"That depends on what you mean by blasphemy."
I fumbled for a way to translate 'to speak impiously, in profane contravention of a religious doctrine,' but soon gave up. "To show disrespect to the gods?"
"In that case, yes and no. You are aware that not everyone in this land respects our religion. Such was also the case when the laws were first introduced. Of course, the records reveal only the smooth aspects of this change. I believe those myths and legends you refer to contain as much truth as our written histories, for the former are tainted only by exaggeration, and not subversion. My husband is an honorable man, Lord Henry Basingstoke, but he descends from a lineage that no one can rightly fathom. We know nothing of those Kamachej of old that they did not want us to know. Therefore, how are we to say what the gods themselves would object to?"
This brave speech surprised me. Not in what she revealed, as I had surmised as much beforehand, but that she had revealed it at all. I suspected if her husband ever found out, the consequences might not be so honorable. After all, the constant ripening of power and corruption over a hundred generations is unlikely to simply vanish from one's family tree, when there is no challenge to that power. The Queen had risked a great deal in sharing her opinion with me.
My ambivalence toward her grew. Was all this a crafty ploy to test my loyalty? Or was she perpetuating a suspicion that I had held for some time in Yaku, that here, in this idyllic land, the only one completely loyal to the King was the King himself.
Chasca Quilla tilted her head toward me, awaiting my response. I decided to make her wait for a moment as I counted the number of palace guards accompanying us. Eleven.
"Agreed," I said finally. "If only we could visit history, what truths we could uncover."
Her face tightened into that brittle expression I had perceived when I first saw her in the garden of red leaves and blue flowers. Gripping the pendant in my pocket, I looked first to the rising peaks ahead and then to Pacal, a man strolling through borrowed time.
Was the debt he owed one he was bound to pay, or was his escape in the time machine a loophole of some kind, through which I might help him to negate death, his great creditor? By this rationale, was Pacal Votan the guarantor of Atlantis, the missing piece of its extinction, which fate had intrigued me to find?
And now that I had found it, what if I decided to re-shuffle the puzzle, thus saving his life? The nature of space-time was clearly not so absolute as to unravel the universe at the slightest time tampering. We were here, after all.
What then, were its limits? What scale of change could I effect before the temporal forces imploded on us? How much could I interfere?
As for the rules governing time, I was ignorant. Any blame for saving Pacal, therefore, must lay squarely on Him Who supplied me with a heart, curiosity, and no instruction.
The lime grass grew darker as we trudged northward. It swayed in the north-easterly breeze. How many miles we walked I could not tell. Nor could I quite fathom how I was able to maintain such stamina. Something in Chasca Quilla's medicine perhaps?
When we reached the first tributary stream, the great Palace was barely visible behind us. We had also climbed without my realizing it, for the ziggurat lay hundreds of feet below. It was thus that I discovered the optical illusion of Apterona's vast plateau. Hillocks occurred across the terrain, but the gradual declivity from the rim toward its centre was well-disguised. It was in fact a bowl of an island, the only split in its shape forced by the southwesterly course of Kuti river.
We reached the edge of the northern forest in no time. Ten of the eleven burly soldiers lined our left flank, spears at the ready. Now a jungle veteran, I was content to keep a safe distance from the trees. The widest part of Kuti river, however, all but barred our way ahead. The stretch of grass between forest and water diminished to a path just a few meters wide, and I soon crept along in the shadow of great trees.
Distant bird cries pierced the silence; bare trunks stood scraped and scarred, as though a legion of hot claws had sharpened upon them. A warm mist settled no higher than the height of a man, and through this we saw only pale emptiness. Our movement through the tall grass produced a constant hiss that drowned all other sound..
I stopped for a moment. My shins tickled, the same way they had in the time machine. I bent down to listen more closely, and felt a gentle vibration underfoot. The ground beneath was trembling. Rodrigo caught up and crouched beside me. He nodded. It was the second tremor we had experienced on Apterona.
"It's only very slight," he said. "No more than a thunder roll miles away."
