It suddenly made perfect sense. The Kamachej assumed his land was about to be wiped out by a great flood, and his people with it. What could be better, then, for a King desiring the traditional, uncontested loyalty of his subjects, than to see the free thinkers eradicated before his eyes. If he knew of the flood and they did not, he could seek refuge until the flood subsided, and start the civilization again from scratch. A genocidal Noah's Ark.
All he needed was a number of royal, loyal guards and handmaidens for propagation, and enough supplies to survive the flood. The mountains to the east would provide ample protection from a tidal wave, especially one of the highest peaks. There the royal retreat would retain for the Kamachej absolute power, while Apterona, and the entirety of its people, were washed away.
My fist clenched on the handle of my torch. In its violent flame I glimpsed the fiery apocalypse of my own vision. Well, in that case he's going to fail on all counts.
Turning to face the corridor, I thought no more of the extraordinary skeletons, or of how hopelessly lost I was. The Kamachej had left me to die, and likely my friends, too. Only two things now mattered--to find them and the bears at all costs, and leave Apterona without delay.
A mute fury propelled me. I returned up the stairs leading from the crypt, seeking to attack the maze before me. The key is to find that cell. My bearings were approximate at best.
One floor down. I reached the junction where I had found the torch, and decided to jog from there. The only untried corridor offered no break in its walls for at least a hundred feet. I raced excitedly down a new flight of steps. This brought me to the correct floor. From there, with canny orienteering, I figured the location of the cell holding Darkly and his family.
Only one door shook on its hinges. As I slid the iron bar free, two tonnes of Ursus atlantius spilled out into the corridor, almost crushing me. Darkly shunted the others aside. With infinite joy and abundant saliva, he licked my face and neck, before waiting obediently for my next move.
Imagine seven pairs of huge, adoring eyes staring up at you, filled with hope, reflecting your incandescent torchlight. Was there any way I could fail? Not until I had seen every one of them, and my friends, to safety.
Retracing our path through the empty ziggurat, we eventually found the garden of red leaves and blue flowers. Morning was almost upon us. The balcony overlooked the eastern continent, a hidden realm cooking in the fumes of death, the doomed cinders of a lost civilization.
The great mist appeared to have risen since the previous day. It now towered above the lowest peaks and seemed darker, thicker, more polluted. The series of earth tremors we had witnessed in the days before concerned me. The last two had been more violent. Was this enormous swell of fog due to seismic out-gassing? Were we standing on the joint of some tectonic shift? Indeed, the precursors of destruction had bared themselves all about us: earthquakes, animal migrations, the Royal retreat, the ticking legacy of Atlantis itself.
How much time do we really have?
I sped to the main staircase, where I came upon two men dressed in attire that seemed oddly threatening. The reason soon dawned. The cloths covering their private parts and the string-net masks over their faces made my blood boil. That was what the assassins had worn on that first day in Yaku. So the Kamachej was behind the attack after all!
The bears gave away our position with reckless roars. There was no turning back. Unarmed, I had to find a way past the spears of these deadly warriors, in a passage no more than six feet wide.
I opted for a round of diplomacy. If I were to fall, who would be left to free the others from imprisonment, if that had indeed been their fate? In any event, I thought it worth a try. "Guards of the Kamachej, we have no quarrel. As a guest of His Majesty, I simply wish to pass by. Will you not step aside for a weary traveler and his companions?"
They stood rigid, side by side across the exit. One of them replied, "We shall, Lord Henry Basingstoke, if you will tell us how you managed such a miraculous escape from the river." He removed his mask, and I immediately recognized him as one of the guards who had accompanied us on our northward journey.
But the awe in his words suggested Vichama Supay had not notified him of my return or imprisonment. I smiled hopefully.
"A good question, my friend," I replied.
