by Jon Saboe
Untash read his alarm and grinned.
“You know, we have to land sometime.”
It was difficult to find sacrilegious curses when one was raised in a secular culture, but Peleg managed to unleash a few.
Despite his trepidation, Peleg was unable to tear his eyes away as the rough surface continued to move closer. They were not falling fast, but it appeared certain that they would definitely strike the ground within the hour.
Some time later, it appeared that Serug and Thaxad were flying directly for the foliage along the horizon, and with a start he watched their balloon shudder and suddenly drop down and disappear behind the trees in front of them.
Following helplessly, the choppy current began to drag them down. Just as they approached the place where the other chair had vanished, a strong downdraft caught them, and they were suddenly pulled past a large cliff which quickly receded behind them.
When Peleg reopened his eyes he could see a new mountain range beneath them—much lower than those they had just traversed. The trees which Serug and Thaxad had apparently fallen into were on the lip of a large cliff which was now behind them, and now a new terrain was revealed that, thankfully, was again several hundred meters beneath them.
The evening breeze from the east began to push them in the direction of the coast—and hopefully that of the Urbat. Peleg thought he could see some of the landmarks from their first two weeks of hiking, but nothing was certain from this perspective.
Peleg noticed wrinkles in the balloon in front of them, and was certain he could feel that the air from their own envelope was much cooler than earlier. Shadows were starting to lengthen, and soon the sun was practically shining into their faces. They had been hurtling through the air at the mercy of the winds for almost eight hours and now the breeze from the East was becoming stronger. It jerked the small benches and their riders as it propelled them towards the coast.
Their descent was more pronounced, now, and the ground was becoming uncomfortably close again. Somehow they had to stay aloft until they reached the sea. They were heading towards another ridge, and Peleg could only hope that there was another drop beyond this one.
As the sun sank towards the sea in the west, Serug and Thaxad headed directly towards the horizon, but Peleg could see they would not clear it. They flew towards the jagged boulders which rose up in front of them and Peleg waited for Serug and Thaxad to crash. At the last moment, a small cleft in the outcroppings appeared, and Serug and Thaxad slipped through to the empty air beyond, where Peleg could no longer see them.
Peleg hoped desperately that they would find the same small passage, but he could tell that they were too far to the right. They would not be so lucky.
The stiff breeze accelerated their flight, and Peleg and Untash braced for the impact. It seemed to Peleg that Untash was getting ready to jump, but just before they arrived at the craggy bluffs, they realized that their elevation was slightly higher than their predecessors. Although they were going to miss the opening, they would (barely) clear the rocky ridge.
Suddenly there were loud shouts and screams in front of them, and Peleg strained to see past the rise.
His eyes were abruptly blasted with the gleaming blue of a large ocean stretching before them, and he realized the shouts were those of excitement. He joined in with shouts of his own as his feet almost grazed the jagged summit before they found themselves flying suspended almost one hundred meters above an extremely narrow strip of beach—and the endless expanse of water which would soon be met by the setting sun in front of them.
The cool evening air continued to blow them out to sea, and Peleg could feel their rapid descent. Although there was still no horizontal breeze to be felt, he could now sense the air move past them vertically as they headed for the ocean below. It was only a matter of minutes before they crashed into the sea, but, after hours of hurtling over the rocky ground below, he actually welcomed a water landing.
The four men strained their eyes to find some glimpse of the Urbat to the south. There was absolutely no sign of the ship, and they had no way of knowing how much further they had to go. Also, it could easily be hidden behind the next inlet or rock outcropping. Once they ‘landed’, they would have to somehow make it back to shore and pursue their vessel on foot.
Suddenly Serug shouted something and pointed to the north. Far up the coastline was a small white object that could only be a topsail protruding from behind a small ridge. It was the Urbat! They had actually traveled past their ship! Perhaps someone would see them!
However, only someone up in the riggings could possibly spot them, and, if anyone were watching for them, they would most certainly be looking in the other direction.
Soon their descent would hide them completely, and, as they continued to head further out over the water, the swim back to shore would only become more difficult.
Peleg watched as Thaxad suddenly rose up on his feet, pulled himself up by the hemp connector lines, and reached up into the interior of their balloon. He could see Serug’s eyes of bewilderment, and all three wondered what the Mentor was doing.
Suddenly they saw sparks, and the next moment the envelope above Thaxad’s head began to burn. Soon the entire balloon was engulfed in flames and jagged strips of burning cotton began to peel off.
Thaxad’s and Serug’s bench plummeted as the space above their heads turned into a fireball of thick smoke which rose into the evening sky. Thaxad reached down for Serug and they both dove into the water as smoldering ashes descended around them.
Pieces of ignited cloth blew into Peleg’s face as the final two men flew through the resulting acrid cloud. Soon small fires had started on their balloon, which quickly erupted into flames. Their bench suddenly began to plummet, and Peleg and Untash hurled themselves into the sea.
