Title: Wheel of Dharma Trilogy (3/3): Atlantis Revisited Author: Percy Blakeney Email: percyxf@gmail.com Website: http://www.geocities.com/percyxf/ Rating: PG Category: AU UST MSR Keywords: Time Travel, Historical AU, Past Lives, UST, MSR Summary: Mulder & Scully - The Day the Universe Drowned. ***** "The matter that detains us now may seem, To many, neither dignified enough Nor arduous, yet will not be scorned by them, Who, looking inward, have observed the ties That bind the perishable hours of life Each to the other, and the curious props By which the world of memory and thought Exists and is sustained." William Wordsworth, The Prelude, Book VII. ***** Diana shrank back against the library wall and brushed a faint smudge of dust from her tailored sleeve. It was a ritual, she was certain, this silent passing of a tall Chinese vase around the room, her wrinkled bosses denying their fear-sweat by smiling as they nonchalantly pulled blank plastic chips from inside its narrow opening. Would she be expected to participate in - whatever this was? Diana hoped not. The buzz of intrigue, which used to excite her, now felt like nothing so much as an acid drip against the stone where her stomach used to be. She shifted, mystified, as the florid-faced Italian standing next to her shoved his beefy arm inside and pulled out a chip engraved with a stylized eye. "Bad luck," someone mumbled in a happy voice. The Italian's face went from red to chalk white to red again, a crimson tide staining up his cheeks as he dropped heavily to his knees, clutching his chest. Diana gasped. No one moved. The man toppled, choking and twitching to the floor, and his hand spasmed open. The grimy chip rolled and hit Diana's shoe. She picked up the chip. "Should I call an ambu-" Diana faltered as she realized that the group was ignoring the now-still Italian, and staring instead at her with cruel eyes. "Fate has decided for us," the Englishman intoned. "Fate, or karma." The crowd chuckled mirthlessly, raising a creep of fear along Diana's spine. The Englishman grabbed Diana's elbow, muttered instructions, then handed her a set of keys and shoved her through a door. Diana walked slowly down a short hallway, blinking against the sudden change in light. She could hear nothing, but knew from the Englishman's instructions that she could not return without the answer to his question. Mulder. It was always Mulder. Diana unlocked the first door, pushed through, and steadied her hand as she slipped her key into the six-foot metal vault door. She took a deep breath, wishing she had crushed Mulder under her heel when she had the chance and damn her instructions to seduce him instead. Yes, it was always Mulder, and Diana determined to finish her mission and be done with him once and for all. She stepped into the metal vaulted room - and sobbed at the unending assault, inside and out. The wavering lights, the stench of ammonia and algae, the horror of feeling her body shrinking and falling, smaller and smaller. Shrinking. Until she was no longer in a room but underwater, somehow able to breathe liquid in a glass enclosed prison. Diana steadied herself against the slimy glass side, her eyes widening in horror. In front of her lay a floor of aquamarine boulders, from which fake neon plant fronds swayed in the bubbling current. A plastic treasure chest mocked her, opening and closing in a cheerful rhythm. Above her - Diana clenched fists to her head as she saw two decaying giant fish, sightless eyes as large as dinner plates, floating on the surface. She jumped out of the way as a rotting fin detached itself and brushed against her leg. And came face to face with pure evil. It didn't look evil, but Diana knew. It was in the form of a huge plastic alien space ship bobbing up and down, up and down in her watery prison. "Help me!" Diana yelled without sound. The space ship hovered at the bottom and, near her eye level, she could see a creature guiding the craft. "I am Shiva," the golden, glowing, many armed pilot said. "Is there any way out of this prison? Help me!" Shiva's smile revealed rows of shark teeth, and bubbles streamed from Diana's mouth, each one a silent shriek of fear. A booming sound assaulted Diana's ears, followed by a command. "Look at me." Diana whimpered. "You came here, to my domain - and I rule over ALL things - to ask me a question about how to stop Mulder." She tried to stand taller against the horror. "Pay attention. You will relay this message to others, for I will show you and your kind once and for all how important you are in comparison to Mulder." She nodded, with nothing to say and no hope beyond the fervent wish that this was a nightmare. "Then know your place. Your importance compared to Mulder's is as fundamental as a gnat to an ocean liner - or fish in a tank to the whole world. Turn around. Now." Diana turned and screamed, a long wail that turned into glub. Glub. Glub, glub. ***** Dana Scullios strolled slowly up the narrow winding street, a sheaf of scrolls clutched in her hands. Her visits to the world-famous Atlantean Library were all the more savored because of their rarity. Despite being a