Whisper of Atlantis

By Ross Carnes

Legendary Watchers and Nephilim are the ruling powers in ancient Atlantis. The first humans are called adamen and are the labor force as well as the source of many forbidden luxuries for the supernatural Watchers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613090909

Book preview

One

Cush stood proudly before the mountain palace of Moriah. Sunlight glistened on the alabaster structures perched on various levels over the promontory. His grandfather Enoch had built this impressive citadel and it boasted the most beautiful buildings in all Atlantis. The opulence of King Atlas’ Temple in the City of Atlantis to the east, or the splendor of King Gadeiros’ Palace in Beleport to the north could not compete with Enoch’s Palace on Mount Moriah.

The faint rumble of the waterfall welcomed him home. Its stream fell from the high cliffs and poured into a deep pond below the palace, before joining the River Gihon. An arched bridge of stairs spanned the distance over the pond, linking Cush’s own dormitory quarters to the library on the opposite side. The library housed thousands of scrolls and tablets, the world’s most impressive reserve of knowledge outside of Egypt.

Cush struck the gong alerting the entrance keepers above, and then sat on the bench beside the river bridge to wait for the elevator that would take him up to the greeting hall. He untied his backpack of specimens and placed it on the seat beside him. He expected this extensive collection to delight Enoch and earn a generous reward.

The young man smiled, remembering his past twelve years of diligent service. He’d explored every dominion of Atlantis and become well known throughout the land as the Hand of Enoch. His family’s reputation proved to be a powerful protection from the Watchers and the Nephilim and from all the unmentionable offspring of the fallen sons of God. Even during his short young life, Cush saw the supernatural Watchers bring evil to the Earth by spoiling and contaminating everything natural and wholesome.

It felt good to come home. After a six day walk to the far western Sea of Krete, two weeks of gathering and then a walk of eight days to return, he was feeling the strain. The return trip took longer due to the load on his back, and the terrible things he witnessed made Cush yearn for home and an undisturbed rest.

He heard a familiar call from the elevator platform far above him. His cousin Kera called again, and laughed as she disappeared back through the doorway. Cush picked up his pack, crossed the bridge and headed toward the arched opening in the side of the cliff. Kera descended and waited for him at the ground level entrance. When he stepped inside, she threw her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek.

I am so happy that you have returned safely, she said, still laughing.

They stepped into the elevator. It gave a shudder and began to ascend. Kera could not stand still, and danced in place beside Cush. He smiled at the girl’s exuberance.

I am glad to see you also, Kera. Why are you laughing? Do you know something? He leaned back against the closed, iron gate. Please let me know some pleasant news so I may join in your merriment. I would welcome any cheerful thoughts just now.

Kera only grinned and looked at him. She pushed the elevator’s control lever and the counter weight descended. The great iron wedge found its place back down into the locked position. They stepped out onto the upper platform overlooking the River Gihon below, and to the fertile valley beyond.

I shouldn’t tell you anything. It will just get me into trouble. She kissed his cheek again,

Hurry and take your leafy specimens to the Master. I still have much to do before your welcome-home feast tonight. She paused and patted his shoulder. It’s good to have you home, my cousin.

She rushed ahead and he followed, carrying his bulky pack. A man stepped from behind the blood-red columns of the library entrance. Cush did not recognize him, but the stranger smiled and greeted him warmly. At the sight of the man, Kera clapped her hands like a child and bobbed from side to side as if she could not contain herself.

This is Omhotep, she said. He has just arrived from Khmun in Egypt.

Cush offered a greeting, but was hindered by his baggage. Instead Omhotep took the pack from Cush, bowed and said, This is truly an honor, sir!

Cush looked to Kera for further explanation. She only grinned impishly and said, There are many more surprises to come. Much has been planned in the past week while we anticipated your return. I alerted everyone before you sounded the gong on the other side of the river. Even as we speak, the welcoming festivities are being prepared—so for now, go get your rest!