I had to agree. We quickly caught up to the others who by now were almost on the water's edge. I saw Puma Pawq'ar point Pacal to the river bank. The water surface confirmed our findings, rippling against the side quite noticeably.
It stopped for a moment but resumed with greater intensity. Rodrigo stumbled back from the river, so he let go of K'achita's hand for better balance. Most of the guards pushed past us to shield Chasca Quilla. I quickly found myself hiding behind them, side by side with Puma and Pacal.
A solitary black deer appeared atop a hill to the east, followed by a swathe of dust. Two more deer joined it. In moments the cloud rose to blanket the sky. Rodrigo yanked my t-shirt and yelled something I couldn't hear. A strong guard lifted the queen onto his shoulders and ran northward, while another carried K'achita. I tried desperately to keep pace with the others as they fled.
As I turned, the hillock erupted in a torrent of dark streaks, as though a dam had spilled a great herd of quadrupeds onto the valley. The dust cloud stretched northward, out of sight. Those animals that stumbled were pulverized by a hurricane of hooves. Nothing could have survived in the stampede's path.
Without warning, the wave spilled westward across the river, in the direction of the settlements far below. To the trail of dust was added the spume of an awesome fountain, as Kuti river exploded, spraying its white hoarfrost on the back of the dark tsunami.
The northernmost deer avoided the barrier of trees. They pressed back into the herd until the tide swept them into the valley. I breathed a great sigh of relief, for we were still in the forest's shade, and out of danger from the stampede.
We ran for an age, finally stopping as the roar subsided, spent as matadors after the Pamplona run. As the last of the herd vanished behind the tree line, Pacal and Puma waded across the Kuti. They climbed a steep verge on the other side. From there they could see some way down into the valley.
"Where is the herd headed?" shouted Chasca Quilla, updated by whispers from her chaperon.
"It is fine for the moment," replied her son from high above. "They have stopped near the south forest."
We all breathed a sigh.
"Lord Henry Basingstoke?" she said.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"You have encountered a second exodus, I believe."
"An exodus?"
"Yes. The host of scorpions in the western forest was the first, for they had fled the east. The black deer have now seen fit to take flight in a similar manner. You arrival, it seems, has sparked quite an upheaval."
I guessed she was jesting, but I couldn't be certain. For my part, the most curious thing about this timing was the time machine itself. Very soon Pacal would have to make his fateful escape to the future, an escape prompted by fire. Clues were soaked in possibility. They clogged my thoughts. Ground tremors, a great fire, species fleeing from east to west--the evidence was unsettling.
That some kind of natural disaster was imminent I felt sure; on what scale it might occur I tried not to imagine. If Rodrigo and I were correct in our assumption, this was the western tip of the great continent of Atlantis. Could the mysterious time-traveler have chosen this place and point in history to visit for a specific reason, and, if so, was there more to its significance than the underground fleet? My stomach felt hollow, for the enduring myth had long told of this ancient place being destroyed. It was perhaps the most cataclysmic end of all the civ
ilizations of history. But in what guise would the tragedy hit? I realized the time was nearing for Rodrigo and me to make our move.
We followed the river as it curved at a northeasterly tangent from the forest, into the foothills of the great mountain range. I felt energized, intrepid. Chasca Quilla's curious expedition seemingly had no end. Crossing from grass to rock, we led the Queen very carefully indeed. Though I offered assistance, her helper did nothing but scoff at me.
The footing grew quite difficult after a while. A honeycombed path headed toward the river's source. We negotiated it on tiptoes, and it is with a certain pride that I boast of not logging a single misstep.
When I next looked up, we were looking upon a watery wonder of Apterona. A lagoon about the area of a football field, precipitously enclosed in jagged rock, was the source of the Kuti river. It was formed by a fluvial happening..
The few days of violent rainfall had filled the mountain passes to overflowing. Though this lagoon was located toward the west of the mountain range, it was much lower than the surrounding peaks; therefore, cascades of water, coursing for an outlet, soon found their way to this spot. Three streams converged to feed the lagoon: one high from the north, one spurting into the pool from a westerly track, and one directly opposite, from the east.
