Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis

by E. J. Robinson

  Columbus shook his head. “It was lost in our descent.”

  “Pity,” King Atlas said. “Now, you are imprisoned here just as we are.”

  Just then another tremor shook the city, and those strange alchemical lights fluttered on the walls. It ended quickly but had a lasting effect on the mood in the room.

  “As you see, our kingdom has lost much of its wonder. The magic used to craft this realm is waning. Each day the Void that protects us grows smaller and weaker. We have done our best to halt it but have little grasp of the science of our elders. I fear the end of Atlantis draws nigh.”

  “But he is the Anak-Ta Eleece, Father!” Elara pleaded. “I have seen it!”

  King Atlas shook his head. “’Tis folly, daughter. The old ways left after the Gods abandoned us. No one can save us now.”

  “But the prophecy!”

  “Blasphemy. The lies of the slaves offer no succor.”

  Elara opened her mouth to speak again, but no words came out. She looked desperately to Columbus, hoping he might say something, do something. But he was as silent as the others. He was surprised to feel a kernel of pity for the king. Moments ago, he raged like a storm. Now he looked weary. Impotent. “I long imagined the day our races would meet again and wondered what the outcome would be of such a reunion. Would we find ourselves once again at war? Or would we become allies, brothers? The answer matters little now. The days ahead of us are dark and dire, and we have no time for uncertainties. Guards. Take these people and cast them into the Void.”

  As the guards moved, Elara rushed toward the king. “Please, Father. I beg of you. Do not do this! He is the Anak-Ta Eleece! If you kill him, you doom us all!”

  The king sighed and signaled for his cup to be refilled. “Doom, child, is all we have left.”

  As Columbus was being pulled from the room, he managed a parting salvo. “Don’t forget self-pity.”

  The king looked up, snarling. “What did you say?”

  The guards hesitated, unsure what they were supposed to do.

  Columbus seized the moment. “You spoke of strength when we first entered, but I’ve seen none on display here. Only self-pity and weakness. In our culture—as with most cultures of our world—a condemned man is offered an opportunity to prove his worth.”

  “You wish to fight for your freedom?” King Atlas asked, amused. “I remember tale of these ways. And though the thought of such barbarism appeals to me, you are no match for an Atlantean.”

  “Join me and prove it.”

  King Atlas bellowed again, and his men laughed nervously with him. “Did you hear nothing I said? I am a descendant of the Gods. In my lifetime, no man has come close to challenging me. Still, the thought of returning to battle after so many years gives new rise to my blood.” He nodded. “Yes. I would take you up on your offer, but for one minor thing. Were you—by some miracle—to prevail, the future of my kingdom would fall into the hands of my daughter. And that is a danger I cannot risk.”

  If Elara was hurt by that sentiment, she did her best to hide it.

  “But laws be damned!” the king shouted. “You have courage, adventurer. I will give you your match and allow one to fight in my stead.”

  Surprised, Columbus said, “I don’t suppose I get to pick?”

  King Atlas chuckled before looking to his right. “Dion shall be my champion.”

  For the first time, the giant smiled. Columbus felt his stomach drop. Still, it was a chance.

  Fanucio pulled close. “I’ll bet he ain’t as tough as he looks, Cap’n.”

  Nyx smirked. “I’d take that bet.”

  Pounding drums filled the auditorium again. Elara pulled Columbus to the center of the room, nodding to the others to get back. She pulled the golden stave from her belt. “This is a sonstave. It has two functions. Depress this colored jewel and it sends out a blast of sonic energy. You remember its sting. This second jewel provides a barrier—like a shield to protect you, though it only lasts a second or two.”

  Columbus glanced at Dion. The giant had stripped off his armor and was getting himself loose. He moved fast, athletic. This was not going to be easy.

  “Any rules?” Columbus asked.

  “Yes,” Elara answered. “If you’re hit, you die. Avoid getting hit.”

  “She’s got jokes,” Columbus smirked.

  “And whatever you do, don’t let go of your sonstave. Here, it is considered the same as a forfeit.”

