Atlantean Knights

Chapter I

The man lion raced against the wind and the tide. He beat the tide. He nearly conquered the wind. Freedom tantalized Fantys as he ran. He forgot anything that had ever made him feel less than a man, forgot everything but the sea, the air, and the wildness in his heart. He pushed his powerful body to its limits, relishing the wind in his mane and the salt spray on his human face.

Fantys leaped nimbly to the top of the jagged rock that was his favorite thinking place. He sat back on his lion haunches and gazed out at the sea, panting happily. The rock he sat on rested on dry sand. He had never seen the tide so low, like the great sea was drying up. Curious, he thought.

The man lion watched languid waves crawl onto the beach. He gazed at the far horizon, where the morning sun peeked through a rosy curtain of clouds. Fantys tried to imagine how it would feel to sail over the rim of the earth in Napishtim’s ship. How would it feel to really be free? He wanted to believe there was a place where he would no longer be a freak of nature, where he could live out his days lazily purring under a tree in the warm sun.

Fantys peered into the damp mist that shrouded the shoreline. Would she come? Perhaps she would not be able to steal away this morning. Her mistress may have arisen early. The sea breeze ruffled his mane. It chilled the human part of his anatomy. Fantys made a gruff sound that was more lion than human. His human hand scratched the golden leonine whiskers that grew on his chin. His furry half-human, half-cat ears twitched.

The man lion turned toward the land, his eyes drawn upward to the summit of Mount Atlas. It pained him to see the smoke rising from the mighty mountain because he knew it meant the death of some unfortunate manimal. A growl rumbled from deep within him.

Fantys was one of those who were physically entangled in the animal kingdom. He was the result of the dowager queen Da Nu Ta’s genetic experiments. Fantys was a cross-breed, a thing. The manimal was a beautiful specimen. He possessed a gentle human nature coupled with his leonine characteristics.

Great Spirit, he prayed, I beg you to stop the gods of the Sons of Belial from asking for a life. Grant peace and safety to my kind. Protect us from the wrath of Belial.

Earlier that morning, Fantys had stepped out onto his balcony and looked down upon the crystal spires of the city of Poseidia, shining in the morning light. Its marble temples were adorned with gems and precious stones. Its intricate network of canals cut through the streets below.

He moved gingerly around his balcony. His long tail got in the way, as it had since he was a cub. At sunrise the crystal capstones of the massive pyramids lit up, sending rainbows dancing across the roofs of the City of Glass Towers. In the distance the harbor with its ships from all over the world came awake. Ships prepared to depart across the great sea. The builders began their day’s work. Fantys could hear their hammering as they worked on the boats. From his balcony, the man lion could see the enormous ship Napishtim and his sons were building in preparation for the exodus.

Many times Fantys had listened to the Sons of Belial mock the Sons of the Law of One for the meticulous care they took in preparing their ships. The Sons of Belial laughed at the painstaking application of layer upon layer of pitch the builders applied to the outside of the crafts to make them watertight. They mocked the priests’ careful examination of Mount Atlas’ signs of awakening. The Sons of Belial claimed the old volcano was extinct. They declared that all the Sons of the Law of One were crazy fools deluded by the dire prophesies of their mad high priests.

The Sons of Belial ignored the fact that the scientists, commanded by Fantys’ master, King Jehan, had already wreaked havoc on Poseidia with their experiments with the weather. Great earthquakes and destruction had devastated some of the Northern provinces. Long-quiet volcanoes were now rumbling. But the Sons of Belial, and the scientists, and the king ignored the warnings of nature.

Fantys knew the smoke pouring from Mount Atlas was a portent of doom. He believed the Sons of the Law of One were right. It was only a matter of time before what was left of the great Atlantean continent would be destroyed by King Jehan’s greed for power. The man lion knew he would have to work fast to finish carving the crystal skull in time for the records to be entered into it.

As the sun rose into the sky this day, Fantys had carefully wrapped the skull in its lambskin pouch and slung it across his shoulder. He had bounded from his room down the spiral stairs to the gardens. He had slipped silently on padded paws through the early morning shadows.

He had passed peacocks preening in the grass and strutting along the quiet pathways that wound through beds of flowering shrubs. The only sounds had been the cascading water in the gilded marble fountains, and the song of the awakening birds in the trees.

Purple swallows had soared on air drafts just out of Fantys’ reach, as if daring him to catch them. You would make a tasty snack, he had teased, but you may fly free this day. I am well fed. I will not bother you.

