Thera welcomed him with wanton arms, and her needs and desires proved a suitable match for his long into the night.
Even in her sleep, as she finally lay sated and content in Aluride's arms, Thera heard Otria's thoughts repeatedly. She determinedly refused to tell Aluride. He had worked too hard and too long for this and she knew he wouldn't listen anyway. Her fate was sealed—tied irrevocably to this dream of Aluride's. She had left behind immortality for this human body with the wild red tresses and these unruly emotions, and she would not, could not bring herself to regret it.
Success or failure? They would know within two Earth days.
Chapter Seven
The relocation of the three 'Fire Crystals' turned into a long, painstaking operation. Fearful of dropping or cracking one of the large, precious stones, every move and action was carefully thought out and planned before it was executed.
Aluride, Protan, and Thera, cell phones and radios in hand, each directed the process for one of the three large teams of Atlanteans. Those not chosen for one of the teams gathered nearby to watch this great moment in their history.
A collective sigh of relief went up as the final crystal settled gently onto the deck of the ship chosen to carry it out to the designated barge. Workers quickly covered the crystals in velvet and lashed them down while others prepared the ship to get underway.
Aluride's heart pounded with excitement as he stood at the bow of the ship headed to the southwest and breathed in the tangy salt air. Tomorrow... He would see his beloved Atlantis rise tomorrow. The weeks and hours of work and self-denial would be worth it. He would be hailed as a hero, a mighty leader, possibly even a savior. He and Thera would become permanent mates and begin the process of repopulating their homeland as an example to the others. The Masters would be pleased with his work and reward him abundantly.
Protan stood behind the captain at the helm of the ship going to the barge to the southeast. He watched over every course correction and each crewman's job with interest. Protan enjoyed learning new things and he looked forward to having time to relax once Atlantis was restored. He could picture himself reclining on a softly cushioned sofa with a bevy of beauties to answer to his every whim. Deservedly so, for this would be his most brilliant work ever.
Thera lay on a bunk below the deck of her north-bound vessel and tried once again to shut out the sound of her sister's warning. As long as she remained occupied, the thoughts were more easily kept at bay. But in these lax moments, Otria's words flooded through her mind. Thera threw aside the thin blanket and slipped on her shoes. She ran up on deck and jogged round the outer deck long into the wee hours of the night. When the ship anchored within sight of the tower located on the barge, an exhausted Thera slipped below to her cabin to rest for a couple of hours.
* * * * *
Miles apart on the ocean, the three determined Atlanteans directed the moving of the 'Fire Crystals' into place on their respective barges. The crane barges were brought alongside one end of the huge, anchored, floating towers. The ships slowly and carefully eased up to the anchored barges. Long lines were used to tie the ships off to the barges so they all bobbed in unison with the waves and currents.
The most dangerous part of moving the cargo came next. The boom of each crane swung over a precious crystal in the three different locations. Crewmen unlashed the stones. Then specially designed harnesses cradled the 'Fire Crystals' as they were lifted from the deck of each ship. With wide eyes and bated breath, the teams watched their particular crystal hover over the ship before swinging slowly over to the barge. The creaks and groans of the booms and cables and the stutters of the crane engines caused hearts to beat faster in fear of mechanical or structural failures.
Specially trained technicians manipulated robotic arms designed to clamp the crystals into place on each tower. Thera had been unceasing and diligent in her training of them as to which way the crystals must face and which facets should point in which direction. The tiniest deviation could cause failure—not an option she would even consider. She insisted her crystal be shifted fractions of a millimeter around before she at last agreed the clamps could be tightened.
Protan and Aluride broadcast images of their crystals to her by satellite phone and she directed minor changes for them as well. She watched as the clamps of their towers fastened for the final time. Next, the titanium alloy caps must be removed at precisely the right minute. Thera was relieved that Protan would be giving those orders. In the meantime, Thera rushed to oversee the release of the harness from her stone and the fastening of the boom cable to the rings affixed to the covering cap.
Aluride and Protan would be doing the same on their barges. The time drew nearer for the raising of the lost Atlantis.
Chapter Eight
All was in place.
Protan counted down the minutes as he waited for the sun to reach its zenith in the sky overhead. Small puffy clouds floated about, but none large enough to interfere with the strong ultraviolet rays needed to project power through the 'Fire Crystals'.
Finally, Protan gave the word for the caps to be removed from the precious stones clamped securely to the towers. Shouts went up from the workmen in all three locations and they hastened to get the coverings off and safely away from the crystals.
Aluride stood perfectly still, breath held, and watched for his miracle to happen.
Thera said a quick prayer to the Masters that Otria was wrong and Atlantis would once again see its former glory.
At first, it seemed as if nothing happened. Then the center of each crystal began to glow. The towers trembled but remained steady as the crystals absorbed the sun's power and began to magnify it.
Suddenly, soundlessly, a beam of light shot straight out from the center flat facet of each marquis-shaped crystal.
Aluride danced in place as he saw the signs of the beams of energy meeting exactly in the center of the triangle. Though miles away, he could see a large dome of glaring yellow-white light shaped like a mushroom cap spreading larger and wider.
