Gone With An Ancient (Ancient Atlantis Book 1) Read online

  Finally, her feet touched solid, slippery rock and she nearly slipped again as she tried to find her balance. She turned around, her eyes tightly closed, not wanting to see the death chamber, or sacrificial altar, or whatever horror might lay in front of her.

  “Open your eyes Junie, it’s nothing horrendous. I promise,” said Cecil’s disembodied voice.

  She opened her eyes just a little and noticed the same embedded lights all around her. She had descended into a small cavern. Stalactites reached down from the ceiling towards her, some even coming down to Cecil’s shoulders. She could hear drips of water as if the cavern was alive and slowly breathing before her. She opened her eyes fully and saw what lay behind Cecil.

  “Is that?” she muttered.

  “I was really hoping they’d bring her. I’d like to introduce you to Calliope, my submersible.”

  She walked up to it, a bronze behemoth that reached far above Cecil. It nearly reached the ceiling of the cavern, and although she didn’t notice it at first, it almost filled the open pool in the floor. The pool was quite large, she was sure, but the submersible was almost too large for it. Just like in the fantasy stories she remembered as a kid, it had the bronze latticework over the glass dome on one end, and portholes for the passengers and crew. “Its name is Calliope?” she whispered as she ran her hand over the rivets in the hull. She noticed the chipped lavender paint that ran the length of the ship, and the large bronze propeller at the back.

  “Yes Junie.”

  “And where…where is it…where is it from?”

  “From where I’m from.”

  “And where is that Cecil?” She turned around to look at Cecil, expectantly, hoping beyond hope that she’d believe his answer.

  “Atlantis,” he whispered. He moved closer to her then, slipped one arm around her waist and kissed her. She felt the kiss down to her bones as they embraced. Just as suddenly, he let go, and looked at her again. “I’m sorry Junie. I really am. I didn’t expect this, and I wanted so much more. So much more.”

  She nodded, not sure what to say. Not sure what kind of answer he was looking for. Were they anything more than just a fling? Was he saying that he wanted it to be more? Why wait then? Was there something behind those words? Should she ask?! “I don’t know what to say,” she responded. “It’s a lot to handle with everything else right now.”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry."

  “But, Atlantis. This is…this is…amazing. I think.” She looked off into the cavern, staring at one of the lights, trying to figure out what would happen next. The embrace ended, and they stood awkwardly apart from each other, unsure of what was next.

  Juniper's Walk

  Juniper Nesbitt stood in the cobblestone driveway of Cecil’s old Victorian house, staring at the peeling paint on the window shutters, the odd widow’s walk that adorned the top of the house, and the peak of the empty flagpole that stood near the cliff’s edge. She still didn’t know how long he’d been in Kurlington. She didn’t know if he would ever be back. And yet there was so much she was certain of: her feelings, hidden by doubt— and his truth. She had been reluctant to ask for a ride back to her father’s house.

  She had elected to retrace her steps and find her way home. Perhaps the long walk would cure her of him, his mysteries, and whatever life he would be going back to. All that was clear was that he wasn’t from here, her world, above the waves.

  From her bag, she took out her shoes, realizing that she had walked out of house barefoot, her mind occupied with the past 24 hours. She wasn’t quite registering the cold yet. She sat down on the pavement, thanking whoever had shoveled the sidewalk, and put her flats on while staring down the street. At what now looked like basic lampposts, and not the beautiful bronze lights that adorned the cavern that lay underneath the thick bronze hatch in Cecil’s house.

  Her last moments with Cecil hadn’t gone well. It’s not as if she’d had a plan for a future with him, she thought. Everything had happened so suddenly, without warning, and without a moment to even stop and think.

  Until the embrace ended. Then, they had stared at each for a moment, awkwardly, not really understanding what was to come next. The submersible had towered over them both, creating some kind of invisible line between them, between her world above and his world below. She had tried to embrace him again, but instead of the warmth she was used to, he seemed cold and foreign. He seemed more aloof than she had ever known him, as if his mind had already left, and the only thing that remained was his physical form.