The waterfall's momentum gouged a constant wound beneath the surface, and was accentuated by the forceful meeting of the two opposing currents. This created a remarkable reaction. A soapy-white fountain sprang up a few feet ahead of the waterfall. It climbed twenty feet into the air.
I marveled at this chance happening of the elements. Three rivers, a waterfall and a fountain conspired in miraculous design. An accident of nature? Did this design, to form the life-sustaining Kuti river, make it the very origin of time itself?
A gentle spray soaked our rock ledge as we walked around the lagoon. The path sloped upward until we stood on a level with the bowed neck of the waterfall. Standing at the rear of the party, I couldn't quite see why we had stopped at this point.
A strange, enveloping aroma caused me to sneeze.
I went dizzy for a moment. The rest filed onto a peculiar glassy surface ahead. I pushed through the crowd to stand alongside Chasca Quilla.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked.
I beheld a field of unusual, transparent flowers. I had never seen the sort before, but then again I am no botanist. Apart from the see-through petals, I did not regard these plants as particularly noteworthy.
"I do not know what to say," I replied. "I always have time for flowers, provided their scents are agreeable. Is this what you brought me all this way to see?"
She smiled, lifted her hand free from her chaperon, and held it out for me to take. She then bade me lead her to what I perceived was the thickest cluster of these odd plants.
"You always have time for flowers, Lord Henry Basingstoke? Well then, this flower, the t'ika, will surely have time for you. Kneel beside me a while."
Her words and manner were, once again, confoundedly enigmatic, but I obeyed with curiosity. We had, after all, traveled many miles and nearly been crushed in a stampede, just for this moment.
Her hand probing the flowers, she settled on one in particular, a tall specimen at least two inches higher than the rest. She ran her fingers down its stalk, the way a flautist tickles out a tune, before grasping it between her forefinger and thumb.
"Do as I do, Lord Henry. By lightly squeezing the neck, you will aggravate the scent. In a few moments, the perfume will be ready to inhale. Place your nostrils above the stamens, so close as to almost touch, and then breathe in until your chest can rise no more. Do not worry if your vision fades. True vision does not need eyes to soak up its secrets. Follow where you are led, and do not think yourself the trail-guide of your thoughts, for where they lead, you are without map."
I hadn't smoked as much as a cigarette since secondary school, and had never partaken of the senseless drugs bandied about in college. This one, however, I felt obliged to try. The aroma intensified around me as I crouched to imitate the queen. When her nostrils flared and her smile bloomed into dimples, I closed my eyes and sucked in an acre of pollen.
My vision blurred. I felt as though I was wheeling backwards, faster and faster, through streaks of white. Ready to fling my arms out to steady myself, I gasped. The breath shot bitterly up my nose. It stung for a moment and then flooded my world with white light.
I drifted, fully aware, seemingly light years from anything tangible. I felt lost from color, yet drank from the sum of all colors. White. There was no darkness; the past had no shadow, the future no horizon. I was utterly alone, yet I bathed in that isolation as a single pearl in an oyster full of milk. I looked, turned, through nothing but white.
Paralysis or spinning at light speed? The effect frightened me. Perhaps the knack of expanding one's mind is to let go without reservation. I clung desperately to reason.
It was no epiphany. I sensed nothing exalted in the light. Chilling impulses flickered about me, like discordant ends from a wire circuitry trying to shock me, convince me all was awry. I thought of Rodrigo and K'achita bonding across millennia, mocking the passage of time; of Pacal Votan and his father, both doomed to leave Apterona, only as pebbles skimming out from the shore, obliged to sink after a mere few skips; of Ethel Brooke and Chasca Quilla, women I had to covet from afar, destined to be the fragile bookends my adventure would never quite let me touch. I sank, drowned inside these fears. I swirled as a flake of skin into a plug hole.