Soon the four men were treading water while avoiding the incendiary particles which slowly rained down upon them. The reed benches could be seen floating nearby, covered with soot.
“Why did you do that?” asked an incredulous Peleg, after catching his breath.
“There was no reason to continue further out to sea,” answered the unflappable Mentor. He brushed back a dirty mop of wet hair and almost smiled.
“Besides, I’m hoping we attracted someone’s attention.”
High Minister Inanna refolded the letter from her father. He had enjoyed his diversion with the Gutian riff-raff and was mobilizing fresh, newly trained armies to complete his “reunification of the plains”.
Ur was a walled city, but had little in the way of defenders. It would fall easily, but Sargon wanted intelligence to make the annexation as quick as possible.
Inanna looked at the gifts and offerings that the Sisterhood of Lilith had bestowed upon her at her child’s shower. She smiled. These women would do anything she commanded.
Her grandmother, Semiramis, had invented the merger of State and Religion, and only the Great Awakening had thwarted the control which she and her son (Inanna’s father) had instigated. It was now up to Inanna to refine her own version of manipulating the populace. Inanna felt that by creating a system that was subtler than her grandmother’s, she would also establish something that would last many times longer.
She mentally put the finishing touches of her plan into place and began writing her response. Not only would she save the city from bloodshed, she would also retain—and even increase—her power. She was already more than twice the age of the average citizen—yet she appeared far younger than most. Her longevity would appear almost god-like to the masses, and it was simply a matter of not discouraging their adoration.
Within her womb, the seven-month old life seemed to kick in approval. This child would be the key to everything. This child and her beloved Suen.
Chapter 27
Axis
“The heavens stretch out over the void, and the Earth hangs on nothing.”
Wonderful, soothing boredom was beginning to set in again as Peleg continued his cartographic du
ties.
It had been three months since a dinghy was dispatched to investigate the sudden appearance of two fireballs in the southern sky.
They had been surprised to find four dirty, sputtering, overdue explorers bobbing on the open sea surrounded by the burnt remains of two air balloons—the same technology which had initiated the expedition in the first place.
After setting sail, they had continued down the coast while Peleg mapped and made comparisons with the simple drawing of Kupé. The most difficult issue he now faced was the tides. It seemed that the further they traveled south from the equator; the difference between low and high tide became greater. In fact, the powerful motion forced them to travel at a much greater distance from the coastline.
It also seemed as if the tidal pounding was causing great erosion and fractures along the large continental wall. Jagged outcroppings, hidden islands, and sharp currents forced them to stay clear. They constantly made soundings with knotted lines, and were always wary of passages that might ground the Urbat.
Still, resting aloft in Zini (properly tethered!), he was amazed that the most exciting (and traumatic) time in his life had occurred over the course of two short months. Now, all he had to do was remember the water clock, or freefalling into the ocean, and his heart would pound just as it had three months ago.
He forced his thoughts away from those events and resumed his blissful boredom.
Serug seemed to spend all of his time with Thaxad, chattering constantly. He had expressed his amazement at the Mentor’s absolute confidence in their return, but the only thing his teacher ever said by way of explanation was a very unscientific, “It was meant to be.”
Chief Lugalkitun tried to absorb as much as possible from the new cooking proposals that Serug had acquired while watching Manco Chavin. Lugalkitun had taken great care of Serug’s sea pigeons whose size and number allowed some of them to be used in their culinary experiments.
Peleg looked again at the simple lines of Kupé’s map and estimated they should soon reach the southern tip of this landmass. The powerful tides and storms which were becoming more and more a part of this region made him long for the open sea. The islands and outcroppings seemed to get larger every day, and although the Urbat had weathered several storms, he sensed that much more formidable storms could erupt here at a moment’s notice.
Hundreds of leagues beneath the ocean floor, powerful forces were colliding and accumulating. Although the Great Calamity had subsided over two hundred years earlier, the planet often convulsed with its aftereffects. At that time, asteroids had pelted the earth, the planet’s crust had cracked and splintered, and millions of cubic leagues of pressurized water had been released—mixed with steaming magma—into the ocean beds.
Now convergence points, along the constantly shifting surface plates, compressed against each other. Stronger ones forced the weaker to subduct and fold into the fiery mantle below, marking the areas where earthquakes and volcanoes occur, and also predicting the regions where future geological catastrophes would continue for the next several thousand years.
Such processes had slowed considerably since the Great Calamity, but on occasion, the inexorable forces caused swift and sudden releases in the form of massive subterranean earthquakes which resounded throughout the planet.
Unknown to the crew of the Urbat, the path they had just traveled was over such a convergence fault line. This entire landmass—whose southern tip the Urbat would soon round—rested on one such plate that was slowly plowing westward against the ocean floor, and the resulting buckling could withstand no more.
In a matter of hours, huge rifts appeared along the lithosphere of the oceanic crust. Cracking downward, they created jagged trenches where millions of cubic leagues of water and mud were forced under extreme pressure deep into the fissures, splitting them further. Whole sections of the subducted ocean plate were injected into the viscous magma creating subterranean blasts more powerful than any in the last two hundred years.
