To Live With Ancients (Ancient Atlantis Book 2)

by Sarah R. Silas

  One of the mosaic floored wings led her to a dead end, to two large wooden doors studded with brass and what looked curiously like rubies to her untrained eye. The doors were easily four or five times her height, but with a slight push of her hands they swung open. She chalked it up to some sort of Atlantean magic, rather than thinking that perhaps all her late night escapades (or lack thereof, really) had given her super strength.

  The doors swung open to reveal rows upon rows of stone pews that led to a stone altar. Around the room pillars that were narrower at their base than at their top held up the ceiling. The room was massive, the rows of pillars gave it an eerie quality as if the entire room was lopsided or just upside down. The floor seemed to have been delicately painted with flowers, grass, and other natural paraphernalia. At different angles, different shades and light patterns emerged from the paint.

  Behind the altar intricate runes and patterns had been carved into the stonework. What seemed like stone pipes led up towards the ceiling and down into the floor. Perhaps it was some ancient organ, she thought. She tried to remember the few times her father had taken her to church, but she was drawing a blank. When her mother left, she remembered, her father had decidedly abandoned all faith. He would hate even mentioning God, let alone anything connected to it, if only because he had felt that everything in the world, except his daughter, had turned against him.

  She walked delicately on the floor, not wanting to hurt whatever magic had cast the paint in that way. She became lost in the intricate rune work that she noticed spread across all three walls. So lost that she didn’t notice Cecil sitting in the seventh pew from the altar, his head in his hands, feet apart, trying to hold back tears.

  He looked up, hearing her footsteps, and hurriedly went to wipe his eyes. “What’re you doing here,” he spluttered, clearing his throat so she hopefully wouldn’t notice his distress.

  She knew him too well. Although she was surprised to see him, she immediately sat down next to him and put her arm around his shoulders. “What happened?”

  “What’re you doing here? How did you even find this place?” he asked sternly, almost suspiciously.

  “I wasn’t following you, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’ve taken to wandering the palace as I have very little to do,” she said, tousling his hair.

  He moved his head out of reach. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  She was taken aback. “I’m sorry Cecil, but you don’t seem fine. Is this the Palace Chapel? What do you pray to?”

  Cecil hesitated to answer, as if trying to figure out if he was actually fine or whether he wanted to take the time to explain anything to Juniper right now. “It’s complicated. But yes, this it the palace chapel.” An awkward silence. Cecil mustered up the courage to ask what was on his mind, in regards to Juniper at least. “So you met Marabella,” he said with a sort of finality, as if trying to come to terms with it himself.

  “Yes, I did. She seems like a lovely person.”

  “Something like that. What did you two talk about?”

  “Nothing in particular. I went to court—“

  “You went to court?”

  “Yes. Your mother invited me, remember? And she happened to be there and we had a good conversation. Your brother and I had a word as well.”

  “Luxor. You and Luxor had a word?”

  “He’s worried about you. Very worried, in fact.”

  Cecil’s head dropped back into his hands and he moaned loudly. “Why did you go to Court, why did you talk to Luxor, why’re you doing all this?” he mumbled.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  Cecil sighed and raised his head and looked into Juniper’s eyes again, trying to make her understand the fire of hatred and anger in his heart. “Junie, there are forces at work here that I do not understand and you fraternizing with random folk in the palace is not going to help me keep you or the city safe.”

  Juniper was silent for a moment. “Do you trust Luxor?”

  “No. And I sure as hell don’t trust his men.”

  “Why?”

  “Long story.”

  Juniper sighed. “What’s wrong with me talking to Princess Marabella?”

  “She and I…we have a strange past.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “No.”

  She trust his finality in that answer. But a creeping suspicion gnawed at her insides. “But Luxor is bad news?” she asked.

  “If I told you he was evil, would you believe me?”

  Juniper hesitated a moment, trying to grasp what the word evil could possibly mean. “I would trust that you know what you’re talking about, but you’re continuing only to tell me half things. And even those half things are completely vague. When will I be getting the full story?”

  “I don’t know Junie. I don’t know. I don’t know if you should know—“

  Juniper stopped hesitating and did what she felt to do the moment she saw him distressed. She grabbed his head in her hands and furiously kissed him, trying to give him some of her idealistic strength. When they parted, Cecil’s eyes slowly opened again and he breathed a sigh of relief. “I trust you,” she whispered. “Do you want me to leave Atlantis?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispered back. “There’s so many things happening right now that I don’t know what’s right or wrong. I don’t know what’s up or down. I’ve been gone for so long and now I have to take the reins and feel it out myself.”

  She sighed again, a deep melancholy sigh, and locked eyes with him. “How about you forget the real world for a moment and retreat into mine? Would that help?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispered. He seemed to be on the verge of tears.

  Using what little strength she could muster, she pushed him up and led him out of the chapel, and let him slowly lead her back to her chambers.

  A Special Request

  Juniper stood in the doorway of her bathroom, her hair wet from the shower. A soft cotton robe draped around her body. She stared at the spot in her bed where Cecil had been last night. There hadn’t been any ‘funny business,’ a term her father had loved to use, always with a wink and a smile. And that was ok. She was just glad that they had found each other, laying side by side, sharing their presence and hopefully sharing some unspeakable love.