Fantys had crept past the arena with its repulsive inhabitants. The crocodiles in the pit had looked restless this morning. No doubt they were hungry. They would make short work of Da Nu Ta’s next victim. The manimal had shuddered to think which of his kind would satisfy the dowager queen’s lust for blood.

Now he waited for Solara atop his rock on the beach. She appeared from out of the mist like a whisper, the morning dew glistening on her iridescent wings. Her silver hair hung free to her shoulders. Fantys leaped down to the sand. The gossamer creature opened her arms and ran to his embrace. He covered her beautiful face with kisses.

Solara, he breathed, my happiness.

She looked into his eyes. Fantys tried to memorize the shape of her nose so he could get it right in his carving. He would sculpt her likeness from crystal. Only the purest crystal could capture her light. He bent to capture another kiss, sweeter than the honey of the bees.

Solara stepped back and held out her hands. She raised one eyebrow, a mischievous smile curling her luscious lips. The winged maiden, like all of her kind, could hear and understand, but her tongue was as useless as her diaphanous wings, which were far too light to support the weight of her body. Solara lacked the ability to speak just as she lacked the ability to fly.

Oh, Fantys teased, do you want to see my handiwork?

The winged maiden laughed with a sound like tiny distant bells. She nodded. The love he saw in her sea blue eyes melted his savage heart. Very well, he said. Hurry, then, for my arms hunger for you, and the day fast approaches.

He withdrew the crystal skull from its pouch. Solara took it in her hands. Her eyes grew wide. She sank to the sand, cradling the skull like a great treasure in her lap. She turned it and studied it, running her delicate fingers along its perfect contours.

It is not quite done, Fantys said. It still needs polishing.

The life-size human skull was Fantys’ greatest achievement. He had carved his masterpiece from a single block of pure crystal found in a cave deep in the heart of Mount Atlas. Using channeled light beams, the man lion had carved the eye sockets so they would reflect firelight, thereby making the skull appear alive. The crystal resonated to different musical tones, and this would cause the colors inside to change.

When it was finished, the skull would contain many of the records of the Atlantean history of the world, including the history of the war of fifty thousand years between Atlantis and Lemuria. The Endless War had climaxed with the sinking of Lemuria in the western sea and the inundation of most of the original landmass of Atlantis. The Atlanteans had prevailed in that war by using the power of the giant crystal, but it was a victory won at an awful cost. All this would be chronicled within the skull for the initiated to read and understand.

Solara looked up at Fantys with tears sparkling in her eyes like the dew on her wings. Her approval of his handiwork made him purr. He gently touched the tip of her wing.

If only your wings were like those of the winged horses, he sighed. Then you could have your wish. You could fly away from Da Nu Ta and her cruelty forever.

The winged maiden caressed the manimal’s face. He grabbed her hand in his rough hand-paw and kissed her palm. She giggled, for his whiskers tickled her.

Fantys took the skull and carefully wrapped it in its protective sheath. Da Nu Ta must never see this. If either she or King Jehan learned of the skull’s existence, or if they knew of my association with the Sons of the Law of One, it would mean my certain death, he said.

Fear filled Solara’s eyes. Her wings trembled. She shook her head and mouthed the word No!

The winged maiden drew the lion man’s hand to her breast. Her eager mouth met his. Fantys rumbled as his lover opened to him like a sweet flower opens to the morning sun.

All too soon the heat of the sun on his fur reminded Fantys that the day had truly begun and they must return to their duties before they were discovered. He cradled Solara in his arms. Their passion had drawn tears to her eyes. He kissed the tears away.

Do not fear, Solara, Fantys said. I will not die. I will take this crystal skull, this history of the world, onboard the High Priest Napishtim’s ship. He has promised a place for both of us. On that sweet day, mate of my soul, you and I shall leave Atlantis behind. We shall sail toward freedom together. We shall escape the tyranny of Da Nu Ta and Jehan, her puppet king. And from that day forward, whatever comes, we shall never be slaves again.

* * *

The hunters stalked a young stag on the slopes of Mount Atlas. The king would give them a great reward if they provided this meat for his table. The man and his son liked to hunt in the old way, with spears, and bows and arrows. The hunter crouched behind the shelter of a thick bush on the edge of a rocky gorge. He could see his son kneeling on the outcropping of rock that overhung the narrow trail. The boy was nearly a man, he thought proudly. The hunter would let his son strike the first blow, so the honor of the hunt would be his. It was time for the boy’s first kill.

