The Atlantis Papyrus

by Jay Penner

  “The little demon is afraid of rats, who knew?” I teased, and she swatted my hand.

  “What if the ancients placed a curse on this place?” she said, with a worried voice.

  “The omens favor us,” I said, with false confidence.

  We finally went to the largest vault in the center. I gave the flame for Eurydice to hold, hauled myself on the vault and straddled the rim.

  “Have you lost your mind?” she scolded me while making frantic gestures to the divine.

  I made faces to annoy her further—and then I extended my hand. After a moment of hesitation, she grabbed it, and I pulled her up. We both peered under the orange glow. In the center was a massive, gold and lapis-lazuli sarcophagus of a pharaoh. Behind the pharaonic head was a large stone tablet with a script under the cartouche of the Pharaoh. All around lay grouped valuables, each one inlaid with gems. Near the foot was a flat gold plaque with ancient writings. On each side of the writing was a clear etch of the great pyramids I had seen long ago and heard much about. I wondered why a Pharaoh’s sarcophagus was here. Who was he? Did the Atlanteans plunder Egypt?

  I wondered what the writings said, and if they unlocked greater mysteries. We climbed down and looked at each other in disbelief.

  “Do you question whether this discovery can alter the fate of empires?” I asked.

  She seemed frightened at what lay ahead of us.

  “Whoever finds it…” her voice trailed.

  “Eumenes. No one else should find it.”

  “And you are confident there will be no bloodbath if he gets his hands on this?”

  “I am confident of nothing…” I said. And that was true. I had no idea anymore how Eumenes might treat this.

  My mind returned to the situation in the canyon below—what had happened? What would we find when we returned?

  “What should we do next?” she asked.

  “We explore the third passage.”

  “What if there are traps?”

  “I do not think so. The ancients left this place with the intention to return—this was not meant to be a tomb.”

  She was not convinced, but her curiosity exceeded her reservation. I reached into one of the vaults and grabbed a handful of gold jewelry, a gem laid scepter, and several coins. She shook her head, but I pretended not to notice. When we were about to leave, she did a little of her thieving grinning mischievously.

  I extinguished the flame on my torch, and we headed back to the dome. The final passage was much longer. We noticed three unfinished doors with guard rooms beside each one. When the passage ended, we stepped into another large chamber. Enormous lamps lit up all around us, flooding the chamber with eerie, reddish light and burning away the darkness.

  Around us was a depiction of hell.

  The chamber floor was bare except three stone vaults placed in a triangular formation. On each lid were grotesque carvings.

  A man consuming a woman’s entrails.

  A group burning to death.

  A city in flames.

  An army with all decapitated soldiers.

  A man contorted in pain with his heart exposed.

  But that was not all. Three panels, one on each wall, depicted either what they had done or planned to do.

  The first panel showed a city in flames. At a distance from the city was the shore and beyond that lay ships. Raining down from the sky were metal birds whose tails spewed fire. These were giant missiles launched not by men nor catapults. The shiny red, yellow, and orange hues bequeathed a demonic vibrancy to the panel which showed the impact of these fiery missiles on the ground—large fires and explosions engulfed the city, and the residents fled in terror.

  We walked along the wall to the next one.

  The second panel showed many Egyptians on the ground—their faces in agony and bodies covered in blisters. Some thrust swords to their bellies and others set themselves on fire. On the edge of the painting stood a man wearing an elaborate mask of a bull with two long horns. In his hand was a jar with the mouth of a snake, and droplets of an orange-red liquid fell from its mouth. What distinguished these paintings was the lifelike nature, unlike the beautiful, but flat artistry I had seen in Egypt or Babylonia.

  “By the grace of all gods…” I said.

  “Are these an artist’s imagination?” Eurydice whispered as she stood next to me and gripped my forearm.

  “Not if you believe the scrolls and the fables,” I said, as my voice dissipated in the cavernous emptiness of the chamber. I studied the man with the jar. Evil oozed from him, and I felt his eyes from behind the mask.

