Alt.History 102 (The Future Chronicles)

by Samuel Peralta

  “Why me?”

  “You? You’ve found something we’ve been searching for for a long time. Allowing you to die would have meant squandering our fortune. There was a reason you survived her raging waters on the last voyage, Captain. It was so you could guide us back to her.”

  “And if I do not succeed in finding what you’re looking for?”

  “The Order of the Dragon always collects their debts,” she reminded him. “There have been and will be others like you. In the end, we all get what we are due.”

  “And…what is it that you truly seek?”

  A capricious smile crawled across Magda’s thin lips. “Your greatest discovery, yet…the lost city of Atlantis.”

  Columbus suppressed wry laughter but there was nothing humorous in her words. “Oh, well, you might as well turn back now or throw me overboard, gypsy. Atlantis? Fuck, woman!” he spat. “You’re telling me you have us both sailing to the edge of the world for the ruins of a city at the bottom of the sea? Ever considered El Dorado, maybe something a little drier, something with a little more…gold?”

  “Gold holds no value for us,” Magda sighed. “The celestials you saw rising from the waters, they are the guardians of the fallen Poseidon and the shards of the crystal satellite. If we retrieve the shards of the satellite kept within the chasm of the Talimena Ridge, we may also find the key to our ascension; we may uncover the secret tomes of Atla-Ra, rejuvenation and everlasting life.”

  “Immortality,” Columbus scoffed. “Why is it always the zealots who want to live forever?”

  “Not just immortality…the ability to bring those we love back from the illusion of death, and to walk between worlds as we wish without the constraints of the flesh.”

  “And how do you suggest we fish a city out of the water if we survive that?” he asked, pointing ahead to the strange, gray fog. “This is what you wanted. I hope you’re ready for it.”

  “We will be.”

  “No, you won’t be.”

  Another three kilometers, and the currents stirred and moved swiftly around the swaying boat. Birds circled and a pod of whales swam away from the ebb and flow of the eerie weather. Hesitantly, Columbus pocketed his pellets and pulled out his compass. It moved slowly counter-clockwise from true North, then swung back wildly. It would have been useless to try to change course now; a force Columbus could not explain took hold and propelled the ship toward the haze.

  “It’s beautiful,” Magda swooned, using her brittle hands to climb onto the bow. She grasped the braided shroud and peered over the dragonhead sprit and side with a child-like curiosity.

  “Careful, gypsy, you’re not paying me enough to follow you over if you go,” Columbus warned her. She was mistaken if she thought the outcome would be beautiful.

  A confluence of crew and sixteen passengers shuffled on to the deck; black-robed participants took their places and joined hands, some holding candles in ritual. If Magda’s cabal sought the unknown, it was coming.

  Two more kilometers and the ghostly fog engulfed the galleon. The world seemed smaller inside of it, as if nothing existed beyond its boundaries. They appeared to be sailing on a cloud, rather than the harsh seas.

  “Light the torches!” Magda shouted back to the sentries. They went, sparking the flints, and lighting six torches lined along the deck.

  The sounds of the sea fell abruptly silent. Columbus almost believed he’d lost his hearing for a moment.

  “Eliberat, Eliberat, Eliberat…” the robed ones began to chant softly.

  Magda summoned with her arms spread wide. “We are your children. I command you to receive us into your kingdom! Take us!”

  “I don’t remember sacrifice being part of our bargain, gypsy. Best if you came down from there now. Let’s turn the ship around while we may still have a chance. Come on, come down. I’d rather take my chances with the king’s men.”

  “Oh, Liberat! Are we there, missus? Have we crossed over yet?” Doru, draped in an overgrown robe cackled from behind the clan. Haralamb, standing shoulder to shoulder with Doru, gave him a hard nudge and told him to be quiet. Columbus overheard the two bickering and caught Doru’s eye first, then Haralamb’s. They must’ve stowed away on the ship without anyone noticing. He shot them a disapproving glare, though he was happy they'd survived the king’s raids. Doru smiled at Columbus with rot and gold in his teeth, but now was not the time for a happy reunion.

