The Lost ContinentHyne, Charles John Cutcliffe Wright
Science
The Lost Continent
Hyne, Charles John Cutcliffe Wright
Atlantis (Legendary place) -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction; Lost continents -- Fiction; Science fiction
She had taken her place in the middle of a great flagstone, and stood
there swaying her supple body to the shocks. Her face was calm, and its
loveliness was untouched by the years. From time to time she brushed
away the dust as it settled on the short red hair which curled about her
neck. There was no trace of fear written upon her face. There was some
weariness, some contempt, and I think a tinge of amusement. Yes, it took
more than the crumbling of her royal pyramid to impress Phorenice with
the infinite powers of those she warred against.
Gods! How the sight of her cool indifference maddened me then. I had
it in me to have strangled her with my hands if she had come within
my reach. But as it was, she stood in her place, swaying easily to the
earth-waves as a sailor sways on a ship’s deck, and beside her, crouched
on the same great flagstone, and overcome with nausea was Ylga, who
again was raised to be her fan-girl. It came to my mind that Ylga was
twin sister to Nais, and that I owed her for an ancient kindness, but I
had leisure to do nothing for her then, and indeed it was little enough
I could have done. With each shock the great capstone of the throne to
which I clung jarred farther and farther from its bed place, and my love
was coming nearer to me. It was she who claimed all my service then.
Once in their blind panic a knot of the people in the square thought
that the granite stone was too solid to be overturned, and saw in it
an oasis of safety. They flocked towards it, many of them dragging
themselves up the steep deep high steps on hands and knees because their
feet had been injured by the billowing flagstones of the square.
But I was in no mood to have the place profaned by their silly
tremblings and stares: I beat at them with my hands, tearing them away,
and hurling them back down the steepness of the steps. They asked me
what was my title to the place above their own, and I answered them with
blows and gnashing teeth. I was careless as to what they thought me or
who they thought me. Only I wished them gone. And so they went, wailing
and crying that I was a devil of the night, for they had no spirit left
to defend themselves.
Farther and farther the great stone that made the top of the throne slid
out from its bed, but its slowness of movement maddened me. A life’s
education left me in that moment, and I had no trace of stately patience
left. In my puny fury I thrust at the great block with my shoulder and
head, and clawed at it with my hands till the muscles rose on me
in great ropes and knots, and the High Gods must have laughed at my
helplessness as They looked. All was being ordered by the Three who were
Their trusted servants, in Their good time. The work of the Gods may be
done slowly, but it is done exceeding sure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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