Christopher Columbus and the Lost City of Atlantis

by E. J. Robinson

  As his vision returned, Columbus found himself in a stone corridor with high walls but no roof. Only blackness above and in every direction. The warm air smelled of dust and dank earth. Where the hell am I?

  Columbus tried to rise, only to feel a searing pain in his ribs. With each breath, it felt like he was swallowing fire. They were broken, no doubt. Each movement felt like a knife to his soul.

  He finally struggled to his feet, trying to shake the clangor of battle from his ears. He assumed Elara, the king, and the others were still in the cavern above him, trying to find a safer way down. He hoped they did it quickly and without running into any more of those blasted demons. Though, if he was being perfectly honest, he’d rather they ran into them than him.

  If the pain wasn’t bad enough, he saw his sonstave, broken in the fall, lost beyond repair. He kicked the thing, wincing as the sound reverberated through the cavern. Great. He was alone, deep underground, unarmed, unprotected, wounded, and thoroughly exhausted. Despite this, he managed to cross himself and nod skyward. “Could have made the landing a little easier, Lord, but thank you anyway. Now, I don’t suppose you can tell me which way to go?”

  Almost as if in response, the pyre worms on his chest flared.

  “I’ll take that as a sign,” he grunted, lurching forward.

  The corridor was made of limestone, the slabs beneath his feet modest in size. The ones that made up the wall were larger. They must have been three feet by three feet each. Four stacked together meant the corridor was twelve feet high. Too high to climb, but with no roof, he wondered why. Despite this, the stone work looked impressive, nary a crack to be seen. Say one thing about these slaves, Columbus thought, their devotion to their cause is impressive.

  Columbus considered shouting to let the others know he was still alive, but he quickly dismissed the idea. It was more likely to bring the serpents than his own people.

  With no grasp of direction, Columbus started walking one way at random. After fifty paces or so, the path began to slant upward. After another twenty paces, he saw a columned archway above him. He was gasping when he passed through it, only to find the walls had fallen away, leaving him on a shelf of some sort, ten feet by ten feet. He walked to the edge. There was nothing beyond. He reached for a small rock and tossed it into the distance. He never heard it strike the bottom.

  He was in another cavern, standing at the edge of a chasm. He felt the open air, its warm current, the propensity for every little sound to carry. There was also a smell he didn’t recognize. It was foul, sour and pungent. There was an inherent wrongness to it that made him step back. Then it hit him.

  He had reached the lair.

  Even worse, he was lit up like a Christmas hearth and dangling like bait before the literal abyss. Was the trident really worth this?

  He turned back the way he’d come when he spotted a staircase to his right. The steps were only a foot wide. No wonder he’d missed them. Stepping to the lip, he saw another trough carved on top of the wall, running down. He reached in and felt something wet. He smelled it and grimaced. That smell he recognized immediately.

  Columbus slid his knife from his belt and carefully removed one of the pyre worms from his chest piece. The wriggling grub pulsed as Columbus lowered it and snapped it into the trough. A flash of flame sent him stumbling back before a trail of fire coursed down the wall through a hidden embankment where it branched into several different channels, lighting great pots of flame as it continued its path, revealing a vast underground maze.

  The Labyrinth.

  It was breathtaking.

  The size and scope were beyond comprehension.

  Rough hewn stones of unfathomable proportions stood end to end, twice as tall as a man; many feet thick. Each must have weighed more than the Santa Maria itself. And there were thousands, spread out as far as the eye could see. Its area was vaster than the Colosseum of Rome with a bewildering profusion of winding, twisting corridors that seemed to have no end; all cast in shadow with a gray fog hovering overhead. From on high, the sight made Columbus dizzy. He had to put a hand out to settle himself. How did the Athenians build all this? It must have taken them a hundred years. Or a thousand.

  Finally, he located what he thought was the heart of the maze. A circular area, at the center of which stood a single tower or shaft rising above the maze, its precipice hidden in shadow. Was that his destination? Was that where he would find the second key? He had to reach it to find out and that would be no easy task. How many had entered this nightmare never to return? How many had stood where he stood now and turned back?