  Magda ignored his pleas. “We are your children. I command you to receive us into your kingdom! Receive us into your light!”

  When all of Magda’s summoning appeared to have failed, and the chanting faded, silence filled the air again. There was a bittersweet disappointment in Magda’s eyes when she looked back down at Columbus.

  Good, Columbus heard himself say to her with a sigh of relief. See? A fool’s fantasy. Nothing to see here.

  The rear of the vessel shifted when something large passed beneath it.

  “I pray that was a whale,” Doru whispered to Haralamb.

  “Aye,” Haralamb concurred, backing away and grabbing hold of the post and brail rope behind him. “Whale.”

  The sea let out a groan that forced a gasp of astonishment from the robed ones. The fog lit as though in the midst of a thunderstorm, despite the lack of rain or noise. But the atmosphere was far from quiet, as spectres burst and traveled around them in the mist.

  “Yes,” Magda wept. “They’ve come. They’ve come for us.”

  The chanting started again, “Eliberat, Eliberat, Eliberat!”

  “Silence, all of you!” Columbus shouted while he tried to listen to the sea.

  “Nay. That’s no whale,” Haralamb sighed to Doru when the shrilling whine came from the deep again. “Thar’s Kraken.”

  “Nay,” Doru shook his head. He knew the song of whales and Kraken; he was a cabin boy all his life, born to a concubine at sea and raised by nomads and pirates, and he'd never let any of Columbus' crewmen—or Columbus himself—forget it. This was no whale or Kraken, and the nymphs didn’t swim out this far. “Nay, this is something else. I reckon we’ve landed on Leviathan’s back.”

  “Leviathan?” Haralamb shuddered. “By gods, help us all.”

  Another blow from the large body in the water and the ship shifted a near half-circle. The momentum knocked Magda from the ledge; Columbus caught her before she could hit the deck and eased her to her feet. “Had enough yet?”

  The fear shimmering in her eyes suggested she was indeed having second thoughts. “I’m not afraid,” she answered.

  “Stupid woman,” he cursed, letting go of her, and headed to take control of the helm. “Enough of this. There must be a way out of here.” Not enough wind to sail. He spotted the two rowboats fastened to the quarterdeck—enough for most of the passengers on the ship, but not all. “Doru, Haralamb, everyone, drop the boats and the oars into the water. We’ll paddle our way out if we have to!”

  “Rowboats? With what’s out there?” Haralamb was stunned.

  “If it’s the only chance we’ve got, yes.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” Haralamb nodded, and he and Doru went to it. Haralamb grabbed the axe stationed at the mainmast and began hacking away at the pulleys supporting the gigs until the gigs and oars toppled and fell into the water.

  Directing the passengers to the rear of the ship, Columbus turned back for Magda. Her veiled riders stationed themselves at her side on the forecastle, an indication of duty and loyalty. “Magda?”

  “No. Go, captain,” she smiled. “This is my journey now.”

  “Curse you, gypsy. Don’t be a—”

  Magda threw her arms outward and beckoned.

  Columbus left her and pressed everyone to keep moving.

  “Wait, listen!” Doru shouted, and directed Columbus’ eyes toward the dense, white walls of the mist. “What is that?”

  Columbus felt it, too—the stirring of the sea and the incursion of waves—rising, rushing—each one driving the ship back a little more. Columbus i
nstinctively took a couple of steps back, but it was already too late. “Get everyone into the water!” Columbus ran and shouted at Haralamb and Doru. “Now!”

  “What is it, Cap’n?” Haralamb turned and saw it, too.

  Out of the mist, a massive wave slammed against the galleon. The impact and the momentum of the tide carried the galleon upward, then sideways, and backwards into a dizzying spiral. The sway threw Columbus from one wall and into another as he watched passengers from the quarterdeck fly headlong into the water. The foremast came crashing down; bodies and objects tumbled around in blurred chaos.

  When the galleon slowed and finally stopped spinning, a great horn sounded from the sky, accompanied by the commencing of gears and cogs turning, loud enough those across the seven seas may have it heard it as well.

