The Priestess

by Amethyst Gray

  “OK. But I will bring him here first.” She responded.

  The late lunch turned into early supper as the extended family made the most of a warm autumnal evening to get reacquainted and to get to know in Néma.

  Both of the companions changed back into their regular clothes before continuing with the delectable meal spread. Néma seemed to be relieved to be out of boys’ clothes, shaking out her dark bob from its hiding place and retiring to a corner to comb it back into life.

  Messima had left her hair braided as she intended to travel back incognito to Atlantis the following day. Néma had agreed to go in disguise but would dress as an artist’s assistant – a girl assistant.

  That evening the family took turns singing traditional Atlantean songs. Néma, who was from the colonies, sang beautiful ballads of the mermaids and their first encounters with Atlanteans. Marnon was particularly impressed and hugged Néma at the end of her performance. Messima could see that her cousin had accepted her concubine at long last.

  Joslin sang the bardic tale of the loss of the Atlantean lands to the sea and the ice. The peoples of the earth had returned to barbarism and had nearly died out. Only those people who had migrated to the temperate lands had survived. Atlanteans were the descendants of the survivors and had gone on to repopulate Atlantis at the start of the golden age. The thirteen skulls had been passed to the Atlanteans, and the ancient wisdom of the cosmos made the people wise.

  Messima was in tears by the time that Joslin had finished his tale. Images of the skulls, the temple and the vast plains had flooded into her mind as Joslin sang. She was comforted by Néma who hugged her companion as she fell into a near inconsolable state. All of the negative energies placed on her by the presence of The Watchers were released in a cleansing cry by the Priestess.

  When Messima was calm, Néma had taken leave of the Priestess’ family and brought her to their room. Undressing her, she helped her to bed before washing herself and joining her there. Gently caressing her companion’s shoulders, Néma soothed Messima into sleep.

  Tomorrow would be a long day, and everybody should be as refreshed as possible.

  XI - The Voyage Home

  The next day Messima was up before Néma and joined Marnon and Joslin for breakfast.

  A restful sleep had brought a deep sense of clarity to the Priestess. Her hazel-brown eyes appeared clear and bright, her body glowing with an inner light. The worries of recent days had been replaced by hopes for the future and plans to be made to ensure the wellbeing of not only The Waterman but also the other skulls and the whole human race.

  She vowed to meditate as soon as she could on board the crystal cutter back to Atlantis and contact the High Priest - the keeper of the master skull – ‘The one and all’. It is said that the master skull’s sacred name equated to ‘the word’ of creation in the beginning. The pure quartz crystal skull with an elongated alien head resided in the centre of the great Temple of the Light on Poseidon’s island in the centre of Atlán.

  Quite simply the master skull was the centre of Atlantean civilisation and culture. Even so, a replica skull was present at the base of the master plinth. Vosoon, the High Priest, would know what to do.

  “Mes, I will come along with you to the port.” Said Marnon. “I want to see you safely on board. Officially your ship is going non-stop to Atlán, but I have arranged for the Captain to put you both ashore in darkness at the Medina wharf below your tower.”

  “Thanks, Mar.” Replied Messima. “And thank you for the fresh fruits, berries and tomatoes for the journey. The cultivated tomatoes never taste as good as the wild ones from ‘Minor.”

  It was true that despite all the varieties of crops now grown across Atlantis and its colonies, only the tomatoes seemed to become less intense in flavour than its wild counterparts.

  Néma and Messima gathered their belongings, straightened their unfamiliar clothing and prepared to leave. Messima embraced her Uncle and her Aunt while Néma thanked Marnon for the family’s hospitality. What a good turnaround since their arrival. Embracing a diversity of ideas was always better than conflict and here close to home was proof of that.

  Messima whispered, “Néma’s got a new boyfriend” when the two were briefly out of hearing. Néma shot daggers at her companion and dug her in the ribs before both of the women collapsed giggling in the hallway.

