When she finally reached the disk, she didn’t reel it in. Instead, she turned it over so the protruding crystal faced downward. It shimmered momentarily before the Niña’s mast blocked out the sun. Using her paddle, she tried to push it back in the light. That’s when she heard a voice.
“That is property of the king.”
Vespucci stood in a dinghy of his own. He set a paddle down and withdrew his sword. Nyx suspected he thought it would intimidate her. She swung her paddle and clipped him upside the head instead.
“And this is the property of your face!”
As Vespucci sprawled back, Nyx once again paddled for the disk. She heard Vespucci roar with rage as he paddled after her.
Back on the Santa Maria, the odds were quickly turning against Columbus. The Pygmies had managed a string of casualties, but they, too, were falling back under superior numbers. Among the enemy, Columbus recognized the Pinzon brothers. They were good sailors and likely only acting under orders of the king. The idea of killing them—or being killed by them—didn’t sit well with him.
Columbus charged the nearest Pinzon, his blade whirling. To no surprise, Pinzon maintained his focus and footing. The two men exchanged parries, challenging each other with skills well honed. Through it all, however, Columbus kept stealing glances at Nyx. As she neared the disk, Vespucci closed in on her. Stupid and brave, Columbus thought. It wasn’t hard to guess whom she reminded him of.
“Give me that disk, you retched creature!” Vespucci howled as he drew near. Nyx swung her oar again. This time, Vespucci caught it, ripped it from her hands, and flung it out to sea. To his amazement, the girl jumped into the water, continuing to push the disk toward the sunlight.
Back on the Santa Maria, Fanucio once again sidled up next to Columbus. “What the hell is she doing?”
“I don’t know—” Columbus replied.
To their horror, Vespucci got close enough to grab Nyx by the hair. At that very instant, she shoved the disk with all her might and watched it coast into the sunlight.
A kaleidoscope of colors exploded across the water, and the crystal gem began to glow. Vespucci held his hand up to stave off the light. Nyx was frozen, entranced.
Almost immediately the swordplay on the ship came to a halt. Men turned in bewilderment as those lights cascaded over them.
“What devilry is this?” Vespucci asked.
As the sun continued to shine down on the disk, the crystal glowed brighter. A shimmering light seemed flowered above it, growing in intensity and coalescing into a kind of storm.
“What is that?” Fanucio gasped.
Columbus gave the only answer he could. “A miracle.”
As the phenomenon continued to unfold, Nyx paddled away. Then, all at once, the colors fused in a blinding explosion. A powerful beam of light shot down into the depths of the ocean.
A beacon.
Everything grew still. The men had stopped fighting. Where a moment before they stood toe-to-toe, they now stood side by side, all eyes on the disk; all waiting in anticipation for what would happen next. They didn’t have to wait long.
A bubble rose to the surface directly in front of Nyx. Two more appeared. When a torrent followed her, Nyx swam away as quickly as she could. Vespucci was frantically trying to paddle the dinghy away. Nyx grabbed the back and kicked with all she had.
Slowly, A dark shadow appeared from below, increasing in size as it rose. Before long, it had expanded beyond the boundary of the ship. An instant later, several giant tentacles exploded from the ocean and towered into the sky. The men recoiled in horror as the leviathan rose, its eyes black as pitch, its maw filled with razor-sharp teeth.
“You owe me a golden foot,” Fanucio muttered.
The beast roared.
“Leviathan!” Columbus screamed as those giant tentacles swooped down and crushed the Santa Maria’s bow.
Men howled as they fled across the deck. Tentacles swooped down to snatch them up, tossing three into its roaring gullet while flinging the others a thousand feet away.
The largest tentacle latched onto the mast and ripped it free like an ingrown hair. It pitched it at the Niña, crushing the top half of the smaller vessel’s deck and sending it reeling out to sea.
“Man the cannons!” Columbus screamed. “Fire everything!”
