I wasn't entirely sure if he was speaking to us or his horses. I plumped for the latter. Ten minutes or so passed at this slow pace. I could see nothing beyond a few meters in any direction. The occasional howl or rustle kept me on tenterhooks, while only the rhythm of hooves on churned earth seemed predictable. I was, quite literally, ready for anything.
The old man's horse suddenly reared and then settled, shaking its head. Our two steeds immediately froze. I realized Rodrigo and I weren't riders on these beasts, merely passengers. We dismounted at the old man's command, and followed him as he scurried into the mist.
Late afternoon diminished to an eerie half-light. Rodrigo was the first to point out a few scattered rocks to our left. These increased in both number and size, until a smashed stone column of staggering size lay parallel to our path. It took me by surprise. Though fractured--I guessed by its collapse--it stretched a long way into the mist. Dry, grey moss covered its surface. I scraped a layer into my hand and blew the particles into the air. The place was well and truly dead.
Our path grew hazardous, clusters of brick and overgrown stone blocks reducing the route to an assault course. The old time-traveler fared exceedingly well, even having to wait for us to catch up. This was ever accompanied by the muttered phrase, "Old jackass? Old jackass? Ha!"
My eyes fixed on the rubble and ruins about my feet, I scarcely noticed when the old man stopped altogether. He perched atop a fallen archway across a narrow rivulet. He was roughly the size of one of its bricks! Nonetheless, he stared ahead as though he were Alexander beholding Babylon for the first time. Rodrigo and I collected our breaths after the brisk jog.
"My dear Einsteins," he began, "you have no idea where you rest. You really did travel eleven thousand years in the dark. Ha! You are bold indeed. I suppose you deserve to see this, after all. Einsteins, I give you the great civilization of Atlantis!"
So this was it, the famous empire of lore. I glanced around, tried to drum up a little excitement, but there was still nothing much to see. My head dropped. The fog remained a wet blanket over the whole show, and I felt deeply disappointed. Then Rodrigo remembered what the villagers had told us about the forbidden valley to the east.
"Why is this off limits to the natives?" he asked the old man.
"Because the Kamachej says so. Hmm...let us walk a little further, and a big piece of your puzzle should be revealed."
A further fifty yards saw us standing on the steps of a large temple. The mist obscured its roof, but three magnificent upright columns remained intact. At one time green, burgeoning creepers and twining vines, the vegetation which lined the surface of these columns now flaked to the touch. The plants were little more than dry memories clinging to this ancient tomb.
Inside, the mist thinned to a pallid wisp, yet grew denser toward the ceiling.
"Rodrigo, what do you make of this fog?" I whispered. "It collects at the roof but stays thin on the ground."
"It's definitely fog. But it might be something else as well," he replied. "Gas fumes?"
Our footsteps crumpled dead leaves as we went. I tiptoed, alert, an interloper in the long-lost history of this forgotten past. I wondered what magnificent sights might have existed in the temple's heyday, in the very spot where I walked. Festivals, coronations, religious ceremonies, even market bazaars. The exoticism of each boggled my mind.
A smaller building loomed ahead. It was an enclosure inside the enclosure--a miniature temple in the centre of the hall itself. Dozens of columns supported its roof, spaced close together. Inside this marble cage lay a peculiar grey shape, rather like a giant anvil covered with eons of dust. My first thought was that a part of the roof had fallen at an unusual angle.
I soon realized how wrong I was.
The old man beckoned us over and wiped an arc in the dust with his sleeve. The glint almost blinded us. Crystalline material similar to what had greeted us from the roof of his home, the light shining through it struck my eyes like a camera flash, damn near scarring my retina.
"I'd forgotten how long it has been," he said. "The material stores its own heat and light for when there is none. That discharge is its release after being covered for many decades, and won't happen again, I assure you."
"What the hell is that thing?" snarled Rodrigo, rubbing the sting from his own eyes.
"Hmm...let me show you."