The hunter heard the approaching stag. He saw the dust of the pebbles that tumbled noisily down the side of the canyon in the stag’s wake as it approached the bend in the trail.

The deer came into sight. It was a mature buck, wearing his enormous antlers like a crown. The hunter almost regretted his decision to let the kill belong to his son. He held his breath as he silently fit an arrow into his bow and drew the string back. The familiar fire of the hunt burned his muscles as he strained to hold the bow taut. He aimed straight for the stag’s heart. The hunter’s son also took careful aim with his spear.

The magnificent stag lifted his head. The muscles in his neck rippled down to his mighty shoulders. He sniffed the air. He snorted, digging at the earth with his hooves.

Suddenly, the ground rumbled and moved beneath the hunter’s feet. The rocky overhang collapsed. In silent horror, the man saw his son cast into the chasm below. He saw the stag rise up on its hind legs and paw the air. Its eyes went wild with fear. When its hooves came down, there was no earth left to support them. Both deer and hunter tumbled into the gorge. The thundering landslide that obliterated the trail buried them.

The only witnesses to the tragedy of the hunt were three ravens. The dark trio spiraled down toward the settling dust at the bottom of the abyss.

Chapter II

The full moon illuminated the fragrant hour before dawn. Napishtim made his way from his hilltop villa down to the sea. He carried a crystal-powered lantern to light his way. The High Priest of the Law of One startled two snowy egrets into flight. They soared over his hanging gardens, which were the most beautiful and colorful in all of Poseidia. Rabbits scattered across the wide lawns ahead of him. Deer paused from their meal of sweet green grass to watch him pass by.

Napishtim paused by the fountain of Poseidon. He listened to the music of the splashing water harmonizing with the song of crickets. He filled his cupped hands with the clear, cold liquid, and bent to drink the elixir of youth.

The white marble statue of the god of the sea astride a horse with the tail of a fish shone in the light of the moon. The triton in Poseidon’s raised hand gleamed in the moonlight. There were legends about this fountain, but only Napishtim knew its location. It was fed by the restorative and regenerative waters of an underground spring. It was said that the fountain was enchanted, and to drink from it imparted immortality.

Napishtim’s accidental discovery of the fountain in his youth had prompted him to ask for this land from his father, the great King Atlas. On this property, the High Priest had planted his vineyards, irrigating his vines from aqueducts fed by the Poseidon Spring. Napishtim considered the water that nourished his grapes the secret ingredient that made his wine beyond compare.

Napishtim and his wife, Panthera, drank regularly from the spring. They showed few signs of age. Although they had lived many years, their skin retained the suppleness of youth; their bodies remained strong and vital. They had lived long, hardy lives, free from illness. Napishtim doubted the waters would make him immortal, yet he was sure the stamina he and his wife enjoyed was attributable to the fountain.

Although no one in Napishtim’s family ever needed to visit the Temple of Healing, Panthera made sure the healers had a generous supply of the delicious spring water for their patients. Not even she knew the secret of the fountain or its reputation for being enchanted. Panthera simply took her vigor and her family’s good health for granted. She considered them a natural endowment of her rich Amazonian bloodline.

Napishtim drank another hearty draft of the sparkling water before continuing his descent to the sea. He followed a steep downward-winding path bordered by wild flowers. Alongside the path ran a fresh stream, swollen with the waters of melted snow from the summits of Mount Atlas. The stream plunged over the cliff’s edge, becoming a waterfall that emptied into the sea below. As he descended, the dirt path gave way to sand.

Erosion-carved sandstone cliffs towered above Napishtim along the shoreline. Even in the salty air, he could smell the fragrance of the flower-covered vines that crawled down the cliffs. Billowing waves raced to shore, trying to catch elusive sandpipers.

Napishtim walked along the beach until he came to an immense barnacle-encrusted rock that rested partly on the land, partly in the water. He climbed to the top of the rock and walked out to the edge. The surf pounded all around him. He settled into a comfortable niche, wrapping his warm cloak around him. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Here he would say his evening prayer. The High Priest opened his eyes and gazed at the path of light the moon cut across the water. I am part of this, he whispered. He looked up at the sky and saw a shooting star. I am that, he said.

