Jena of Atlantis, the Finger of Power

© 2004, 2015 D.W. Anthony. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/14/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4184-5261-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4184-5262-9 (e)

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Jena of Atlantis, The Finger of Power

Preface:

Chapter 1 Ambush!

Chapter 2 Lilah and the pyramid of power.

Chapter 3 More Secrets

Chapter 4 Sea Song and Avocadoes.

Chapter 5 Crash course in Destiny

Chapter 6 Cowboy in the Kelp

Chapter 7 Can we have that in Mummies?

Chapter 8 Phaedra speaks

Chapter 9 The Head and the Runaway.

Chapter 10 The Reciprocating Icon

Chapter 11 Underground

Chapter 12 Finding Friends

Chapter 13 A Spanking with the Wet Sponge of Destiny

Chapter 14 Oceanic Ordeal

Chapter 15 Death by Pliosaur

Chapter 16 Babers speaks

Chapter 17 Volcanic Landing

Chapter 18 Mysteries at the Schoolhouse

About the Author

Preface:

This interesting book was written and illustrated on a computer by a retired State Park Ranger. It practically flew out of there with minor corrections in punctuation. It is the forth in this Atlantis Discovery series of books about this old long gone continent. There are numerous references and other materials on this culture, from the highly reputable to the odd and psychic. The biggest problem in writing this was interpreting some of their terms and words for things. I have tried to make the reading easier by using terms we are familiar with, without going into a lot of technical detail. Their lighting systems for example are fascinating, but they often involved chemical reactions that would bog down the reading. The same for their class distinctions, such as slaves. This was common, but not as simple as it sounds. It brought about the same tortured questions then that our society went through only recently, and these social issues are not explored in this story. It also avoids a detailed explanation of the provinces and relationships Atlantis had with other developed places that existed in the world at that time. And lastly, the peoples names! These were modified or kept simple, little attempt was made to get the spelling right. They are spelled as closely as possible. Some of them just got changed into something familiar. Maybe the keyboard will last longer. Everything else is as accurate as possible, right down to their clothing and structures and customs. The primary goal of this book is to explore humor and relationships, and this takes place in the early years of Atlantis.

D.W. Anthony April 2004

Chapter 1 Ambush!

A flash of togas and feet spanking into the marble steps was how the ambush began. Nostrils flared, lips sealed shut, eyes narrowed and the ring of metal weapons in the morning mist. The attackers wore black robes and wrappings around their faces like desert travelers. They used curved scimitar swords, the kind that looked like they didn’t really do anything.

The bodyguards were highly trained people that took pride in their work, and they slashed their way through the black wind of robes and sashes. They didn’t connect either, but nobody got poked.

And the two ambassadors were travelers of the world, familiar with violence and enemies. They both pulled out their long thin dirks and stood back to back. One of them blew on a curved silver horn. This would alert the government guards and authorities in this ancient provincial capital of Atlantis, the early years!

Nearby was Jena Quinterian, a captain in the army of the north. Honorary and brand new, too young to have seen much action in the last ten minutes or so. She happened to be out buying snacks for the monkeys at a diplomatic party later that day. Nothing like a good fight to spice up a pet snack errand, and her small ceremonial sword flew out. Muffin sticker, she called it.

She was in her fancy army suit; long wonderful boots with bird emblems in metal sewn into the leather, a fine ceramic breastplate and spiny shoulder pieces. She stopped short of wearing the plumed helmet. That was a bit much for getting through doorways, and it didn’t help conversation any.

She had a thin silver whistle issued to her, and not much else!

This was the ceremonial outfit.

She was a scrappy young thing with a twisted adventurous past, and she wouldn’t have any problem with a few black robes. Her gift in the art of war was her speed. She had tried out different weapons and armors. Trainings and tactical education. Philosophies and programs, and the end result was that she was already born with her best war skill. Training Jena was like salting an olive. You could do it, but why?

Boink! She was in it! She swirled around the mess of warriors in their noisy standoff and silently flashed through the fight from every angle among the bodyguards until the four black robed figures fled.

The bodyguards did not pursue them. One of the half moon scimitars had clattered to the cobblestone street, and the taller ambassador slowly picked it up.

I think we know what this is, the pointy nosed man said, in his grand inquisitor outfit.

That’s what Jena thought his clothing looked like.

She was one of those people who kick out for justice before they really think about it, and now she had a chance to look closely at these two finely dressed foreign people of importance. His nose looked like the corner of a dining room table; angled out and back in again as if it were trying to escape. And his exquisite suit had enough colors to run a bead shop.