  “Understood.”

  The drums surged as the trial was about to begin. Dion had worked up a sweat and was ready. Elara faced Columbus, her back to her father. “He likes to use his shield as a battering ram. Watch for a feint first.”

  Columbus nodded as Elara slipped away. Columbus took another heavy breath and wiped the sweat from his hands.

  “Are the combatants ready?” King Atlas asked. “Begin!”

  Dion fired an immediate blast from his sonstave. Only Columbus’s lightning-fast reflexes allowed him to activate the shield barrier to parry it.

  At the side of the room, Columbus’s team shouted support.

  “Come on, Captain! You can do this!” Fanucio said.

  “Teach this fish lover something,” Nyx howled.

  Vespucci stayed silent.

  Columbus traced a circle around the outside of the room, firing off a blast that Dion easily defended.

  Dion paced the opposite direction, forcing Columbus back to his left. Columbus was a natural counterpuncher. The giant seemed to sense this, only firing a probe when Columbus broke eye contact.

  He’s fast, Columbus thought. And careful. He’s looking for weaknesses.

  All at once, the giant fired off three blasts in quick succession. The first two struck Columbus’s shield, but the third was aimed at his feet. Columbus spun away as the energy skipped off the cobbles where he’d been standing. He lost his footing and went down, rolling to avoid Dion’s fourth and fifth shot.

  High above the fray, the Pygmies watched on.

  “Our prisoner appears to be at a disadvantage? Shall we step in?” Monday said.

  “Let him fight,” Tuesday replied. “Our bottle’s still half-full.”

  As Columbus regained his footing, Dion charged him. Columbus fired, hitting the giant’s shield. He shrugged it off and grinned. Dion fired the next blast, but it sailed overhead. Columbus was relieved until he realized the behemoth had only fired to edge closer. Once he was near enough, Dion barreled into Columbus with his shield just as Elara had warned. A quartet of brutal punches followed, spilling air from Columbus’s lungs. Columbus spun away, firing to aid his retreat.

  The giant grinned. Columbus swallowed. Things were about to get serious.

  While Columbus’s crew members continued to encourage their captain, Elara noticed her father sat grim and silent on his throne. His fists were clenched, his blood up. He was invested in the outcome.

  The crowd oohed and ahhed as the competition continued, but surprisingly they cheered neither contestant. To them, a fight to the death was a sacred thing, and each combatant deserved respect. Still, there was no question where their hearts truly were.

  Columbus was gasping, falling harder on his heels. The room was sweltering and sweat trickled into his eyes. He wiped it away, taking deep breaths between each blast that struck his shield—each like a hammer to the chest. He wasn’t sure how long he could take it.

  All at once, Dion stopped to reposition his feet and feinted like he was about to fire. Then he charged. This time, Columbus was ready. Rather than retreat, he stepped toward his opponent just as Dion activated his shield and lowered his shoulder behind it. To his surprise, Columbus didn’t set himself to defend it. Instead, he fell back, letting his opponent come over top of him. Just as the giant’s weight was poised to crush him, Columbus wedged the butt of his sonstave between the cobbles of the floor and fired. The blast catapulted Dion ten feet into the air. He hit the ground with tremendous force, his sonstave slipping from his hand.

/>   Fanucio and Nyx cheered as Columbus limped toward the beleaguered giant. He was reaching down to take his sonstave when Dion turned over rapidly, his sonstave already back in his hand. He fired off a surprise blast. Columbus managed to raise his shield in time, but he was too close. The blast propelled him backward. When he landed, his sonstave rolled across the stone floor.

  The match was over.

  “Bad play!” Fanucio shouted.

  “He cheated!” Nyx screamed. “He lost his weapon first!”

  “His body never lost contact,” King Atlas said. “My champion has triumphed.”

  The crowd applauded as Dion struggled to his feet. Despite being crowned the victor, he looked anything but pleased. He was even more incensed when Elara went to aid Columbus.

  “He fought valiantly, Father,” she said to the king.