"Do you see it, Aluride?" Thera shouted over the cell phone. "It is working."
"I see it, Thera. I cannot remove my eyes from the wondrous sight."
Sunlight poured into the upper facets of the crystals and the beams coming from each one grew stronger. A low humming sound filled the air and the towers began to shudder violently. The waters surrounding them splashed and churned, nearly throwing the workers overboard.
The glowing dome grew ever larger and brighter in the sky until Aluride could no longer see the sun. It covered the entire area inside the crystals. Waves grew larger, slamming into the barges and ships anchored nearby. As the barges rocked back and forth with the ocean waters, the crystals took in sunlight through more and more facets. The beams coming from the crystals changed and revealed the colors of the rainbow instead of the original golden glow.
There came a terrible groaning noise and the very deck beneath Aluride's feet heaved. Then he saw it—a tiny speck of black! It grew and increased in size until Aluride realized what he saw happening before him. One of the mountain peaks of Atlantis broke through the ocean's surface. He grabbed binoculars to verify what his now human eyes told him.
"Thera, I see—"
"I know," she interrupted. "I see it too. Oh, Aluride, Atlantis is rising. Our home..."
"Have your crews standing by to recap the crystals. We have to stop the energy flow soon," Protan warned.
Thera and Aluride gave instructions to their workers.
* * * * *
But the sea had already gone wild.
The Atlanteans could hardly manage to keep from being swept overboard. They fought to raise the stone caps with the cranes.
On Aluride's barge a cable broke and snapped back, severing the head from one worker and tearing the arm from another. The titanium cap landed on several more as it fell, crushing them instantly. The deck became awash with blood as well as sea spray.
Thera's crew had no better fo
rtune as the boom of the crane near her bent and refused to swing in either direction. The weight being shifted to one side caused the crane barge to tilt and workers tumbled into the water. Screams filled the air as they were crushed between the heaving barges.
Protan shouted over the cell phone, "We're sinking. The anchor line broke. We're taking on water. Masters, forgive me..." Then they heard no more from him or his crew.
Energy continued to pour from the crystals, but not uniformly. As the crystals shifted, the beams became off center. The glowing dome above now looked angry. It reflected dark grays, shadowy greens, and deep purples instead of the previously beautiful yellow-white light.
But Aluride had eyes for nothing except the sight of his beloved Atlantis continuing to rise before him. All of this, everything, would be worth the sacrifices if only his homeland, Atlantis, survived.
Chapter Nine
Thera cried and fell to her knees. She knew her sister Otria had been right. Somehow, she'd known it all along. She just refused to admit it, even to herself. Wanting to close her eyes and shut out what would happen next, she cried out to the Masters to protect her people below.
She pleaded for them to spare the Atlanteans even if they would not spare Atlantis. A piece of the crystal tower jerked loose and flew through the air. Thera never knew what hit her.
An odd sound, like the tearing of strong material, shrieked over the other noises and the lost continent of Atlantis settled into place on top of the waters. Huge waves, tsunamis some called them, fanned out from the newly raised land in all directions. Ships capsized and the anchor cables holding the barges broke loose.
"We never accounted for the displacement of the water by the land mass when she rose. Perhaps, we did not truly believe..." Aluride muttered to himself as he gazed at the unbelievable events.
Aluride watched, horrified, as his beloved Atlantis shuddered and trembled. Then lava spewed from the mountaintops. A beam of energy from one of the crystals carved out huge chunks of the continent and mountains crumbled back into the sea. Another beam, this one from the north, cut across the rays from his crystal. An explosion rocked the land mass, followed closely by another. He heard more and more explosions and cried out in agony as Atlantis disintegrated into rocks and rubble before his eyes.
"What have I done? Masters, please, what have I done?" The tower holding the 'Fire Crystal' near him buckled and the precious stone fell sideways into the water.
The energy from the crystal superheated the water and the flesh of Aluride's human body melted as the resulting wave washed over him. His last thought was of Diatrese.
"Would that I could have proven you wrong, Ancient One."
* * * * *
Diatrese huddled with the remaining masses of his kind in the underwater caverns. Even deep within they could feel the shifts and changes in the currents as Aluride and his followers tried to raise Atlantis. He shook his head at the foolishness. They had been lured by the desire to walk above and they would pay a terrible price.
He too wanted Atlantis restored. He would sacrifice his own life if it would make it so. But it would only be done according to the timetable of the great Masters. Until then, he would be content in the state in which he found himself.
Atlantis... Eden... Paradise... Utopia... Whatever name one chose to call it, neither the people of Earth nor the Atlanteans were ready for the secrets that would be revealed with the raising of the lost continent of Atlantis.
Diatrese reconciled himself to many more long years of foraging along the ocean floor while he waited to be rescued by his Masters and carried home above the stars. Until then he would do his best to care for his 'lost' Atlanteans.
The End
A Speculative Fiction short story...
An angry almost fiancée, a discarded lover, a politician with a jilted daughter, and a disappointed father – Gregory is not looking forward to facing them. But this Halloween party his Dad has put together might be just the place to get things back to normal.
