Strangers in Atlantis (Seaborne)

by Matt Myklusch

  “I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. We were sent here to—”

  “Save your breath,” the large soldier said. “Our captain will decide what’s to be done with you.”

  “Your captain? We were promised an audience with the queen.”

  The soldier said nothing. Dean could tell it was no use pushing the man further. All they could do was wait and hope the man in charge was friendlier than the men who served underneath him.

  As Dean looked around for the missing captain, his eyes flashed up to the miraculous liquid dome flowing down around the city. He didn’t understand how such a thing could hold back the ocean, but there was no denying that it did its job ably.

  Dean’s legs steadied beneath him, but the breadth and grandeur of Atlantis remained a dizzying sight. Everywhere he looked, he saw tall spires and grand temples supported by massive columns. He had never seen such a city, with so much packed into one place. Countless buildings filled every inch of space under the dome. Some of them climbed so high, Dean worried they might fall over. And it was colorful, a kaleidoscope of pastels. Everything was pristine and beautiful, carved from clean, smooth sandstone and a rainbow array of corals.

  Taking in the unnatural nature of Atlantis, Dean had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Dry sand on the ocean floor, packed down tight, the consistency of hard clay. And air—he was breathing air, thousands of feet beneath the waves. A bucket of cold water splashed onto Dean’s sense of wonder as a fierce-looking woman pushed through the ring of soldiers. Apparently, the man in charge was a woman.

  She was beautiful, with stormy gray skin and red eyes flecked with gold. She had long straight hair, so black that it shone, and thick, full lips. The woman paced along the ground before them like a predator sizing up her prey. A suit of light armor covered her athletic frame like a second skin. As she passed Dean, he spotted curved knives tucked into scabbards that had been built into the padding on her back.

  “Commander, what’s the meaning of this?” the woman demanded. “Who are these children?”

  “Captain.” The tall soldier straightened his back. “You ordered us to detain the next pod that arrived from the surface. These children are its passengers.”

  The captain frowned at Dean and the others. She took a step closer. “What are your intentions here? Who sent you?”

  “We were hired by Galen Fishback,” Dean said, his voice cracking as the words came out. “Is that all right?”

  “Fishback.” The captain put on a dour expression. “Very clever. Who would ever suspect these innocent faces?”

  Dean squinted. “Suspect us? Of what? I’m afraid we’re getting off on the wrong foot here. Let’s back up. My name is Dean Seaborne. My companions are—”

  “I don’t need your names.”

  “We’re entertainers hired to put on a show. Nothing more.”

  “You think I don’t know when I’m being lied to? Commander!”

  She barked out a series of orders in a language Dean didn’t understand. The next thing Dean knew, the soldiers pulled him out of the pod and marched Dean and his friends up to the edge of the city.

  “What are you doing?” Dean protested. “I don’t understand!”

  “What’s going on?” Ronan asked, coming out of his funk.

  Waverly struggled in a soldier’s grasp. “Unhand me! We haven’t done anything wrong!”

  No one was listening. The soldiers held them inches away from the watery barrier that separated Atlantis from the ocean.

  “I’m going to give you one chance to tell me your true purpose in Atlantis. You can either talk or you can swim home. The choice is yours.”

  “This is crazy!” Ronan shouted. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I want the truth,” the captain said. Her voice was cold and unforgiving. “Tell me the real reason you came to Atlantis. I won’t ask again.”

  A soldier pushed Dean’s nose into the rushing water. “All right!” Dean shouted. He was about to reveal everything from Skinner to Gentleman Jim when a new voice called out:

  “Halt!”

  Dean held his tongue. He heard footsteps approaching. Lots of them. Whoever it was, they had shown up just in time.

  “Captain Lyndra, have you gone mad?” It was a young man speaking.

  “Lord Finneus. So good to see you.” The captain’s tone made it clear she meant the exact opposite.

  “Why are you tormenting my guests?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “You had best be prepared to explain them to Queen Avenel,” the young man said. “In this city, she decides who lives and dies. You don’t get to play judge, jury, and executioner.”