  To her surprise, the king nodded, somber. She thought he would have been celebrating.

  “Yes. But the law is the law, in my kingdom or any other. This man has failed. The bargain is kept. Take them to the Void.”

  “No!” Elara shouted as the guards pulled Columbus to his feet. “This is wrong! We can have peace!”

  King Atlas rose wearily and turned for the tunnel. “There can be no peace while Atlantis withers. The Void awaits us all.”

  Elara shouted again, but it was no use. The guards had taken hold of the entire crew and were in the process of escorting them away when a gasp ran through the room, followed by many others. King Atlas turned at the sound. When he saw what they were looking at, his face grew pale.

  Just inside the front entrance stood a stooped figure in a woolen cowl, a gnarled walking stick clutched in her hand.

  Whispers filled the room. For the first time, King Atlas looked ill at ease.

  “What is it, Crone?” he asked with obvious disdain. “What brings your wrinkled old face from its hovel?”

  The figure looked up, revealing an ancient, frail woman with milky white eyes. She pointed a shaky finger at Columbus, speaking only one word.

  “Him.”

  Chapter Nine

  The crone padded slowly down the hallway, silver hair a-tangle under her earthen cowl. Her walking stick echoed with each strike on the floor, slower and more foreboding than Fanucio’s peg leg, like a pronouncement of doom.

  Columbus had left his first mate and the others in the care of Elara’s guard. She had promised no harm would come to them until after he’d met with the old woman. Columbus had no idea what such a meeting entailed, but by the foreboding look of every citizen they passed, it couldn’t be good.

  Even Dion appeared wary of the old woman. He had protested briefly with the king. In the end, it did no good. King Atlas might be ruler of Atlantis, but this stooped woman had some other authority that he feared. If only Columbus could find a way to use that in their favor.

  Guards were posted at various intervals along their path. Columbus wasn’t sure if this was normal or if they’d been tasked with protecting the princess while she was in the stranger’s company. What struck Columbus, however, was how each guard went rigid as the old woman passed. He recalled the princess’s reaction upon first seeing this crone. At first, there was relief, followed quickly by reverence before finally succumbing to fear. He’d seen that kind of woeful mix in primitive cultures where mysticism flourished. He never imagined seeing it in a place like this. What power could such a frail old woman yield over a kingdom that her mere appearance unnerved everyone who looked upon her?

  Columbus knew he should have been more afraid, but he was still reeling from the events that unfolded before her arrival. He’d had his share of close calls over the years, but the battle in the Nave topped the list. How had things here turned so badly so quickly?

  Vespucci.

  That bootlicker had tried to bluster his way into the king’s good graces. While that might work in a court full of toadies, anyone with the sense of a scullery maid could see Atlantis’s leader’s hunger for confrontation. The question was why? Elara had warned them about the king, but more was left unsaid than spoken. The man was a tyrant, blithely willing to send five strangers to their deaths, and yet Columbus sensed some turmoil in the man. Then again, he had ordered they be sent…where was it again? Oh, yes. The Void.

  Columbus inquired about it.

  “It is the barrier that surrounds and protects Atlantis from the realm above,” Elara replied.

  “It can be penetrated easily?”

  “All one has to do is simply walk through. And there, you will be greeted by the weight of ten thousand leagues and crushed in an instant.”

  “Have you ever seen it happen?”

  “I have seen many pass into the Void. What happens on the other side is obscured by the barrier itself. If you get close enough, you can hear it, though.”

  “What?”

  “Its power,” she answered hesitantly, as if even talking about it brought her pain. “It’s like a storm pounding at a door desperate to get in. Here, it serves as our harshest punishment. In my lifetime, I have witnessed twenty or so condemned to pass through. But I have never seen anyone come from the other side…until you. What was it like?”