  The thought was interrupted when that disembodied voice echoed through his head.

  His strength is your weapon.

  “His strength is my weapon?” Columbus repeated. “Any chance you can be more specific?”

  His answer came as a jolt echoed through the cavern. The stones shook. Then a scraping noise reverberated from across the cavern. It sounded like something was moving.

  Columbus was retreating when something clicked underneath his feet. A familiar grinding noise echoed loudly. Columbus ran for the archway, but his path was blocked when a massive stone slammed into place.

  Instantly, his heart began to churn.

  He heard another sound. More stones moving, followed by a familiar hissing noise. Realizing he was still vulnerable, he had no choice but to run down the stairs and enter the labyrinth.

  Just within the towering entrance was a room with three more archways. Only the center one revealed a sloping path down into the heart of the maze.

  “Left,” Columbus said. “I’ve always been lucky going to my left. Except for that Austrian milkmaid’s window I leaped out of. Who puts roses on the north side of the barn? Then again, right is my dominant side. Strong and sure. Though, the same could be said of most of the world, and no one’s beaten this yet. So, it’s the center, straight to the heart, which is crazy. But I’ve made a career out of crazy. Oh, Lord. I wish you would give me a sign.”

  At that very moment, two high-pitched hisses rang out over the labyrinth.

  Serpents.

  “Not exactly the response I was hoping for.”

  Columbus ran through the left archway.

  The labyrinth was once a series of very tall corridors, but after only a few paces Columbus came across a fracture in the stone wall to his right. Rock and mortar were strewn about, as if some powerful force had torn through the wall with ease. Near the rift, Columbus saw flagstones stained black—blood, no doubt, from the poor soul who never saw their attacker coming.

  The hisses carried overhead again, closer this time but from two different locations. Columbus understood this meant the serpents were scouring the maze looking for him. Were they hunting by scent? Perhaps. But when he looked down at his armor and saw the pyre worms, he cursed. He should have shed his armor much sooner. Of course, then he’d be left blind and defenseless. What he really needed was a weapon. His small knife would do nothing against these foes unless he wanted to slit his own wrists for an easy death.

  Dismissing that option, Columbus rushed deeper into the labyrinth, twisting and turning his way through corridors that had been vacant for decades or longer. And, then he turned a corner and ran right into a serpent. It was perched on a crumbling wall, tendrils raised, mouth open with rows of razor-sharp teeth poised to attack.

  Columbus wheeled back and tripped, his blade extended. To his surprise, the serpent didn’t attack. It didn’t even move. Confused, Columbus stood and warily stepped closer to the creature only to find it was incased in ice. Something—some magic—had frozen it mid-attack. What could do such a thing?

  Following the path of the creature’s eyes, Columbus saw a human skeleton a few feet away. A blackened halo surrounded the bones, suggesting it had been scorched by a searing blast of fire. What the hell had happened here?

  A third hiss rang out, followed by a slithering sound that suggested the enemy was closing in. Columbus was about to mo
ve on when he noticed a shield in one of the skeleton’s hands and a sword not far from the other. He scrambled and gathered them up. Both were rusty, but they would give him a fighting chance.

  Almost immediately, something struck hard on the wall overhead. Columbus held his breath and leaned back into the shadows. Dust wafted down, coating his shoulder. He looked up to see the serpent just overhead. It hadn’t seen Columbus because of the blazer that burned nearby, but that would change when its eyes adjusted.

  The serpent sprang to the ground, its talon-lined appendages scuttling over the stones. Its head was conical, marked with two black eyes on either side with a parietal eye between them. The serpent halted when it saw its frozen brethren and hissed.

  Columbus inched back as slowly as he could until he heard another thump behind him. He turned and came face-to-face with the second serpent. It bared its teeth and lunged. Columbus brought the shield up as that serrated appendage tore across it. The serpent hissed, drawing the attention of its companion, who quickly closed in from the other side. Columbus whipped the sword back and forth to keep them at bay, but he was stuck between a rock and hard place. And both had teeth.