  Juniper got up from the pavement, dusted herself off a little and kept walking, trying to figure out what was to come next. Her mind kept flitting back to the last few seconds that she and Cecil were together. They were painful. She could see herself not knowing what the right decision was.

  She had climbed back up the ladder, slipping every few rungs as her mind wandered to the times they had, had because that was all that was left to them.

  She emerged to see the Guards, putting sheets over the furniture, as if the house was to be preserved, perhaps for his return. She didn’t ask. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to know. In a corner, near the hatch, lay all of Cecil’s personal things, piled neatly, ready to be carried down to the submersible that would whisk him away from whatever life he had escaped.

  Escaped? Juniper stopped, ready to turn onto Main Street and find her way back home. She shook her head, unsure of what to think. Who knows what his life was, is, or will be, she thought. It wasn’t her place to know. Maybe it’s because she wasn’t from wherever he was from.

  It was too bizarre, she thought. That was the end of it, really. It was too damn bizarre! Atlantis? Atlantean? Submersible? Cavern? This was Kurlington, she reminded herself. This was where her dreams, and her father, had come to die. It wasn’t the place where bizarre things happened.

  She looked up at the Sun, slowly making its ascent into the sky. Maybe, she thought, maybe crazy things can happen anywhere.

  Cecil's Journey

  “Go ahead and start taking my personal effects down and stow them aboard,” said Cecil to the Guards.

  “When will you be down sir?” asked Dahren. His face was expressionless, his stance was alert, but passive. It wasn’t clear whether or not these Guards had opinions of their own, but Cecil knew that whatever inner feelings they had would never show to him or in any public setting. This was just their way of understanding the schedule, perhaps to report back to Atlantean Command.

  “I will be down when I’m down,” replied Cecil, perhaps a little too firmly. He wasn’t always sure it was a good idea to order them around. He kept trying to remind himself that where he was going he would have to relearn how to command quickly, and be good at it. There was no other option.

  The Guards gathered up the essential belongings, wrapped what they could in long pieces of rope, swung the contents over their shoulders, and quickly descended down the ladder. Cecil’s orders were clear and his tone carried his true meaning. He wanted to be alone. The Guards took their cue and left.

  Cecil looked around the house he’d lived in for the past ten years, unsure of what to make of it anymore. It had been a refuge for his family and he’d tried to take care of it the best he could.

  He stared out at the cliff and the ocean beyond it from the clear sliding doors in his living room. It was an amazing view. A view that commanded his mind and body to always remember where he came from and where he belonged.

  He slid the door open and walked out. He took off his boots as he approached the grass and walked carefully towards the cliff’s edge, taking each step to feel the ground beneath him. The ground above the sea was different and he didn’t want to forget it. The snow covered grass burned against his skin.

  The sea breeze blew into his face, gently and then another gust more harshly. It tousled his hair and the salt air tickled his nose. “Why do I have to do this?” he asked. The sea breeze blew again harsher, more urgently, as if it spoke to him then. “I don’t want to go b
ack. I don’t want to go home,” he told the wind.

  The surf crashed at the bottom of the cliff, somewhere above the mouth of the cavern’s entrance. He looked down, thinking that maybe he should just take the dive. Perhaps it would all be over and he wouldn’t have to face anything he had left behind beneath the waves.

  The ground felt cold beneath his feet, the sun having melted some of the snow, but its coldness felt like the Earth’s way of saying he needed to go. He needed to face his future. The blades of grass cut into the sides of his toes, like little knives forcing him to move and never stand on them again. At least, not right now. “The future was in my hands, as was Juniper. Maybe with her, I could face this,” he muttered, as he turned back inside the house.

  He entered the house and closed the doors behind him. Walking over to the opening in the floor, he swung himself down into the tunnel, and lifted the hatch. Taking one last look at the life he had, he sighed, and shut the hatch behind him as he slowly descended down to Calliope and his new future.

