The Emperor Awakes

by Alexis Konnaris

  ‘I will do whatever is necessary.’

  Vasilis gave her an outline of the plan he had just devised.

  ‘We will not be going in alone. But first we need to pass by my mother’s house. I must tell you that we will be going to Le Mirabel, the Ruinands’ underwater city in Marathon Bay, North of Athens in Greece. For a while, recently, I was deliberately planted by my mother as a spy, and I got to know the place very well.

  ‘I have installed an extensive network of bugs recording practically everything going on in there and monitored from the specially set-up centre at my mother’s house. From there we can listen in on current and recent developments before we prepare our plan for the rescue.

  ‘I have also made contacts with local Ruinands inside the city who are my additional eyes and ears there. Once we have formulated our plan I’ll get word in to them to help us. Their assistance would be crucial to this mission.’

  CHAPTER 53

  Le Mirabel (Ruinand underwater city)

  Marathon Bay, Greece

  Present day

  John Halland came round and tried to get his bearings. He struggled to get his head around what happened to him. His head was hurting. Still unsure of himself and his sanity, he woke up to survey his venerable prison.

  He felt this unfamiliar space suffocating him and it wasn’t because of the shackles that had appeared on his legs and arms. He was desperate to scratch at the heart of the claustrophobic feeling that clutched at his throat and flowed down all the way to his lungs and squeezed his heart in its fist.

  The place was bathed in almost total darkness. He could not make out any windows. He could only just about see what appeared to be solid walls. But however much he had tried he could not make out the total size of his prison cell.

  Somehow it did not feel that small, though, in spite of the feeling of being trapped that his shackles and isolation gave him. He decided to conduct a simple test. He shouted. The echo travelled far and bounced around, hurting his ears and making the whole of him shake and, in combination with his chains, vibrate painfully.

  He thought about repeating it until his chains and his body vibrated with the same resonance and came into sync and his shackles snapped. It was a wonderful idea in theory, but most likely impossible to put into practice.

  The space sounded larger than he thought at first sight. He tried to get up and walk, but the chains resisted and pulled violently, straining and cutting into his wrists and legs and throwing him back down in agony.

  There should be an opening somewhere, as the air smelled fresh and he could feel a welcoming breeze that offered some relief to his hangover-like head which felt about to explode. He thought that maybe his shouting would, hopefully, have invited a reaction by his captors, whose identity he did not know, and they would have paid him a visit.

  It all happened so quickly in New York, that by the time he realised what had happened, he was already being knocked unconscious and it was too late to do anything about it, assuming he could. He waited, straining his ears to pick up a sound, but nothing happened. Nobody came in.

  In his clouded and mushy mind everything was a blur. He suddenly recalled the dream he had so long ago now. He had no idea it would turn out to be a vision of his future. The only thing he knew was that he should think of something, anything, to extricate himself from this predicament.

  He was staring intently at a point a few paces away from him, lost in his thoughts, when, as his eyes began to adjust to the dim light, he realised that he was looking at a strange lump. He focused his eyes further at that lump that at first glance looked like a sack of something or other.

  Then he noticed that the lump was moving rhythmically up and down. Then it hit him. The lump was breathing. For a terrifying second he feared it might have been a large animal, a dog or something vicious, placed in there by his captors to guard him and keep him terrified and subdued.

  But no, it was another human being, another “inmate”. He studied his fellow cellmate from a safe distance. It wasn’t out of caution. He had no choice really as he couldn’t move closer. The lump or body seemed slumped in an awkward position, as if thrown away as waste from an abattoir.

  As John Halland was going in and out of consciousness, images and sounds came and went, people manhandling him, probably his captors, whispering and pointing. He caught a name: Giorgos … James. He was too confused to connect the name with the Giorgos he had met recently in James Calvell’s office.

  He thought about his captors. What could he remember about them? How many were there? What did they look like? What did they sound like? What did they do? How far back could he go to remember, to make sense of what had happened to him. He looked again at the living dead lump near him and wondered what happened to that poor soul.

  Where was he? Was it the underwater city he saw in another of his dreams? The name that crept into his mind was Le Mirabel, but he did not know where that came from, how he knew this. He looked back at his dreams that had troubled him for some time now.

  He remembered another name, Aristo, and then another, that of an intimidating but gentle woman, Elli was it? Names flew off his mind like a trickle of a river starting at the source and then gaining volume and force as it flowed on its way to the sea, by then a growing unstoppable torrent.

  It was names he did not recognise. Apart from “Valchern Corporation”. That was a familiar name. He had heard of that powerful company, its tentacles spread all over the globe, and its interest in the funding of archaeological expeditions, and not any old expeditions for that matter. All had a common theme: Byzantine relics and artefacts.

  And there were rumours of the organisation’s famed collection of antiquities, relics, artefacts and other valuable objects, that not even the greatest museums of this world could rival. But they remained mere rumours. He had found no-one who had seen the collection to confirm its existence and provide details on its contents.

  The lump stirred again. Suddenly he heard voices and they were coming closer. Then he saw a light approaching. He heard a noise at the far end of the room, a key turning, a bolt being removed. Then there was the echo of a light switch being flicked on and a bright light overhead flooded the space.