There I recounted what had happened that night, everything before the ziggurat. His face revealed equal parts delight and skepticism, and he eyed the bears closely, yet not, I fear, as closely as they eyed him. His partner nudged him, and they whispered together. The second guard finally spoke up. "What is your business on the other side of the palace? His Majesty left during the night. It is strange he did not warn us of your presence."
"He more than likely forgot. I understand he's been busy of late."
"An understatement," said the first guard. "Close to two hundred people left the Palace last night, including His Majesty and the Queen. There are but a handful of us left, and we have sworn to let no one enter. My own wife and child traveled eastward with them."
"Mine, too," said his comrade.
Vichama Supay, it seemed, was not above wrenching families apart in his genocidal scheme. And he had taken the Queen with him, possibly by force.
I felt confident they would assist me if I tweaked my story a little. One of them had, after all, shared our apocalyptic vision.
"My business is to find your prince, Puma Pawq'ar. By chance did he leave with the Kamachej last night?"
"No," replied the first guard.
"Do you know where he is?"
"I was placed on watch shortly before His Majesty Vichama Supay left, and to my knowledge, the prince has not left the palace at all since his arrival."
"And the others who escaped the river with you?"
"Likewise, they have not passed through this archway. They must be resting with the prince in his quarters."
It was just as I had suspected. Vichama Supay's entire deception depended on his populous being unaware of the cataclysm. My friends were therefore liabilities, as was I. Short of murdering his own son, the only option open to the Kamachej was to imprison us.
"I require just one more favour," I added. "Would you be so good as to show me to the prince's quarters?"
"Follow me, Lord," he said.
As I passed the great golden arch, I peered out over the western continent. Distant lines of people wound slowly toward us from each of the three settlements, waking the slopes with a strange new unrest. All those people coming here? The guard had obviously not noticed it. I chose to stay silent in case he became alarmed and returned to his post. Oblivious, he led us deep inside the ziggurat, ever downward.
We finally arrived at a locked wooden door, which the man refused to touch. I unbarred it and, dispensing with the formal etiquette, wrenched it open . The guard and I entered together. There were four figures inside, whose deafening cries of joy rang as sweet peals in my heart. Rodrigo, K'achita, Pacal Votan and Puma Pawq'ar raced to greet me.
"Lord!"
"Baz!"
At that moment, as the bears filed into the room, I heard the door slam shut behind us. Whipping my head round, I saw no sign of our escort. An excruciating despair flushed through me. No! Please, no! The sly guard had waited patiently for a way to dispense with me, and here it was, handed to him with unforgivable ease.
But when I lunged for the door, it opened without trouble. Streaks of blood smeared the walls and floor of the corridor outside. The guard's dead body lay torn apart at the neck. Darkly had apparently waited in the corridor, behind the open door, in case of another imprisonment. As the guard must not have been aware of this, his attempt to lock us in was cut brutally short.
On top of instinct, the bear had also displayed a canny intelligence. Having trusted the guard completely, I now felt like a complete buffoon. Darkly, on the other hand, had saved the day yet again.
"My friends," I said, turning to the captives, "I bid you greet a most extraordinary animal."
>
The four of them bowed as one, a gesture to which the bear didn't even bat an eyelid. Instead, his nostrils flared and his spattered jaw quivered, awaiting, as always, my lead.
I insisted we exit at once. Where there should have been five captives, there were only four. The time-traveler was not with them.
Rodrigo assured me the old man had disappeared some time between disembarking from the longboats and entering the ziggurat. "Without warning or explanation," he added. "I've never known anyone go from saying too much to saying nothing, and all the while retain the same air of mystery."
I pondered that for a moment, after which I gave no further thought to the old traveler. Puma Pawq'ar was the only one who acted out the gravity of our predicament. His solemn, stubborn temperament was more akin to that of the bears. He had, after all, been tasked with a tremendous burden, one which must have weighed on him like the sky on Atlas. Through the abdication of his father, the Prince had now inherited perhaps the most unenviable reign of all time, over the final days of Atlantis.
Stopping at the ziggurat entrance, the twelve of us observed something absolutely unprecedented.