The object was roughly twenty-five feet long, eight feet across and seven feet high. Its shape was neither sharply edged nor perfectly rounded. Neither an oblong nor a cylinder. An extension protruded from the top of one end, rather like a swan's beak.
The old man traced his finger across the dust until he reached a spot a quarter way up the left side. Clearing this area with his sleeve, he then pressed the tips of his fingers against the crystal surface and sharply rotated his hand, anticlockwise. A section of the top began to lift. Rodrigo and I stepped back. The nose slowly dipped toward the ground and, as the dust slid away, we gained our first real view of the object.
Its interior appeared so ostentatious I took it for an elaborate sarcophagus. Nonsensical black swirls and angular patterns adorned its inner panels. The most remarkable feature of these was that no two lines intersected, or even touched--amazing, considering their complexity. I thought back to the symbols on the time machine's panel.
It was some sort of craft. Elegantly designed, smooth metal, it left no clue as to its method of propulsion.
"What say you to that? Hmm?" The old man chuckled, obviously pleased with himself.
"Bizarre, yet...somehow familiar," said Rodrigo. "Is this another time machine?"
"Ha! Very predictable response, very predictable indeed. Come to think of it, that was my first reaction, too. We are both logical, Rodrigo. I knew there was a reason I liked you. Though I am by far the most logical person on Apterona."
"If you've quite finished," I said, "kindly tell us if he's right or not. Is it a time machine or isn't it?"
The old time-traveler drew back his arm as if to throw something at me. But when he saw his hand was empty, he quickly changed tack.
"Look more closely, mudskipper. Look inside, tell me yourself if Rodrigo is right. Well?"
My heart jack-hammered as I climbed inside. It was the only way I could see properly, and I felt sure it would rankle the old fool. But he didn't seem to mind. I even heard him chuckle as I crouched on the cold metal floor.
It was dark inside. The space from top to bottom was no more than three feet, and were it not for the seven-foot width of the craft, it might have made a rather choice coffin. I strained my eyes. A few faint shapes sublimed from the shadow. What was I lying next to? I shuddered and quickly froze. My stomach turned as I recoiled to the misty air. I took a deep breath before plunging for one last look. No mistake! It was a skeleton lying in the bowels of the vessel.
Its form was unlike anything I had ever seen. With a skull at least two feet wide, shaped like a large, finely-cut diamond, this creature was curiously proportioned. Its full height appeared to stretch to the far end of the craft, making it about fifteen feet long. Though I could not discern the details of its shape, I managed to pick out a few features.
Its arms numbered around twelve, all folded neatly across its midriff. Each was only two thirds the length of an average human arm. It had an extremely slender frame. I guessed there was room for at least two more figures side-by-side in the craft. Finally, I noticed the skull features. A visor-like cavity across the forehead suggested either a single roving eye or a row of eyes. Crescent slits suggested a unique hearing system. A single hole about the size of a halfpenny appeared to be a rudimentary mouth. But for all I knew, I may have pegged the poor creature upside down.
"Come on, Baz, what is it?" whispered Rodrigo.
"It's dead," I replied.
"What's dead?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Really? After everything we've been through, that's one helluva bold claim."
"Very well," I
said, sitting up. "We've found the final resting place of a creature from another world."
"I see," replied Rodrigo.
"Ha! I'm afraid you don't," mocked the old time-traveler. "Why, you two are fumbling about like infants on exalted ground. Can you not put two and two together? Alpaca must surely have told you something of the origins of Apterona."
"He did mention a spurt of human knowledge," I recalled.
"Nothing of the gods? The place where the gods fell? Why, that is what brought the whole religion into being. The first Kamachej was light years ahead of all other humans of his time. I have read every scrap of recorded history left to us--you saw the scrolls in my home--and have concluded that the gods mentored him and his followers with extraordinary skill. Hmm... You do not have time to explore the great scientific marvels of this lost civilization.
"What a pity! Know only that history may have started with the crashing of this craft, and that two creatures emerged to change the face of the world forever. That is my conclusion. Ha! Now, Einsteins, do you see? The legend of Atlantis is true, but Apterona also has truths of its own. You are a privileged pair, for this knowledge shall now travel with you back to the twentieth century."