SLEEP DID NOT COME easily. Cush was too exhausted from his journey, haunted by his recent experiences, and dreaded bringing such ominous news to his family. He lay awake and listened to the familiar noises: the Blue Doves of Paradise cooed tenderly, the clusters of seed pods softly clattered in the Rattle Tree outside the window, accompanied by the muted thunder of the waterfall. When finally sleep did come, he drifted from one nightmare to another. At last he awoke to find the sunset casting an orange glow into his room.

He dressed quickly. As always, soft slippers lay waiting outside his door and he put them on and smiled, remembering how as a boy this small comfort meant so much to him. Comfortable feet were a blessing from God, his mother used to say.

The amber light of early evening led him down the corridor into the colonnade. He stood amid the red pillars and could see far away to the City of Atlantis on the horizon. Its great canals networked the entire fertile plain and then circled the city like hoops connecting each part of the gigantic metropolis. Lights began to twinkle all along the waterways, taking their cue from the sunset and moon rise. The numerous signal towers were being lit.

From the oak trees beside the library, the roosting Scarlet Peacocks wailed their evening screech. Behind him an equally shrill voice called, "Simha-pec, my little simha-pec! Translated, it meant lion cub or little hero."

It could only be one person, his godmother Jashreel. Her large arms smothered him in an enthusiastic embrace. As annoying as she could sometimes be, he had a great affection for her. Since he had come to live on Moriah, she had always been his defender and his second mother.

"Hello, my Pon-pesh (elder mother, lioness). Thank you for coming to my feast. You are the one person I most wanted to see, Cush said, with a pang of guilt for his flattery. Shall we go into the hall together?" he invited, and offered her his arm.

She smiled and took his arm enthusiastically. The long peacock and macaw feathers in her hair reached out and brushed his face, tickling his nose.

The assembled guests filled the hall with their noisy banter. When Cush and his escort entered, a hush fell over the room. Jashreel took Cush’s hand and raised it high. A rowdy cheer broke out, as the entire hall came to their feet in recognition. The applause was long and sustained until at the head of the central table the imposing figure of Master Enoch stood up. Great respect silenced everyone. Enoch raised his right hand in a gesture of acknowledgement toward Cush, who bowed low when Enoch spoke.

"Welcome, my Malokan (precious acorn of a Master Oak). We have been most concerned for your welfare these last few days. Thankfully, you have come home safely to us."

He motioned for Cush and Jashreel to take the couch beside him. The assembly also took their seats. Enoch remained standing and addressed the hall.

I am sure Cush has much to tell us—but all in the appointed time. We also have much to tell him, he bowed toward the person seated on his right.

Cush recognized the man as Omhotep, who had greeted him earlier. Now dressed in rich ceremonial robes, his face solemn, Omhotep stood and exhibited an air of restraint and discipline.

Enoch spoke to Cush, loudly enough for all to hear: We are blessed with our new scribe and librarian, Omhotep. Please make him welcome.

Omhotep bowed and the guests began to chant, "Minsha, Minsha (scholar or great sage). The Egyptian waited for quiet, and then stated, Thank you, my new family. I will serve the Master and all of you to the best of my ability."

The crowd responded with acceptance and warmth. Enoch held up one hand for silence, and then began the ceremonial chant to bless the feast. His voice recited softly at first, but then increased the passion:

"I have been the bull

I have been the hawk

I have been the oak in the valley

I have been a quill in the grasp of a hand

I have been a whisper revealing secrets

I am the ibis

I am the moon

I am the wind that changes

I am the waves that crash against the boulders

I am the wood that covers the hillsides

Who tells the stars to shine?

Who keeps the secrets of the Elder Trees?

Who releases the fog and rain; the light and heat?

Who holds the time of great and small; evil and righteous?

Who incites the spark of thought that inflames the mind?

He it is who holds our soul!

He it is who knows the secrets of our heart!

Selah"

Let us be thankful.

With that, the dishes and platters laden with confections were served, luscious and exotic fruits of every sort. Cush gave in to the celebration, and forgot his troublesome thoughts for a time. The feasting began.

