The last journey
I left Faistos a few days later, when the heralder
trireme that would take me to Atlantis to get fresh orders from King Idas was
ready to sail.
Of all the ships in the fleet, the heralder triremes were different in
many respects, not so much as their bulk was concerned but the shape of the
ship and the number of crewmen manning them.
These triremes were narrower but longer than their warship counterparts,
with two masts but with a keel twice as deep as the keel of a war trireme, that
gave her the potential to sail with greater certainty and security under rough
sea conditions. In fact, to keep the height of the waterline constant, keeping
its keel always under water, the shipwrights used to place large and heavy
stone slabs deep in the hull of the ship as a permanent ballast.
As regards the crew, that was half of that of a warship and was
comprised exclusively of experienced crewmen and oarsmen.
Journeying on such a ship and having the certainty of a secure cruise, I
always chose to rest on its keel, listening to the rhythmic sound of the oars
plowing the water routes of the Kingdom.
In that fateful journey, I had so many things on my mind that I spent very
little time on deck to breathe in fresh sea air that fills you up with hope and
courage.
I felt that something was after me and that I had to make it to
Poseidonia in time.
Idas had almost ordered me to take Faidra along to Atlantis and I had
compromised with what the gods had determined for her!
And it was the first time that when the trireme stopped at Tritonian
Taloh to get fresh water and supplies, I did not visit the city but waited for
the water and foodstuffs to be loaded up and sailed off immediately afterwards.
The last time I saw the vast sea of Triton was in the afternoon of the
fateful day that my world was lost, when the sun was painting the summits of
the Talé range golden.
In a little while only the crew on shift would remain on deck while the
oars together with their oarsmen would have a rest.
And if I had known what was about to come, I, too, would have stayed on
the deck so that I would be able to see with my own two eyes the furious hands
of Poseidon lifting Libya up to empty the sea of Triton into the Ocean and it,
in turn, devastate a bright world in its watery and merciless sweep!
I went down into the hull of the ship waiting for the dreamweaver to
deign to divulge the future, when I felt that the trireme had acquired speed,
as if a thousand rowers had been propelling it demonically, while the tilt of
the ship was moment by moment increasing, as if some sea monster was lifting up
its bow.
Then some shouts were heard from the crew and before I could stand on my
two feet, a horrific bang made me lose consciousness.
When and how I came to, I know not to tell. In any case, I found myself
trapped in a stone pit and my grave slab was one of the stone slabs used as
ballast in the trireme hull.
In my dizziness, and without being sure whether that all had indeed
taken place or was the toying caprice of the dreamweavers, I tried to reach the
slab and hit it with a stone from underneath in hopes of someone listening to
me!
But it was in vain.
The confusion, the darkness, the cold, all those things working
together, made me slump into a strange stupor that must have lasted till the
following morning, if it was indeed morning that thing entering through the
hole of the ballast…
Yet, the rain that fell incessantly, filled the stone pit that would
sooner or later become my watery grave.
Yet, I did not feel that I had the strength to react and the worst of
all was that I was under a state of total confusion, incapable of
distinguishing the real from the imaginary that is concocted in the human mind.
So, I closed my eyes and surrendered myself to destiny, when the first
quake took place that I perceived after I woke up. The grave slab moved and I
expected it to come crushing down on me, when the second time the earth moved,
the slab broke with a loud crush from a heavy stone that had struck it.
The grave opened and Hades entered to haul me up into an unknown,
horrifying, ghastly world, with the earth moving ceaselessly under my feet and
black rain marring my eyes and face.
I do not know what came over me and I started shouting until my lungs
got tired and I collapsed on the ground exhausted.
Everything around me was so strange that I was wondering whether I was
living on earth or had already visited Hades!
The sky was pit-black, the thunders and lightning horrifying, while
black rain was falling incessantly and the wind blowing from everywhere was
whipping at my face.
Just a few moments later, trying to find a hiding place, I realized
that…there was no sea of Triton!
Poseidon had raised its bottom and emptied it into the Ocean!
I became desperate.
So what if I was spared when the trireme was crushed upon the rocks like
a child’s toy and I, out of sheer luck, was protected by the pit and the stone
slab that had blocked it and did not let the huge wave sweep me off into the
Ocean!
Naked, in tatters hanging off me, without sandals or food or water,
moving into the unknown, in vain seeking other people.
And that accursed rain would keep falling incessantly, uprooting even
the last vestiges of hope left!
Exhausted, distraught and desperate, still unable to figure out what had
happened, I collapsed on a clearing and closed my eyes, not knowing what would
become of me, alone, hungry, thirsty in the middle of nowhere!
And the worst of all was that I had no idea which god I should beseech
to come to my aid!
I was awaken by a powerful quake that lasted for a long time. Then the
wind got stronger, just like the rain that kept on falling without abate, until
dawn al last was painted obscurely on the horizon.
Later in the morning of that day, I decided that if I was to survive I
would need to do whatever would not cross the mind of an ordinary person, such
as for example, drink from the pits where black rainwater had collected and eat
leaves and seaweed I could find!