  She quickly dressed and tried to figure out how she would spend her day. The last few days had been busy with her extremely urgent work of figuring out how many copper clad roofs she could see out of the palace’s main portico.

  She opened her chamber’s outer door to find a Guardsman who she thought she recognized as Darien, waiting for her. “Darien, right?” she asked, smiling, and feeling relieved that she might actually be talking to someone she was sort of familiar with.

  “Yes ma’am,” said Darien, an uncomfortable smile curling into his cheeks.

  “Were you waiting for me?” she asked, trying to figure out why he seemed uncomfortable.

  “Yes ma’am, I was waiting for you. If you are not busy at this time, the Guardsmaster has asked to see you in his rooms in the Arena. He has asked for you at your earliest convenience,” he said. His arms were behind him and as he talked he seemed to be bouncing on the balls of his feet.

  “I’d be happy to join him right now, actually,” she replied. “Is everything ok? With you, I mean.”

  Darien seemed taken aback for a moment. They started walking down the stone steps away from her chambers and through the palace. He didn’t respond for a while and Juniper didn’t know if she should ask again. Finally, he ran his hands through his hair and said, “I was just apprehensive to see you and wonder how you’ve been settling in.”

  “Everything is fine.”

  “Do you feel ok?”

  “I believe I feel ok. Should I not feel ok?”

  Darien’s pace slowed for a moment and he eyed her nervously before responding. “I’ve just never seen anyone that’s been healed the way that you have,” he whispered. “It was an amazing si
ght to see.”

  “Is it not normal?”

  Darien shrugged. “It used to be normal. In its own way. That way has been lost for most.”

  “How are people healed now?”

  Darien hesitated before answering. He seemed to be trying to search for the right words to describe what he wanted to say. “There is old magic. And there is new magic. Neither is superior. In a way you can say that old magic is more pure and more blood worthy.”

  “Blood worthy?”

  “I’m sorry. My english has never been as good as it should be. I’m trying to say that, the old magic, it is more Atlantean than the new magic. The new magic has its purposes, but,” he hesitated and tapped his heart with his right hand and then thrust it upwards towards the sky and the world above. “It is not from the gods. It is our own tinkering. It is not Lavender and Starlight.” Darien stopped and looked at Juniper.

  There was that phrase again, she thought. She had to get to the bottom of it. Juniper had been following Darien without understanding where she was going, but she had been led down into the Arena, in front of a set of double doors. Guardsmen and trainees, mechanics and others, scrambled in front of her. She had been so absorbed in what Darien was saying that the din of the room just met her ears. “Thank you for your time Darien,” she said. “And thank you for your explanation.”

  “Yes ma’am. You’ll find the Guardsmaster through these doors. He should be working, but do not hesitate to bother him. He is expecting you,” said Darien. He held out his hand. They awkwardly shook and she entered into Lord Manfred’s chambers.

  The Guardsmaster’s chambers were plush but spartan at the same time. Comfortable chairs and couches were strewn haphazardly about, but nothing adorned the walls, and the little man who controlled the armed forces sat behind a crudely built metal desk that was piled high with papers and other paraphernalia. He looked up as she came in and beckoned her inside. It took her a moment to realize why he looked off to her. His headdress sat on a small table behind him.

  “I hope you won’t stand for ceremony Madame Nesbitt, but the headdress can be burdensome on my aging neck,” he said jovially. The room smelled of pipe weed and Juniper saw a still smoldering clay pipe on Lord Manfred’s desk. He calmly popped it back into his mouth and took a few quick puffs before setting it down again. He blew rings into the room. They flew casually past her and broke on the double doors.

  “You requested me? Please tell me it’s something interesting and important. I’ve been dying of boredom,” said Juniper. She wasn’t sure where that burst of honesty had come from, but for some reason she felt that she could trust Lord Manfred. He seemed more of an old grandfatherly figure rather than an imposing authoritarian one.

  “I can imagine. You’re new around here and there isn’t much that we could have you do that wouldn’t require more teaching than actual doing. Which is why this request is all the more baffling,” he said. “I found out that your life above, your previous life if I may be so bold, was that of a librarian. In what capacity, I am not sure and I honestly do not care to know. But, it is probably good that you were a librarian.” He paused and took a few more puffs on the pipe. “The Archivist has requested you Madame Nesbitt. It is not something to be taken lightly.” He looked at her then, waiting for her understanding. But none came.

  “Who is the Archivist?” asked Juniper. She hoped she didn’t sound stupid.

  “I’m sorry. I have to keep reminding myself that you’re new here. We don’t get many people from above and you’re already blending in so well. The Archives hold the collected knowledge and history of Atlantis, as well as its plethora of sister cities. And the Archivist has asked for you.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What?” Juniper was having a hard time understanding why an Archivist of an underwater magical land had asked for her of all people.

  “The Archivist is beyond all reproach. Most of us do not get in her way. King Horace, Cecil’s father, would not be cowed by the Archivist. Until, of course, he eventually was. The Archivist is not to be trifled with,” said Lord Manfred, as if this was a satisfactory explanation.