scholar, Dana's humble birthright ensured that she was a servant rather than a landowning freewoman, and her talents seemed a double-edged blessing as they bound her fast to a cruel and thoughtless princess. She was a fly caught in a royal web, an oarsman guided by a mad navigator, a - Dana stopped. And reminded herself that at least she wasn't scrubbing laundry or swamping out m'lady's bedchamber. She pulled a scarf over her forehead, protection against the burning sun on her fair skin, and considered the city before her. Cave apartments lined the cliffs, reaching toward the top and the royal crown of a golden palace. Each wall was decorated with friezes celebrating nature, the gods, and themselves as the best and brightest culture, outshining all others. Dana turned to the east and could just spot the brilliant aquamarine of their country's surrounding sea, each boat bobbing under a uniquely colored sail, each cargo a different amalgam of riches. Atlantis had now enjoyed many years of prosperity through trade, victory after victory through warfare, and it seemed as if the dark period of failed crops and national calamity could never return. Dana marveled at the beauty of her surroundings - until the Gods reminded her of the fragility of their existence. A distant rumble, followed by a series of almost animalistic roars from the ocean itself, and a jolting earth tremor threw Dana and others to the ground. As Dana picked herself up, she felt an impatient tug at her sleeve. "Are you my daughter?" an old woman asked. Dana shook her head. "I'm sorry, but no." She had seen the woman before, a half-mad creature who haunted the streets day and night. The haggard woman peered closely at her face with faded blue eyes until satisfied she was being told the truth, and sighed before mumbling half to herself and half to Dana, "I look and look, but I never find her. She has been one of the lost girls for nigh on fifty years. THEY took her." "I've heard of the lost girls. Who do you think took them? And where?" "She was stolen from her bed, in the dead of night. I saw figures in white robes, dressed like temple priestesses, carrying her through the streets as I watched helplessly from her window. I followed as fast as I could, but they vanished - poof! - gone in a puff of smoke. The Gods wanted her, but one day they will tire of her and the other mortal children and release them." "She couldn't have disappeared in a puff of smoke, it's not possible. Wait!" But the woman had already moved away to accost another young woman. "Are you my daughter?" A shout from another voice, and Dana waited for a familiar messenger boy to rush to her side. "You must come immediately," the boy panted. "Princess Diana is hurt." "How?" "Not another papyrus cut," he grinned. "This time she's tripped over a jewel box." "The danger of too many riches," Dana smiled back. "Yes, but if you don't hurry I'll be the one in danger." Within minutes, Dana stepped into the royal bathing chamber. She bowed. "Your Highness." "Come here and take care of me." Diana demanded. "You know I can't stand the sight of blood!" Dana knelt at Diana's feet and began to gently wash the cut on her hand before attending to the scrape on her knee. "I'll need bandages, healing ointment, a jug of wine, and her Highness's special pain medication. Your Highness, you'll need to elevate your leg to stop it from swelling." "Are you insane? That would hurt! I won't be able to rest for even a moment. The pain is too great." Dana hid a smile. "Might I suggest you send for your personal masseuse, to help you - relax. Such treatment has been beneficial for past injuries." Diana's eyes narrowed. "Is this all you can do for me, wounded as I am?" Dana bowed low. "I'm afraid so, your Highness." The princess heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Send for Paulo and Nikos. I can't possibly walk a step. They will carry me to my bedchamber and take care of me if no one else is capable." "A wise decision, your Highness." Dana stopped as she was backing out of the chamber. "Would you also like me to have your jewel box tidied away?" "Won't be necessary." Diana suddenly looked more cheerful. "I've taken care of it." Dana shook her head as she left the room, hoping that whomever Diana had 'taken care of' was still among the living. She took the library scrolls into her own small bedchamber, which was located close enough to her mistress's to be forever at her beck and call, and placed them by her bed. As for the scrolls, she would have to read them later in her meager free time. Mulder had recommended these texts to her the previous week, and perhaps he would take the time to discuss them with her. Dana looked forward to her occasional chats with the handsome aristocrat, but there were other days when he brushed past her to embrace the Princess and barely seemed to notice her existence. Dana sighed. It was hard to be in the employ of a woman she disliked and distrusted. In contrast to her mistress she felt like a pearl outshone by a diamond. She knew she should not waste her thoughts on Mulder, but she suspected he was in danger in some undefined way from the