Atlantis: City of Mages

by M. Arcturus

  “You know, I could work a lot faster if you weren’t standing right on top of me,” she said. Her smile took the edge off of her words. He backed off and took a seat across the table from her.

  “I didn’t mean to invade your space,” he stated calmly yet mischievously.

  “Well, you really didn’t invade, but I couldn’t move around very easily either.”

  “So, what do you think it is?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t have many tests to run,” Selené explained. “I hope something reveals itself. Research is my passion, but I’m afraid my scientific experimentation skills leave something to be desired.” She picked up the nail and scratched the surface. He watched her intently when she blew off the particles to analyze the findings.

  “What can you tell from using a nail?”

  “Some rocks and minerals cannot be scratched by using a nail; others can. It helps me determine where the substance was created and how. As you can see, the nail did not scratch it.”

  He stood up and leaned over the table to observe the artifact. “What can you gather from that?”

  “It’s been under a lot of heat and pressure, which means it was formed deep under the earth, even deeper than the oceans.”

  “Hmm—” he sat back down. Anthony started to fidget with a pencil and sat in deep contemplation. Selené could tell that his mind had taken him far away. Almost out of nowhere, he spoke, “I have been thinking about this a lot. I was very worried about you when the Ackrids tried to destroy the city. I couldn’t find you anywhere. Where were you during the war? Pandora, Seth, and Sorbek were all working together. Oberon flitted about using his earth magic to shake things up here and there. I was off with the other human representatives. Shadow, Kajaka, and Giséi had formed their own group, but where were you?”

  Selené eyed him calmly before picking up the piece of glass. “I was with the Lady of Avalon. She took me up the side of Mt. Caspen. I was her eyes and shield; in turn, she was my sword. With my sight, I told her where the enemies were. She taught me how to create a mental shield and was able to block the hits that came at us. Although, I do have to admit that I think she had the better end of the bargain. I got to watch the Ackrids die right in front of me as she melted them inside out or crushed them with her mind. Seeing someone’s face melt off or magically cave in on itself kind of changes a person.” Her voice trailed off as she silently hoped for the subject to change. She ran the edge of the piece of gold across the top of the glass. “What’s this?” Her astonishment caught him off guard.

  “What is it?”

  “It scratched the glass. Not many minerals can do that. I thought a diamond was the only one. It’s as light as a feather, but it’s stronger than any substance I can think of.” She placed it under the microscope. “That’s odd. The edges are not smooth.” She motioned him to the other side of the table. “Look at this! The edges look as if it’s made of loose threads. Can this actually be made out of fabric?”

  He viewed the specimen under the microscope. “It can’t be threads,” he said. “They’re not smooth either. It almost looks like the tentacles of a peacock’s feather.”

  “Let me see it again,” she said as she turned on her magnifying glass lamp. She noticed that it might be shiny like gold, but the metallic quality ran in a woven pattern. “I almost wish we had a bigger piece.”

  There was a knock on the door to the archive. “Sel, it’s Pandora. Can Seth and I talk to you? We have something we want you to see.” Selené opened the door to her friend who was wearing an urgent expression on her face and armed to the hilt. “Come on, Sel. We need you to come with us to the main kitchen. We don’t have much time.”

  After Anthony walked out of the archive, Selené locked the double door and took off down the hallway to catch up with the group.

  Deep within the archive, a section of the back wall opened up for a large hooded figure. He peered out looking around for unwanted company. Hearing Selené lock the double door, he put his thoughts at ease and motioned for the others to follow him inside. Quickly, they took to the shelves one by one, collecting tablets and scrolls and placing them into bags. The leader took off the hood of his cloak as he eyed through some scrolls on a nearby table.