  “I’m still not understanding,” said Juniper.

  “The Archivist wants you and that’s that. The Archivist wants to see you, talk to you, whatever. It has been asked, you are to obey. The Archivist is above reproach. The Archivist is above the King and the Kingdom,” said Lord Manfred. A trickle of irritation had seeped into his voice, but he was trying his best to retrain it.

  “I see. Where may I find the Archivist?”

  “In the Archives. This is irrelevant. The reason that I asked to see you, besides to give you the message from the Archivist, is that I would like to inquire about your intentions.”

  “My intentions?”

  “With our young Cecil.”

  So it was to be like this, thought Juniper. “I do not know how to answer that question. Lord Manfred, I do not know how to predict the future,” she said, trying to sound sincere and not sarcastic.

  “Hm. Well, perhaps the Archivist will help you. However, I will be clear when I say this. That, your future here, while it is nominally up to you, it is more up to the people of this city and our sister cities,” he said. “There are many forces at work under the waves Madame Nesbitt, and I trust you will keep your head down. You are one of the only outsiders to ever be allowed down here.”

  “Yes sir, I will do that.”

  “And do not let yourself be corrupted. Do not let yourself be blinded. And do your best to uphold your virtues not as your own, but as representations of the Throne and of Cecil Montenegro,” Lord Manfred finished. He stood up then and motioned for the door. Juniper followed suit.

  Lord Manfred followed her out into the Arena. “Where may I find the Archives?” she asked politely.

  Before the Guardsmaster could answer, a deep rumbling began in the Arena, loud sparks erupted from the ceiling. One by one every submersible docked in the many ports in the Arena exploded, throwing shrapnel and debris in all directions. Brass chunks flew through the air, smoke billowed and began filling the room, and with one last effort, as if preparing a bombardment from some long dormant volcano, the Arena shook violently and Atlantean rock from above began falling and crashing into people and equipment.

  Juniper didn’t know what to do, she tried dodging the shrapnel and the rocks by sticking against the door, trying frantically to open it, lest she be caught in the downpour of metal and stone. But the door was locked. Manfred had jumped into action the moment he saw something and ran towards his trainees and mechanics, yelling at Guardsmen and others, trying to get a grasp on what was happening. She saw Luxor and others rushing around, trying to save people and equipment.

  Luxor’s eyes locked with Juniper as he looked around the Arena. “Don’t you move!” he screamed at her, dodging people and stone and trying to make his way to her.

  Before he arrived, before she could save herself, the tip of the one of the pillars, a massive stone leaf that seemingly held up Atlantis itself, broke and tumbled down. It grazed the back of Juniper’s neck and she lost consciousness. The last thing she saw was Luxor rushing towards her, a glowing shield on his left arm, protecting himself from debris, as the world seemingly crashed around her.

  The Healers of Atlantis

  Juniper woke up in her chambers, the warmth of Atlantis around her, and the softness of her sheets beneath her. Her head was propped up against a large pillow and when she opened her eyes she noticed three oddly dressed women standing around her bed. They were deep in concentration, murmuring and muttering under their breaths, in unison. Juniper’s head ached and she could feel her muscles screaming out in agony even though she was laying down and not moving. She couldn’t remember what had happened, but it was clear that it was something serious.

  Through the crack in her eyelids, her vision shifted from the women around her, and their nonsensical mutterings, to the other people in the room
. Cecil sat on the floor to the left of her bed, a few papers scattered around him. He was reading some of the papers intently. He looked unshaven and haggard, a stark difference to the clean shaven and put together Cecil that she remembered before the explosion. To the right of her bed she noticed Luxor, also sitting on the floor, but with his usual retinue of Guardsmen sitting around them. They barely talked, except for a nod to each other. Between them was a pad of paper with a significant amount of scratchings and scribblings.

  Preparing herself mentally, she finally was able to muster up the courage to move. She tried to prop herself up on her hands and instead yelled out in pain.

  The three women’s mutterings came to an abrupt halt. They broke their circle around the bed and dashed to other parts of her chambers, bringing water, oils, and food. Cecil dashed up immediately, his papers crumpling in more disarray, while Luxor calmly joined him. They both approached the bed.

  “How’re you feeling Junie?” whispered Cecil, taking a cup of water from one of the women and gently placing it at Juniper’s lips.

  She took a sip and tried to speak. Failing, she decided to drink more water. Finally she muttered, “Still alive.” Cecil laughed, sounding relieved. Luxor chuckled softly.

  “To give credit where credit is due, Luxor saved you from the blast,” said Cecil, motioning to his brother who nodded slightly.

  “I wanted to be here when you woke up,” mentioned Luxor, “but now I have to get back to some affairs with the Guards. There is an ongoing investigation. We’re going to find out who did this to us and to you.” He nodded, motioned to his entourage, and then quickly left the room.

  “Luxor saved me?” asked Juniper, as soon as she thought Luxor was out of earshot.

  “Yes,” replied Cecil. “The Royal Healers have been with you since the explosion.” He motioned to the women who were now applying oils to Juniper’s brow and exposed skin.

  “You look different,” muttered Juniper.