They really need all that to be an ambassador? She thought quickly.

Jena didn’t think deeply. Or for very long. But she could think very fast, and her sharp dark eyes flew to the next dignitary. This was going to be one of those protruding brow men, the ones that look like such deep thinkers until they go and say something like cool threads.

He didn’t say that exactly, but in his broken attempt at the local language, he said something like, By the gods, you wear well. Are you important?

That made her laugh, like a small dog barking, You mean my clothes?

Why, yes. It is your station in life, and may help us to find the ones we seek, said big brows.

Those black blanket boys were going to cut off your noodles, and you wonder about my suit? she asked.

Mara was a very old city, and had all kinds of pompous people from everywhere.

We meet that kind of bad person often. We are ambassadors from Baktia and Ankara and leave our ships to seek the Grand Masters of your Temple. There was to be an honor guard sent to escort us, but it did not arrive and we thought it best to set out on our own before something worse came to find us, offered big nose.

Their bodyguards were not convinced that Jena wasn’t some sort of enemy herself, except that she was pretty small. Maybe that is how bodyguards think, everyone is suspect until they become boring.

Jena was trying to decide if this whole thing was worth more than monkey snacks at the parties, since she wasn’t an honor guard and didn’t care much for beads and jeweled ones.

And she had only been in the army for ten minutes.

I am Magnus, His Excellencies Select corps of ambassadors around the world from Baktia. This is Aurum, said big nose, who can now wear that long saucy name.

Arum that is… Of Her Imperial Wisdom Court of Virtue of Ankara, said Arum of the big brow, who almost made his title stickier than Magnus. It all went into the paste pot of two dollar words to the round file for Jena, and she was working out a polite way to get out before some brigade of fat ladies in oriental rugs with sabers came at them.

And she was the very worst choice for an escort into the venerated musty halls of the enormous Temple.

She wouldn’t even be in this city by the sea except that she had come in to take up her position of captain and seek a transfer to the army of the south. Maybe some recon work, or secret missions up into the mountains, explore the ancient ruins, take on some of the really big lizards and …her thoughts were interrupted.

And you look like you are in the army of Ibu, not just local constables. Are we correct? It is important that we speak with the Grand Masters quickly. We have traveled a long distance, pressed Arum.

Oh yes, that, she thought.

The army thing.

It was very unlike her to become a member of anything. She was the loner of all loners. She had friends, but the way her mind worked didn’t leave a lot of room for teamwork. She had escorted a group of displaced people from a city damaged by earthquakes recently. She had done it well, too. This had been at the tail end of her short try out as a member of the warrior class. That had led on to the ranger guild, and then what with all those appreciative people she had delivered to safety…there was this offer of a position in the regular army.

There was a kind of exotic appeal in this.

Atlantean armies were provincial, something like the early American colonists militias. You might find these people in all sorts of strange places that the warriors and rangers wouldn’t go, such as foreign postings or scientific missions. The army offered full government support and supply. It wasn’t big on cultural education, but it did offer training and some unusual extended opportunities. The latest technologies such as flying vehicles were offered up to qualified army officers for example. Or even underwater vessels, which existed even this far back.

They weren’t common, but just like today you could find military people first in line to use and improve various technical devices. You can bet they went on to make them into some sort of war machine, but to Jena this career choice seemed interesting.

She was actually nominated for the rank for two separate incidents.

The other had been in turning the invasion of the reptiles on this very city, by working with her friends to establish a form of communication with them to avoid further devastation. It had gone well.

That time anyway. The reptiles were unpredictable at best, and earthquakes along with the other life threatening things like meteor showers made them worse. So there she was, picking up a new career opportunity. And not a quarter of an hour after getting into the expensive captain suit, she had to decide whether to find out more about the army honor guard not showing up. Or bugger out to the evening event where she expected to find someone to make out a transfer.

Not much time to wonder. The bodyguards noticed the black robe assassins down by the docks gathering their wits for another attack. There were more of them now, and it was a wonder that a group of strangely dressed bad boys with curved swords could go without being noticed.

Jena picked up on the nervous strain on the ambassadors, who were used to trouble, but not this much. And still no honor guard. Or constables, concerned outsiders, wizards of interest…dogs with perked up ears. Anyone.

And there was that heavy accent speaking up again, It is of great importance that we speak with the Grand-

Jena cut Aurum off, Look, I don’t think they are called that. I am no expert, but they have some other big name. Are you sure that is who you want to talk to?