  He could see that it was a huge cavernous space made of stone, coral and crystal. So those were the blinking lights he caught see from time to time. He could now get a better look of the lump near him. For the lump seemed to have woken up as if from the dead and sat cross-legged looking around dazed.

  John could just about see that it was not an animal, but a man he didn’t recognise. The man’s face was badly bruised. He looked despondent and tortured, as if he had been through hell and back. The poor guy looked like a tramp dressed in rags, like a large-sized doll, lifeless and limp and dirty as if he had been doused by a bucket of mud or manure.

  The man’s chest heaved and bounced up and down as if he was in the throes of an anxiety attack. Who was he? Then it came to him. It was difficult to tell at first who was hiding under all the layers of mucky make-up. But when he concentrated hard he saw that it was Giorgos, the archaeologist and friend of James. James … where was he, he wondered? Had something happened to him?

  If he, John, was here captive, surely James must have been taken too? Perhaps James was also here. And with Giorgos here as well, there was only one explanation, one thing they had in common: the icon and the ring and that business with the last Byzantine Emperor.

  He looked around but he couldn’t see James. He could have been kept in another cell. What he saw, though, was another man slumped with his face on the cold floor with the strange texture, both firm but almost liquid jelly-like to the touch.

  The two men who entered the room ignored him and Giorgos and went straight to the other man. One of them shook him violently.

  ‘Aristo Symitzis, you need to come with us. You’ve been summoned.’

  Now he knew the identity of that man. He had heard of Aristo Symitzis, son of Elli Symitzis, one of th
e wealthiest and most powerful women in the world. Aristo looked up, confused.

  They had no way of knowing that he had hoped it was all a bad dream, and his confusion was disappointment when he realised his ordeal was real. Aristo stood up with difficulty as a result of his maltreatment in their hands. They saw him shaky on his feet and held his arms to steady him. They led him out and the door was firmly closed behind them.

  John and Giorgos were not left alone in silence for long. A four-band escort arrived soon after. They dragged John and Giorgos away from their cell, their temporary small corner of comfort and cold, dark cosiness. They were led through bright, lavishly decorated corridors, a stark contrast to the cold and damp dark cell.

  The pace was fast, and exhausted as they were, they were struggling to keep up with their escorts. Their escorts were vocally and physically pulling them forward, their actions lashing them like a whip.

  John and Giorgos had no choice but to fight the urge to give up, tortured by their escorts setting an increasingly faster pace that reminded John of being chased by a hungry wild animal or an invisible enemy bend on catching up with them and annihilating them.

  They reached an antechamber to a grander chamber that they could see through the doorway beyond. The four-band escort stopped. John and Giorgos obeyed the silent order of their temporary masters and stopped behind them. They waited there, presumably until called into the grand chamber up ahead.

  They saw that man, Aristo, being paraded past them, appearing to have been cleaned up, and dressed in clean clothes, but with the bruising standing out, more prominent and ugly than before. Aristo looked at Giorgos and John and acknowledged them with a slight nod of his head. Aristo was led into the grand chamber.

  The four-band escort turned and stood two at either side of Giorgos and John and, grabbing their arms, pulled them forward and through the doorway. They were led to an eerie chamber, to what looked like a throne room, a woman’s testament to her ambition and self-importance, a dark parody of a hall of justice of the palace of the kings of Egypt and pharaohs in Alexandria in the presence of none other than the Madame Marcquesa de Parmalanski, leader of the Ruinands.

  She was sitting, resplendent in her finery, on a golden throne with sphinxes for handles and onyx cobras forming the back of the throne and rising upwards with their frightening heads turned towards the entrance.

  The Madame Marcquesa’s servants were standing on either side of their mistress, in silent reverence for the “living goddess”. A man moved forward from a place just below the throne. He stood next to Aristo and indicating him, he bowed to the Marcquesa.

  ‘My lady, I present your guests, here to pay homage to your Majesty and grace.’

  ‘Thank you, Koutsoparontis.’

  Koutsoparontis bowed again and moved back to his original position. Aristo, Giorgos and John were led to one side to clear a path from the entrance to the throne.

  They waited in silence for only a few seconds before trumpets were heard from a remote end of the chamber and a procession of five men entered with none other than Elli Symitzis in the middle, obviously being gently, but still with stealthy determination, pushed forward.

  A man from this escort split from its main body, approached the throne and bowed.

  ‘My lady, may I present your guest of honour, the notorious Elli Symitzis.’

  Those present, excluding the captives, sniggered, out of loyalty to their mistress. The man then moved immediately back into place. Another man whispered something in Elli’s ear and forcibly nudged her forward.

  She walked to a distance of a few paces from the throne and kneeled down bowing her head to the Marcquesa. The Marcquesa was amused and she smiled a victorious smile and laughed an ugly victorious laugh that echoed long after her face attained its serious distorted mask.

  ‘If it isn’t Elli Symitzis … Dear Elli, what an honour that you deign to grace us with your presence, how blessed we are to be generously granted such precious time which is but a small window in your so busy and valuable time.’ She was spitting the irony to all the corners of the chamber and beyond.