But above all, I would have to make a choice as to where I had to go.
The Talé Mountains had remained a steady orientation point, although I
had completely lost any sense of where the coastline was, which at some points
must have been at least one or two stadiums higher in relation to the coastline
of the sea of Triton.
So, if I kept on a westerly direction, I should sometime arrive at the
Ocean, the western exit of the sea of Triton.
And what would I find then?
A harbor perhaps?
Garrisons?
Triremes?
Probably none of the above, after all the inconceivable things that had
taken place.
It sounded therefore logical to keep on an easterly direction and reach
Tritonian Taloh and then I would see if there was a way to get to Atlantis.
Up until that point at least I had no clue what had happened and was
still making plans…
A sign
of hope
Day by day the sky was clearing up, the rain would stop
for large periods and I would feed on whatever the sea of Triton had left on
its bottom. There was in fact some remaining sea water in ‘lakes’ that still
contained life which offered me ‘life’ in turn so that I could walk nonstop,
seeking at long last another human creature.
Yet, it was no ordinary trip nor did I know how many stadiums I walked
each day, since my main concern was finding food. And at night, I tried warming
myself up with a fire I made with whatever I could find around me.
And regards the dreamweavers, when they would come, winning over the
fatigue of the body, they tested me sorely and mercilessly showing me images I
was trying to forget.
Countless of times did I ‘see’ the wave Poseidon raised when he
‘emptied’ the sea of Triton, coming menacingly over me and raising me up to a
height of three stadiums in such speed that muscle tore off my face and my
scull crushed into a thousand pieces.
Other times, I used to see that I was sleeping in the keel of the
trireme when, piercing through the deck, the huge hands of Poseidon grabbed me
and flung me to the shore to die, because I had not complied with his orders.
And I was trying to save myself and hide into a pit covered by the
ballast slab of the trireme!
The days were tortuous and the night even more so and I with every step
I took wished death would come for me to rid me of that nightmare.
***
I remember not when I started counting the time. Yet, what I still
remember to this day was the moment I found a whole sail of a ship hanging from
a rock. That sail gave me the strength to hang on to life, at a time there were
no people around me to assure me I was not in Hades and that whatever I had
lived during my past life had in fact happened and were not fantasies of the
mind!
A sail hanging from a rock and many copper nails scattered here and
there, the wreckage of the ship that got smashed into a thousand pieces when
the wrath of Poseidon was unleashed.
The only difference was that back then, I had no idea about the extent
of the catastrophe of the world as I knew it.
I simply had the image of Poseidon raising Libya and emptying the sea of
Triton into the Ocean.
And that sail became clothing for me to wear, a tent to sleep under at
night, a net to fish in the lakes with sea water.
I even made sandals with that sail, some tatters of which I still keep
on me to remind myself of my hours of desperation that I had to go through,
until I found out the whole truth and plunge myself into absolute darkness.
When I started off from the point I had found the sail, at least I had
acquired the means to feel safer. The copper nails had become weapons and lances
for my spear and points for my arrows. I had at long last a needle to sew my
clothes up and threads from the ropes of the sail. I had a tent to sleep in at
night and a copper razor to shave my beard.
And what was left for me to do was to keep on that easterly direction,
hoping that I would eventually arrive at Tritonian Taloh, my homeland.
Yet, the day that the Sea of Middle Earth appeared on the horizon, on
the one hand I felt relief that I had at last reached the sea, but on the other,
I realized there was no Tritonian Taloh anymore!
The city had disappeared altogether due to the rage of Poseidon. For all
the days I was walking following the coastline that once crossed the city, I
saw no trace of its presence there.
In fact, keeping in mind to search for any traces of whatever places I
used to know before the destruction, I used to climb for a number of stadiums
up to the tops of the surrounding hills, searching for any signs of human
presence.
And the most horrifying thing was that not only was I not seeing any
trace of humans but neither was I seeing any trace of animals or birds that
would indicate that there was still life on this Earth!
That night that I set up my tent on the wild coast of the Sea of Middle,
in the shadows the fire I lit scattered around, hid the thousands of souls of the
mortals who had left their world in a moment of fury of the sea-master
Poseidon.
And I, the wretched creature, did not have even a dove to sacrifice to
their memory, or to that of Taloh that would also wither into oblivion, just
like the memory of thousands of other cities that also disappeared as a result
of the wet rage of Poseidon.
In the morning and under the light of day, I got the impression that the
complete opposite phenomenon had occurred in the Sea of Middle Earth: the Sea
had deluged the coastlands on which once populous cities stood surrounded by
tall walls and had harbors with proud seafaring ships.
I had to walk uncountable days due west to confirm with deep sorrow that
the roads I came upon all ended in the sea and not to another city that should
have been there before the destruction.
And such was my anguish to find out the truth that in certain cases, I
did not hesitate to enter the Sea and swim around, trying to see with my own
two eyes what the bottom of the sea finally hid.
But to no avail.
The waters were so murky that they only track terror in me, until I
decided to change direction and turn due east again, following the old
coastline of the sea of Triton, hoping that long last I would reach Egypt at
some point.
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