Napishtim opened his arms to the sea. He raised his eyes to the stars. Thank you, Great Spirit, he prayed. Napishtim’s evening prayer was always one of gratitude for all the gifts and blessings of his life.

Napishtim could not see the beautiful angel sitting next to him, or know that the source of the breeze that enveloped him was the angel’s wings. The angel put its arm around the High Priest’s shoulders and gazed out at the sea with him.

There was movement in the water just beyond the breakers. The path of the moon became a huge circle. Light from beneath the surface of the sea filled the ring of bright water. Napishtim leaned forward, straining to see more clearly as thousands of bioluminescent jellyfish rose to the surface.

From the center of the circle of light, twelve dolphins leaped, spouting and squealing. They hurled themselves into the air as if they were weightless. They leaped over one another, somersaulted, and splashed into the sea. Napishtim laughed with delight as he watched their acrobatics. Finally, the dolphins calmed down sufficiently to position themselves around the periphery of the shining circle.

Napishtim was on his knees by this time, leaning as far forward on the rock as he could, oblivious to the waves splashing him. For a moment the dolphins and the night stood still. Even the tide seemed to pause. Then the ocean erupted with a mighty spout that sent a geyser of water high into the air. A Great Blue Whale, over one hundred fifty feet long from nose to tail, breached from the center of the circle. It splashed down into the water with a resounding crash. Huge waves pounded onto the shore. The High Priest was soaked when a wave washed over him.

The dolphins could no longer contain themselves. They jumped out of the water and executed a series of back flips and somersaults. They slapped the water with their tails, and sent a cacophony of squeaks and squeals into the night. Finally, they settled down and once again formed a stately circle.

A second spout shot into the air, and the Great Blue Whale was back, this time rising slowly from the center of the circle of light. Then the largest animal in the world and the twelve dolphins defied gravity. The Great Blue Whale and the dolphins rose out of the water balancing on their tails.

The whale slowly turned in a graceful circle until it faced Napishtim. It smiled a wide baleen smile. Napishtim smiled back. He rose to greet the whale with a bow. The High Priest felt a sense of foreboding. He did not think the whale smiled because it was the bearer of good news. Rather, the whale’s baleen physiognomy allowed for no other expression.

Napishtim felt the whale blend its consciousness with his. He heard its voice in his mind, an echo like the sound of the sea inside a shell.

Beware, Napishtim, for the end of your world is come.

Why must this be? Napishtim cried.

The whale continued. Atlantis will sink to hold evil in balance. This cataclysm is necessary. It will cleanse the planet. The evil men have created will sink with it, and the remnant of humanity will parent new generations. Each of these generations shall pass pieces of the universal truths down to their descendants, so all have a part of the whole. The records of the planet must now be taken to the storehouses which have been prepared, where they will be protected until humankind is ready to handle the knowledge they contain.

Napishtim shivered, for the whale’s message was the same he had heard in dreams of angels. Must my homeland disappear forever from the earth? Is there nothing the Great Spirit can do to save it? Napishtim implored.

The whale blew a great spout and replied, "One day, when humankind in its collective consciousness chooses love over fear, Atlantis will rise again. It will rise when the people remember their heritage and live as in the days of old, in peace, true to their spiritual nature, one with the whole of life. Until then the truth shall remain shattered, and each race, each great civilization, each master soul who walks the planet in years to come will have only part of the truth.

These puzzle pieces can only come together when humankind is united again. When people believe they are parts of a whole, when they remember they are individual sparks of light straight from the heart of the Great Spirit and take care to honor the land and all its animals, the sea and all its animals, as brothers and sisters, then they will once again be co-creators of light. Then they will once again know Paradise.

Napishtim held his hands out toward the whale. His throat felt constricted. Salty tears burned his eyes. When? he asked. How much time do we have left?

Soon, so soon, the Whale sang. Do not succumb to your own fear in these times, Napishtim. Fulfill your destiny. Walk in the stature of your being with a clear heart and radiate all the clarity you can. You will need courage and strength in the time to come.

How will I know, Napishtim pleaded, when the time is here?

Before another moon, the Whale said. Watch the birds. When the end comes, we will help guide you through the waters. Follow the dolphins, and watch the birds.

Then the Great Blue Whale and the twelve dolphins formed a straight line facing the High Priest. Majestically, still balancing impossibly on their tails, they bowed to Napishtim. Solemnly, he bowed back. The cetaceans sounded. The light from the jellyfish faded as they, too, returned to the deep.

