Quest

Prologue

“Why have you summoned me? I should be at my place on the walls.” Hasdrubal’s eyes were afire and his hand trembled as he gripped the hilt of his sword. His anger was understandable, considering who he was and to whom he was related. But, he had come right away when summoned, and that was to his credit.

“You are needed for something greater than waiting to die.” Aderba’al laid a hand on the man’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off. It was an affront which, under different circumstances, would merit severe chastisement, but this was not the time for such things. Time was of the essence. “Hear my words before you so impetuously assume that you know what is best.”

“Very well, but do not delay me unnecessarily.” He looked around as if, at any moment, enemies would be storming the temple.

“It is you who is delaying me,” Aderba’al snapped. “What I do is the last hope for the survival of our people. You have been chosen for a sacred task.”

Now Hasdrubal was curious. “Tell me.” Suspicion hung heavy in his words, but at least Aderba’al had his attention.

“That is what I have been trying to do. Follow me, listen, and do not interrupt.”

They passed through the temple, now dark because they could no longer spare the oil required to light the lamps. Everything, it seemed, was needed in defense of the city. Behind the altar, he knelt, running his fingers across the carved surface, the smooth stone cool to the touch. He stopped on an image of a flooded field. “Aretsaya,” he whispered as he pressed down.

With a click, a door swung open, revealing a dark passage in the base of the altar.

“What…” Hasdrubal must have remembered Aderba’al’s warning against interruption, because he clamped his mouth shut and followed without protest as Aderba’al led them down into the tunnel.

He required no light, so familiar was he with this passage. They walked along in silence as complete as the absence of light. Their footsteps echoed in the empty corridor and it was almost possible to forget the enemy at the gates. Not once, in all the time he followed Aderba’al into the unknowable blackness, did Hasdrubal speak, though he surely was wondering where they were going and why.

When he tasted the salty tang of sea air, Aderba’al knew they had almost arrived at their destination. They emerged in a grotto overlooking a sheltered cove. This place was a temple secret, but it was far from the most important one he would reveal today. Down below, sailing ships were being loaded and made ready to sail.

Hasdrubal looked scandalized at the sight and he rounded angrily on Aderba’al, his face red and his eyes flashing. “You want me to flee like a coward? I shall not do it. You know my bloodline and the obligation it carries with it. How can you ask me to run?”

“What I ask you to do requires more courage than anything you have ever done before.” This gained Hasdrubal’s attention and he lapsed into an uneasy silence.

Aderba’al drew from his robes an oilcloth pouch and handed it to him. “As you are well aware, our ancestors were the greatest sailors in history. They passed down to us knowledge of a land, wild and unconquered by civilized man. It lies far across the great water beyond the white stones. These maps will show you the way.”

“Beyond the white stones? Across the water?”

Aderba’al nodded gravely. “There is no other choice. You must go beyond the reach of our enemy.”

Hasdrubal held the bundle in his hands, looking sadly at it. “Surely there are other sailors who can take this command. Other men…”

“But there is only one man with your blood. One man who can sail, fight, and command their unwavering allegiance. It must be you.”

“So I am to find this faraway land and found a new colony?” Regret filled his voice and it was obvious the man would rather fight to the death on the walls than abandon his home.

“That is a part of it, but there is something much more important that you must do. It is a sacred duty that reaches back beyond the history of our people. Few know of it, and should our city fall, as I fear it will, you will perhaps be the only living man with that knowledge.”

Aderba’al remembered the day the secret had been passed down to him. He had not believed it at first, but when he had seen the proof with his own eyes, it had been a wondrous revelation. He wondered how Hasdrubal would react to what he was about to be told. Taking a deep breath, he began his tale.

“The ship on which you will travel carries…”

Hasdrubal stepped off the ship onto sand as white as snow and as hot as a forge. The deep green of the forest was a pleasant change from the months of unrelenting blue sea under blue sky. They had sighted land a few times in recent days, and the others had pleaded with him to take the ships ashore, but he had refused. The maps indicated that these were small islands and wholly unsuitable to their purpose. They needed to disappear in this strange new world. He would lead them into its dark depths until the gods told him they had found their new home. When they reached that place, they would plant the seeds of their new civilization… literally.

A man stepped out from the darkness of the forest. Short of stature, with dark skin and glossy, black hair, the man looked at him, not with enmity, but curiosity. He carried a primitive spear, but no other weapon. Hasdrubal’s hand itched to reach for his sword, but he remained calm. Step by hesitant step, the man came closer, until he stood only a few feet from Hasdrubal, certainly close enough to use that spear if he chose to do so.

A tense silence hung in the air as everyone waited to see what would happen next. The roar of waves crashing on the shore filled Hasdrubal’s ears and the cool breeze ruffled his hair. This would not be the worst place to die, but he somehow sensed this was not his day. His mission was not yet complete.

The dark man looked up at him in wide-eyed wonder. The moment stretched into an excruciating span of three heartbeats. Then, without preamble, he let his spear drop, and fell face-down alongside it.

Hasdrubal thought, for a moment, that the man had died, but then, more figures melted out of the jungle. Like the first man, they too laid down their weapons and fell prostrate in the sand.

“It is as if they think we are gods,” Shafat whispered. A fine sailor, his was one of only four ships that had survived the journey.

“It is well that they do,” Hasdrubal replied. “Perhaps they shall be of some use as we search for our new home.”

“And where will that be?” There was no disrespect in Shafat’s voice, only curiosity.

“I will know it when I find it.”

“Colonel! You must come quickly!” Adam poked his head into the tent, his excited eyes shining, in contrast to his dirty face. “Someone has come to the camp!”

Percy Fawcett looked up from his book and frowned. “Tell me, would you open the door to someone’s house and shout to them, Adam? Or would you knock first?” Adam hung his head. “And wash your face. You embarrass me.” Apologizing profusely, the man backed out of the tent.

Fuming, Fawcett pulled on his boots. Weak men who could scarcely maintain their humanity in the jungle were an affront to his sensibilities. Why was it so difficult to find men with pride, dignity, and a bit of backbone? Disappointments, every one of them.

He pushed aside the flap of his tent, wondering what absurdity had prompted them to bring him out so late. Despite the lateness of the hour, it was still hot and muggy out. The others had kept their cookfire burning and were huddled around it, seeming to find comfort. Weaklings! Doubtless they had called him out here for something preposterous. Perhaps a large insect or something of the sort. When he saw the young man lying beneath a blanket by the fire, however, he revised his opinion at once.

Fawcett knelt down beside the young man and pushed back his hair to get a better look. He did not resemble the natives of this region. In fact, he had a distinctly Mediterranean look about him.

“Who is he? Where did he come from?”

“We don’t know,” Adam replied. “He came staggering into camp and collapsed. He hasn’t stopped babbling. Alberto understands some of what he says, but he can’t make out the half of it.”

Fawcett listened closely. The language was an odd one. Some of the words were recognizable as a dialect similar to that of the natives of this region. The rest was…

Fawcett gaped, the pipe falling from his mouth. He found that he could understand much of what this young man was saying, but the language was…

It couldn’t be!

“Adam, be a good fellow and fetch my book and my pen.” Heart pounding, he stared down in excitement and disbelief at the strange young man who had so fortuitously stumbled into his encampment. And if Fawcett understood his words correctly, this youth just might be the key to what Fawcett had been searching for all these years.