Suddenly, orange erupted! The dizziness stilled completely. I entered into a landscape that I had somehow drawn: not the Apterona I had lived in all these months, something terrible, a smoldering canvas melting, flooding the entire pastel continent with fire. Each flame spat the cries of a hundred voices I knew. I could do nothing to stop it. A firefly with a volcano on its back, I was burdened by guilt. Tasting the first smoky fumes, I shrank back from the vision until I had a bird's eye view of melting paradise. I rose high enough to see the whole of Apterona. Nothing left of her now, only fire. A haze grew over the flames. Turquoise surrounded it. And gradually I realized I was staring into the sun through a wisp of cloud. The real sun, real cloud, and a blue, unthreatening sky.
Where was I? Where had I been? Squeezing the coarse, leathery grass between the tips of my thumbs and fingers gave me an anchor to reality. A sublime wooziness kept willing me to drift away again, but I remembered the vision. The horrible, helpless sensation of being witness to the end of the world. It couldn't have been real.
But I'd not dreamt it, I'd witnessed it as surely as my parents' funeral and their wake at Basingstoke Manor. So what had I really seen? The destruction of Apterona? I dragged myself up onto my knees, barely keeping balance. By the time I managed to stand upright without staggering, the urge to escape from those awful plants clenched me into a single, desperate muscle.
Jesus, man, get a grip! It's just a bloody flower!
Many of the guards visibly shook, a few even sobbed like children as they rose to their feet. Rodrigo and K'achita held each other tightly, while Pacal and Puma knelt facing one another, but looking away. Chasca Quilla stood beside me. Her eyes were filled with terror.
My heart plummeted. The transparent flowers had affected us all. Their vision, I concluded, was of the future--near, opaque and, consequently, disastrous.
Chapter 16
"Your Majesty, what did you see?"
She recoiled, gasping, horrified. "The end," she said. "That is it, then."
"I saw it, too."
She stretched out her trembling hand.
I took it. My mind still reeled. The flowers' aroma now disgusted, sickened me.
With her other hand, the queen reached into a pocket of her cloak, but came out empty. What possible memento could she wish to take from this dreadful place? Was the end of the world not enough?
Like Orpheus, I sighed, and led her from a place of darkness. This paradise setting had set the sun over my
adventure. I'd never felt so homesick for Basingstoke Manor, and could not wait to leave Apterona.
The waterfall hissed coldly as we circuited the lagoon. No one said a word. The guard charged with guiding the queen took her from me. Each of us then trudged separately, solemnly, over rock and grass.
Puma Pawq'ar took the queen's hand as we reached the wider course of the Kuti. "Mother, it is time. When we return, I shall be about our promised business."
She replied softly, "I know."
"But you must convince father, and quickly."
"I shall... But I fear your business will take more time than we have left. Perhaps it is fate that after waiting generations, we should have to hurry our sails to escape a flood."
"Fate indeed, mother."
This exchange pricked my curiosity. Firstly, it confirmed Chasca Quilla was an accomplice to the hiding of the great fleet. Secondly, she had used the word flood, when my own premonition had clearly revealed the opposite.
"Excuse me," I said, "what exactly did your Majesty see of the future?"
Puma stared hard at me. "You mean apart from the monstrous surge of the sea? What else is there to know, foreigner?"
"You did not see the land in flames?"
"The opposite. What future have you concocted, Lord, that mocks the destruction of our land? We have never known these visions to be wrong or contradictory." He sprang to his feet and shouted, "How many of you saw fire instead of water?"
The company stayed silent. Guards swiveled to see who among them shared my erroneous prediction. Rodrigo, alone, rose and sat beside me. "I did. I saw this place burn."
Rodrigo and I became the objects of suspicion from the rest of the group. The guards in particular, so disciplined during our hike, now talked eagerly among themselves. Pacal and Puma walked a short distance apart to talk alone, eyeing us suspiciously. The prince then approached us to deliver his verdict.
The Basingstoke Chronicles Page 12