"You're saying Atlantis was inspired by these extra-terrestrials?" I asked, barely believing the words that escaped my lips.
"No, no! How wrong you are. I say nothing of the kind. My poor friend, history has kindly said it for me!"
Chapter 18
Rodrigo and I listened carefully to the time-traveler's account of these visitors from another world. Primitive man, it seems, transformed almost overnight into a being with formidable problem-solving abilities. These students did not merely copy the visitors' technological examples, they adapted them. Creativity was as much a feature of their architectural growth as the otherworldly science. The seeds of discovery had been sown. From just a few disparate tribes, a civilization grew to rival anything of classical Europe, with the added flavor of this subtle alien guidance.
"The specific elements of their interference are difficult to discern," he explained. "As with all writings, there is the element of exaggeration to overcome. The precognitive plants are clearly alien, as are the refrigerating organisms found in the Kuti river, which are in fact the residual cells from those plants. Hmm...the ziggurat design, also, was not possible with any of the instruments known to man at that time. But the key motif throughout the history of this surge in technology appears to be incredibly simple."
He drew a shape in the air with his webbed finger. I recognized it immediately as the right-angled sequence I had seen many times during the adventure: on the pendant; as a strange fissure under the sea in 1979; as the arrangement of houses lining the riverbank in Yaku; and finally, on the scorched chiton wrapped around the dead body of Pacal Votan. The clues of this alien legacy were everywhere, it seemed.
"And what happened to the aliens who survived the crash?" Rodrigo said.
"Ha! Well, the gods from the sky became the gods of Apterona! Nothing could be simpler," came the reply.
"I gathered that much, but what happened when they died? I would expect finding out one's gods are mortal isn't the best foundation for carrying on a religion afterwards."
The time-traveler seemed delighted by Rodrigo's observation. "A solid deduction, Rodrigo of Cuba. You show promise. At least I can rest assured this great secret will be put to good use. Hmm... You've also pinpointed the moment at which the rift occurred. Oh, the visitors lived for hundreds of years, but when they suddenly vanished without trace, the Kamachej wrested sole power for himself. Many Apteronians, feeling the gods had abandoned them, turned their backs on religion altogether, and were forced to face the Tongue of Deceit, a device which few have ever survived. Ha! I do believe that you and I are the only two to have beaten it in the last five hundred years, Basingstoke."
I was surprised to hear this, and asked the old man how he cheated the device.
"Oh, I am unable to lie. Convenient, then, for honesty to be the only means of escape," he answered.
I felt this was a crafty reply, but decided to leave it at that. We would both just have to imagine how one another really prevailed.
"Speaking of escape... Right, right! The cataclysm. Alpaca and the queen took you to the precognitive plants, is that correct? Yes, yes, very good. They only grow in specific conditions--at moist, high altitudes, and in one month of the year. I was there two days ago. The Kamachej himself passed by that day; he told me my vision was invalid because I was not born here. Ha! Ignore these superstitious natives. I am certain the hellfire will become reality any day now. The prescience is only short term, very short term, so you two had better head for the time machine right away. Where did you leave it?"
"A few hundred yards from the southwest coast, not far from two caves," I replied.
"Good man, good man; mine lies inside the right hand cave, nestled safely on the ocean bed, in the easternmost corner. Right! That concludes our business, Einsteins. Let us make tracks."
"Just one last thing," I interrupted. "The scorched body that started this whole mystery was, I believe, Pacal Votan's...not yours."
"Hmm...that is possible," he answered. "Alpaca has been my student for many years, and possesses a basic knowledge of the time machine. If he were pressed, I have no doubt he would be able to operate it. Quite so, as even you managed to bring it this far. Ha! But Pacal has no such desire. He will leave with the fleet as soon as it is prepared. Come, let us waste no more time."
There we left the shrouded secrets of this smashed civilization behind. Rodrigo and I had our instructions--to leave Atlantis immediately--so there was no more mystery to solve. Though by what means and with whom we were to travel the two of us had yet to decide. By sea, with our friends from Yaku? Or by time, alone?