  Columbus had seen this all before as the wrath unfolded—the flaming red apparitions in the haze, the howling rain, the crest of a floating, scorching island breaching and crawling over the sea until it settled over the galleon.

  “Told ye!” Doru said holding onto Haralamb. “Ain’t Kraken.”

  “Get in the boats!” Haralamb peeled Doru off and shouted at the men and women screaming and clinging to the quarterdeck. “Weigh anchor, ye splatherin’ bilge rats! I ain’t gon’ be fish bait with the rest’ya!”

  Columbus pulled himself up from against the gun deck wall, and searched for Magda and her sentries first. Their bodies lay motionless in the deluge of water on the main deck.

  Columbus heard a voice calling for help from above, the officer trapped in the crow’s nest just a few short yards away from the hovering discus. Columbus had forgotten about him. In a desperate attempt to escape his post, the man dove. Columbus anticipated the impact of his body on the deck, but before he reached the bottom, his body flew back upwards into the white-hot void of the machine’s belly.

  A cyclonic energy funneled around the ship. The masts and sails of the galleon were the first to snap and shred apart, and fly up into the machine as well.

  Columbus shouted for Haralamb and Doru to jump, but the siren drowned out his voice. One by one, the machine plucked the passengers off the ship, starting with Magda and her guards, devouring Doru, Haralamb, and the passengers next, leaving Columbus the last man standing. His only means of escape was to jump overboard, but he never made it into the water.

  THE NEW WORLD

  Columbus woke when he felt a series of sharp pains on his bare feet. He wiped the sand and sweat from his eyes and forced himself to focus while instinctively pulling his knees to his chest. The outline of a large bird with the corona of the sun behind it stood where his feet had been. It followed his bloodied feet with its beak, attempting to detach a piece of flesh from his ankle. Columbus howled and kicked it squarely in the breast.

  The bird flapped wildly into the air, kicking up a cloud of sand with its wings. It gave an agitated squawk and came swooping down again, snatching Columbus by his thigh and lifting him from the ground. Columbus drove his fist into the beast’s rigid bill and rolled on to his back when the bird dropped him. He’d never set his eyes on such an absurd albatross before; the towering bird blazed throughout with swatches of blues, reds, and golds like a great macaw.

  The plumage upon its elongated head fanned out like a flame. Its large bill had a hook and an array of thorns at the end of it that looked like it could crush bones into powder.

  But it was its eyes that shattered the captain’s courage: its golden-hot irises, with beady pupils pinned like the blackest of dots, void of any conscience. A true predator.

  Today, one of them would die.

  It would have to be the bird, Columbus decided as he pushed himself off of the sand. With his cutlass gone from his belt, he would have to use his hands, but this wasn’t as simple as killing hens. He could try to go for the beak and break its neck if he twisted it hard enough, or break one of its legs and cripple it.

  The bird, stalking, came at Columbus again, snapping down at him with his spiked beak. Columbus evaded it and swung upward, cracking the scavenger hard right beneath its bony jaw. The creature squawked and recoiled.

  “Well? Come on! Come on!”

  The bird hissed and took flight in the direction of the jungle. A great condor, striped with golden ribbons, soared from the trees, and snatched it out of the air. Columbus was sent reeling back onto his rear from surprise.

  He had only heard tales of such species of birds indigenous to Madagascar from other mariners. But how could he have reached Madagascar, assuming this was Madagascar?

  Standing and following the black bird gliding over the water with his eyes, Columbus’ gaze fell on the distant horizon.

  “Mia Madre! No, no, no, no,” he panicked. “How…how could this be?” A spectacular dual-ringed planet sat full and red in a violet nebula with the sun and stars close and bright. A new fear rose in him. Bile flooded his throat, and he forced it back down before he could spill it.

  It certainly wasn’t Madagascar or the Faroe Islands. Beneath the haloed planet, floating huts and schooners drifted; jagged basaltic prisms and sea stacks stood jutting out of the water. To the west, a waterfall spilled from a knoll framed with bizarre black basalt formations and caves. Beyond that, rolling hills, greener and more vibrant than anything Columbus had ever seen anywhere…on Earth. This indeed was not Madagascar.

