Atlantis: City of Mages

by M. Arcturus

  He stared at the Kinnowwa off in the distance and wondered if he should dispatch the Atlantean fleet. Then again, it would bring attention to his cargo operation, and it was only a handful of pirates. Surely, they were not much of a threat. He glanced over as Campanula, the captain, and her crew were escorted to their confinement. The glare Campanula gave him put a lump in his throat and shivers down his spine. He immediately regretted making eye contact. Then he looked at the unconscious Pandora, Selené, and Kajaka. The guards were holding on to them by their arms, causing their legs to slope behind them. Juron was baffled by their presence and wondering why they were even on the pirate ship made his head swim from all the confusion and disorder. There was no mistaking it; the girl known as The Destroyer had made her landing, and the turmoil she brought with her was just the beginning.

  Selené woke up in her chamber with a pounding headache, and her torso was in so much pain that it was hard to breathe, let alone move. Night had come and gone; sunlight poured in through her chamber window. She waited a moment before lifting the covers off her aching body. She slowly sat up and cried out as hot seething pain ran through her body. Maneuvering ever so gently, she sat on the edge of her bed. The pain was more than she had felt in her entire life. She untied her robe and took a look at her ribs. The parts of her not bandaged were black and blue with fresh bruises. More tears streamed down her face. How was she going to explain all of this to Juron? He must have known by now. She had interrupted his secret trade, she fashioned fresh bandages from the medical center, and had woken up in her chamber when the last thing she remembered was being on the ship. There was no way he had remained clueless.

  She took one last look at the bandages. It was a shoddy job of wrapping. Poking her side, she tried to decipher how well the healers had mended her wounds. The art of healing bruises had not been mastered on Atlantis, but she began to wonder if the medical center even tried to heal any possible cracked ribs. If Juron knew about last night, he probably ordered them not to treat her wounds as a form of punishment.

  She thought back on the night before. The last thing she remembered was running toward Kajaka. Her heart jumped as she thought about her friends.

  “What happened to them? Pandora, Kajaka, and Seth—are they alright?” Her verbal thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Hello?” She asked from her bed.

  Juron stepped in with an overburdened look on his face. His red and gold robe reflected the sunlight coming in through her window. “I know why you were there,” he said. “I’m not happy about it, but there’s nothing I can do for you. You had noble cause for what you did, but you are not excused. You will be tried before the Council tomorrow morning. This situation is now above my authority, and completely out of my hands.” Selené looked at him with a very confused, agitated look on her face.

  “What I did? I tried to save the people from The Destroyer. You were the one who allowed the ship to dock, so you could have your precious underhanded cargo! What’s in this cargo that is so important to threaten our safety? And what is the Council going to do about your dirty work? Aren’t they going to try you as well?”

  Juron shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t board a guest’s ship and try to take the girl hostage, and I certainly didn’t injure her crew. As for the cargo—what cargo? I didn’t have any cargo on that ship, let alone know it was coming to port. They had merely been forced to dock temporarily by the incoming storm.” His face was so stern, and his icy expression ran right through her, chilling her to the bone. “How would you know if I had cargo on that ship? We never talked about an incoming ship with imports!”

  He was right. There was no proof that he had cargo being imported. The only evidence was the word of the pirate captain, and as for Selené’s side of the story, there was no proof or evidence to support either Juron’s or the pirate captain’s true motives. One thing was for sure—she was not alone last night; there were three other people with her. As for evidence of the girl, there was none—wherever she was by now, she was most likely being held captive, well out of sight. Selené thought back to the last memory she had of the ship. Why was Kajaka taking the girl, and how did he get aboard without being seen? There were only two ways for him to board, the dock and the ocean. Since the guards were obstructing one path, and she and Pandora were on the other, there was no realistic way for him to board the ship unseen, especially before they got there.

  “You will be under palace arrest until the Council can convene. You will not be allowed anywhere in the palace without guards to accompany you, except your chamber.”

  “Is there anyone else being held captive till the Council gathers?” Selené looked a little panicked, so out of spite, Juron grew rebelliously reluctant to answer.

  “Anything concerning Kajaka and Pandora is really none of your concern,” replied Juron.

  “I just wanted to make sure that they were safe.”

  “I believe I will leave you to your quarters,” Juron said, then left. Trying to fit his body through the doorway, it was as if he had to roll his way out the door.

  Did he gain more weight? Selené thought to herself. Good, he doesn’t know that Seth was a part of it, too. Seth may not be a Council member, but he’s still a witness. She sighed with relief.

  Through the thought-provoking silence, Kajaka sat on the floor of his cell in shackles, wondering if Shadow was all right, wondering where Shadow was, and if he got the girl off the ship. It had been a long night in isolation. Cell doors slammed shut one by one as most of the pirate crew lost their freedom to the Secret Guard. Since Juron found The Destroyer aboard the pirate ship, he was locking everyone up in order to question them.