  I then turned towards the last panel and studied it from right to left.

  The scene showed an extensive line of kneeling people, Egyptian and other, bound by chains at their necks. In front of them stood rows of people, but they contorted as if invisible demons tormented them. Blood gushed from gaping wounds on their bodies. To the far left, a row of Atlanteans soldiers held pipes that they pointed towards the dying. It was as if an invisible force came forth from their weapons and killed the enemy. A Pharaoh was depicted as running away, flinging his bow and arrows aside, despair and terror writ large on his face.

  What terrified me was the alien methods on these panels. Who could fight an empire with such instruments of terror? After what I had seen so far, I had no reason to believe these were fictional. I went to one of the sarcophagi and noticed that the lid had a similar opening latch as the ones in the treasure room. We slid it and peered into the vault.

  There was no gold coffin or jewelry.

  Inside lay a mummified body of a man.

  His shriveled face contorted in a scream.

  The hands and feet were bound by a chain, and rats scurried about. A broken clay jar, like the ones shown on the wall painting, lay beside him.

  I shuddered.

  We both stepped back and knelt again, praying to the gods for our safety. Fear had replaced the thrill of the find. We then stepped into a chamber connected to another massive room—the weapons room with various devices whose purpose I imagined were what was on the panels. There were strange chariots—their rear a great metallic bulk, and the front with long tubes. Then there were many large iron spheres with protrusions on the surface. Resting against the walls were hundreds of metallic missiles with fins much like the wall panels. Each of those was the height of two to three men. On another side, large stone shelves that seemed to stretch to eternity held thousands of tubes that shot invisible power. From the ceiling hung thousands of jars, the jars of death depicted on the panels. And there were additional doors, all sealed, with pictures of angry contorting lions on each.

  How much more was behind these doors? And what lay there?

  “I have never seen anything like this,” she said. “Could they be decoys meant to frighten the enemy?”

  “This is too much effort to secure decoys.”

  “If these people were not destroyed—"

  "They would have enslaved the world," I completed her sentence. “But the gods saw to it. They warned them not to test divine patience, but the Atlanteans paid no heed.”

  I placed my palm on the cool surface of the stone door and thought of my next move. But then a deep fear and sorrow rose in me—what should I do now?

  Should I find Eumenes and hand him the secret? It would no doubt cause an eruption of violence until the matter was settled. But then if Eumenes’ ambition flared—there was no question that the finds here would wreck a lot more destruction. And who knew what this would unleash?

  And what if we somehow failed and someone else, perhaps Antigonus or even Ptolemy, secured this find? I had absolutely no doubt that they would unleash hell upon the world for those men had ambitions to surpass Alexander himself if they could.

  Do I walk away? I could leave all this behind and go with some of my steal, and then hope to free my family. But that path would be paved by threat and risk at every step with little chance—and after all this effort, I might simply die o
r fail on the way, therefore dooming my family.

  Was my wife’s embrace worth risking a million innocents to death?

  My head hurt. I cursed the gods for placing such decisions on a simple soldier! But we were not done yet.

  “There will be an opportunity in the future to examine this, but for now we must return.”

  "Do you think there is more?" she asked.

  "I definitely do. You saw there were more connected doors—what lies beyond one can only imagine."

  “Do you think your men prevailed?”

  “There is only one way to find out,” I said, and we began to walk back to the dome. I had to decide the course of action based on the outcome of the battle that I hoped ended a while ago. We reached the central dome and spent a brief time admiring this wondrous place once again. Then we headed to the exit. That was when I noticed a figure far up ahead walking towards us.

  No.

  We ran back to the dome—I saw little point in trying to hide. Experienced soldiers knew how to search, and there was little time. We got behind the fire in the center and watched the man as he emerged from the passageway. He stopped in amazement.

  Alkimachus.