Napishtim gazed out at the now quiet sea. The white path of moonlight shimmered undisturbed. He knelt on the edge of the rock and whispered another prayer. Thank you, Great Spirit, for giving me the courage I will need to fulfill my destiny.

The High Priest’s feelings contradicted his words. His blood ran cold. He felt anything but courageous. He was terrified. He knew he must not give in to the fear that gripped his heart in its cold hand.

The angel wrapped its wings around him.

* * *

Fantys hurriedly ran his human fingers through his lion’s mane. He stretched and yawned like a big cat.

Great Spirit, he whispered, give me the strength and courage to face this day. He descended the stone steps to the King’s chamber to assist Jehan with his morning grooming.

The manimal found Da Nu Ta in her son’s bed chamber. Solara’s eyes met his as she groomed the dowager queen. Da Nu Ta did not acknowledge Fantys’ entry into the room. He went about his duties on padded paws.

Fantys let the light in the windows as he tied back the bed hangings. The young king still slept. The man lion stole forbidden glances at the winged maiden. He tried unsuccessfully to still his heart, which always beat more rapidly when he was near Solara. One day she would be his wife. They would live out their days in the paradise that waited beyond the horizon of the great sea.

What are you staring at, freak? Da Nu Ta snapped.

Without waiting for an answer or expecting one, she called shrilly to her son, Wake up, Jehan! The mountain is restless this morning, and you must preside over the sacrifice to Belial.

Jehan moaned as he burrowed deeper beneath the covers. Solara and Fantys shared a silent smile, knowing better than to communicate openly in the presence of the great ones. Too soon they had left each other’s arms. Not soon enough would they steal another embrace. Fantys thought how much Solara resembled the angels Napishtim painted on the walls of his villa.

The winged maiden turned to her task of elaborately braiding the dowager queen’s ebony hair in the formal style befitting a sacrifice. Da Nu Ta’s face was heavily painted in a gaudy effort to hide her fading beauty. She wore a long red tunic with a 12-knot belt of rank around her waist.

Da Nu Ta examined the jewels in the box before her, trying to decide which ones would be best to wear to the crocodile pits. She would send Jehan to the dungeons to choose the victim. It would give him an excuse to act like a king. The dowager queen found the stench of the things in her dungeons distasteful.

Jehan! she cried, Rise to the day, and choose a victim for Belial. If you persist in your laziness, I shall sleep alone from now on.

Jehan’s father, the great King Atlas, had always been kind to Fantys when he was a cub. Fantys had loved the old king like a father. The lion man had mourned his death. When Atlas reigned, there had been no slaves. It was only upon the sudden death of the great king when Jehan ascended the throne that Fantys was made a slave. Jehan, like his mother, was a disciple of the Sons of Belial. When King Atlas died, so did the Law of One in Poseidia.

Jehan was young. He had lived less than 25 winters. He loved the power the throne bestowed upon him, deriving some of his greatest pleasure from his war games. With the awesome power of the mighty crystal at his fingertips, Jehan believed he could rule the universe. He had a detailed map of the world built on a table. The young king ordered Fantys to carve toy armies and navies complete with ships that he could move around the map at will. He ordered the Atlantean military powers to subdue and enslave the earth in the name of the almighty Belial.

Jehan finally heeded his mother’s nagging. He dragged himself from his bed and reluctantly allowed Fantys to wrap his lean body in a royal robe. The king’s skin was smooth. He lacked the vital copper color of good health. His oily black hair hung listlessly to his shoulders. He rubbed his watery eyes.

Really, mother, he whined, I am not in the mood for this. My head aches. Can we not feed the crocodiles tomorrow instead?

It particularly vexes me when you do not rise to the occasion and act like a king, Jehan. Are you ill? Must we summon the healers?

Da Nu Ta rose swiftly from her chair. Her movement startled Solara, who pulled on the braid she was plaiting. Da Nu Ta cried out in pain. You stupid thing, she shouted. She turned on Solara and slapped her viciously across the mouth with the back of her hand.

Fantys bounded forward to help the girl, who had fallen and hit her head on the sharp corner of the marble dressing table. Solara’s fall had drawn blood.

Back away, Da Nu Ta hissed. Do not dare help her. The dowager queen’s hand rested on the hilt of the knife at her waist.

Solara knelt where she had fallen, her head lowered, and her eyes downcast. She tried to wrap her wings around herself for protection. Da Nu Ta kicked the