  Oberon broke through the wall of the secret passageway. He dissolved the magic bubble he had traveled in. As the particles of dirt drifted down, he dusted himself off. Running his fingers through his hair trying to get the dust and dirt out, Oberon left the shadows and stood there in the doorway along the back wall, watching them hard at work emptying the shelves. The two elves that had imprisoned the unicorns were tied up and gagged. It was obvious that the Elders had no intention of releasing them. Oberon shifted his attention to the leader standing at the table. The light coming in through the blue glass dome reflected on his bald, shiny head. His skin was more yellow than a human’s, and his height reached an astonishing eight feet. Oberon observed the Elder’s ears, which arched down from his head to connect with his bare shoulders. The ears were made completely out of cartilage, which must have made it difficult for the Elders to turn their heads from side to side. It had been thousands of years since he had last seen them, and he was still curious about their strange anatomy.

  He approached the leader cautiously. “So, this is it. You’re leaving and not planning on coming back. You are more than welcome to stay and fight, or try to help us maintain the peace in hopes to restore Atlantis back to her former glory.”

  The leader turned to face Oberon. His dark eyes were embedded deep into his nose-less, flattened face, and they studied Oberon with a shark-like quality. He knew Oberon’s last statement was meant to be playful and inspiring, but the dryness of his voice would have suggested otherwise. “Atlantis has exceeded her stay. We are only here to collect our data and leave.”

  “You’re serious. You truly believe that Atlantis cannot be restored.”

  “You, out of everyone here, should understand how Atlantis has betrayed her allies. Your daughter almost died, a Bennu was imprisoned, the dragons are outraged; and if the dragons don’t destroy Atlantis, the Ackrids will surely finish where the dragons have left off.”

  “Atlantis is not that far gone. This has only happened in three days. Only one man is responsible. It was his greed, not theirs.”

  “So, you don’t know.”

  “What do I need to know?” Oberon thought for a moment, then added, “Selené did bring up the Glaecia trade, but I don’t know how extensive it is.”

  “You have not been around the Atlantean population, have you?”

  “I’ve been too busy with my kingdom on Avalon, Council meetings, trials and…oh yeah, there was a fight with the Ackrids. I nearly forgot!” Oberon’s sarcasm ran deep. “It doesn’t help that you just made half of the population disappear. What did you do with the unicorns and the Atlanteans?” His sarcasm was on the borderline between entertainment and annoyance. The Elder rolled his eyes and turned back to the table. Oberon edged in closer. “Seriously, what did I not know?”

  “The unicorns were freed, and the people were taken back to the time from whence they came.” The Elder let out a sigh, “We had such high hopes for Atlantis. The people used to take pride in their new home. They used to support each other and work together as a community. Selené has seen the attitudes of the people shift and decline. They have been trading family members for drugs, but no one has bothered to speak to them about the necessity to change their ways. Just the other evening, Giséi observed a drug dealer trying to cheat his buyer out of his money, and still, no one has said anything. Now, the dragons are on their way. You don’t have enough time.”

  “What’s new? I never have enough time.”

  “Why do you always feel that everything is your responsibility? You are not the only one that could have delivered a message for them to change. We were hoping that Juron would step up and take action, but he
never did. He hardly ever left the palace to see what the people were doing. Shadow and Kajaka are barred from interfering, and Selené may be centuries old, but she’s still a child. Her maturity is rapidly increasing because of the events, but once again, it is too late.

  “Even if you felt it was your responsibility, why did you give into your shock after the war with the Ackrids? Yes, the death count was high; however, you could have spoken to the people once the fight was over, but you just sat there.”

  Oberon understood now. They had been floating around, possibly on a ship out in orbit, monitoring everything. No matter what his reasoning was, it still would have been an excuse to them. “You’ve been observing us this whole time. Ever since that ship docked days ago, you’ve just sat back and watched the events play out. If you are so busy blaming us for the demise of Atlantis, why did you not step in? If we are so imperfect to you, why did you leave it up to us to fix the problem? You knew we would fail.”

  The leader finished going through the last of the scrolls and motioned to the others to wrap things up and leave. Then, the Elder’s leader added with a sigh, “Because we knew time was up for Atlantis.”

  “And what about the two elves?” Oberon said as he looked at the two elves who were fearfully looking at each other with wide eyes, still tied up and gagged.