Princess; before Mulder had become a presence in their lives, Dana had overheard the Princess's uncle, the Archon Spender, instruct his niece to 'distract Mulder by whatever means necessary; the future of Atlantis itself is at stake. He must never find out what happened to Samantha.' It did not take long to find out who Samantha was. In between Diana's kisses and caresses, it seemed Mulder could think of little else other than the sister he had lost as a child. Kidnapped from the family home while their parents were at a feast, Samantha, like the daughter of the old woman in the street, was one of the lost girls of Atlantis. Someone was whistling in the palace grounds, and when Dana looked out of the window she could see the slave Pendras watering flowers in the gardens below. As if aware of her gaze, he looked up and waved merrily. Dana smiled, returned his salutation, and remembered how six months earlier Pendras had been a miserable object of mockery at the slave market. ***** As well as being official scribe and unofficial healer, Dana's duties including keeping the accounts and the purchasing of goods and chattels. Princess Diana seemed to change her slaves almost as often as her gowns, but after a failed attempt to poison her had resulted in the fatality of yet another slave, Dana had been sent to purchase a replacement food-taster for the royal household. The market had been busy, scented with the aroma of exotic spices from many lands, and stalls were heavy with luscious fruit and other enticing food brought from the countryside to the city. A new consignment of slaves had arrived a day earlier at the harbor and the traders were busy preparing the new stock for sale. The men were mainly hoplites brought in a large cargo ship from a faraway kingdom: a tribute offered by a vanquished opponent to the great seafaring nation of Atlantis. A crowd was gathered in front of one of the slaves standing on a block in readiness for the next sale, and Dana pushed her way to the front so she could see. She found herself transfixed. This man, like herself, was a redhead. Among the people of Atlantis those with red hair were treated as a rare curiosity and with occasional insults, and Dana, who had always been sensitive about her fair skin and freckles, immediately felt sympathetic to the man. His chest was bare, and he seemed embarrassed as the slave trader tapped him with a stick and ordered him to turn round so that he could be seen from all sides. The women in the crowd tittered as the slaver's henchman produced a flagon of oil and began to rub it into his bare skin. "We should buy him for the Temple of Athena," said one of the women, who was dressed in the pure white robes of a high ranking priestess. Dana recognized her from a previous story writing Festival, held on the far side of Atlantis, where the priestess had given a long oratory about Zeus and Callisto. "He is a bashful little creature," said another woman. "What would we do with him?" "I'm sure we'll think of something." "We could fatten him up with the others. Perhaps our large Friend would like some variety in his diet." There was more laughter. Dana stiffened as the first woman felt the man's arms. She had no great love for the Temple of Athena; as a young girl she had sought to join their learned number but had been rejected. The only men allowed to reside at the Temple were eunuchs, and she determined to rescue the man from this fate. "How much?" she asked. "What? You want this puny little thing?" mocked the trader. "Five hundred drachma." "Eight hundred," said the priestess. "One thousand! And the promise of future purchases by Princess Diana." The trader bowed and rubbed his hands with glee. "I thank you for your titled patronage." Dana smiled. Sometimes it was fortunate she had full charge of the Royal household purse. The first priestess scowled angrily at Dana, "I will not forget this. Beware who you have crossed." ***** Dana gathered her thoughts and went downstairs to the kitchen where three slaves were preparing a feast for the evening, with a massive swan as the grand centerpiece. "Do you know who is expected tonight?" asked the youngest slave, a mere slip of a girl. "M'lady's favorite, the Council official Mulder. And he's not just my lady's favorite, is he?" said the cook darkly, as she vigorously stuffed the swan. "Oh, him again." Dana feigned interest in a bowl of fruit. "I think it will not be long before we are preparing a large feast for their wedding." "Princess Diana has taken too long to find a husband," said Pendras entering the room with a basket of flowers, and Dana was irritated by how pleased he sounded. "The food taster from the Spender household tells me it is common knowledge that both families approve of the union; Mulder's mother already calls the Princess 'daughter'." "Silence! Stop spreading these ridiculous rumors about her Highness," Dana ordered. Sometimes she regretted the day she had pitied him at the slave market. "Mulder is known to be obsessed with his work, and the Princess is known for. . . well, I am sure neither party has plans for matrimony." A few minutes later the silence