A LATE EVENING BREEZE blew the sheer silken drapes through the deep red pillars and into the room. Cush felt surrounded by the group of elders who filled all corners of the solarium. Enoch rested on a marble chair covered with scarlet pillows. Jared the eldest, the patriarch’s father, sat in the most revered place, elevated above all. Beside Jared were his other sons, Enoch’s brothers.

Cush greeted all in attendance and as expected, gave his report about the rich resources found in the communities he visited. Briefly he made known his concerns about the lack of security for the farmers of outlying territories, such as Avalon. He also noted the aggressive actions of King Gadeiros of the northern province of Argolis. It was rumored there were death camps in which kidnapped humans, or as the Watchers called them, adamen, were imprisoned before they were slaughtered. Also captive adamen were reportedly being bred like cattle for consumption as food by the Watchers and Nephilim.

Methuselah, Enoch’s son, spoke next with noticeable impatience in his voice, It seems to me, Cush—that you expect too much from your master. If the forces of King Gadeiros are planning some unknown evil, what can Enoch do about it? It is true he is respected by the Watchers and Nephilim; even Shernihaza himself! They keep their distance and do not attack us, but we have no army or any machinery of warfare. Our defense is in the respect and esteem with which Enoch is held by the Watchers.

Cush noticed Methuselah’s grandson, Noah, frowning in mute signal, a secret sign that his cousin had used since childhood when one needed to warn the other while in the presence of their elders. Cush realized what Noah meant by the gesture. Methuselah’s opposition, although anticipated, proved to be no less formidable. Cush knew well that the teachings of Enoch forbade violence, or returning injury for injury. Yet to the west in the realm of Avalon, the land of lions, his friends suffered unimaginable cruelty at the hands of criminal beast-men.

My malokan, Enoch whispered and shook his head, I see that you have a deep sympathy and concern for your friends. Please, tell us now the full extent of the evil.

Cush took a deep breath and with a sigh, began his narrative, the experience still fresh in his mind. His voice caught in his throat as memories came flooding back, memories he would rather keep suppressed.

I often visited the western lands, and on my last trip many items on Master Enoch’s list of specimens could only be found in the foothills at the edge of the Sea of Krete. Cush noticed Omhotep leaning closer, concentrating on every word. He realized then that the Egyptian was probably unfamiliar with the frontier provinces of Atlantis so he elaborated on his story. "Known as the realm of Avalon, because of the abundance of apple orchards and the lions that roamed its open plains, it is also the home of silk farmers, and is becoming one of the wealthiest territories of Atlantis. As Enoch’s emissary, I am always welcome in all the villages, for it was Enoch who introduced the farmers to their new industry of silkworms, and the wonderful fabric and fortune that could be made from them.

"Near the village of Sericin lived a silk farmer named Zebulon, one of my oldest friends. He was a righteous man, blessed with a firstborn son and seven daughters. All his children worked with the silkworms and gathered the mulberry leaves on which the best worms thrived. As a result, their family was known to produce and sell the finest quality cocoons.

"When I arrived at Zebulon’s farm, expecting to see them all at work, it was quiet. I sensed something was amiss, and began calling to each family member by name. There was only silence. Finally I found the first remains, those of Zebulon, seated inside the front door, his mouth opened as if still screaming in death, his eyes missing and fingers charred black from torture. Zebulon’s wife’s body lay inside, slashed and broken. I could only find fragments of the seven young girls, lying everywhere, scattered like leavings after a feast, having been roasted and then eaten. Zebulon’s only son, Troy, was not to be found.

"I remained in Sericin for a day to bury my friends properly. The villagers told me of the perverse troop of monsters that had come to ravage the farms. Senseless and brutal, the inhuman group had descended on the unwary. Ten Minotaurs and three Satyrs, along with several lesser and grotesque Nephilim, roamed the countryside; undoubtedly with King Gadeiros’ blessing, if not his bidding. Such violence has been reported in other realms, but for the first time it now has come to the remote frontier of Avalon.

Some of the farmers fled their land and now live in bands wandering the hills, keeping together for protection, all of them bent on revenge and devastated by the loss of their families. It is said that young Troy, son of Zebulon, is among them.