  “They will be released, eventually,” The leader said with a shrug. At the Elders words, the elves took a small sigh of relief but the word “eventually” still rang in their ears loud and clear, causing a mental ripple of suspicion and doubt.

  They took their research and the two elves, leaving Oberon in the archive to sit alone with his anger and resentment. Once the door closed behind them, they headed off down the secret hallway. One of the Elders resumed his duties to push a cart loaded with silver metal canisters, which had been stored in a private cryo chamber deep within the bowels of the ship. No one noticed a small eight-inch tall canister fall from the cart and roll toward the opposite wall of the hallway. The canister stayed there giving off its frosty mist promising the first step of thawing. Leaving the canister untouched, they traversed down the passageway. Their shadows passed in the dim light, mirroring the reality that this would be the last time they would ever set foot on Atlantis.

  Something was brewing on Atlantis for the surrounding waters were starting to grow darker as it became crowded with strange looking sea vessels. Still, he managed to keep his attention on the disappearing Atlantean coastline. There was a familiar feel when the ropes of the Kinnowwa’s sails were in his hands, but something was unfulfilling. A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to meet her gaze. Her wolf-like eyes saw right through him.

  “This has been a life-changing trip, I see,” Campanula said. He nodded in response. She continued, “I can’t fulfill Resheda’s mission, but I have this notion that she is not at rest. I guess what I’m trying to say is, you look how I feel. What has you out of sorts?”

  “I wish I knew,” Jarrah said as he went back to staring at the coastline.

  “I think you need to go back. You’re missing something.” She replied as she took a moment of thought. “I can keep the ship just offshore and wait for your return.”

  “If I go back, I’m not returning.”

  “I knew you were going to say that. If you’re not returning, then neither am I or anyone else.” Campanula said as she turned toward the working crew. “Man the sails! Turn the oars! We’re going ashore!”

  The crew had mixed facial expressions. Some looked at her as if she was crazy. It seemed like she couldn’t make up her mind. Row the ship to shore, fight the Ackrids, sail back out to sea. They had worked so hard to sail as far as they had with aching bodies from their encounters on Atlantis. For her to tell them to row back to shore was beyond agitation. Most were thinking mutiny, angrily out-weighing her strength versus theirs to see if they could overpower her to take control of the vessel. Though she had won their respect while on land, it was based upon fear. Now that the crew was back on the ship, they were getting braver and had started to challenge her power and authority.

  One crew member pulled his sword and ran toward her to engage in battle. She pulled the Japanese hand cannon from its holster on her back and with steady hands, she shot him dead midstride.

  “Just remember, Resheda had allowed but one firearm on this ship, and it’s mine. Any more antsy or squirrelly challengers out there just itching to touch the helm?” Campanula asked. They all turned back to work setting course for Atlantis. “I guess this gift has its use after all. Thank you, Resheda,” she said as she put the hand cannon back in its holster. “See? It’s all taken care of. Maybe if we help out the Atlanteans, we will no longer be under this curse you speak of.” Campanula walked off with a slight bounce in her step.

  Seeing Resheda’s hand cannon brought back memories for Jarrah. He had never seen it fired. Resheda never used it. She kept it on display in her captain’s quarters. Jarrah always thought the hand cannon was beautiful. The octagonal brass barrel had a heavy relief dragon engraved on the top with its tail spiraling around the barrel. The barrel was set in mahogany with brass fillings, and the entire hand cannon was eighteen inches in length. It took both hands to wield it.

  Jarrah was shocked that Campanula had the strength to pull it out of its holster. Then again, he had seen her strength when she freed them from the jail cells in the lower levels of Mt. Caspen. Firing the cannon was another matter altogether. She would have had to pack it with powder, light the fuse and wait for it to fire. How did she manage to fire it so quickly, without packing it, or lighting the fuse? He thought to himself. She was already gone, so his question would have to wait.

  Campanula mentioning the curse and seeing Resheda’s hand cannon made him think about what it was going to be like fighting the dragons. Knowing that chances of survival were slim, and those that fell would share Resheda’s fate if the curse were not broken.

