made no sound travelling through the air, a great grey collection of matter that heralded no other purpose than death. The fishermen paid little attention to the immense fleet that sailed in from the Atlantic, war was not something they were familiar with, nor was it something the first chosen of Atlantis would ever have commanded upon them. The tonne of stone fell with deadly precision upon their crudely crafted vessel. At contact an explosion of red and white foam sprayed into the surf. Wood splinters scattered outwards across the rippling water, little but a bloodied surface and ruined timber was left in the aftermath of the projectile’s collision.
“He cannot come to the delta of the serpent, Thu’Ra.” Eba said, though his chosen did not acknowledge him. He had told his sea captain Atl’As’ plan, and though he cared not discuss the finer details of the excursion, he agreed in his mind to the captain’s words. His focus fell back upon Imr’As’ ship. The boy stood staring out at the remains of his target, then cheered at his crew mates who had loosed the stone. Thu’Ra turned his head to look upon Tetu’Ra’s vessel, he had seen everything, the priest king stood upon the vessel’s starboard staring directly at Thu’Ra. After some moments of eye contact the aged male turned away, leaving the chosen stricken in sheer disbelief.
Thu’Ra shook his head, he knew not of Imr’As’ motives nor did he wish to. He regretted the fact his king had requested the boy be taken upon this expedition. little could come of his presence other than a mind that was not at peace.
The chosen suddenly released Kotu’s golden cross which he unconsciously kept a grasp of, it pierced his skin for a grip that had tightened with ever growing tension.
“Captain, take to vessel with your men and ensure no other actions are committed that were not first commanded, request the presence of Tetu’Ra and Ma’At upon boarding their transport and escort them to my vessel with haste.” Eba nodded and clicked his fingers, signalling a number of deckhands to approach the starboard and portside of their ship where a number of smaller reed boats were entwined in preparation of land approach.
The warships of Poseidon sat deeply in the sea, their gigantic hulls immediately expanded beneath the waterline turning oval five meters outwards in each direction. The reed work was interwoven so tightly that should the vessel’s gangways have been shaped just a fraction more circular the vessels would become mere buoys in the ocean, unmoveable by any means.
Towards the stern of each ship, upon both the starboard and portside, sturdy wooden joists protruded from the reed work. Attached to each was a large rotator which was pushed constantly by two males in a circular motion. Beneath the water surface the joists rotated two colossal wooden propellers that accelerated the warships through a calm ocean at an incredible rate of knots.
Paddles too lined the ships’ starboards and portsides, extending into the sea above the minute reed crafts that were knotted to the vessel’s bowels. The paddle heads towards the ships’ beaks were greatly extended, becoming shorter with each oar. An enormous span of woven animal hide joined each oar acting as giant pectoral fins for the titanic structures. The soldiers of Atlantis rowed them through the sea water with great stamina and persistence.
In the midst of each vessel a huge wooden construct rested, woven into the very body of the ships, where deep beneath the waterline it could rise and fall freely between the reed work undeterred. These were the siege weapons of the Atlantean fleet, unseen before their time nor after, so dangerously attuned to naval warfare that not the greatest resistance could oppose them. Thu’Ra could not recall a time when use of the weapons had pleasured him, to now witness one being used to crush innocent lives filled him with a feeling of lost belief. How anyone could have such little regard for life, how conscience could go on after committing such an action was beyond his understanding.
Amidst the entire fleet a single boat sailed that was not like the others. It was covered from stern to beak by linen canvasses and animal hides several layers thick. There were few in the fleet’s company that knew what lay beneath the material, not even the Atlantean soldiers who rowed the gargantuan craft were aware of the vessel’s importance.
With another great sigh the chosen returned to a trance like state. His vessel cruised beyond the Fingertips of Poseidon, into this ancient waterway that his very own god had fled from at the dawn of time. His hand reached for the golden cross. Atl’As’ voice returned to his mind, and the discussion he had partook in, in the presence of his king, consumed his thoughts.
“In the eastern depths of the southern landmass, amidst fertile planes, a great snake crawls from the ocean down to the base of the world, carrying with it an unending fe
rtility, and all those that follow its routes are lead to an ever rejuvenating source of life. Upon its most western route, from the ocean, it crawls past a city of construct that far exceeds the capabilities of its current day citizens, an ancient ruin left by a people long past our time. Here resides this people’s leader, and here lays our destination.