  Relief swept over me.

  “Is the battle over?” I asked. I did not have to shout, for the voice carried in the vast spaces.

  “Yes. This is quite a find, Deon, what is this place?” he said, looking around like a child in a town fair.

  Not commander. Not captain. I was now Deon.

  “I was not lying. How are the men? What happened to the enemy?”

  He rubbed the bloodied armor on his chest.

  “Most are dead, unfortunately.”

  “How many alive?”

  “I don’t know, five, ten?”

  I did not understand the evasiveness. “What is going on, Alkimachus? We need to regroup and get the message out to Eumenes.”

  He said nothing as we watched each other from across the flames. And then he turned his face to the passage and yelled. “They are here.”

  As I watched in suspense, a large man stepped emerged and stood next to Alkimachus.

  Nekh-Aser.

  We stared at each other as they stepped closer to the flames. Eurydice and I on one side of the stone podium and Alkimachus and Nekh-Aser on the other. Then Nekh-Aser casually kicked a skeleton by his foot, and it shattered.

  “There is nowhere to run, Deon.”

  “Didn’t take you for a treasonous scum, Alkimachus, what are you doing with this backward dog?”

  Nekh-Aser did not take the bait this time. He stood motionlessly—his dark eyes reflected the fire. Alkimachus continued, “Eumenes’ time is up. You would know that if you listened to the reports.”

  “I was busy, as you can see.”

  “My loyalties switched to Antigonus before we met. The great man was intrigued by Eumenes’ orders to find you. We decided to see this through.”

  “Brave of you to betray the man who you serve,” I said.

  “I am certain Antigonus would make you an offer. But it seems our friend here has other plans,” he said, gesturing to Nekh-Aser.

  “I am sure he does. But tell me Alkimachus, since when were you plotting with that brute?” I asked, but they continued to ignore my taunts.

  “Only recently. You took me by surprise by moving from Sharuhen, but I knew Ptolemy’s pursuit force was on the way. Like mature adults, we exchanged messages and came up with a strategy.”

  “You are a fool to think Antigonus and Ptolemy will align and share what they find here,” I said.

  “That is not for us to decide. We little men will find comfort with what we can and let the greater men fight for what is theirs,” he said, smiling.

  “A strategy that led to the needless death of so many men that looked up to you.”

  “You gave me no choice but to pretend until the end, and he would wait no longer,” Alkimachus pointed at Nekh-Aser.

  “You could preserve your dignity by holding up to your original oath to Eumenes.”

  Alkimachus laughed, and Nekh-Aser grinned from behind his hideous cage. “You are naïve. We are beholden to masters whose fates shine brighter on a given day. It is Antigonus’ and Ptolemy’s world now—it is time you bid goodbye to that secretary.”

  I shook my head in disdain. But if they were talking, they could be a way out. “That secretary killed two of Alexander’s great generals and is still out there. And he excels all others in intelligence and compassion—the world is better with him in power.”

  Nekh-Aser began to swing his terrible instrument.

  Alkimachus continued, “The road to glory has ended for Eumenes. Have you not heard? There is a death sentence on him. There is no way for you to establish contact with your master or for him to come here.”

  “What happened to our men, or did you hand them over to your Egyptian handler?”

  “Most of them are dead, fighting for you, for a lost cause. The few remaining have run away.”

  Sadness enveloped my heart. These men had waited for months, followed our orders, and Alkimachus had led them to their death. “There is not much for me to say, then.”

  “But we both—” he pointed to Nekh-Aser and continued, “have come to an interesting agreement. We have no use for either of you, but you may want to hear this.”

  “And what is that?”

  “The woman goes to Nekh-Aser, and we spare you.”

  I glanced at Eurydice—the terror on her face was palpable. Nekh-Aser grabbed his crotch and said in his raspy voice, “I will show her god.”

  Alkimachus shot a look of irritation but continued. “Consider it, Deon. There is much at stake here.”