Aboard the Santa Maria and Pinta, men ran for the artillery. Cannonballs and lombards crackled as they fired at the leviathan. Splotches of black blood sprayed the air, but it only enraged the creature. Some men were reduced to slashing at the tentacles with their swords, only to be rewarded by crushing blows or worse, a mouth full of teeth.
Down in the water, Nyx tried desperately to climb aboard Vespucci’s dinghy.
“Go away!” he shouted.
“I can help row, you idiot,” she said.
A tentacle whipped overhead, nearly upending them both.
“Yes,” Vespucci cried. “Get in. In!”
As they rowed away, Columbus dodged another tentacle as it slammed down, cracking the spine of his ship. Water flooded around his feet.
“Should we abandon ship?” Fanucio shouted.
Columbus shook his head. In the water, they were sitting ducks. At least here, they could scramble around and give themselves time to come up with a plan. What they needed was to identify a weakness in their enemy. Then it came to him. “The eye! Concentrate your attack on the eye!”
The remaining seamen began firing their weapons at the leviathan’s eye. When one finally struck, the creature roared.
Fanucio spied the last versos gun up near the front of the ship. He hobbled as quickly as he could, ducking under a tentacle as it gathered up more men before shoveling them into its maw. Fanucio swung the gun in the creature’s direction and took careful aim before pulling the trigger. The blast was defeating. It hit true. The monstrosity shrieked.
“I got ‘im, Cap’n!” Fanucio cheered. “I—”
A second, much larger eye rose up in front of him.
“It was him,” Fanucio pointed to one of the Spaniards.
The first mate was thrown from his feet as the entire ship began to rise. Tentacles wrapped around it as the remaining crewmen leaped overboard.
Columbus watched with dread as the leviathan lifted his vessel high into the air, fixing it over its giant maw. That breath is horrendous.
Looking around quickly, Columbus saw Giant Pedro’s axe still planted in the deck. He wrenched it free and climbed atop the railing.
“Just my luck,” he grumbled. “A death for the ages and no one around to see it.”
As the ship canted down, Columbus jumped. The leviathan’s remaining eye opened wide as the mariner buried the axe deep into its ocular orb. A defining roar echoed across the sea as the creature thrashed in the water.
All at once, the ship hurtled toward the water. It struck the surface and continued downward. Columbus locked onto the mast and tried to hold firm as the water rushed over him. The other tentacles continued thrashing, wrapping around anything they could find until they, too, were plummeting into the cold, dark depths.
Columbus felt his lungs burning and his head threatening to explode from the pressure. He released the mast and kicked for the surface, but the light had grown too dim. He tried to follow the rise of bubbles, but black stars flooded his vision as he continued down toward a watery death.
Chapter Six
Only one true of heart can save a world.
The voice was deep, disembodied. It filled every corner of Columbus’s mind, piercing the veil that marked the boundary between the living and the dead. For, surely, he was dead, wasn’t he? What else could lie beyond the vast depths he’d traveled? The endless fathoms he’d plunged? The crippling pressure that had risen with each second, setting his blood afire, until at last it seemed the only relief might be that endless slumber that awaited us all. Had he taunted it too long? What else but death could feel so cold and infinite?
With a gasp, Columbus opened his eyes. I
nstantly, his chest seized, and a stream of seawater exploded from his lungs. He retched again and again until a few short breaths managed to pilfer air between the convulsions. Spittle ran over his trembling lips. It tasted coppery—of blood. Is it mine? If so, it meant he was alive. But how? Where?
At first, the darkness was all-encompassing. Then, slowly, shadows began to appear. Somewhere in the distance he thought he saw a light. No, not a light. A torch, flickering from a craggy cavern wall. There were a few of them peppered around, spaced too far apart to illuminate much.
Columbus tried to sit up. His wet hand slipped, and he cut it on some rocks. He was drenched, shivering. He smelled dank earth and something else. Something rancid that drew tears to his eyes. He clenched his gut and buried his head in the crook of his arm to avoid retching again. It was death. He’d never smelled it so strong.