The Apteronians' migration had grown exponentially. It was inching over each and every hillock like floodwater during a inland overspill. I had no idea what had provoked this migration, only that it was headed straight for us.
"Someone must have leaked the news," said Rodrigo, calm as ever.
"But which news?" asked K'achita. "The disaster or the abdication of His Majesty?"
"By the number of people and their destination, I'll say both," I replied.
Both Puma and Pacal agreed. Darkly and the bears pressed between us and prowled the highest steps, unable to settle. The mass of Apteronians drew nearer. The first of them filed along the river, through the cleft of two hills a quarter mile to our left.
Individuals, couples, entire families tentatively approached the base of the ziggurat. They gazed up at us and pointed. Their collective whispers soon surrounded the palace like a tumultuous sea. Dawn light shone over the crowd. The colors of their clothing formed a shifting, swirling rainbow.
A rainbow before the storm.
"Whoever mobilized Apterona like this was either dangerously stupid or a genius," said Pacal.
"In what way a genius?" asked Rodrigo.
"Think of the task at hand," replied the native. "What better way to convince the people to unite than to address them all at the same time. Gossip and hearsay would have made our plight impossible. We now have the opportunity to leave them with no doubts--either go with the fleet or die."
Puma hung his head low. "There are not enough ships to save everyone, Pacal."
"No, but there must be..."
"That's it!" I interrupted, suddenly recalling the old time-traveler's honesty. "We give them the whole truth and let them decide."
Rodrigo glanced at me through a frown.
"It's simple, Rodrigo," I continued, "tell them why the Kamachej deserted them, and let them make up their own minds what is best--either to follow him to the high peaks in the east, or to set sail as soon as possible. From what I understand, a great portion of them will choose the mountains, as they have no desire to leave their land."
"But that would be sending them to their deaths," said the Cuban. "The old man assured us the entire land will be destroyed, including the highest peaks. The options you suggest would not represent the whole truth."
I knew Rodrigo was right. The dilemma must have squeezed the very soul from Puma Pawq'ar; his first decision as Kamachej was doomed to bring about the deaths of over half his subjects. He lifted his head slowly, a condemned man coming to terms with the noose, and announced, "Lord, I need your help. After I say what I have to say to them, you will be the key to our success."
The remark puzzled me. Pacal, K'achita and Rodrigo each shrugged as I looked at them.
The prince spun to face me. "Yes, you must help me divide them--you and the bears. What better way to combat religion than with legend and myth."
What the hell does that mean?
Still they fed into the valley. Old men and women, children, the muscular and the infirm, strangers from all the villages of Apterona, coalesced around the great ziggurat. Their faces all turned upward, an expression of need or faith in every visage. They had crossed many miles during the night to be here. An entire civilization mobilized by terrifying rumors. And now they looked to their Kamachej for reassurance, for salvation, for the leadership entrusted to his ancient office.
But Vichama Supay had fled.
Perhaps it was fate that Rodrigo and I, so bold in our jaunt through time, had joined, as catalysts, this historic turn of the tide. For to kindle the legend of Atlantis, I now realized the truth.
I had to become an Atlantean legend.
Chapter 20
And so it was, more than six months after the time machine had landed us at that unwelcoming shore, that I, Henry Basingstoke, having never been satisfied with my lot in life, was given to play the role of a prophet.
Unfortunately, it had to be an entirely sober portrayal. Puma Pawq'ar, the acting Kamachej, strode by the seven bears and stopped at the edge of the balcony.
The voices of thirty thousand citizens swelled angrily about us.
"Why have you come?" Puma Pawq'ar shouted. "The dawn has barely lifted, and yet you empty our villages to gather here, where none have ever gathered before. Why have you come?"
A gruff voice shot up from directly beneath, "We do not want to die!"
