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
“Words are a poor thing to answer a question like that. You will know
all of my record. According to the Law of the Priests, each ship from
Yucatan will have carried home its sworn report to lay at the feet of
their council, and before I went to that vice-royalty, what I did was
written plain here on the face of Atlantis.”
“We know your doings in the past, brother, and they have found approval.
You have governed well, and you have lived austerely. You set up
Atlantis for a mistress, and served her well; but then, you have had no
Phorenice to tempt you into change and fickleness.”
“You can send me where I shall see her no more, if you think me frail.”
“Yes, and lose your usefulness. No, brother, you are the last hope which
this poor land has remaining. All other human means that have been tried
against Phorenice have failed. You have returned from overseas for the
final duel. You are the strongest man we have, and you are our final
champion. If you fail, then only those terrible Powers which are locked
within the Ark of the Mysteries remains to us, and though it is not
lawful to speak even in this hidden tongue of their scope, you at least
have full assurance of their potency.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “It seems that you would save time and pains
if you threw me to these wolves of rebels, and let them end me here and
now.”
The old man frowned on me angrily. “I am bidding you do your duty. What
reason have you for wishing to evade it?”
“I have in my memory the words you spoke in the pyramid, when you came
in amongst the banqueters. ‘PHORENICE,’ was your cry, ‘WHILST YOU ARE
YET EMPRESS, YOU SHALL SEE THIS ROYAL PYRAMID, WHICH YOU HAVE POLLUTED
WITH YOUR DEBAUCHERIES, TORN TIER FROM TIER, AND STONE FROM STONE,
AND SCATTERED AS FEATHERS BEFORE A WIND.’ It seems that you foresee my
defeat.”
The old man shuddered. “I cannot tell what she may force us to do. I
spoke then only what it was revealed to me must happen. Perhaps when
matters have reached that pass, she will repent and submit. But in the
meanwhile, before we use the more desperate weapons of the Gods, it is
fitting that we should expend all human power remaining to us. And so
you must go, my brother, and play your part to the utmost.”
“It is an order. So I obey.”
“You shall be at Phorenice’s side again by the next dawn. She has sent
for you from Yucatan as a husband, and as one who (so she thinks,
poor human conqueror) has the weight of arm necessary to prolong her
tyrannies. You are a Priest, brother, and you are a man of convincing
tongue. It will be your part to make her stubborn mind see the
invincible power that can be loosed against her, to point out to her the
utter hopelessness of prevailing against it.”
“If it is ordered, I will do these things. But there is little enough
chance of success. I have seen Phorenice, and can gauge her will. There
will be no turning her once she has made a decision. Others have tried;
you have tried yourself; all have failed.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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