Another voice called from far off. This one different than before. Did I dream it? He wasn’t sure. All he knew for certain was that he was colder than he’d ever been in his life. And he was lucky to be alive.
The new voice came again, hurried and hushed. Something about it sounded familiar. Columbus wasn’t sure why. He tried to turn. The rocks clattered beneath him and he slipped again. He looked down. The rocks were ochre, oddly shaped, both smooth and jagged. He blinked several times. When they came into focus, the horrifying truth hit him. He wasn’t lying on rocks. He was lying on bones. A bed of bones filled the cavern floor.
“Cap’n!” the whisper sounded, clearer this time.
Columbus turned, muscles cramping. Several bulky shapes hovered in the air a few yards away. Bodies hanging on gibbets. Others in cages. Did one of them just move?
“Cap’n, can you hear me?” the whisper asked again.
“Fanucio?” Columbus replied, teeth chattering.
Several of the caged prisoners shushed him at once.
“You have to free us before they return,” another voice said, panic torqueing the pitch higher. Columbus blinked, finding Amerigo Vespucci. He was in a cage with the girl who deciphered the bronze disk. What is her name again?
“Who?” Columbus asked.
“The creatures,” Fanucio hissed. “They pulled us from the water, feasting on half the men before hauling the rest of us in here. They went back to look for more. Once they see we’re the last—”
He never finished the sentence. A thrashing noise echoed down one of the subterranean passageways, followed by a ghastly scream. That scream chilled Columbus to the bone.
A shadow filled the passage as something approached. Its movements were fluid—more sashay than steps. When it neared the cavern entrance, Columbus realized it was dragging a flailing man behind it. The sailor moaned pitifully.
“Down,” the girl hissed. “Lie down!”
Columbus’s face settled among the bones, the odor of death taking root in his nostrils. He pleaded with God to quell his stomach for fear he’d vomit again.
The creature entered the room, crunching over the bones on the ground. Columbus cracked an eye to take it in. It was humanoid, taller than a man, but with sagging breasts draped with mottled skin. Its beak-like snout was wet with blood, its legs like chicken feet. But what stood out most were two malformed protrusions on its back, spindly bones with torn webbing and snatches of feathers. If they were wings, they had never known flight.
The man wailed as he was thrown to the floor. Two wet strikes and he went silent. Columbus hadn’t seen the man, hopeful he wasn’t one of his own.
The creature shuffled forward, crunching more bones underfoot. Columbus held his breath as it neared. Then, the sailor shouted. His incapacitation had been a ploy. He drew a hidden blade and charged the thing, screaming. The blade moved too quickly to follow. The creature retreated a step to avoid the strikes before its long arms lashed out in response. Even in the dark, Columbus could see its razor-sharp talons tear through the sailor’s shirt and flesh beneath. The man cried out, falling to his haunches. Desperate, he looked to charge his attacker again when the creature suddenly lifted its head, opened its mouth, and released a melodious note that froze the sailor in his path.
Columbus had never heard anything so beautiful and abhorrent at the same time. It seized him in a crushing grip. He tried to turn away—to cover his ears—but he was frozen. Spittle ran from his lips, and he felt a longing in his loins that was both agony and ecstasy. When the note changed it felt like a small mercy, until he realized his desire was now compelling him to stand. He fought it with every fiber of his being, though it was a losing effort. Those notes burrowed into the deep recesses of his brain, activating some animal instinct that would not be denied.
The sailor rose first. With each step, he lumbered toward the creature, powerless to deny its call. His head shook as he mumbled a prayer, the whites of his eyes growing bigger with each step. As its prey neared, the creature opened its craw, revealing two sets of piercing, blackened teeth.
All at once, the note ended. The creature sprang. The song turned to one of screams.
Columbus saw the man’s flesh rupture, gouts of arterial blood spraying across the bone-laden floor. The creature shrieked with delight as it struck again and again. Finally, the sailor mercifully stopped moving.