was broken by a thumping noise from the room above them, and as knowing nods and smiles were exchanged between the women, and a stoic attempt to ignore them by Dana, the thuds were joined by moans and a few grunts. "Yes, yes, just there. . . Ow! Mind my injured leg, you fools!" Presumably Nikos and Paulo's exertions were having the desired effect upon Princess Diana. ***** Dana stood at her usual spot along the wall next to the serving trays, deliberately smoothing the frown from her face. Before her, Diana fidgeted and primped, reclining against the silken cushions and readjusting her simple white gown to reveal an ample display of cleavage. Pendras announced Mulder and showed him into the dining area. "Fox, I've missed you," Diana murmured in a little-girl pout of a voice. "Diana." He kissed her briefly on the cheek and sat down beside her, without seeming to notice her irritation, and shuffled the sheets of papyrus in his hands. "What's the matter, you seem distracted?" "Actually, I am. I have much work to do." "Work?" Diana yawned. "It wasn't so long ago that you could hardly remember there was such a thing in my presence. Are you already bored with me?" Mulder looked chastened. "I'm sorry, Diana. You have been of inestimable help." "That's better." Diana ruffled his hair and fed him a grape. He tried to kiss her on the lips, but Diana pushed him away. "None of that tonight - I've injured my leg." Dana and Pendras exchanged glances as Dana placed food before them and Pendras stepped forward to taste the moussaka. Mulder looked at his papers again. "I've decided to investigate the Temple of Athena. For too long there have been rumors about their influence over the Council of Atlantis. Ministers are basing their decisions on the words conveyed by the keepers of the Oracle, and I need to find out if it is trickery or indeed the workings of the Gods." "I don't think you should take on this case, Fox," said Diana. "I thought you had agreed not to. Besides, it is unheard of to question the wisdom of the Oracle. These women should be venerated, not questioned like criminals. Perhaps . . . perhaps the Oracle will be able to tell you what happened to your sister, where she is buried." Mulder looked pained. "I've told you before, I will never give up on Samantha. She is alive and I will find her." "Your sister is not the only girl to have gone missing over the years. None of them have ever been found. I believe they must have been the victim of a strange kind of murderer, a killer of many unrelated people." "Corruption isn't the only reason I have for investigating the Temple. Its foundation coincides with the revived good fortune of Atlantis and the first instance of a young girl going missing." "Dana, you've been inside the private areas of the Temple, haven't you?" Princess Diana asked suddenly. "What do you know about it?" said Mulder. "I know the Temple is tended by twelve priestesses, who spend their time tending the Oracle and writing the histories of the Gods. Some consider the influence they hold over politicians and royalty to be pernicious, while others believe they are the mouthpiece of the Gods." "Is that all?" Diana demanded. "No, your Highness. Once a year they hold a grand story writing Festival, and each competitor must relate a myth or fable to the best of her ability. The people cast votes for the best story and the winner is declared a living goddess; but she who comes last is dishonored and must take hemlock. When I was young, I thought I would like to join their number." Dana smiled ruefully, "But it was found my mind was more suited to scientific matters and I was deemed a poor creative scribe." "I'm relieved to hear it," said Mulder. "A premature death from hemlock is not a fate for a writer to aspire to." Diana sat straighter. "When does this story writing Festival occur?" "The Spookios Festival has been delayed three times, but I heard this morning that their time is finally upon us." Princess Diana laughed and clapped her hands. "It's obvious, Fox! You must travel to the Temple to investigate, under the guise of accompanying Dana to participate in the writing Festival!" "But I have no story!" Dana gasped. "Diana," Mulder urged, "rethink this. The risk to Dana is too great. She has already told us she lacks talent." "Nonsense. Dana will come up with something on your journey to the Temple. It was the priestesses who said Dana had no talent, not Dana. And imagine MY glory if I have a living goddess as my servant." Mulder frowned. "And if she comes last?" "I'm certain the story writing Festival is fair and just, so the Gods will decide," Diana shrugged. "But you are forcing the Gods' decision." Diana rose, completely ignoring Dana's anxious gaze and scowled at Mulder. "I rule with a generous hand, I make decisions that you ask for, and then you complain? No, it is final. You will begin your travels tomorrow, and you -" she pointed at Pendras. "Me?" Pendras squeaked. "Will accompany them. Arrange the passage to sail at first tide to the Temple on the far side of Atlantis. Don't let the captain take my fastest ship - we must allow Dana some time to