  “It’s sort of a blur, really. There was a battle raging between my ship and two others. I was wounded and dazed. Then the leviathan appeared, rising so high I feared it might blot out the sun. My crew fought valiantly, but in the end, we were no match for it. It destroyed my ship with ease and drew those it did not kill asunder. I recall plummeting fast, past the corpses of my men, until the light of the world faded away and there was nothing left but the cold and dark. Something strange happened then, though it’s possible I imagined it. A voice spoke to me.”

  Elara searched his face, troubled. “A voice? What did it say?”

  Columbus noticed the crone had stopped walking, her head turned as if awaiting his response. He caught a glimpse of those milky blind eyes and felt his chest tighten. Something told him he’d said too much.

  “‘Hurry, there’s a fair maiden here that needs rescuing,’” he answered. Elara rolled her eyes and continued walking. “How did you get there anyway?”

  “I was taken captive by the sirens while on a mission. For two days I hung in Gaia’s Craw. I’m not sure why they spared me. We have been at war with them for centuries and still understand so little about them.”

  Up ahead, the crone had reached a stone staircase that seemed incongruous in a city made of glass. As they headed downward, Columbus caught the smell of moisture. They were descending below the waterline.

  At last they came to a long stone corridor, lit with those same alchemical globes, only burning blue instead of red. This part of the city felt much older than the one above. As the old woman continued to lead them, Columbus felt his throat tighten and his breath come faster.

  “Who is she?” he whispered.

  “She is the Seer,” Elara answered. “I know of no other name for her. Some say she is the last descendant of the slaves, but that is impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Their line ended a thousand years ago.”

  “She looks good for her age.”

  Surprisingly, Elara smiled. “Why does it not surprise me that you enjoy older women?”

  “Who doesn’t value experience?”

  “My father says she has not aged since he was a child. His father’s father once called upon her for council. Now, she lives down here, alone.”

  “In a dungeon?”

  Elara elbowed him. “Once there were even lower levels than this. The slaves’ quarters. But they flooded after the last rebellion four hundred years ago. Even she dares not go there.”

  “Why do you say she?”

  “Sometimes at night, the guards see her walking about the city like a ghost. It unnerves our people. Moons pass, and we think she’s finally gone, but then she appears again. No one knows her purpose.”

  As the Seer walked by an alchemical lamp, it flickered intermittently.

  �
�Does she have magic?”

  Elara shrugged. “My mother used to say magic was lore beyond our understanding. Would your people see our marvels and call them magic?”

  “Witchcraft, more likely.”

  Elara stopped. Up ahead, the Seer was closing in on an old wooden door. It was the first wood save the Seer’s walking stick that he’d seen since he’d entered the city. Elara spoke with urgency then. “She leads you to the Chamber of Fates. There, you will see the past, present, and future of your choosing. In the last hundred years only one other has received this blessing.”

  “Let me guess. The king.”

  “No. Me.”

  Curious. Elara glanced at the Seer again and swallowed. She was afraid. But of what?

  “My vision revealed that I would find the Anak-Ta Eleece.”

  “That phrase doesn’t translate. What does it mean?”

  “It’s the language of the slaves. Crafted by their God, not our own. It means, ‘Rider of the Stars.’”

  “Rider of the Stars. Hmm. I like it. It has panache. 'Hear ye, hear ye. Here stands Christopher Columbus, Admiral of the Seas, Rider of the Stars!’ I wonder if I could turn that into a catchphrase?”

  Elara looked at him askew. “You avail yourself of this humor often?”

  “It’s one of my best skills.”

  She sighed. “Then we are in more trouble than I thought.”

  Down the hall, the wooden door creaked open, and the Seer entered. She left the door cracked as a light flickered to life within.

  Elara grew even more intense.

  “Listen. My quest to find the Star Rider is why I went to the sirens’ lair alone. It is why I was captured. But the Fates are tricky and cruel. They reveal glimpses, but not everything. Columbus, this is important. You must pose your questions carefully, leaving no room for interpretation. Of the past and present, I ask of you nothing. Any wisdom or treasure you seek is yours for the naming. But of the future, I beg of you, ask this and this alone: How might Atlantis be saved? The survival of my people depends upon it.”