Aurum shot a glance at Magnus, and they both went stone face for a micro second. Jena could make out fear in their mature hard faces. She had seen that plenty of times before in her young life, but these were not berry pickers. They were not jug makers. These were some kind of big time world guys that knew too much to make them feel safe in anything outside of a fortified university.

Which made them uncomfortable everywhere, since early Atlantis was a bit short on universities. But there were a great many fortifications! Your basic medieval type high wall around the city and a lot of underground structures made things safe from the endless reptile problems and sometimes attacks from the human folks that had folded up into the fabled barbarian class.

Perhaps we are unsure of the title, offered Magnus truthfully, My peer and I are of different provinces to begin with, and have found common ground only at this same moment, when our own ships came in to dock at the same hour. It is with some difficulty that I find the words to share the importance of this with you. The subject is of the highest possible importance to all of Atlantis-

Aurum cut off his associate with a swift palm slice to Magnus back side. This was dangerous in any event, striking an ambassador surrounded by his own body guards, but the subject was too sensitive for random oral wanderings. Magnus knew this, and realized his mistake by suffering the blow quietly. His two bodyguards winced but did not move.

Jena thought for a moment, then jumped in this developing situation with both feet, Ok, important guys. Let’s do this. First, let me call up some of my… Well, you know. Some army men. Or something.

She was kind of embarrassed, but she was set up with an army outfit for diplomatic affairs and ceremony. Not campaign material, not even any weapons. Just muffin sticker and this pencil-like silver whistle. She didn’t even know what the signal was for, maybe just another round of candied fruit at the host bar or to call for the dancing girls. She went ahead and blew on it, hoping it would bring up a sergeant or two with some pounders. Or just the local peace keepers, who worked for the city keeping bar patrons in line and finding lost pets. Not quite warrior material but not apron makers, either.

This was followed by some lengthy moments of nothing. The bodyguards twitched around, the ambassadors got rubber necked and tried to keep track of events in this fast paced city.

And Jena got nothing.

No guards, soldiers or police. No dogs even. Maybe it was a dog whistle that didn’t work.

Why would the military portion of the government issue brand new army captains these silver whistles that blew out a salty note of nothing? For marching? But that would be silly, Jena was not trained for any kind of actual army things like marching. This appointment was really kind of an honor thing, like an award. That was why she got the ceremonial suit and not the actual campaign outfit. It was real ceramic armor all right, the best. But some of these appointments were a little like being made the eleventh vice president of a corporation; there was some hope that the person getting it would just hang the marvels up and only talk about it at parties.

She blew on it again.

Another big pile of nothing, and she knew that they had to move. The assassin group evaporated into the shadows of the harbor and the fear factor crept up upon the group. Jena checked out the bodyguards from the short distance they would allow, and she looked again at the two different ambassadors.

Oops, she thought. Sort of a quick dead end to being a captain. Ok, steady up and deliver these princes of intrigue to the vaulted halls of people just like them. The place where almost everyone looks the same way, pointy hats and all.

They almost didn’t make it.

The assassins were back and black. Big and bold, and they didn’t seem to care who noticed. Jena could not believe this much action would go on like this, but everyone else just backed away and tried to be small behind their wares and pets. The local vendors just tried to ignore this unusual event.

She cut to the front to clear a way through the donkeys, ducks and merry old ladies. The ambassador group followed with some difficulty, Jena was very fast and they had trouble keeping up through the midday crowd of noisey shoppers.

Jena knew the way to the Temple district legislative places. For such an enormous complex of vaulted ceiling buildings, it was very claustrophobic in there. You felt like you were breathing into a bag. She didn’t expect to go beyond the monsterish big doors herself. It was turning out to be quite the aerobics program just getting these people up to the Temple. A couple of times the black assassins came at them from side alleys, and Jena did a flying round kick to keep them back in the narrow passage until the group could get by. She didn’t have to hurt anyone during this, but they were sure trying to hurt her!

Or to be fair, hurt anyone in their way of kacking out the ambassadors. Jena couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to rub out a couple of ornamented old boys from far off who probably did nothing worse than gum down too much chocolate when the grand host wasn’t looking.

But what did she know?

The political and social climate of the times was changing.

There were reports of slave revolts. Maybe not in this swinging city of Mara, but certainly elsewhere. There was every indication that the very first emperor of Atlantis was going to be created into a reality. If all ten of the provinces could agree on the need, and the candidate.

Or maybe just nine of them, and the tenth was just full of guys with stinky black robes who were all out against having any emperor at all.

There were quiet powerful social swells that were cutting across all the classes and guilds, like what happens far out to sea when an earthquake cracks out under the ocean floor. There were more and more people questioning the powers of the religious orders and the powers of the gods. They weren’t called churches then. It translates something like heart hearth or a place to warm your heart.