Their shared affirmations shook the Palace. It was as we suspected; someone had spread news of the impending disaster. The Prince raised his arms for silence, then continued, "You do not wish to die, and neither do we. The t'ika revealed the imminent destruction of our land only yesterday. Those seeds of fate have never been wrong, and there can be no doubt this time--our homes, our way of life, everything we have worked to produce, will end. It is incontestable."
I cleared my throat, remembering the disparity of fire and water in our respective premonitions. Nonetheless, Puma's emphatic opening had them rapt. The young man was a born orator.
"You each have a difficult choice to make. My father the Kamachej has already left us for the eastern mountains. According to his premonition, a great flood will destroy the land, and so he seeks the altitude and safety of the peaks. My friends, if you treasure his judgment, you may decide to follow his example. Taking enough supplies to those altitudes, it is possible you might survive such a flood. The path to the mountains is a dangerous one. Migrating beasts can themselves be deadly. I strongly urge those taking the path to the mountains to go armed and remain in large groups. I cannot overstate how little time we have left.
"But there is something you should know. As many of you are aware, we have in our company a great traveler from the ends of the earth, a lord among men, who achieved two things unprecedented in our land for an age. Firstly, he befriended a great bear from the east, who stands magnificently beside him now. Then, to prove his arrival was no accident, this undaunted traveler braved and survived that deadliest of ordeals, the Tongue of Deceit. He is here to assist our survival. Alas, he cannot prevent the destruction of our land, but he has promised to take from these shores all who do not wish to remain. The Kamachej has consented to this. As soon as you are able, all those wishing to undertake this voyage should make their way along the Kuti River, to the western cliffs.
"Whichever path you choose, east or west, take as much food and water as you can carry. Remember, neither choice guarantees survival, but each choice presents a chance. His Majesty awaits you on the slopes of the highest peak, as do boats at the ocean to the west. For my part, I am bound to follow this messenger from afar, in the hope that we can congregate like this once more, on whichever shore that may be. Farewell, my friends, and fair fortune to us all!"
I thought my admiration might grow wings. Puma Pawq'ar had not only conjured two ingenious choices for survival, his portrayal of each cons
isted of crafty half-truths that he knew would polarize the populous. Without mentioning the fleet, he had given the go-ahead to those complicit in its secrecy to fulfill their ambition of leaving Apterona, without the need for risky rumors and whisperings. Those loyal to Vichama Supay had the opportunity to join him. The decision was clear, the time constraint well presented, and all that now remained was to load the fleet with supplies and depart.
If only it were that simple.
Rodrigo forced a smile as I caught his eye. K'achita looked out in panic over the crowd. Pacal Votan visibly shook as swells of anger broke below. Only Puma Pawq'ar, the young man of royal blood, whose body language remained steadfast, had any right to be there on the steps of the ziggurat. As I waved to the audience with a trembling hand, I observed the tall Prince of Apterona truly become the King of Atlantis.
It was now my turn to act. Puma's address had, in the eyes of the populous, filled my presence with messianic purpose. Lord Henry Basingstoke was now nothing short of a deliverer. Indeed, if my conduct in the next few minutes was to be a persuasive force, I had to be utterly plausible. Convincing even one extra person to follow me would be an extra life saved.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. Before the plunge. I looked skyward to the gathering clouds, a gesture at which the crowd suddenly fell silent. Darkly now stood by my side, his snout thrust high toward the horizon; he was an animal of myth, alerting me to the many dangers facing us. We were the mythic symbols.
Electricity seemed to rend the crowd apart as we descended. A tangible buzz of whispers coursed through me until all I heard or felt was thrumming excitement. My eyes watered. Puma and the others followed close behind, yet for the duration of that long walk it was just Darkly and I, scrutinized by all. I stroked his glistening neck and back, to which he replied by glancing up, letting his mouth slide partly open in approval. Beneath the fur and awkward walk was a might that few would wish to test. I decided to pick up the pace, and strode rapidly once we reached the outskirts of the crowd.
The Basingstoke Chronicles Page 16