Released from the song, Columbus turned away, praying the thing couldn’t hear the pounding of his heart. For all he knew, he would be next. His eyes darted around. The sailor’s blade lay in the center of the cavern, too far to retrieve. He even saw his bandolier of jade globes, but they were also out of reach. Eventually, he saw what appeared to be a broken femur protruding from the pile of bones, its jagged edge fit enough for a weapon. His trembling hand crept toward it. Then he heard a hiss and looked up and locked eyes with a woman.
He had never seen anything like her before. Ghostly pale eyes, skin so fair it almost glowed. She wore a strange bodysuit of reflective material sparsely covered with netting, though its worn appearance suggested she had also put up a fight against her captors. Even hunkered down, Columbus could see she had an athletic frame. And most curious of all was the swoop of tiny, colored gems that marked one side of her face. In a word, she was breathtaking.
The woman eyed the creature before tipping her head to Columbus. His brow furrowed. He had no idea what she was saying.
Carefully, the woman reached through the bars and pointed behind him. Columbus looked to see a silver trinket in the shape of a globe protruding from the bones. He glanced back at the woman, confused.
A rustle sounded behind Columbus. One of the men—maybe Fanucio—whispered a warning. Nyx—that’s her name—drew a sharp intake of breath.
The woman nodded again, insistent. Her eyes bouncing between him and the thing that was clearly closing in behind him. Columbus heard the crunch of feet, the opening of its bloody snout. His eyes bounced between the broken femur and the silver globe. He needed to choose.
As a shadow fell over him, Columbus’s trembling hand inched forward, expecting to hear that agonizing note at any moment.
Then Nyx shouted from her cage. Columbus heard the creature spin. His hand shot toward the globe, delving deep into the bones. He had no idea what he was reaching for when his hand wrapped around a hilt. His eyes went wide, flashing back to the foreign woman in the cage. She yelled something he didn’t understand. He pulled the sword out as quickly as he could and spun.
The blade struck bone and flesh, jolting Columbus’s arm. The sword had cut through its shoulder and deep into its chest. Its mouth opened with a spray of blood, followed by a horrible screech. Columbus whirled to his feet, ripped the sword out, and hacked at the thing until it ceased moving. Only when Fanucio called his name did Columbus stumble back, chest heaving.
“Thank God,” Nyx called out with relief.
“Quickly, Columbus,” Vespucci said, “free us before the others return.”
Columbus didn’t hesitate. He used the sword’s silver globe pommel to break the locks of the cages, releasing the others.
�
��How many are there?” he asked, his voice raw and hoarse.
“Too many to count,” Fanucio replied. “Even if I could count. Likely, they’re scouring the cove for more men, but once they realize we’re it, they’ll be back.”
“Where are we? What happened?”
Vespucci coughed as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it over his mouth and nose. “You don’t recognize hell when you see it?”
Fanucio scavenged two more blades from the debris, slapping the hilt of one against Vespucci’s arm. “You would know.”
“Don’t you dare touch me, you filthy—”
Nyx muscled her way between them. She put the dead sailor’s dagger in her waistband and tossed Columbus his bandolier of jade globes.
“The leviathan drew us down,” she said. “After a time, we passed through a barrier of some kind and the pressure relented. It left us on an underground shore before it retreated. It was dark. There were many dead and more injured. We were pulling the wounded from the water when we saw torches approaching. Those things,” she nodded toward the dead creature, “attacked us without provocation. Some of us tried to fight, but in the end, it was a slaughter. Only those who surrendered were taken.”
“You did the right thing. We’re still alive and that’s all that matters.”
“Still,” Vespucci repeated, “a designation that shall change rapidly if we do not find a way out of here.”
To everyone’s surprise, the caged woman spoke next.
“Anak-Ta Eleece?” she asked.
Columbus turned back to the woman. He’d almost forgotten she was there.
“Who is she?” Vespucci asked.
“I have no clue.”
The woman rattled her cage, unleashing a torrent of words they did not understand.
“What language is that?” Fanucio asked. “Greek?”
Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis Page 7