  “Thank you, Lord Finneus. I shall endeavor to remember that.”

  “Call your men off at once. We’ll continue this conversation in the throne room.”

  Captain Lyndra issued a reluctant order in another tongue, and her men let Dean, Ronan, and Waverly go. The three of them traded looks of relief, thankful the forceful Lord Finneus (whoever he was) had come along when he did. A few more minutes with Lyndra and her men might have been the death of them, and for what? They hadn’t even done anything wrong—as far as anyone knew. Dean was used to people trying to kill him, but they usually had their reasons. What Captain Lyndra’s motives were, he couldn’t hope to guess.

  Dean and his friends turned around and came face to face with the young lord of Atlantis who had saved them. Dean was shocked; he couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old.

  “Honored visitors from the surface. I am Lord Finneus. You are now under my protection. Please accept my most humble apologies, and welcome to Atlantis.”

  Chapter 14

  The Great Machine

  “Those maniacs nearly killed us,” Waverly said.

  “They will answer for that,” Finneus promised. “Right now, I can only beg your forgiveness and ask that you allow me to greet you properly. On behalf of the royal family, it is my privilege to receive you. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?”

  “My name is Waverly Kray. My friends are—”

  “My lady,” Finneus interrupted, bringing Waverly’s fingers to his lips. “I am delighted to meet you.” He looked up at Dean and Ronan. “Your friends as well.”

  “Delighted to be here,” Ronan said.

  Dean took a moment to size up Lord Finneus. The first thing he noticed, apart from Finneus’s youth, was the lord’s skin color. Unlike Mookergwog and Lyndra, Finneus had pale, sky-blue skin. Most likely, he came from still another species of mer-people. He sported well-coiffed hair and wore a formfitting black suit—sleeveless, to show off his well-defined arms, and apparently cut from the hide of a manta ray. Glowing jewels were sewn into the shoulders and chest. Dean got the impression that Finneus was the kind of person who liked to spend a lot of time in front of the mirror.

  “Who was that woman?” Dean asked, nodding toward Lyndra and her men.

  “Captain Lyndra is Chief of Intelligence and Internal Security for Atlantis. Again, my apologies. She’s suspicious of everyone. It’s her nature. Those men were her personal guard.”

  “They were terrifying,” Waverly said with a shiver.

  “They originally hail from Abyssal, deepest city in the Mer-Realm. Formidable fighters, but brash and unpredictable. Very dangerous, the lot of them.”

  One of the soldiers Finneus had brought with him grunted. “Savages is what they are.” He removed his helmet and showed off a thick scar running down the left side of his face. “I once nearly lost an eye over an innocent joke I made about one of their mothers.”

  “Some people have no sense of humor,” Dean said.

  “You’re lucky we arrived when we did.”

  Dean looked at the scar-faced soldier. He and his comrades were the polar opposite of the Abyssian warriors, and for that matter of a different species than Finneus. They had fair skin—pale as Englishmen in winter—and wore thin, flexible golden armor. It looked
like the kind of thing you could swim in—chain mail layered like fish scales, covering the soldiers from the waist up. They had golden helmets atop their heads with tight Y-shaped openings for their eyes, noses, and mouths. They also brandished long spears and held shields that bore a large capital N.

  Finneus smiled uncomfortably. “Sir Riptide, please put your helmet back on.” Finneus waited patiently as the man donned his helmet, hiding his scars once more. “These men here are from Neptune, the largest city in the Clearwater Kingdoms. No love lost between them and the people of Abyssal, I’m afraid.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” Ronan said.

  “We had hoped for a warmer welcome,” Waverly told Finneus.

  “I pray you won’t judge us based on this incident alone,” Finneus said. “Truth be told, I’m disgusted that it happened. How can I make it up to you?”

  “That’s not necessary,” Dean said. “We’re fine. No harm done.”