  There was no doubt in Kajaka’s mind that Juron had completely lost his mental stability. There were people locked up in his cages with greater power than what he could have even imagined, and poor Selené could not be found. Kajaka kept an eye out for her, but the guards never walked her past his cell. Juron must have had special plans for her. Kajaka looked out the glass door of his cage into the cell across from his.

  She hung there, beaten, bruised, and broken. Chained to the wall, she didn’t even have the privilege of sitting down. Her red hair of fire was starting to come to life as she began to awaken. Juron had made a big mistake with that one. Pandora had enough power and authority to wipe him out of existence for at least another four lifetimes.

  There was some condensation in her cell. On occasion, drops of water fell on the crown of her head. They slowly trickled down her face, moistening dried blood and trailing it to the tip of her chin. The drops eventually fell to the cell floor. Her eyes started to flutter as she tried to open them. She opened them very slowly. She remained staring at the floor. Kajaka almost wondered if her eyes had opened at all. After gazing at her for a while, she finally looked up at him. He tried to summon a Bennu bird for her, but it felt as if someone had sucked out a large part of his energy. When he did use his abilities to manifest one, like a ghost, it was too weak and not tangible enough to deliver some of his food to her. As far as Juron was concerned, if they weren’t awake yet, they didn’t get to have food.

  Every so often, Campanula let out a growling scream that sent shivers down Kajaka’s spine. He didn’t know who she was, but could tell from her life force that Juron was doomed yet again. About this time, the door to the main entrance opened. Kajaka could hear the metal gates clang together as they slid to one side of the entryway. He might have been unconscious the whole time they traveled to the palace jail, but he remembered seeing the main gate. Then again, he also remembered a place with bright lights. He instinctively touched the side of his neck. His neck felt stiff and sore; however, he didn’t feel any bumps, cuts, or scratches, but he knew something happened to him. He looked back over at Pandora and realized that she had bandages over her wounds. Obviously, they had been taken to the medical compound.

  Juron walked down the hall line
d with cells. The heels of his shoes clicked on the white marble floor. Every once in a while, he would comment to the cellmates, mocking them the best he could. This was not the Juron who Kajaka knew, but whoever or whatever he had become must be stopped.

  Juron paused at Pandora’s cell, “Still out cold, eh? Oh well. I guess that leaves more food for someone else.”

  He walked past their cells, followed by four guards. One of them was carrying a small, narrow box about two and a half inches wide, about six inches long, and about three inches high. Pandora looked up as he passed, and that’s when Kajaka saw blood start to drip from her mouth.

  “She’s not doing well at all,” Kajaka said to his transparent little bird. “Tell Shadow to contact Pandora’s father. He will put an end to this. I can’t get her out of here myself; I’m too weak. Plus, I’m sure Shadow doesn’t know where I am.”

  The bird hopped over to Kajaka and plucked out one of his green feathers, which was unusually pale, and it flew away with a recording of his life’s story. He just hoped that Shadow would be able to delete the unnecessary information before sending the feather onto Pandora’s father. That would be a lot of memories to sort through!

  Pandora whispered ever so quietly, “Why did he take your feather?”

  “My feathers record everything that happens to me, including the parts that I missed while unconscious. He’s delivering everything to Shadow. My love will not be happy,” he said gesturing to the jail cell.

  “Hmm—” she whispered before she returned to her silence.

  “You need to eat. When he comes back, let him know you’re awake.” She did not respond.

  Further on down the hall, Kajaka could hear one of the cell doors opening, and he wondered what Juron was up to. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could hear Juron’s voice. Just moments after that, the woman down the hall started screaming again. This time it was more out of pain and betrayal than imprisonment.

  Juron seemed not to want to stick around because he ran down the corridor yelling, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

  Juron had just passed by Pandora’s cell and regretfully saw she wasn’t awake yet. “Still out cold, eh? Oh well, I guess that leaves more food for someone else.”

  He continued down the hall and went into Campanula’s cell. Still chained upright on the wall, she looked at him with contempt. She crinkled her nose at his appearance. Despite the age-defying ability of Atlantis, time had not been good to him. His hair had turned white. He had started to go bald, and his face had more wrinkles than a roadmap of Rome. She finally understood why she couldn’t identify him when they were at the docks. If it weren’t for his beard and steel-gray eyes, she would have never recognized him. Something in him had changed, and it reeked of pompous arrogance. Out of hatred, her wolf-like eyes gnawed on his soul as he stood in front of her.

  “Hello Campanula, I didn’t know that you were coming. Although, I should have figured it out. The title you assumed—Ambassador from Damascus—should have been a dead giveaway. All the same, it’s a pleasure see you again. Curious, I didn’t know you made deals with pirates.” His smile faded as he looked at the chains. “I know you don’t like these arrangements very well, but I’m afraid I don’t have a choice. Until the Council has their gathering tomorrow morning, I must keep you here. Your knowledge of the situation may come in handy during the trials.”