Enoch did not speak, and bowed his head. There was complete silence in the room. Each man looked somber and grave.

Jared was the first to break the silence, "This is surely a great evil, my son. I share your grief at the loss of your friends in such an inhuman manner. The mind refuses any explanation for such atrocities. However, I know that this is not anything the Creator God has purposed. It is an ungodly and profane specter and I have seen its face before, when I was no older than you.

"At the foot of Mount Hermon, night became day and two hundred sons of God descended from heaven. Amid lightning and ice, they walked down from the summit, having taken a form like gigantic men—but not exactly adamen. When I ran to greet them, their appearance was frightening. I froze in my steps as they walked past me, staring at me with glowing blank eyes. They breathed a thick smoke that curled out of their nostrils and from between their black lips.

That was the first time any man beheld the ‘Watchers.’ That was the moment when the land lost all gentleness and compassion, and became a new world of violence and madness. May the Creator God deliver us! Jared stopped speaking and sat back on his couch.

As if on cue, Enoch began a chant of lament:

"Spirits that diminish the land,

Of giant strength and giant tread,

Demons, like raging bulls, great ghosts.

Ghosts that break through all houses,

Demons that have no shame,

Knowing no care,

they grind the land like corn;

knowing no mercy,

they rage against mankind;

they spill their blood like rain

devouring their flesh and sucking their veins.

They are demons full of violence,

ceaselessly devouring blood."

Enoch continued, The Watchers have found much pleasure with the self-serving and ambitious women of Atlantis. The foolish adamen females have borne giant hybrid sons, like our King Atlas and his brother, King Gadeiros. Not satisfied with adamen, the Watchers and their sons mix with any animal they choose, and thusly have tainted the blood line of many species, producing countless forms of Nephilim. They have made our world a strange and evil place, one that is contrary to the Creator God’s original purpose.

Cush stood up, Is it all hopeless then? His hands became fists at his side. Are adamen, women and children meant to be fodder for these beasts?

Calm yourself, my malokan, Enoch soothed. "Many things have been revealed to me of late—many wonders and much about the Creator’s judgments concerning these rebel sons.

They have come to know of their eminent punishment; some are seeking my advice and counsel in appeasing the Creator. They have not been pleased with his declaration. They do not blame me for the words of doom, but most have turned to the Governor-Priest Kisadec for counsel, for he tickles their ears with false hopes.

May we not ask him to help us then? He has an army, and being the governor of the adjoining province of Minoa, he should have empathy for Avalon’s plight, Cush begged.

Enoch smiled and said, No, my son, Kisadec may appear to be righteous, but many times his form of godly devotion has proven false. I fear he only wears his priestly robes to further his own interests, and not because he is devoted to the Creator God.

Cush raised his hand as if he were about to speak, but Enoch continued, I have yet to reveal my reason for inviting our old friend, Omhotep, to come and work alongside me. We both have high hopes that our new research will provide some help in situations like the one you have just described. Some of the plants and specimens you have recently harvested may be a key.

Please know that some battles are not ours to fight. Enoch paused and looked around at the gathering. Many of the elderly men were noticeably weary, so he concluded, But that is enough for tonight. Rest your mind with my assurance that your friends and our brothers will not be forgotten. The Elder Trees have told me of their safety. Justice will soon come.

Two

Helion moved a bench to a table facing the street; his massive frame was too large for the café chairs. He ordered a mug of warm prune-ale and sat down. All was relatively quiet; the annual parade of Atlantean citizens marching to the Great Festival’s Annual War Games had not yet filled the streets. The city looked new and polished golden spires stood high among beautiful marble edifices. Flocks of white doves flew through the architecture like foamy waves crashing on a rocky beach.

His duties at the coliseum could wait a little longer. Arena duties were more of an obligation than a pleasure. As Arena Guard, his day would be filled with violence beyond most adamen’s imagination. He envied the simple farmer who lived a relatively peaceful life on the Golden Plane of Santorini. Instead, he had been cursed with a noble family: a famous grandfather, the Watcher Prometheus and father, General Deucalion, a feared Nephilim, a decorated general and favorite of King Atlas.