  The two of them tried to recompose themselves when Marnon reappeared to accompany them to the port. He appeared puzzled. “Let’s go, you two.”

  Setting off at a gentle pace, the group were not bothered by The Watchers this time. As the Sun climbed high in the sky, they reached the edge of the port with its pungent smells and exotic fragrances. Spices from Zanzibar and other corners of the known world made their way to this port at the edge of the Atlantean civilisation.

  Exotic dried fruits from far off places were stacked next to crates of locally caught spider crabs soon to be loaded on the ‘Nemesis’. It was fortuitous that the ship that had brought them had needed repairs here after damage from an earlier crossing. The mighty flag of Atlantis proudly billowed in the light wind over the crystal cutter and its elegant decking. Part of the rudder had been replaced. The tiller now was resplendent with a new coat of lacquer derived from local turtle shells (cast-offs from the many local turtles who visited the bay).

  Captain Atlee greeted Marnon – they had been at school together - and chuckled at Messima’s artisan clothing.

  “How the mighty have fallen, Priestess!” The Captain had a brief crush on her during their childhood and was known for his cheeky but friendly comments. He was now wedded to the sea and his ship. But he still reserved a familiar twinkle in his eye for his sweetheart that never was.

  Marnon gave his cousin and her concubine a hug before taking his leave of them.

  “Stay in touch.” He said.

  “You bet. And look after Joslin. Your dad needs you.” She replied.

  “A deal.” He said before turning around and hurrying down the gangplank - nearly tripping on a case full of crab as he did so. A final, regal wave and he was gone.

  A few minutes later and the ship set sail. The two-person crew cast off the ropes as the Captain bellowed instructions while interleaving incantations to the crystal stack in the middle of the vessel.

  To Messima the mixture of manual labour by the Captain and crew with commands of intent to the crystals seemed particularly odd. However, to seamen putting their trust in incantations to tie and untie ropes and to control the tiller were just things they would not consider so roping and steering were little different to how they would have been in the days of wind power.

  Skilful captains such as Attlee did not use wands for making incantations to control the ship. Their minds were so in tune with their ship’s crystals that they didn’t need the further tuning that the rods provided.

  A little way out from the quayside the Nemesis bypassed a small group of fishing boats. The fishermen were raising lobster pots full of spider crabs and other local crustaceans.

  A small launch appeared from the outside of the Harbour wall and on deck were the two Watches who Messima had spied before. She lowered herself down to sit on the floor and beckoned for Néma to do the same. Shortly afterwards she felt a mental probe emanating from The Watchers. This she countered with her skills as a priestess, thus ensuring that The Watchers were unaware of her presence. The launch carried on by at the same speed before slowing down to dock at the quayside.

  Captain Attlee winked at Messima now sitting down on the deck. He remarked “I’m just not happy with The Watchers. My friend’s ship was used to transport a couple of them to a western colony. The crystal stack kept dropping its power at times when The Watchers were on deck. Once it was in the middle of the night. He had not known anything like it. I’ll not carry them on this ship.”

  Evidently, the negative energy that Messima had observed was enough to interrupt crystal generators. She would have to report this back to The Priesthood.<
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  “I have reservations about their intentions I must admit. But if the legislative council have made them welcome, I will not act against them. However I will not embrace them while these doubts persist.” Attlee added.

  “Bob, Truman, I will escort these ladies below. You keep your eyes on the tiller and look out for storms.”

  Attlee threw his wand to one of the burly, suntanned men on deck.

  “Yessir” came a prompt reply as the man caught the wand and touched it to his brow in a semi salute.

  “Ladies - this way,” said Attlee gesturing to a hatch in the ships planked decking. The women’s belongings had already been stowed in their simple cabin as they passed the doorway. The Captain gestured for them to join him in the galley.

  There he offered them some of his honey ambrosia, a kind of week mead, which they gladly accepted. The golden liquid was very refreshing and slightly intoxicating. It was the most potent form of drink that the Priesthood indulged in. Messima’s father had always been partial to it, so she had been brought up with its presence. It was considered a luxury and its origins dated back to the ‘gods’.