  Head Over Heels

  Juniper stood at the crossroads between Allen Street and Marabella Avenue. She could see her father’s house sitting placidly halfway down Marabella, the snow covering the roof and lawn, a white sheet of undisturbed, shiny, beauty. The neighborhood snowplow hadn’t made its way down her street yet. The snow would come up past her ankles. But as she stared at it, her eyes began to well with tears, the sun shined off the snow, and she couldn’t bring herself to take another step.

  “Maybe I have to choose my own path now,” she whispered, remembering the old woman. Her flats had made it this far without too much damage. Her feet were cold, but even if she had wanted to go home, she remembered that she had left her snow boots back at Cecil’s. Or whatever she had to refer to that house now. She couldn’t let herself take the abuse of walking through that much snow and ice to reach her father’s house.

  The metaphor was too much for her to pass up. Cecil’s last words rang in her ears as she looked down her childhood street. Had he meant anything he said? Had he really wanted more? Did she want more? So many questions, she thought. Looking at that house, sitting quaintly on the road and bringing only dour feelings in her heart, Juniper felt that she had nothing left. And, she reminded herself, when you have nothing left, when you have hit rock bottom, perhaps it’s time to take your life in your own hands.

  She looked up at the Sun and then down back again at her father’s house. “Fuck it,” she muttered under breath. Turning around, she clutched her bag closer and broke into a nervous sprint. She had to catch him, she thought. She just had to catch him and prove that she wanted to — no — needed to go with him, wherever Atlantis was, wherever the decision would lead her, she had to go. This might be her only chance, or at least, the chance that had finally presented itself to her. Just as the old woman had foretold.

  The sidewalks that had lead her home on so many days and nights growing up were now leading her now to her hopeful home. The air stung in her lungs, forcing her to remember all those crunches and jogs with Sharon that she missed and made excuses for. She tried not to think about herself being too late. She ran for her future and she ran for her hopes.

  As she turned onto his street again, as she ran up his steps, she hoped that he might still be there. She hoped that he might not have left. Maybe he had changed his mind and would stay in her world, and make it their world.

  His front door was locked. Had she locked it behind her? Had he locked it? Didn’t matter, she sprinted to the back of the house, trying every window, every door, until finally she opened the sliding doors and slipped inside.

  She unlatched the bronze door, trying with all her might to move the heavy bronze lid. Failing, she quickly flipped a sheet off a chair and used the delicate chair’s back as leverage. With a crack, the chair began to buckle, but not before the bronze hatch finally moved. She grabbed the edge and pushed it back, letting it fall open with a loud thud.

  “More cardio, more weights, more push ups,” she said breathlessly. “Better life,” she whispered.

  She lowered herself into the tunnel, quickly grabbed her bag, and began climbing down the slippery rungs. She had forgotten to turn on the lights and the tunnel seemed to go on forever. She tried to quicken her pace, climbing down faster and faster until without warning, she slipped.

  Her hands flailed, grasping for the rungs. Without a second thought, she pushed herself off the ladder with her legs, not knowing if she had cleared the tunnel’s perimeter, not knowing if she was going to land on solid rock or whether she was going to land in the water.

  With a splash, her and the contents of her bag landed in the pool, the brine immediately filling her mouth and entering her nose. She had forgotten she didn’t know how to swim, and as she flailed, she thought her decisions might have finally proven fatal. Every decision had proven less than ideal. This, just another bad decision adding onto the less than great life she had created. Like father, like daughter she thought as her clothes dragged her under. She held onto her bag. Everything pushed her below. Her head finally entered into the salty ocean and the sea closed around her.

  The Strength of an Ancient

  The siren blip was audible even as Cecil stared out into the deep blackness of the ocean, lost in thought. The Guards were dozing, even if they would later deny it. He moved quickly to the submersible’s control panel, trying to decipher the Atlantean script on the screen and labels under each of the controls. He was a little rusty at his home tongue and it took him a minute to understand what was being said. The controls, at least, were still familiar.