  Resheda had the pleasure of sharing her cell with Campanula. When she heard about a trial before the Council, and that she was more than likely going to be a part of it, her face reddened as anger and panic seized her body. Realization of losing the stranger, the key to her fortune, to this sniveling, old, selfish nitwit before her was almost unbearable! To further agitate the situation, she was enraged at the thought of him dragging Campanula and her crew into something they knew nothing about. She said nothing, and patiently let the drama play out before her.

  “I know nothing of which you speak. I came here on the Kinnowwa to accept what you owed me,” Campanula said. “This situation you refer to has nothing to do with me! Now, where’s my BLOOD!?”

  Juron took a step back. She was rather strong, and he didn’t know if the chains would be able to hold her back for long.

  “I don’t seem to believe you,” Juron said. “I can’t see how you could stay on a ship for roughly a month and not know about the girl on the lower deck!”

  Campanula fell limp in her bonds as shock washed over her. She almost looked like she had been betrayed. More than that, she was heartbroken. Thinking that Resheda had a mistress stowed away, pained her. Campanula let her gaze fall on Resheda as she nonverbally asked why. For one brief moment, Campanula didn’t even think of the possibility that Resheda had no interest in women. Resheda was unaware of her affections, so to be jealous was premature. Campanula’s expression slightly softened as she let her reason and logic soothe her heartache.

  “Campanula, she was only my cargo,” Resheda explained. “After dropping off Juron’s shipment, I was going to use the girl to my—our—benefit, if you wanted in on it.” She redirected her argument toward Juron. “Speaking of cargo, what about the shipment I brought you?”

  “There’s nothing I have to answer for. After all, the cargo only consisted of bath oils, perfume, and vases.”

  “That cargo is for another buyer, and that is not what we delivered to you.”

  “—and should you get the chance to tell anyone about my cargo, it will be your word against mine. The Council prefers hard evidence. You see, Resheda, there’s no proof to pin anything on me. Now, Campanula’s cargo, as well your hostage, is another story.”

  Resheda thought about the paperwork the envoy had in his possession. The paperwork proved that Juron accepted a secret shipment, his precious cargo that he just had to have. It could be the key to Juron’s political and egotistical destruction. Not to mention Juron had a copy of the paperwork as well. At this point in time, nothing put a bigger smirk on her face than to think of stripping him of all forms of power and subjugating him to an inhumane task aboard her ship, like licking the moss off of the side rails. Maybe he would even get a splinter on his tongue! Out of eagerness, she looked around at the other cells, but she couldn’t find the envoy anywhere. When her eyes rested on Campanula, she could tell that only one thing was on Campanula’s mind.

  “Who is she?”

  “She’s my fate.”

  “What type of fate? Is she your lover?”

  Not knowing Campanula had secret feelings for her, Resheda was a bit confused and wondered why Campanula was making such a big deal about it. Juron watched in amusement, and then called the guard with the box forward. “Now to fulfill my end of our bargain, here’s your blood, madam. Just think, until this chain of events, I was trying to find a way to tell you that your blood could not be obtained. Now that the donor is in a cell very much like the one you are in now, I’m able to deliver you your blood.” He said interrupting the growing quarrel between the women.

  Campanula looked at Juron, and then at the guard who brought forth the box. She eyed him suspiciously as another guard stepped up with him and stood less than a foot from her. The first guard opened the box. Inside was a syringe filled with a fluid that looked like blood, but knowing Juron’s underhanded ways, Campanula held her reservations.

  “What is that?” Campanula asked with disgust.

  “Why, it’s the blood you wanted, of course. You didn’t seriously think that you were allowed to drink like a savage from someone’s neck, did you?”

  “No, but I don’t want it like that either. Whose blood is it, and how do I know it’s actually blood?”

  “You’ll just have to trust me.”

  “Then no, the deal is off!” Campanula stammered in fear. “Keep the rubbings from the Emerald Tablets. All I request is the money you owe Resheda for the use of her ship, please!”

 
“Oh, come on. I think you’ll really like it. It’s Bennu blood, the finest in all of Atlantis.”

  Her eyes widened. Juron took that to mean she was in shock, but it was more out of sheer terror. Campanula had heard how Bennu blood felt like liquid sunlight coursing through one’s body. Some vampyres didn’t even live through the experience. “I don’t think you want to do that.” She then turned to the guards who moved her arm into position, “No, please stop. Stop!”

  She kept screaming as they injected her with the burning hot fluid. It all happened so quickly that Juron didn’t even have the chance to tell his men to stop. She hung there still for a moment breathing heavy, then her eyes shot open, and they were as black as midnight. They started to look like they were going to pop right out of her head. Resheda stared in horror and yelled for Juron to move her to another cell. Juron felt so much fear he didn’t hear her. At first, he slowly backed out of the cell; then he ordered the door to be closed as Campanula started screaming once more. He didn’t waste any time before ordering his men to leave, and he ran down the corridor to the main entrance yelling, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

  Resheda looked at Campanula. She observed that the changes Campanula was going through were really rough and she didn’t like the look of things. The veins on Campanula’s arms were starting to pop to the surface. Her nails were growing long and sharp. She seemed to act like she was delirious.