The sun began to set as we galloped across the narrow plain.
We reached the time-traveler's hut, where he dismounted but told us not to do likewise. Through the shadows of tall trees I noticed three stone shapes planted in the ground. I pointed them out to Rodrigo. They were headstones. The old man's poor family lay at rest beneath the soil just a few yards from his home.
"I can see why he doesn't want to leave," I whispered.
"I know," replied the Cuban, "he's not had an easy life, by the sounds of it. It's perfectly understandable that he should want to spend his last days here--poor old bloke. It was his wish after all."
The time-traveler emerged a few minutes later with a leather rucksack on his back. He said nothing. Leading us out of the forest once again, this time walking beside his steed, he seemed preoccupied. He kept swiveling east. As we reached the churned earth left by the stampede, he stopped, crouched, and pressed his ear to the ground. Sure enough, there was another tremor. This one quickly grew far more violent. The horses bucked, shook their harnesses wildly. Were Rodrigo and I not competent riders, we would have joined the old man in the dirt.
He sprung onto his horse and raced hell for leather toward Kuti river. Our own animals followed before we could so much as flick a finger on the reins. The mercurial light of the magic hour dimmed, dizzied the sky as we caught sight of the royal party. They were camped by the river bank, near a cluster of trees. Pacal and K'achita were the first to greet us, the latter embracing Rodrigo in tears.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Pacal asked me.
"Indeed, and much more besides. But there's no time to explain. We must be away. The danger is nearer than we feared."
Chasca Quilla and her son rushed for the boats, which the soldiers had dragged into the water for a quick departure. There were four of them--enough for us all, but only just!
Puma Pawq'ar quickly devised the order of boats and their occupants. Four guards apiece filled the first and fourth vessels, to meet any danger as head and tail of the convoy. The Queen's bodyguard accompanied her in the first boat, Puma, Rodrigo and K'achita were in the second, while the remaining two guards were with Pacal, the time-trave
ler and myself in the third.
The first longboat eased from shore and waited. Whispering to them, stroking their manes, the old man instructed his horses to return to their stables. They were extraordinarily well trained. This time, however, they disobeyed. He repeated the gesture. Suddenly, the three of them reared up in unison, backs to their master, facing upstream.
Everyone looked to see what was wrong. A deep groan filled the air, followed by another. The river exploded. Huge grey lizards erupted onto the banks. I fell back in terror. Water washed over me as I grabbed the nearest weapon, a paddle.
The enormous lizards sprang from the water with ravenous ferocity. Two of them raced straight for the nearest horse and toppled it instantly. The poor beast struggled for its life, kicking with tremendous force. One kick found a lizard's forehead, killing it on the spot. Another three took its place, however, and in moments the horse was buried beneath an army of scrabbling scales.
Seven guards rushed between us and the monsters. They had no time to prepare. The lizards were upon them in seconds. Cries of "For the queen!" met an irrepressible surge of clambering, thrashing hulks. For every lunge of a lizard, five spear tips struck its chest and neck. Yet the weapons had no more effect than toothpicks prodding leather. One of the beasts bit into a guard's stomach and tossed him about in its mouth. The brave man gouged at its eye with his fingertips, screaming "Die, you bastard!" A bite from a second lizard ripped him in two. Hiss! The monsters fought over the remaining guards' trampled bodies, scrambling on top of one another to get to the scraps.
The four guards from the first boat leapt ashore and retrieved Chasca Quilla. Puma and Pacal heaved the second boat into the water, shouting, "In! Everyone in!"
As the others piled into the boat, I grabbed a paddle from the third vessel and sidestepped away from the river. My friends screamed for me to join them, but I stood my ground. My heart pounded. The lizards headed straight for me. Their acidic breaths scorched my throat. Moving faster now, away from the shore, I gave my friends as much time as I could. Every second was another paddle stroke to safety.
The Basingstoke Chronicles Page 14