  There comes a time in a man’s life when the choices he makes dictate the direction of the river of life he floats on. I had escaped death for over ten years, away from family. I finally had a chance to end it all and walk away with riches to my family. Unfortunately, that meant a sacrifice—even if there was a connection between us. I wondered why I was fighting for a lost cause. I glanced at Eurydice. Her breathing was heavy, and her fingers trembled. Whether it was a tear that glistened from the corner of her eye or whether it was sweat I could not make out.

  Our time was up. My voice conveyed my fatigue. “I am tired of the fighting Alkimachus. But for this to end what is my reward for handing her over?”

  Alkimachus smiled. I watched Eurydice turn towards me in horror, but she stood immobilized.

  “I am disappointed that she is worth so little, Deon,” said Alkimachus, and they laughed.

  “I got what I wanted from her,” I said, coldly.

  “You dirty bastard!” screamed Eurydice and turned towards me in a fury. I knew the deadly power of her attack, so gripped her hand swiftly. I leaned to her and hissed, “Stay quiet until I resolve the barter, or I will gut you here.”

  I stared into her wide eyes. Her lips began to tremble, and she swooned slightly. She was a fighter, but she would be no match for three experienced men. Besides, I knew all her tricks. I could break her like a twig if she tried fighting me.

  “Go stand near that entrance,” I commanded her, pointing to the door to the armory. I needed no distraction now. With unsteady steps, she moved back and stood as the rest of us watched. Flames crackled. For a distracted moment, I wondered how the fire was so pure. There was no smoke.

  Then I turned to Alkimachus.

  “Ah, my reward,” I said.

  Alkimachus leaned and placed his hands on his hips. “Let us be done with this.”

  I pointed at Nekh-Aser. “I want Nekh-Aser to pull out his cock and cut it off while singing an erotic song about his mother.”

  Nekh-Aser’s rushed towards us.

  “Run inside!” I screamed at Eurydice and ran towards the armory passage. My feet crushed the brittle bones under my feet; another ignominy heaped on the unfortunates who had met their end here. We put some distance as we ran through the passage that led to the chamber with hellish paintings si
nce we knew the path and they were cautious.

  I whispered to her, “May the gods protect you, little demon.”

  She let out a little gasp of relief and then positioned herself behind a vault. Nekh-Aser and Alkimachus entered the chamber. They looked at the panels with their mouth agape and in wonder, before turning their attention to us.

  “Give up. This is not our game to play,” Alkimachus shouted.

  I turned to Nekh-Aser, “Since she proved you a eunuch why don’t you regain your dignity by fighting a man this time.”

  He moved towards me while Alkimachus eyed Eurydice. I watched as the two men separated.

  It was time.

  Eurydice readied herself for what was to come. Alkimachus had been deferential to her but never friendly. His actions today showed that no past relation mattered.

  “I give you the choice of a merciful death,” he said, raising his sword that glinted under the golden glow of the lamps. Eurydice focused on the surrounding. In the corner, she could see Nekh-Aser inch towards Deon. They were moving away from her.

  Alkimachus advanced in measured steps.

  She had her dagger in her right hand and a heavy gold seal in her left.

  “A painless death would be boon compared to what he would do to a beautiful woman like you,” Alkimachus hissed. He covered the distance and was at an arms-length from her. Eurydice braced for attack and hunched, like a lioness preparing to pounce on prey. Except that Alkimachus thought she was the prey.

  The little demon.

  That was what Deon had called her.

  It gave her strength.

  Eurydice's father had taught her something valuable about close combat. Warriors rarely fought for long stretches—death or flight happened within moments. The fantastic clash of swords and dancing around each other was good for theater.

  For her, there would be no fleeing.

  Alkimachus thrust his sword, and Eurydice stepped back to avoid the blade. He grinned and waved the weapon as it glinted under the dancing flames.

  He rushed her again, toying with her.