Dad always says special things are bound to happen on Halloween. Gregory, who has a definite eye for the ladies, has no idea just how special this night will be – or how deadly.
Dad's Favorite Holiday
Chapter One
Maribeth dressed with care. Her invitation to the Halloween Gnash said: Formal dress with mask or appropriate formal costume required. Sounded a bit ostentatious to her, but she needed to attend, and she dare not appear out of place. She looked in the mirror to add the finishing touches to her artfully arranged blonde curls then she applied a shiny layer of lip gloss to her pursed mouth. Perfect.
The low neckline of the pale cream, formal gown flattered her heart-shaped face and showed off her new tan just as she hoped. She refused to go anywhere looking like a desperate woman. Maribeth slipped into her navy blue, velvet cape and made sure she carried her evening bag. Time to go have myself a ball. She laughed at her own wit. She planned to have his before the night ended.
* * * * *
Lights blazed from the grounds of the old mansion, cutting through the growing fog. Clouds obscured the moon and the heavy, still air felt like a storm might be brewing. How appropriate. Tree limbs shrouded with Spanish moss waved eerily in the breeze.
Her car followed several others up the hill onto the sweeping, circular drive. Orange crepe-paper bows, along with glowing pumpkins, lined the walkway. A parking valet in an orange waist-coat, wearing a simple black mask, assisted her from the car then slid in to take care of the vehicle.
Maribeth felt a shiver run up her spine at the luxury of it. She could easily become accustomed to this type of wealth. With a shrug she lifted the long skirt of her gown, followed the stone walk, and climbed the steps.
Music drifted through the double doors as she heard the sounds of people chatting and laughing from inside. She stopped long enough to put on her gold and cream Mardi-Gras style mask and adjust its band beneath her hair. Maribeth held out her invitation to be checked by the doorman then continued inside.
The foyer chandelier, hung with polished crystals, danced and swayed from the slight breeze created as the door opened and closed. Colored lights sparkled over the beautiful dresses, dark suits, and costumes of the guests as they moved about. Maribeth caught her breath at the lovely sight, wishing she dared to relax and enjoy herself. She wanted to celebrate Halloween with her love—but that wasn't to be—not tonight.
A young woman in a skimpy, French maid's uniform rushed forward to take Maribeth's cloak. "I'm Ally, Miss. Would you like to freshen up before joining the party?"
"I'm fine, thank you." Maribeth smiled as she relinquished her velvet wrap to the long-legged, well-endowed young woman. It seemed all the servers in sight wore simple black masks and uniforms, but none quite as revealing as this one.
Maribeth gazed appreciatively about as she entered the main ballroom. The Weeping Willow, an old plantation house named for the ancient trees found scattered over the property, wore her finest tonight. The majority of the decorations reflected a time when damask linens, Belgian lace, polished silver, and overdone floral arrangements were all the rage. Pumpkins, a scarecrow, and stalks of Indian corn graced one corner as a testament to the holiday. Orange-colored punch flowed through a champagne fountain near a buffet table. Musicians, dressed as symphonic monsters, played classical music from a small dais in the far corner.
Her first course of action should be to locate Gregory, she decided. As she looked over the large area filled with people, many she wouldn't know even without their masks, she wanted to stop and scream his name. Smiling as she thought of his horrified reaction, Maribeth began to work her way through the crowd. She searched for him in a more acceptable manner.
"Ahhh, Aphrodite? Or perhaps Helen of Troy?" He whispered in her ear when he slipped up behind her. "Happy Halloween." Gregory placed a light kiss on the side of her neck before inviting, "Come meet my father, darling."
Maribeth stiffened against him, but fought off her an
ger to accompany him across the crowded floor. She could wait a while longer for this farce to end.
Chapter Two
A tall, distinguished, older version of Gregory bearing a partially masked face greeted her with outstretched hands. "Dearest, Maribeth. I feel I know you already. Young Greg sings your praises to the winds." Gregory's father drew her nearer and placed a gallant kiss on the back of each of her hands. Cutting a magnificent figure in his finely tailored black tuxedo, complete with starched shirt and cummerbund, this man garnered attention. He could easily be mistaken for a film star from an earlier decade.
The black feathers of his mask tickled her bare arm. Maribeth smiled and dropped a mock curtsey. "But I've heard so little of you, sir. It seems I'm at a disadvantage."
"Oh, my dear, please call me Gray. Everyone of consequence does. Two of us called Gregory would be positively untenable. Are you enjoying yourself at my Halloween Gnash? This is my favorite holiday, you know," he confided. He kept hold of her hand and led her to a pair of vacant chairs along one wall.
Gregory followed after them, but cast sly glances at the beautiful women wandering about the room.
"I've only arrived, but it does seem to be most entertaining." Maribeth caught back a giggle as a matching pair of tuxedo-clad clowns danced by. She heartily approved of their idea for a formal costume.
Gregory interrupted after allowing Maribeth and his father a few moments to chat, "Come on, Mari. We should be dancing, or drinking, at least."
Gray made a shooing motion with his hand and ordered, "Go away, Greggy. Find someone to amuse yourself with or shake hands with some politicians. Let me get to know this amazing creature you've been telling me about."
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