write." Diana's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Tell him the smallest galley, the Feisty Snail, will do." Pendras fled. "You," an imperious finger stabbed in Dana's direction, "I expect that you will bring back the first place prize. People seem to think you are so clever. Now prove it." Dana bowed and began to back out of the room. Diana's voice softened. "As for you, Fox - may I offer my hospitality tonight, and we can allow ourselves to become 'reacquainted'? My leg suddenly feels so much better." Dana watched as the princess uncovered a shapely ankle and began to stroke her toes against Mulder's calf. She swallowed down distaste to join the ice of fear already beginning to chill her insides. Mulder looked grave. "I think not, Diana. I must also prepare for this sudden journey." He turned his back on Diana's flushed face and passed Dana, sparing her a pitying glance before striding, scrolls under one arm and determination in each step, out the doors and down the marble steps. Dana sighed and walked slowly to her room. Under any other circumstances, a journey such as this would be a blessing: away from the palace and her cruel mistress, an opportunity to breathe the sea air and partake on an exciting journey accompanied by the best traveling companion she could have imagined. But there was also Pendras, who had begun to dog her every move like a, well, a dog; or an affection-starved puppy. And even worse, there was the pressure of creating something out of thin air when she had not a single writing idea in her head beyond a childish Mulder/Dana scenario saved for moments alone on her pallet. She lit a stub of a candle and sat at the small table in her room. Dana carefully unrolled a blank papyrus and held the curled top open with a stone, dipped quill into the well of ink, and held it aloft. Nothing. Dana gripped the quill harder, knowing that she wouldn't be able to sleep until she had at least one idea. Long minutes passed. Dana watched with glazed eyes as the viscous black fluid slowly dripped from the quill's tip onto the pristine beige surface. A sign from the Gods? The ink splotch certainly looked exactly like a monster of some kind. What could it signify? A portent of doom for the Festival ahead? Dana doodled a cage around the creature, blew out her candle, and wrapped herself in a blanket on her pallet. She slid her hand lower, searching for familiar self-comfort in the face of disaster, and decided to let tomorrow's cares wait. ***** It was amazing how the pitch and yaw of the boat, the rain pounding at the walls and the damp at her feet, all faded away as Dana bent low over a rough plank preparing to continue her epic. And epic it was. She had had a difficult time at first choosing from the strange array of Atlantean story writing categories: God/God pairing; God/human pairing; God as animal/human pairing; God as animal/animal pairing. Her head had ached when she had considered the possibilities. There were also categories for humor, torture, angst, and Mytharc - particularly popular among past story writing winners. Another category was focused on human folly. Best sexual adventure stories were divided into four subsets: male/female; male/male; female/female; human(male or female)/animal. Although the human/goat stories she'd read in the past were quite charming, Dana decided to steer clear of them. Most important of all was Best Story Writer. Dana had amassed copies of the winning scrolls before setting sail, and had reviewed them with scientific precision. If reading each important author and determining the why of their winning was a guarantee of success, Dana was sure to be the one wearing the new laurel crown. In fact, she had been secretly pleased to realize that not all past winners were actually all that good. A slamming door interrupted her musings, and Dana clutched her scroll to stop it skittering across the table. She looked up and smiled. "Any luck?" Mulder grimaced back at her. "No better?" "My sea legs are still non-existent. I thought you said it would become easier." Dana touched his brow for a moment, trying to tell herself she was only ascertaining his state of health. "You seem to be an exception to the rule. I can only suggest you suck on a salt water taffy to settle your stomach." Mulder accepted the proffered candy and sighed. "We're not yet to the shore, but should be soon when we head northward. How is your story writing going?" "It only lacks an ending. I haven't yet decided on tragedy or comedy. Tragedy is more true to my story vision, yet light-hearted romantic endings result in more Best Author winners." Mulder sat beside her. "That is a Conundrum of the Highest Order - an honest ending or a popular one. A choice that has tortured true artists throughout time. What circumstance of plot leads to this divergence of choices?" "Um," Dana bit her lip, "the story came to me in a dream. Or should I say, a nightmare. Several nightmares. For so many years I have put aside all imaginative thoughts, and to once again have all of these stories and Gods running through my mind has been alarming." "Really? Is this why you've been so secretive about