That was funny, thought Jena briefly. She didn’t like those places either, they didn’t warm her heart. The priests and priestesses tried to help the population through their doctrines, incense and ceremony. Candles and bones, poems and passages. Chants and gestures. They had crystals and wands. Sometimes it worked, but mostly it didn’t. For that matter, maybe the neighbors dog barking had the same effect.

The religion of the times wasn’t doing much at this moment for anyone either. As usual, Jena couldn’t even come up with the name of a god to call out for help. There she was, smashing through the vendors clay jugs and mango fruits in her grand effort to turn the assassins aside. There were too many of them. Where in the name of Lilah’s pet monkey did all these angry people come from? She thought furiously.

It was almost dreamlike. She seemed to move in slow motion. Bound off, turn and kick. Jab that one, poke and run. She was much faster than the bunch of them, but there was just no clue about this whole mess.

She found herself tumbled out into a small alley that was used for trash collection. The blur of whirling blades and flying cloth went on by. It got a little thick down there in the harbor district, what with actually getting around, and some of the streets could be very clogged up with vendors and displays.

She mangled her way through a rug selection and looked up the street. There was a clot of assassins chasing after the ambassadors and their bodyguards and it was hard to tell who was coming out ahead. It was unbelievable that there were no peacekeepers. She could understand the soldiers not wanting to get involved in civil matters, but this much commotion going on without being stopped was amazing.

Oops, looks like muffin sticker was gone. She grabbed an umbrella from a vendor and made a quick eye contact with the scared round man, who quickly nodded his approval to take one and get that rabble out of there. Off she went.

These were pretty nice umbrellas, quite colorful. Many of them were very well made fashion statements, and Jena used the curved handle of this one to hook the last assassin by the neck and haul him back off of the moving fight into another alley. She quickly pinned him to the wall and pressed her armor into the folding black robe for the big squeeze. Her right arm pulled the hook end of the umbrella around the neck to the right, and her left hand grabbed the top of the hood and pulled to the left for a double neck bend.

This assassin was surprisingly small, and it was a she. Jena could tell, even with the face wrapped. The eyes didn’t have that pounding hard bruiser look of a male. They had the sharp bitter stab look of someone who expected to die doing this job. Not the eyes of someone who expected to become a hero, or to come out of this at all. Or even go to any kind of heaven afterward, although for such a noisy effort this band of blackness had suffered no casualties at all.

This was a first for the young Jena, she had no experience fighting humans. Only animals and ideas. She didn’t want to hurt this person, but had to fight out a solution to the fact that she was going to use her last breath of air trying to end Jena. Even with the neck being pulled both ways and being pinned to the wall, the dark ones hands were working out the curved sword to some sort of kill position as fast as they could.

With her face up into the taller assassins, Jena growled out, Why are you doing this? Do you expect to live through this?

No, the assassin hissed back.

Or yes? snarled Jena, pulling harder.

This set the assassin back a few moments. She wasn’t there to converse with anyone. She was there to finish a spiritual quest to destroy the ambassadors, and had prepared for this deadly plot for several months. It had been drilled into her hundreds of times, and never once did the instructors supply any kind of talking with anyone for her to deal with.

Well, that and maybe there was something in the strange comment, too.

Yes? Is that what this fire face brown girl with the new armor had said? Yes, what? Yes, that this carefully trained killer of the two target men might actually draw air a day longer? Was that possible? Should it be possible? Air for even a few more moments? Was that fair to the mission of the assassins and what they stood for?

The assassin knew that she was likely to be out of the action now. She had made whatever useful contribution she could have made to the effort. The targets would be killed, or not killed and either way it no longer depended on her skills. All the training and drill she had gone through for this carefully placed moment was over.

And she was stopped by this lightening mess of movement with the party costume of soldiering.

With an umbrella for a weapon.

Jena for real.

With an auto response coming from hundreds of repeated practices, the assassins hands continued their search to apply the scimitar to a mission of death, but the fire was gone. Even if this young captain could be killed, it was over. The holy mission had come to an end, and maybe it was time to redirect the tip of the sword.

Jena instantly sensed a change in the assailant, and her eyes quickly flashed across the veiled face. Nothing there but dirty dyed cloth and a pair of dry eyes hovering over a bump for the nose.

Jena tightened her grip on the hood and umbrella and barked. Sounds weird but that’s how she was, and the unexpected realistic dog bark sent the assassin back another few mental moments.