  “On the contrary,” Finneus began. “The laws of hospitality demand I make this right. I will not rest until you feel perfectly at home in Atlantis.” He led the group into the city. “Consider me your tour guide. You must have a thousand questions. Ask away. I live to serve.”

  “We could start with the obvious,” Ronan said. “How is it possible that we’re walking on the ocean floor?”

  “With air to breathe, no less?” Waverly added.

  “And what is that?” Dean asked, unable to resist joining in. Up ahead, the central tower of a great castle reached up to touch the liquid shield that hung over the city. The dome-shaped waterfall covering Atlantis gushed out from the peak of the tower as if it were the centerpiece of an impossibly large fountain.

  Finneus laughed. “That is the answer to all of your questions. A miracle of Atlantean science—the Water Tower.”

  Dean marveled at the sight. “I don’t understand. It’s just water that holds back the ocean?”

  “Not just any water,” Finneus corrected him. “Heavy Water. Many years ago, my ancestors discovered a Secret Sea beneath the ocean floor. It gets channeled up through the shaft of the tower and shot out through the fountain at the top. Gravity does the rest. As you can see, it mixes with the ocean about as well as oil and vinegar.”

  Everyone paused to admire the dome. Outside its walls, hundreds of rainbow-hued fish swam by. A handful of sharp-toothed predators chased after them, greedily snapping their jaws.

  “Unbelievable,” Ronan said. “I’ve sailed from one end of the Caribbean to the other. Seen things that would make a shark eat its own fin. But I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “I envy you,” Finneus replied. “I’ve been spoiled growing up here. The wonders of Atlantis are something I take for granted all too often.”

  “It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” Waverly said. “A wondrous achievement.”

  “More than you know. Our royal engineers designed a process to constantly recycle the water through the system and pressurize the jet stream to cover the greatest possible distance. As if that wasn’t enough, the Atlantean Alchemists’ Guild created a process to extract oxygen from the water so that human visitors like yourselves can breathe.”

  Ronan tugged at his collar. “You mean if the machines in those towers fail, we’ll run out of air?”

  Finneus laughed again. “If the machines in those towers were to fail, we would have much bigger problems than that. The whole ocean would rain down upon us!” Waverly gasped. Finneus patted her arm. “Not to worry, my dear. The Tower has never once failed us. Not for a second.”

  Dean cleared his throat. “I notice you’re breathing air, like us.”

  “We are partly amphibious, yes.”

  “Partly what?” asked Ronan.

  “Mer-people are capable of breathing air and water,” Finneus explained. “We just need to fully submerge our bodies once a day to keep ourselves hydrated.”

  “I don’t understand,” Waverly said. “Why go through the trouble of building your city this way if you don’t need air to breathe?”

  “It does seem an awful lot of work just to bring human entertainers down to the ocean floor,” Dean agreed.

  “Not at all. The number one business in Atlantis is tourism. Look around you, friends. The city is a melting pot. People come from every corner of the Mer-Realm to see our human attractions.”

  Sure enough, it was true. As they neared the city center, the streets got busier and people rushed to greet them at every turn. “Visitors!” they exclaimed. “Humans! Welcome to Atlantis!” The locals came in a variety of garments and skin tones. Some had fair, milk-white complexions like the Neptunian soldiers escorting them. Others were varying shades of blue (like Finneus), green (like Mookergwog), and gray (like the Abyssians).

  “The highest purpose of Atlantis is to bring people together. Old enemies set aside ancient grudges to live here in peace. You see, at the heart of Atlantis is an idea: no matter how great our differences may be, deep down, we are all the same.”

  A few pale-skinned Neptunians balked at that lofty notion, the scarred Sir Riptide most of all.

  “Some people in this pot take longer to melt than others, I see,” Dean said.

  Finneus grimaced. “My aunt likes to say that society is a great machine. One that does not always function as smoothly as the Water Tower.”

  “You must believe strongly in the principles this city was founded upon,” Waverly said.

  “I have to,” Finneus replied. “As Minister of Cultural Exchange, it is my mission to see that every visitor is welcome in Atlantis.”