  Suddenly, a heavy boom sounded, and the labyrinth shook. Both serpents immediately raised their heads. One screeched, followed by the other. When a second boom resounded, both serpents sprang back atop the wall and fled.

  Columbus was confused. Then a third boom shook the stones at his feet and he understood.

  Something bigger was coming.

  As those pounding footsteps drew closer, Columbus looked around for a place to hide. Unfortunately, this section of the maze was nothing but twists and turns, each corridor identical to the last. Soon, he was lost.

  Finally, Columbus came to a confluence of corridors, across from which was a set of stairs that descended deeper into the labyrinth. Columbus was about to run for it when the rumbling stopped, and a shadow fell overhead. He held his breath and leaned back, hoping whatever it was wouldn’t see him. An odor struck him then, a blend of dirt and something primal. He covered his mouth for fear he’d scream.

  He was trying to talk himself into sprinting for the stairs when he heard something that chilled him to the bone.

  The thing breathed in.

  It was a great, raspy inhalation, the kind that preceded something. Columbus didn’t hesitate. He sprinted across the open path just as a great blast of fire filled the corridor. He leaped down the steps, the heat scorching his back as a wave of fire rolled overhead.

  Columbus tumbled to a stop, his uniform and hair smoking. Adrenaline pumped through his body so quickly that he had no idea if he’d been burned. His only thought was to continue running. He dashed down one of the lower corridors, the pounding steps hot on his tail. Whatever the thing was, it knew he was there, and it was after him.

  Columbus had barely turned into another section of the maze when the wall behind him exploded, showering him with debris. A gargantuan silhouette rose overhead, three shadows undulating. Whatever was behind him reared back and inhaled again. Columbus was too far from the next channel, so he dove into a small nook, ribs throbbing. He huddled down and raised the shield just as a second roar sent a shower of blistering ice all around him, coating the walls, sending plumes of supercool air upward.

  Columbus kicked the shield free. As he rose, he glimpsed his adversary for the first time.

  It was a towering monstrosity with an impenetrable calcified hide, a reptilian chest, and two small limbs for arms. Its most prominent feature, however, were its three identical heads atop three long necks, all of which were focused on Columbus.

  A hydra.

  Columbus’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

  Heracles had battled a hydra with nine heads, each growing back after it was cut off. Was this one of the same?

  The thought was dashed when that third head opened its maw and sprayed a shower of green liquid that splashed the stones at Columbus’s feet. It hissed as a blindingly acidic smell rolled over him.

  Acid.

  Acid, fire, and ice. What else could this thing do?

  Columbus ran like he’d never ran before. He slammed into a wall as he turned a corridor, the ice and rust crumbling off his shield. The deeper he went, the more corpses he saw. Some were frozen in attack stances, others cowered in corners, their faces fixed with horror. The majority were bits of bone, scorch marks and acid trails having eaten their flesh away long ago.

  Past them all, Columbus ran until his breath came so ragged, he thought his heart might seize. He stopped under a bridge and listened. The great booms had receded, the hydra’s thunderous gait seemingly moving in the other direction. Had he lost the behemoth? For the moment, it appeared he had. Columbus took stock of his situation. His clothes were singed, part of his left boot eaten away, but save for a few bruises, he was still very much alive. But for how long? This was the hydra’s territory. For all Columbus knew, that thing had lived here for eons, picking off any who dared enter its domain. Even if he could avoid its attention, he still had the key to think of. But where was it? Where did the labyrinth lead?

  “Lord,” he whispered. “I know I’ve made a mistake or two over the past couple days…” Three ear-piercing shrieks echoed across the labyrinth. “Fine, several. But if there’s any way you could send me some guidance, I would really, truly try to change for the better. And I mean it this time.”

  Another rumble shook the labyrinth, and a small rock fell and struck Columbus on the head.