  There were no signs of the galleon, the Order of the Dragon, or the carnage of the attack along the cove and coastline.

  How long ago was that? Was he imagining this? Dreaming, or dead? How long had he been here? How did he arrive here, marooned across the stars? Here was where? Where was here?

  The wounds on his leg began to nag and sting as deeply as the fear cutting through him. He hadn't taken his eyes off the bird long enough to notice the cool, bright water glistening and lapping at his toes. Nor had he noticed the sand he was standing on: shades of pinks and blues, and finer than sand he was used to.

  The aching and stinging in his leg overtook the panic. He tore his pant leg away from the wound and limped further out into the water. He crouched and cleansed himself, washing away the blood to discover the wounds were no worse than deep scratches. Thirsty, he cupped water into his mouth and drank.

  For a moment, through the pain, as crazy as it may have seemed, this strange island felt like paradise, the most beautiful he’d ever seen…

  The sun was pleasantly warm on his skin, the water sweet on his lips, unlike the briny and awful taste of seawater. His eyes locked on the haloed planet in the distant sky and he felt an eruption of emotion stir inside him. He splashed water in his eyes, but the planet was still there. This must be some kind of illusion, he reasoned to himself.

  He sensed someone watching him from the cliff near the knoll; a bronze figure crouched alongside a boulder.

  The figure stood, and the sight of it startled Columbus enough to cringe when the sun cut across the creature’s ghastly features. It had one hideous oculus centered on its forehead, skin mapped with tribal scars, and it rose taller than any man he’d seen before. At a glance, Columbus could not tell if it was man or animal.

  Its long, narrow arms hung at its sides and against its equally long, narrow legs. Another figure popped up behind it, and another behind that one too, until a row of them finally lined the cliff’s edge.

  After what seemed like a brief deliberation, the tall ones raised their hands, palms out, which Columbus at first mistook for a gesture of peace. Unprovoked, their fingers then curled into fists, and they came charging down the sides of the knoll to the howling of their own rallying cry.

  Columbus leapt out of the water and fled for the jungle, thrashing and swatting past never-ending branches and flora once he entered, suddenly transported to a world where he was as small as an ant in proportion to the wilderness. The trees were so tall Columbus couldn’t see the tops of them. Their trunks were as wide as villas, and their green stalks and roots as thick as the serpents he’d seen on the riverbanks of the America
s.

  Twilight divided the sky; night was falling and Columbus ran toward it as fast as he could. Not knowing what he was running from or running to, he realized he had to stop and establish a plan for his survival. Despite how fast and far he might flee, it wouldn’t be enough to take him back home. He knew this; he had to use his wits now. As he ran, he stirred up the crowing and caterwauling of unseen wildlife.

  A familiar voice ordered him to stop. He crouched with his back against a tree and listened, the terrain shaking beneath his feet. Whatever it was, was heading right for him in large footfalls and long strides.

  From the right…“Big, big, big! Run, run, run!” Doru screeched, running across Columbus’ path. Columbus followed.

  “Doru? Slow down!”

  “I’d rather not, Cap’n!”

  Columbus followed Doru and tried to keep up with him in a winding labyrinth of wilderness, smacking down overgrown plants and leaves in his path. “Where’s the rest of the crew, Doru? What’s happened?”

  “I don’t know!” Doru changed direction again.

  Columbus wished he’d stop doing that. “Where are you going?” Columbus shouted, scrambling to follow.

  “I don’t know!”

  “I don’t either. If you stopped running we could work together and come up with a plan!”

  “Sorry, Cap’n, the plan is to keep running!”

  In the corners of his eyes, Columbus saw things jump, fly, and swing across from the trees above. Their shadows leapt across his on the ground. The first things to come to mind were Bonobo apes, cougars, giant birds, and native cannibals. Giants. Cyclops.

  Columbus didn’t know how long they’d been running. The jungle might go on forever for all he knew, but the underbrush was cutting into his raw feet, and he was short of breath. He didn’t want to stop for fear of losing Doru, but Doru came to a stop so suddenly Columbus crashed into him, and nearly sent him over the cliff they found themselves standing on.