  Now sitting opposite to the Priestess and her companion Attlee offered the two women some strawberries, tomatoes and a small dish of hummus. He reached across for some pieces of oat bread and a couple of plates.

  “It’s best to have some food now as it's set to get stormy later. The autumn gales are starting to rise plus there’s a chill in the air. I reckon we’ll be in chops before nightfall so supper may be a non-event.”

  Néma helped herself and stacked a plate of food for her friend. The three of them exchanged small talk before Attlee disappeared to go on deck.

  Once he was gone, the two women rinsed their plates and glasses under the sink, giving a cleansing blessing as they did so before leaving the galley for their cabin.

  After a trying few days and now with a plan in mind, it was an opportunity for the companions to reaffirm their intimate friendship and to unwind in private.

  The storm hit the vessel around midnight. The heaving action of the waves jarred the lovers awake. Despite the protestations of Néma, Messima was determined to see how it was.

  One of the crew, Bob, intercepted her just below the deck latch. “No need to panic missy. The Captain has it all under control. We’re going to divert to the west and shelter off the coast until the worst of the storm dies down. You’d get soaked on deck in your fine clothes. Our waxed jackets keep us dry in the worst swells. Please stay down here. I can ask the cap’n to knock on your door when things improve.”

  The Priestess was dishevelled in her hasty rush to dress. She sighed and hesitated before replying. “Yes, please.”

  Bob nodded and answered with a brief “Right” before heading up on to the wet deck, a small pool of water coming down the hatch as he did so. Messima considered following him up but thought better of it. Instead, she returned to her cabin and the warmth of Néma’s embrace.

  Around an hour later as the buffeting had decreased and finally stopped, Attlee tapped at the companions’ cabin door. Both of the women hurriedly threw their gowns on before Néma opened the door and gestured the Captain to come in. Attlee’s gaze dotted about the cabin before settling his eyes on Messima.

  “We’re anchoring just north of the bay outside the great river delta until the storm abates. We should be able to set off again at first light. I can give you a knock when we’re underway, and breakfast is ready. We have fresh spider crab and plenty of kelp as well as green tea, of course.”

  Messima nodded in response to the Captain, although her stomach didn’t want to contemplate food at that moment. “Yes, pleases.”

  Attlee left them alone. They returned to bed, tired but reassured.

  The rest of the night was uneventful with the companions sleeping soundly.

  When Truman knocked on the door of their cabin to announce breakfast, Néma was already up, washed and dressed. She passed Messima her flannel and neatly draped the Priestess’ borrowed clothes onto the bunk.

  Messima dressed, and the two of them wandered up on deck to where Attlee had assembled a picnic breakfast for them all. The green tea was refreshing but a little cooler than they were used to having. The kelp was quite appealing, but the freshly cooked and prepared spider crab tasted divine.

  The travellers took their fill of food while viewing the Amazon rainforest north of what would become Buenos Aires as a mist hung over the thick blanket of trees. The occasional strange animal call reached out to sea as the vessel slowly and quietly voyaged along the coast on its way back up to Atlantis.

  Messima called out to The Waterman while deep in meditation. Using a crystal talisman, she was able to connect telepathically with the ‘talking head’, or crystal skull that represented Pleiadean knowledge opened up to the humans on Earth. Néma watched her companion as she sat in a trance on the cabin bed. A faint blue glow accompanied the Priestess’ profound meditations, enveloping her in a pure veil of light.

  Although she never took part in her companion’s connections to the crystal skull, Néma had occasionally been contacted telepathically by Messima while in a trance.