your story?" Dana felt her face redden, and nodded. Mulder smiled down at her. "For one unused to visions, I can see how the process of creation would be uncomfortable." "It is," Dana whispered. "Tell me your story, then. Perhaps I can help." Dana took a ragged breath. She knew that within a day she would need to reveal her tale to the world but what care, really, did she have of the world? It was Mulder's opinion that mattered, and she was afraid to appear a madwoman when relating her strange and gruesome story to him. "Dana?" She sighed. "This is the riddle that came to me, unwelcome. What land do we treasure above all else?" Mulder didn't hesitate. "Atlantis." "And what would be our biggest tragedy?" "If Atlantis were to fall. But that's impossible! We have the strongest navy, the wealthiest and most learned population the world has ever seen." "And yet that is my nightmare - crafted into a Mytharc story, as they seem to have the greatest ratio of winning entries. Atlantis falls, but not by human hand. Instead, our motherland is consumed from within and without, by fiery volcanoes and enormous storms and a wall of water." "The prophesized fate of Atlantis? You are a bold story writer to create such horror." "Yes, but am I a winning writer? Princess Diana has insisted and it must be my goal." Mulder looked troubled. "Have you added Gods or humans to this tale? Otherwise it might be too frightful for any audience." "Yes." Dana found that she could not look Mulder in the face. "There is a brave and handsome mortal nobleman and his brilliant wife, who believe in the omens and rush to the docks. But should they be saved and sail out of danger - which would be unlikely, given the horror which surrounds them - or should they, too, perish, and my tale remain the tragedy my nightmares have decreed?" "Save them, Dana. Save them. Nightmares and visions reveal one future among many. A sad conclusion runs the risk of creating a disgruntled audience, but allow your characters to live and your listeners will rejoice. You have discovered a story writing secret that is sure to triumph at the Festival - great hardship, great obstacles, overcome by the resolve of a few. Humans or Gods, it's a classic. I no longer fear your death, and I'm certain you will win." "Thank you, but I'm not as certain. I will be facing an in- group of writers who are universally lauded, and I am appearing, unknown, on the scene." "Then it will be my duty to inform others of your talent. Write your ending, Dana, so success may shower upon you." Dana laughed. "You make it sound so easy." She relaxed against Mulder's side, and he wrapped a friendly arm around her shoulders. She held her breath, afraid to move. Then he stood, suddenly and violently seasick, and the connection was lost. ***** Story complete and the docking of the Feisty Snail at hand, Dana spared thought for one last puzzle - what to do about Pendras. Princess Diana had entirely forgotten or, more likely, didn't care that Pendras had once been threatened by the very same group of priestesses who would now be presiding over the story writing Festival. Dana could only hope that they had forgotten her own face. Decision made, Dana found the captain. "Captain, Pendras will be left on board. Please inform him that he is needed to guard Princess Diana's boat." The captain smirked and crossed his arms, beefy haunches to Pendras's own weedy grip. "Yes, m'lady. Though we might need some crew to hold him here, as he's been bragging below decks that he's your special - consort." Dana scowled. "Not true. At all." The captain tipped his hat. "Very well." Dana stepped down the plank, Mulder's hand a warm welcome at her back, and a seaman following with their bags. She ignored the scuffling on deck. It was thrilling to be setting foot on sacred ground, even more thrilling to have her companion close behind her. Mulder interrupted her thoughts. "Why is Pendras still on deck - and gazing at you, Dana?" "What?" murmured Dana, distracted, doing a fair bit of gazing on her own. "I do not gaze on Dana Scullios!" Pendras shouted. "Good," Mulder said. A bubble of laughter tried to burst from Dana and she pressed her lips together. It wouldn't be kind to laugh at Pendras, even though she felt joy tickling her insides. Dana's happiness did not dissipate during the dusty march uphill to the temple's entry. She was brought back to sudden reality when the door was barred by an officious scribe. "I am Cassandra. Are you on my story writers list?" The priestess unrolled a long ink-stained scroll, and to Dana's horror she realized this was the woman who had tried to buy Pendras at the slave market. "My name is Dana Scullios. Word was sent by Princess Diana," Scully said. "Diana," the priestess sneered, apparently remembering the princess but not Dana, and grudgingly nodded, "it's here. One story entry. Have you entered the Spookios Festival before?" "No." "Quite sure? There are severe penalties for those who use a false name and pretend to be a new author." "No, really." "We'll put you in the 'new' category." "Wait," Scully said, "does that mean I'm not eligible for Best Writer?" The priestess