  Elli did not hesitate to respond in kind. ‘I must say, Madame, this spectacle, this show of pomp and circumstance is pointless and wasted on me. It shows insecurity. I would credit you with more class and style than that.’ The Marcquesa did not acknowledge the insult, but simply smiled, giving Elli a hard stare and then looked to all those present, to her literally captive audience and loyal fans.

  ‘We are here today to pass judgement on these poor specimens that want to pass for people. Your fate will be decided in due course. First things first. You may know by now that I have in my possession the Likureian icons and the Emperor’s ring. And I have recently acquired a third icon, the one that was stolen from the auction at the Topkapi in Istanbul.

  ‘I am aware, as I know you are, of the power residing with the last Emperor hidden in his tomb and I want to be the one to initiate and complete the revival process. When he comes to life, I’m the one he will see and the one he will speak to first and I’m the one he will be a servant to.

  ‘His power will be placed in my service to be harnessed for what purpose I decide. With that power in my disposal the world does not stand a chance. You and your organisation are in my way and will be but an ant to be squashed to let me pass on my destiny to world domination.’

  The Marcquesa paused and stared intently at Elli, her expression of triumph over her adversary a vision for sore eyes, a precious snapshot of invincibility, of immortality. Was it to last, though, or would it crumble?

  ‘Elli, accept the fact that you have lost and can no longer stand in my way. We have obtained Giorgos’ research.’ The Marcquesa paused. Her tone when she continued was one of ruthless superiority poured on absolute authority. ‘Yes …’ Another pause. She had everybody present eating out of her hand waiting for her next morsel of revelation.

  ‘He has found quite a lot it seems, a lot for which I would bet you have no idea. But I confess I don’t know either. Because it is encrypted. Giorgos here who holds the key to those findings as he was the one that encrypted them, will decrypt them for me and will give me the location of the last Emperor’s tomb and what is necessary to be done for the last Emperor’s revival and the use of his powers which will be all mine.

  ‘Before you think that you could use Giorgos as a bargaining chip, let me tell you that he will have his own reasons not to refuse to serve me, even if he may think that he and the subject of his reasons may be perishable when they have outlived their usefulness. Then again it will be a risk he will have to take as I may decide to be merciful.

  ‘And do you know why he will have no choice but to comply? Not because you will tell him to, if I agree to let you all go, if you are so deluded as to foolishly believe that I could ever agree to that in the first place, but because he will not want for any harm to come to his beloved parents, tough but gentle Andros and sweet Anna, who are as we speak on their way here to be my guests.

  ‘Yes, it is high season for this hotel of mine that is fully booked and will soon be fully occupied. But fear not. Catering-wise we are prepared for any eventuality. But I fear that we may have overbooked, so one of you will have to go, disposed of gently and discreetly.’ She paused and indicated for Aristo to be pushed slightly forward and down to the ground on his knees.

  ‘Look at your son, Aristo. If you want him to stay alive you will give me your kalbendium mines.’ The Marcquesa saw in Elli’s face the hint of surprise, barely perceptible. ‘Ah, I see you are surprised.’

  Elli racked her brains for how the Marcquesa could have found out about the kalbendium mines. Who apart from her knew? Of course. Iraklios. The first seed was planted in her mind of the identity of her traitor. But she could not allow it to sink in.

  She simply would not make herself believe that there was any truth in it. The Marcquesa was looking at her in silence as if waiting for her to finish her train of thought, enjoying Elli’s torment. L
et her stew, she thought. I won’t reveal my source, but she may have guessed. The Marcquesa wondered whether she had been too rush, too obvious.

  ‘I know you won’t give them up without a fight. So I will just ask for the key once, nicely, and, let me remind you, that you are in no position to refuse.’ Elli was trying to think of a way to escape. It seemed impossible to do that and save the others as well. It was the Marcquesa’s home ground. She had the home advantage.

  The Marcquesa was still speaking. ‘In case you have in mind to try anything silly, remember this: you have no bargaining power. You are in no position to barter. However, I won’t be cruel and unfair and will offer something in return.’

  Elli looked at the Marcquesa with disdain dripping from every pore. ‘What can you possibly have to offer me that I want or need and don’t have already?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘You? Please, don’t make me laugh.’

  Elli’s host was incensed by her defiance.

  ‘Elli, it is not a request. I will repeat my demand only once more and then you will lose something precious to you and then another, and then one by one, you will watch while you lose everything, until you capitulate and submit to me and give me what I want. Let me clarify what I meant by “me”.’

  The Marcquesa stood to her full height of six feet, briefly towering over all around her, an effect accentuated by the raised platform she was standing on. She held the audience’s attention for a full minute before proceeding to walk slowly and purposefully out of the chamber.

  Hushed silence descended. Nobody dared speak in anticipation of something significant and shocking they knew was coming. They did not dare speculate as to what that might be.

  Time appeared to have stood still in the chamber. Five minutes ticked by. There was a brief murmur and shuffling at the doorway. The Marcquesa was back. She looked the same as before but different somehow. Everybody in the chamber saw it.