Eyeball to eyeball, Jena blew air into the veiled face as hard as she could. She certainly was an inventive young thing, that wasn’t anything anyone ever taught her and she sure as pudding never read it. But there it was, Jena was using a weapon that no one ever thought of before.

Just plain old used air.

It worked, too.

The reason it worked, Jena quickly figured out, was that these were specialized people who had spent considerable time in training to complete just one mission. The final mission of their life. She had met this type before and it cut all across the various classes of people of the times. Slaves for example were perfectly suited for this. Many of them were actually born for very particular functions such as nursing or sewer work. Engineers, doctors, jar makers… All these were so focused in on the details of their work that something as simple as air moving in the wrong direction might make them stupid for a split moment.

Especially if that air was used instead of a weapon.

Try thinking, groaned Jena, trying not to groan. This was quite a job for her, holding this fanatic up against a wall. There are other ways to accomplish your goal…

More talk for the one who was trained for silence and no thought. This resulted in mental anguish along with thoughts of failure, remorse and hellfire.

In the remaining moments of her strength, Jena tried to pull up human images of anything that might shake this one into a different way of thinking. There has got to be something valid in this stinky dark persons life to call upon.

Mother? Father?

Well that won’t work, Jena thought. You guessed it, Jena was an orphan, and she was short on descriptive thoughts on parenthood. Like keywords or phrases, anything that would work here, anyway. So, not parents. Boyfriends? Oops, probably not with a religious one-track mind like this. What then? Religion?

Jena wondered.

There were plenty of those at the time.

Too many for some.

There were monotheists, the one god. They didn’t refer to themselves that way, and they were not common because the concept was not funny or corrupted. The idea did not lend itself either way, you couldn’t get too funny with just one stiff guy or doll, and you sure as heck couldn’t get too corrupt, if you thought that was the case. Just one old owl out there pecking the back of your head off if you did wrong. But there it was, a lot of them thought that way. This religious way put everything into either good or bad. There were several different brands of this type.

The next type of religion then was the dio theists, as in male female. They thought that. Very dual stuff male harvest, female planting. All the way down to the vacations and trips taken, fruits picked, baskets put out, pets selected. Very particular about everything. Very stifling. It at least allowed for two types of all things: good and possibly good.

Next came trio. Their word for it. It doesn’t exactly mean three, to them it meant joining. It meant the individual melts down to support the unity of the whole. This group actively recruited new members.

After the trios came Quao, the ‘own, use, think, lose’ sect; as in material objects. Kind of weird for us, but they made everything that they owned into a kind of small god. They might own an apartment, use it, think of its attributes and be willing to lose it. Their religion revolved around ownership and all of the variations you can find in that.

The one religion Jena figured this killer fit into was the Allus order. Allus, as in ‘all of us’, and this referred to the absolutely endless group of ancestors these people called upon with their incense, bones and tiny ceramic pots full of aromatic ointments. Plenty of knick knacks here, and you could find some real hardheads in this group. Fanatics.

People who could be told by their priests that great granddaddy Bumpkins was telling them to kack off a couple of ambassadors and find a place in the heaven of the ancients. And on and on, this religion was the only one that encouraged individually and some hard creative effort. At least, for the priest class. You can bet they sharpened their pointy hats for this holy war business when it was called for.

Ok, that is probably the right religious order Jena, now what?

She hadn’t come to any spiritual position herself, yet. She had just turned eighteen, and had enough to worry about without making half of it totally invisible to the eye. Most of the people she knew were members of some sort of church organization because this helped out in the work guild, or neighborhood, or their daddies did it. Something like that, it was pretty casual. And most of these fit into the duo concept of two powerful god images. Here in this city it was called Mayo, which is how it sounded and loosely means mother father but could also mean black white or on off.

Without getting into too much detail, it was the working class place of spiritual stuff, and nobody paid a lot of attention to the confusion of it. They just sat through the prayer sessions and tried to keep their lives balanced out without incurring the wrath of being wrong.

Very different from Allus, the order of always being right with the backing of way too many ancestors.

That assassin is still there Jena, better jump start this and do something. There was about a three second delay in the dark ones thinking what with the barking dog sound, breath of air and prompt about staying alive after all.

Jena did a gamble, Are they all watching, or just some of them? Just the ones who decide your fate?

This was referring to the numerous ancestors and spirits that would have been a part of this mission. That hot comment burned all three of the seconds, and the assassin snapped back into a convulsive shake out.

Jena gained some strength from the success of this, and kept the woman pinned to the wall. My goodness, she thought quickly, this has got to be the year long fullest minute I ever lived. Can