Ironically, Helion hated the senseless blood sports in the arena. A second generation Nephilim should not be concerned with adaman welfare, nor should he feel compassion for them. He often confided this to his grandfather, Prometheus, who was known to be a sympathizer with the adamen and opposed King Atlas and the Watchers in their mistreatment of adaman subjects.

Helion shifted his giant frame and the chair creaked under the weight. To his dismay, a familiar voice spoke from behind him.

Here, here! It’s a bit early for drunken vagrants to be lying about.

Helion smiled and forced some enthusiasm into his voice, Matheus! Cousin! Please, come and sit with me. He looked to either side. Are you alone?

I’m here with several members of the arena guard, but they need not join us. Matheus gestured toward a waiter and pulled out another oversized bench. Anticipating the day’s revels, are we? Let me hear the truth now. I can tell you are wearing your false smile and stone face to hide what you really feel. I know you—all too well!

To be sure, the games will be a triumph, Helion said, with a bit of defiance in his voice. Azazel will direct the events as usual and I am sure he will surprise and amaze. He has never disappointed the other Watchers or the crowds, certainly.

Yes, I thought as much. Matheus shook his head. My interpretation of that statement is, you are displeased with your present service here, but you cannot see yourself asking for reassignment because your father would disapprove.

Matheus paused when the waiter brought more prune-ale. He pushed a foaming mug over to Helion, Take a long, comforting drink and reconsider how good your life is here—at this moment.

Is my displeasure so obvious? Helion laughed.

Only to those who know you as I do, Matheus replied, and then he sipped his ale. You have always been a strange sort. Even when we were boys, your interests were much too serious. Matheus shook his head. "So tell me, what other assignment would make you happier? For what possible duty, in what possible place, would you trade the great City of Atlantis, with its Hall of Delights and its Annual Festival including the War Games?"

I want to go to Minoa, Helion stated matter-of-factly, Minoa also has a Hall of Delights to rival even the one here, and I despise the arena. I have told Prometheus of my desires and he agrees with me. I am hoping he will somehow manage to have me transferred to duty in Minoa, even over my father’s objections.

Matheus let out a long breath of exasperation, Where is your head? Are you trying to align yourself with antagonists of the king? Prometheus is constantly doing something controversial and his name is often linked with Enoch. Those two seem to be more interested in the welfare of the peasants and farmers. You would do better to go to Belaport in the service of King Gadeiros.

Kisadec of Minoa is not as bloodthirsty as Gadeiros, or Atlas. Is it any wonder that Enoch has reprimanded them, and foreseen their punishment? Helion’s voice became bitter. The Watchers care nothing for adamen. They are only concerned with their own pleasures. To them, adamen are merely a crop to be harvested like grapes to make wine, or like swine to be bred for slaughter.

Matheus whispered with sincere concern, Take care you do not speak out so publicly. I fear that to some, your thoughts might be mistaken for treason.

A gong sounded at the Temple of Atlas, announcing the second day of the Festival Games.

Helion stood. I must not be late for my duty. Azazel will be watching. His eyes are on every detail. He has designed some extremely sadistic games this year. These opening days of the festival are ideal times to show how ruthless and bloodthirsty he can be.

Matheus chuckled, All of the provinces have not even arrived yet and besides, the last day is the most anticipated. The last games are the ones in which King Gadeiros is scheduled to contend against the army of the city. Gadeiros’ contempt for his brother, King Atlas, is common knowledge. Anytime the two brothers clash, the resulting display is something everyone loves to watch,

Don’t think Azazel has missed that little detail either. Believe me, he is anticipating it more than anyone. As Master of the Games, the arena competitions are his best opportunities to openly antagonize the two kings, one of his favorite endeavors.

After a last drink of ale, Helion said goodbye to Matheus and left the little café. He walked toward the arena, down smaller alleys away from the parade forming in the main street. His boyhood memories came flooding back at the site of the preparations. As boys, he and Matheus often ran into the city at dawn to watch the preparations of