The effects were only slightly noticed on the surface, however. Slightly stronger than normal earthquakes were felt by the Wari and the people of Tiwanaku, but such events were not unusual. But the powerful underwater shockwaves silently spread out across the bottom of the ocean floor and resonated throughout the interior of the planet.
The men of Irawaru were asleep in their huts when the Great Mother of the Sea, Mamacocha, rose up and wiped the island clean with waves towering over thirty meters. Most of the men were killed instantly as the waters pulverized their huts and flung the occupants against the rocks, but a handful found themselves barely alive. Bruised and battered, they gulped in the sultry air as the torrents receded.
Far below, the shockwaves hammered the foundations of the little island, and shook loose all of the pent-up pressures under the volcanic mountain which had formed this land.
Rana’Kao exploded, raining down molten rock and debris over the island, and covering it with a thick blanket of hydrogen sulfide, hydrofluoric acid, and carbon dioxide which enveloped the men—burning their eyes and searing their lungs until they breathed no more.
The Atua had finally arrived to take them home.
Covered by dust, two silent Mara’ma statues rested with their large foreheads and brooding brows. Oblivious to the death behind them, they surveyed the mountain which was now considerably smaller, gaping with a large collapsed crater in its side.
They would wait for three thousand years until new settlers would discover them and form an entire culture obsessed with mimicking their design.
The Urbat was far out to sea, avoiding the treacherous tides and trenches. Peleg was convinced they would soon be around the southern tip of this landmass and was finishing his latitudinal calculations when the first waves hit.
Hammering the western coast, the shockwaves had ricocheted southward toward them. Although the massive swells were more than three times the height of the Urbat, there was no threat of capsizing, since the extreme span of their wavelengths made the troughs relatively shallow.
Still, the lateral motion drove the Urbat southward uncontrollably at speeds greater than she had ever moved before—speeds for which her hull and keel were not designed—rising and falling through extreme changes in elevation as the surface rose and fell.
With her sails down, the Urbat “surfed” south into the unknown polar waters.
The Kibrat Erbettim was limping back home after abandoning her efforts to continue east. Their attempts to follow the coastline of this new continent constantly forced them westward, and they had ascertained from the handful of nomadic families which they encountered that no such passage would be found.
After preparing for the long journey home, they headed southwest to the Tropic of Alluttu, along which they would return—planning to restock and perform maintenance on two small islands they had discovered near the halfway point.
As the shockwaves from the distant earthquakes approached this island pair, they were forced to surface and compress in the shallow waters, creating monstrous waves dozens of meters high which would be called tsunami by future generations.
As the Kibrat was searching for an appropriate bay to set anchor, a thirty meter swell lifted it easily and threw it inland where the huge mahogany and cedar vessel smashed and splintered, killing everyone aboard.
The only survivors were insects, rodents, and other small creatures which lived in the hold and ballast sections.
Of special note was a colony of spiders which had adapted to the putrid and deadly environment between the decks during the past six years of the Kibrat’s voyage. The poisonous gasses of death and decomposition damaged and destroyed the eyes of many spiders, but a chance mutation rendered a small number sightless as degenerate chromosomes assembled useless—but invulnerable—bumps where eyes should have been. These new spiders had become the dominant species as they replaced those with functioning but useless eyes who perished from disease and infections. It was survival of the fittest, and in a twist
of irony, the blind were better suited for life in the holds.
As the waves swept the shredded planks away, these chance survivors flowed underground into the latticework of pumice holes which covered the volcanic island, and were excellently adapted to the small ecosystem which already existed there.
If there had been a human observer, he would have also seen a small flock of new birds flying away. They were a special breed of curved-beak finches which the Kibrat’s Chief Ornithologist had been developing; and when their small wooden cages were destroyed as they were flung from the ship, they escaped into the freshly washed island air.
The subterranean convulsions resonated throughout the planet, pounding and recoiling against the interior of the mantle and attacking other plate boundaries along the crust. Under the onslaught, the accumulating pressures gave way, and entire slabs of cool oceanic floor were forced down into the super-heated asthenosphere. Divergent plates split, allowing similar exchanges as magma forced its way into the outside worlds starting new island chains, while cool mud and water under extreme pressure tried to dampen the fiery interior.
As earthquakes rattled the world, the global stresses converged in the southern polar regions giving birth to a series of volcanic eruptions more powerful than any since the Great Calamity. An entire mountain chain was vaporized and converted into a massive cloud of ash, steam, and dust which blotted out the skies for thousands of leagues, and spread into the upper atmosphere where it would envelope the globe and affect temperatures and weather for hundreds of years.
Peleg awaited the morning when he hoped he would be able to begin the task of recalculating their position. The rush to the south had slowed, and men who were never prone to seasickness, (and would never admit it if they were) were beginning to recover from “wave-disorientation” a strange ailment which befell many of them while the ship had been oscillating between such elevation extremes.