  With heavy thoughts, Jarrah turned back to face the coastline, and once again placed his hands on the railing. Quietly he voiced his thought, “I’m not sure if we have the right to condemn the rest of the crew to the same fate as us.”

  Though unseen and unheard, the spirit of the old Chinese man walked up behind Jarrah, “They still have the choice of running.” The old man’s words did not reach Jarrah. As quickly as he appeared, he departed for the last time, leaving Jarrah to fret on the choices he thought he had made, taking the blame through loyalty for his new captain’s decisions.

  After his discussion with the Elders in the archive, Oberon stood on the dock watching the mammoth freighting ships sail into port with their goods. Their low, flat decks allowed for size and weight. Best of all, the entire coastline was littered with them as they neared the Atlantean docks. He had to admit; it was an ingenious plan. There didn’t seem to be a better strategy for dealing with the dragons. The cargo they carried was already constructed, and all he had to do was order a shipment from Avalon. Through it all, one ship on the horizon stood out like a sore thumb, yet was a sight for sore eyes. The Kinnowwa had changed her course and was headed back to Atlantis. Thinking quick, Oberon designated one pier for ships with smaller amounts of cargo. He had his elven forces unload them first so that the ships would keep coming and going, allowing the Kinnowwa a chance to dock between ships.

  Nearing the Atlantean pier, Jarrah watched from the deck of the Kinnowwa as large groups of elven soldiers were everywhere unloading what looked like large sheets of metal off of the surrounding ships. Some ships were in such a hurry to unload they docked directly on the shore. Every once in a while, eight to ten elves would go by, pulling on a rope connected to a platform on wheels that carried an enormous metal box with what looked like air holes punched into it. Something large and strong was caged inside of them, for he could see the box jump as the creature inside tried to ram its way out. When unsuccessful, the physical ramming was followed by angry squawks.
He even caught a glimpse of large, sharp, talon-like claws poking out through the air holes clenching onto the box.

  The loud thud of the plank hitting the dock made Jarrah jump as his deep contemplation went crashing to the deck beneath his feet. Jarrah eyed Campanula as she approached the top of the plank about to descend to the dock. She was armed to the hilt, with dirks strapped to the side of her calves, and her sword sheathed at her hip. When he saw the hand cannon strapped to her back, he felt deeply offended. That hand cannon was not meant for war. It was Resheda’s, and to use it would be an insult to the deceased.

  Campanula felt his stare and walked over to him, asking, “What is it, my friend?”

  “—the hand cannon. You think it is wise to bring it into battle?”

  “This is not Resheda’s hand cannon,” she said as she pulled back the corner of this inch-by-inch piece of clear, rubbery substance, which was stuck to the side of the cannon. It was a silicon nanomembrane patch, but to Jarrah, it looked like a slice of jellyfish gelatin with flat, gold metal lines forming square patterns on one side. The patch had been invisible until she lifted up the corner. Underneath the patch was a black metallic surface that surged with teal waves of energy, almost as if it were charged with electricity.

  In response to Jarrah’s fearful expression, she added, “It’s alien technology. I made a deal with an alien arms dealer before coming here. Not the proudest thing I have done, but I can’t change that now.”

  “What does it do?”

  “This device, or patch as I call it, absorbs the appearance of one item, then when you adhere the patch to another item it transfers the absorbed information from the first item onto the second item.” Campanula continued, “It looks like a hand cannon, the projectiles look like iron balls traditionally used for a hand cannon, but it is actually the alien’s light-weight laser pistol that I brought with me. The pistol is black and boxy. Seriously, it’s like holding a five by five square inch of metal alloy with a trigger guard that I can fit my entire hand through. Yes, I like how it shimmers with waves of green-blue energy, but I’m old-fashioned and liked the look of the hand cannon, so I transferred its appearance onto the pistol. On the plus side, I don’t have to pack it with gunpowder or light a fuse. It fires automatically, and it’s very lightweight. Resheda’s cannon is safe and sound on its display rack. Is that okay with you?” She asked softly to avoid further conflict.