  Messima’s features were relaxed and peaceful. Within her meditation, Messima discussed ‘The Watchers’ and the crystal mine hiding place with The Waterman. He, in turn, told Messima of the last time it had been necessary to hide him. Then the simple people of a peaceful agrarian society left the path of their shaman to return to barbarism as natural disasters had caused their crops to fail in the run-up to a new ice age. Their shaman had taken The Waterman to an inaccessible mountain cave in the Peruvian mountains. The shaman, Apnu, had committed suicide beside the skull. Now part of Apnu’s soul resided within The Waterman. Apnu had never spoken directly to Messima before, but now he did so.

  “Messima, if the people are straying from their true path, we must be protected. Our knowledge is too dangerous to fall into the hands of these Watchers or those who would do their bidding. We have foreseen possible futures. If the crystal skulls are used for dark purposes, there will be great suffering in the world. The Waterman and his brothers and sisters must be taken far away from the Temples and away from Atlantis. The mine will provide sanctuary for The Waterman, but the others must be scattered to the corners of the globe. An age of enlightenment will dawn again as it did for Atlantis. But a dark age of ignorance and materialism will rise first. You and I will awaken the new dawn. Remember.”

  As Apnu finished speaking the connection with The Waterman was lost. Terrible images of destruction and strange cities flourished and fell in her mind. The final image of an older woman holding The Waterman in outstretched arms towards a middle-aged woman crystallised in her mind before fading away. “Remember.”

  Messima then fell into a deep sleep. Néma tucked the Priestess into bed and slid in beside her.

  The next morning Atlantis could be seen ahead as the Nemesis made its way back to Medina. The sunny stillness of a chilly Atlantean day allowed Néma and Messima to see their homeland with its rich, ruddy cliffs topped with trees and bright white rooftops. Their tower and home, tall, but still small at this distance, reminded the companions of the tasks ahead as their sheltered lives were starting to fade into the mists.

  Disembarking at the pier below the cliff - apparently unseen - Messima and Néma made their way back home after giving their thanks to the Captain and crew of the Nemesis. The vessel was seen quickly speeding away as the travellers looked back towards the river.

  XII - The Priesthood

  The next day Messima and Néma took the water ferry from the Medina wharf to Atlán. Again, they were dressed as artisan artists with hoods obscuring their faces. Underneath her outside coat, Messima wore her bright blue cloak as Priestess of the Light and the Water. In her backpack, carefully wrapped in lead foil was The Waterman. He had insisted on coming along as she intended to address the council of The Priesthood.

  The ferry was unusually busy, but the two women were
able to get some seats together. The crystal stack hummed as the boat got underway again.

  The reed beds at the side of the Nile were swaying in the light wind. A pair of grey herons flew up as the ferry went past. The high cliffs around Medina had subsided into the flat plains to the south of the capital. Rows of ripe tomatoes were being harvested in one set of fields, while grapes were being picked in another.

  The harvest time was busy for the farmers, their families, friends and neighbours all pitching in to assist with gathering the crops. Cooperation was crucial, and for the next few weeks, the community would be pooling resources to harvest, pack and process the various crops.

  Messima was uncharacteristically quiet on this journey. Partly as she was known, and was in a strange garb, but also because of the meeting ahead. She did not know if the skulls or the council of The Priesthood would agree to evacuate the skulls to safety.

  At the northern end of the Nile, the concentric circle islets around the central plaza of Atlán were all bridged with wharves beside of them.

  The main southern port was full of cutters unloading their various wares. The Nemesis was at one berth, loading in olive oil for its return trip to Atlantis Minor. Atlee was on deck, but neither woman waved as neither wanted to draw attention to themselves.

  A pair of Watchers was near the pier when the ferry drew in. Thankfully this was not their stop. The boat was very nearly empty as they drew into the penultimate wharf on its journey. This stop was for one of the administrative areas of Atlán, with less inspiring architecture than some parts. Tridents were carved into the White sandstone blocks of the government building nearest the pier, the Atlantean flag fluttering over it on a masthead.

  This was not usually their stop since the next wharf was the central plaza with the Temple of the Light and the main Palace on the island of Poseidon. But today they would take the bridge over from this islet since it was known that The Watchers congregated by the plaza wharves.