The Equi’Dae have found this source of power upon the southern landmass of the Parting Sea. If we are to see the resources of that land come under our control we must make the people of this land, and the lands that surround the Parting Sea our own, though we need not shed blood nor risk life. In avoidance of our god’s ancient enemy we shall steer clear of beaching upon the northern shores of this sea, to believe in our legends or to dismiss them, we shall bring no quarrel to these powers past the ocean. Upon the northern lands resides a primitive, warlike people who care only for destruction, and nothing for preservation. Poseidon shall keep us safe upon the seas.”
“What of the men who are already beached upon the most western stretches of the southern lands, father?” Thu’Ra had known nothing of this, judging by the shocked appearance of Tetu’Ra’s face it seemed the priest was also oblivious. Atl’As paused, briefly sighing lightly under his golden mask.
“Little more than a distraction, my boy, one that does not concern this audience. Before this cycle’s end a mere man will stand before a civilisation and be recognised as a god, an entire nation stolen and a world upon their knees before a new king. Now remain silent, my child, for those who are seated in attendance need learn of their destinies.” It seemed even Atl’As’ endless patience was beginning to grow thin on the boy. Before the chosen’s memory covered the final words his king had uttered, he was disturbed again by Emen’Rus.
“A vessel approaches, chosen, our priest king and queen.” Tetu’Ra was not escorted by Eba, instead he made immediate haste towards Thu’Ra’s vessel on his own accord. The chosen was glad for the sight for he was certain the king of the third district shared his troubled thoughts.
Tetu’Ra stood moments after the sturdy reed vessel pressed against the portside of Thu’Ra’s and was entwined with its body. He offered a hand to Ma’At and rose her, ensuring she traversed steadily from the transport vessel to the warship, “remain.” He commanded his escort in his tongue, and then stepped up into the reed work gangway himself.
There was little place of privacy upon the ships, however the beak of each vessel was an area generally left to commanders, and though each boat couriered a hundred Atlantean soldiers, the resonance of the sea and chaos of paddling oars distorted most sounds, certainly those made by the whispers of man.
Thu’Ra seated himself upon a supply crate at the very pinnacle of his vessel’s beak head. The Atlantean sovereign approached, they stood together in silence before their chosen, waiting for him to raise the subject all had just witnessed.
“My queen, my king,” he nodded to each respectively. “Is all well upon deck? I hope the ocean waves have not been a disturbance.”
“Upon our vessel all is well, Thu’Ra, perhaps it is towards others you should look.”
“I shall ensure that all are well accounted for, my king, my captain makes haste as we speak.”
“It is not the welfare of those that sail that has come to my attention, chosen.” Thu’Ra exhaled deeply, shaking his head, looking down at the reed deck. He knew they would not raise the subject directly, and feared doing so himself. “Is there nothing more you wish to state?” The priest king stared at Thu’Ra without emotion, as though inviting him to address the matter. Without words said Tetu’Ra raised his eyebrows and began to turn about with Ma’At before Thu’Ra raised a hand to stop them.
“What of Imr’As?” He spoke quietly, hoping none had heard him utter the name.
“I suspect you should have an answer to controlling all that sail under your command, Thu’Ra?” Thu’Ra looked up through his great blue spheres and whispered.
“The boy cannot be controlled, he believes he has the right of Poseidon in his hands for the status of his father. I fear the execution of Atl’As’ plans will be jeopardised should he be present in the delta.”
“You know the boy is to be seated as our prince, chosen.” The priest king continued to feign his ignorance. Thu’Ra knew by his lack of opposition to the matter that his attention was undivided.
“If he’s to be your prince then I propose he’s given responsibility to watch the northern waters whilst the ancient city is subdued. He may be escorted after the event, no one need ever know.” Tetu’Ra remained silent whilst his chosen spoke, he began to nod slowly as Thu’Ra’s point was pressed forward. Ma’At grasped he who she was bound to by the hand and squeezed.
“Very well. Be wary at giving order, Thu’Ra, persuade the child, for his attitude towards being commanded is that of a spoilt youth being denied that which he pleads for.” Thu’Ra nodded back at the king. Nothing more was said between them. The aging couple turned about and made haste back to the small reed boat, returning to their ship.
The Echoes of Solon Page 8