  “You’re a minister?” Dean asked. “How old are you?”

  “Don’t make too much of my title. It’s little more than royal nepotism. My aunt Avenel is the Queen, after all.” They arrived at the gates of a great palace. “Here we are. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

  Chapter 15

  The Queen’s Court

  The queen’s palace was the most impressive castle Dean had ever seen. It trumped even the Aqualine Palace of Zenhala, a feat he had not previously thought possible. A square-shaped outer wall with wide ramparts and stone parapets bordered the dwelling. Decorative pillars lined the exterior walls, leading up to a wide main gate with a heavy portcullis. Dean had seen those things before. It was the keep behind the gate that made him stop and stare: the central shaft of the Water Tower of Atlantis.

  The structure took up nearly the entire courtyard and climbed a thousand feet into the air. It kept going and going, up and up and up, dominating the skyline of the city. Just looking at it—and the Heavy Water dome that flowed endlessly from the fountain at the top—made Dean feel small and insignificant. It was difficult not to feel that way in Atlantis.

  Inside, Finneus led the group through a long central hallway lined with more columns. The walls were filled with stunning reliefs depicting two different armies swimming off to war. On the left wall, sharks, whales, and swordfish flanked noble Neptunians in handsome suits of armor. On the right wall, a furious stream of Abyssian warriors poured out from a crack in the ocean floor, followed by krakens, giant eels, and worse.

  Up ahead, the scenes shifted to portray the two sides locked in combat. Dean, Ronan, and Waverly followed Finneus all the way down the hall, passing wall after wall of bloodshed and death.

  “What is all this?” asked Waverly.

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?” said Finneus. “You are looking at the history of the Mer-Realm. Long before we were born, a great war was waged under the sea. It threatened to consume everything, but on this very spot, my grandfather—the first king of Atlantis—arranged a truce.”

  The hall opened into an antechamber where a pair of blue-skinned guardsmen stood before a massive door. Dean noticed one final scene above the portal, with the lords of Neptune and Abyssal bending their knees before a king on a shell-shaped throne.

  “We’ve had a hundred years of peace,” Finneus said. “People from both sides have shared this city the whole ti
me. It isn’t always easy. Visitors from Abyssal and Neptune don’t always get along, but guests like yourselves provide some much needed diversion.”

  Finneus detached himself from Waverly to speak with the soldiers at the door. As they waited outside what could only be the queen’s throne room, Dean’s mind flashed back to a similar moment in the Aqualine Palace, waiting for Verrick to bring him before Waverly’s father. Everyone had stayed in character that day. For Dean and his friends to be successful here, they would need the same level of focus.

  “When should I ask about Gentleman Jim?” Ronan whispered.

  “Not now,” Dean hissed. “We’re supposed to be world-famous entertainers invited by royal talent scouts. Just focus on that and keep quiet. I’ll do the talking.”

  Finneus returned and the guards pulled the door open. Beyond the threshold lay a vast, bright chamber, all but empty. A gentle waterfall fountain trickled down the back wall and ran out across a raised platform, where the queen sat on her throne. The flowing water continued down a wide crystal staircase and then disappeared into a grate. Two guards in silver armor stood posted on either side of the queen’s elevated seat, and two more waited at the base of the stairs with Captain Lyndra.

  “This way,” Finneus said, taking the first step toward the throne.

  The group ascended the staircase to the royal dais, sloshing through running water as they went. Lyndra fell in line behind them, this time without her men. She eyed Dean and his friends with cold suspicion. When the group reached the top step, Finneus motioned for everyone to hold their position and continued on his own. Once he could go no farther without bumping into a guard, he stopped and took a knee. “We have visitors from the surface, my queen.”

  Queen Avenel, an old woman with long white hair and blue skin, wore a dress made of shimmery blue and white material, decorated with tiny seashells. The crown atop her head was a subtle, elegant coronet made of shining silver with three dazzling sapphires set inside it. Dean could tell the queen had been gorgeous in youth, for even now in her twilight years, she retained a graceful beauty.