  Cecil shook Dahren and El’Hed awake. “Let’s go,” he said, pointing the way down the main wooden corridor.

  “Where are you going sir?!” said Dahren. For the first time emotion seeped into his voice. He was afraid of what Cecil was going to do.

  “Someone’s in the cavern pool, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to make it,” Cecil responded as El’Hed tried to block his path.

  “It is none of your concern sir. Your concern is to make it back to the city safely. Your concern is to stay alive until the coronation,” said El’Hed, a deep command took over his voice, as if he’d been pretending to obey Cecil in the house earlier. He placed his right arm in front of Cecil, blocking his way.

  “Stand aside Legionnaire. Stand aside or I will move you aside,” replied Cecil. They exchanged deep, silent stares. Cecil’s bright lavender eyes bored into El’Hed’s deep brown ones, but neither moved. Cecil grabbed El’Hed’s right arm, yanking it forcefully out of the way. “You strike me Legionnaire, and I’ll make sure you’re put on exterior guard duty like a plebe, do you understand me?” he threatened. El’Hed tried to keep his eyes against Cecil, showing his defiance, but he dropped them as his arm was forcibly placed against his chest.

  Cecil moved quickly again down the corridor, past closed doorways until he was at the other end of the submersible. He stood behind the glass dome chamber at the end. He opened a bronze porthole into the domed chamber. “Dahren! Quickly. Fill the chamber,” he said, shutting the door behind him.

  Dahren moved back against El’Hed, not meeting his eyes. Outside of the chamber were three long brass levers. Dahren pulled the first two towards the ceiling and the glass dome began to fill with water.

  The water rushed into the chamber, both pulling the submersible lower towards the ocean’s floor and leaving Cecil very little air to breathe. He grabbed onto bronze railings that lined the walls of the chamber and took one final breath as the water engulfed him. He slammed his fist against the door of the chamber again. Dahren pulled the last lever towards the ceiling as well and the glass dome creaked open and Cecil floated out into the dark ocean.

  He blinked several times, looking into the deep dark. His lavender eyes shifted, turning into bright lavender vertical slits, and his eyes adjusted to the deep black water. He moved his legs, kicking hard and fast as he propelled himself through the water and back towards the cave
rn and Juniper.

  Lavender and Starlight

  The dark shape of Cecil swam its way towards a sinking Juniper, pumping his legs swiftly and efficiently. He reached her, trying to see if she was still alive. He pressed his hand against her throat, then her heart, trying to feel anything, anything at all within her. His eyes perked up when he felt the smallest of a heartbeat. He grabbed her then, moving swiftly back towards the submersible.

  He prayed, to the old gods of Atlantis, the gods of his forefathers and the gods he grew up pleading to, that they spare Juniper’s life. That they not take her from him and from the world. He prayed as he swam. He prayed as he landed swiftly on the submersible’s open deck. He continued praying as he banged on the bronze door and the dome closed, the water draining, and he forced himself inside. He hadn’t waited for the water to recede all the way and the last remnants of it rushed inside the wooden deck. He splashed his way to a room off the main hallway and opened the door.

  “Dahren, candles now,” he whispered hoarsely. Holding his breath for as long as he had, had been painful. He was out of practice.

  Dahren moved around the room, lighting the candles that lay at specific intervals. The floor of this room was laid in a single piece of cleanly hewn jet black rock. On the surface was engraved a circle and a pentagram. Around the pentagram’s points and around its circle were inscribed Atlantean runes that only a few knew. Cecil was never taught to read them, only to believe in them. And now, when it mattered, he believed in their power. He laid Juniper within the pentagram and Dahren finished lighting the candles.

  “Dahren?” said Cecil as he knelt outside the pentagram. Cecil clasped his hands together, kneeling before the circle. Dahren grasped a dagger’s hilt from underneath his lavender cloak, unsheathed it, and flipped it expertly so that he handed just the hilt to Cecil.