  “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  He picked up the rock and looked skyward. Hmm. Worth a try. Setting the sword and shield down, Columbus step-kicked off the wall and climbed to the top.

  From there, Columbus had a view of the entire labyrinth. The maze was circular with a byzantine set of corridors and channels that fed down to a smaller set of stones, this one in the shape of a snake eating its tail. Within that circle was a wooden platform holding a tall obelisk—at its peak, a glowing key.

  There you are, Columbus thought.

  He looked back over the labyrinth and saw a large shadow moving past the braziers, blasts of flame and ice exploding alternately. Whatever he was going to do, he needed to do it quick.

  Scanning the maze, he thought he saw the proper path down to the floor. He slid down, picked up the sword and shield, and was off.

  When Columbus arrived at the center ring, he found the stones smaller than the outer corridors, but still eight or nine feet high. To his surprise, the obelisk wasn’t made of stone, but a type of wood. Was it petrified? No. It had been treated with something. The same substance also coated the boards of the deck at his feet. Even odder, a small pool of water sat outside the circle of stones. What could it be for?

  Columbus was trying to make sense of it when the rumble of the hydra grew louder. He tried to scale the obelisk but found nothing to grab onto. Without a rope, how was he supposed to climb the thing? Even if he got on top of the inner ring stones, he still couldn’t jump to the obelisk.

  The stones shook again. The hydra was moving closer. Whatever Columbus was going to do, he needed to do it now. The Athenians had left the keys for a reason. They wanted a champion to retrieve them, but they weren’t going to make it easy. If the trip to the tower taught him anything, it was that he was expected to use both his body and his mind. But how?

  He remembered the voice. What had it said to him?

  His strength is your weapon.

  Columbus wracked his brain. What did that mean? The hydra was obviously powerful—it could crush massive stones with ease, and yet, the obelisk remained untouched. Was this area sacred to it? Was there something here it feared?

  Columbus tried to remember the story of Heracles. The Goddess Hera had raised the hydra to kill Heracles, the son of Zeus. Heracles had managed to cut off several of its nine heads, but each time two grew back in their place. Heracles was only able to defeat the hydra by calling on his nephew to cauterize the stumps each time he c
ut one off. Was that what he was supposed to do here? Was that what the inner ring was for?

  His strength is your weapon.

  The solution came with the next effusion of fire. This one lit the top of the snake ring fifteen paces from where Columbus was standing. He dropped to the ground and rolled behind the obelisk, expecting another volley directed at him. It never came. Instead, the hydra’s right head reared back, its mouth opened, and a jet of ice shot forth, dousing the flames atop the inner ring.

  Columbus suddenly understood. He stepped out of the shadows and locked eyes with the monster. “Hey! Looking for me?”

  The hydra’s three heads reared back in unison and screeched.

  Columbus ran.

  At the end of the platform, Columbus leaped and latched onto the rim of the snake ring, pulling himself up. The hydra was already roaring toward him. Columbus ran in the opposite direction, timing the distance so the next spray of acid washed over the top of the stone a length behind him.

  As the hydra rounded the outside of the snake circle, its three heads undulated, up and down, screeching and seething, as it bore down on its prize.

  Columbus continued around the far side of the snake ring, legs churning, ribs screaming. Each breath was like breathing in fire. Each step, excruciating pain. When he finally rounded the front of the circle and closed in toward the pool, he saw a gap in the stone, right where the snake’s head should be.

  Columbus jumped off the ring and landed hard on the platform, nearly swooning from the pain. If his timing was right, the hydra’s left head should be next. He rolled in front of the obelisk and whipped around just in time to see the hydra set itself, its teeth-filled maw opening, sucking in air. Against every instinct, Columbus waited. And just as the hydra head came forward and started to spew, he leaped out of the way.

  Fire surged over the platform, engulfing it and the bottom half of the obelisk.

  Columbus didn’t wait. He sprinted toward the snake ring stones and climbed to the top again. This time, he led the hydra in the opposite direction.