wheezed out a chuckle. "Oh, you're eligible. But likely? More likely that Zeus would settle by his own hearth." Mulder stepped forward. "Dana's talents will prove you wrong, priestess." "And who are you? No men allowed, except in the public story reading gallery." "He's my traveling companion-" Dana began, but Mulder pulled her arm and led her back a few steps. "I could be king and they wouldn't let me into the Temple's chambers. Not unless I would be willing to forgo my manhood." Mulder whispered. "And I'm not. I'll find a place to stay outside the temple walls, and investigate the temple's veracity from without. Can you keep your eyes and ears open from within?" "Of course," Dana nodded. "You may not see much of me, Dana, but you know I'll be your most fervent - and active - supporter in the gallery above the auditorium." "Thank you." She touched his hand, before stepping inside the marble chamber. ***** Dana tried to slow her breathing, faint with worry and the cloying incense which crept in clouds up the high marble walls. The story writing Festival feast was noisy, crowded, and seemingly friendly. She sat on a cushion near the edge of the group. At the center tables, slightly raised above the rest, loud greetings rang out with the names of the famous, and even in her lowly position as an unknown she had been warmly greeted. "Tell us about your story, Dana," the elderly woman to her left urged. Dana opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped by a sudden laugh. "That old trick, Filiana! You'll be revising your own story if Dana tells us a good one." Dana chuckled weakly. "Thanks for the warning, Nila." "Not to worry," Nila answered, "every new writer falls into the trap of trust. Take this pastry, for example." She held up a savory triangle, an ornate Tree decorating the top. "What do you think it is?" Dana looked carefully. "It was announced earlier that this is a new filo recipe." Nila grinned. "Ah yes, a new recipe. Why? Because the new is always so exciting and tasty. But beware - sometimes the old is disguised as the new." After a few moments Dana's brow cleared. "I'll remember that." The story contest began with a drum roll, and first murmuring and then excited applause echoed round the auditorium as one tall, veiled and robed figure was carried to the podium in a sedan chair. "A great writer?" whispered Dana. "THE writer!" Nila declared in awe. "Prudence Erotas is already a living goddess, and not in competition, but she still honors the Festival with a story." There was more movement as a wooden folding screen was placed in front of Prudence to conceal her from the audience. "Her face is always hidden, and for the rest of the year she lives as a recluse. Some say her genius is so great that she must be more than a temple scribe - she must write stories for Zeus and Hera in their celestial palace!" Dana listened intently to the first story, and struggled to suppress a twinge of jealousy as the Living Goddess skillfully jerked the emotions of her audience this way and that until, finally, many were brought to tears by a sorrowful, if slightly disappointing, conclusion. Perhaps Mulder had been wrong to warn her that happy endings worked best. Filiana sniffed. "Such genius! There can only be one explanation - Prudence must be a man in disguise.! Story after story was read by entrant after entrant. After the first twenty many seemed similar, but Dana supposed there could only be so many variations on the theme of immortal love. Some were very good, and others not so good. Some authors performed their stories loudly and with dramatic gesticulations, while others were less audible and half-hid bashful faces behind their scrolls. Dana's favorite category was Myths in One Hundred Words or less. She was thankful for their brevity. Sometimes novelty was introduced as one or two authors decided their stories should be presented in verse to the theme of a popular song, while another decided to mime and was promptly disqualified. Nor was she the only aspirant to be banned from the contest: an author called Minerva, who was famed for retiring from competition each year, was found to have canvassed for votes by handing out stone tablets with her name on them; and another committed the - capital - offence of using heroes and stories from another mythdom, attempting concealment by changing the names of the characters. Dana shuddered as the screaming author was taken away to face her fate. "How will they kill her? Hemlock?" "Something far more horrible. Some say they are fattened up before being cast into the sea for sharks to feast upon." At last there was an interval and Dana eagerly made her way to a refreshments table upstairs to partake of much needed mead and food. While eating as much as she could - it was free after all - Dana froze at the sound of a familiar and regal voice. "I have always done as instructed," said Princess Diana to Spender. "What now?" "He will never leave the Temple. Mulder and his sister may yet be reunited, but only in death." Dana quickly moved away to the balcony that overlooked the auditorium, her heart racing. From her vantage point she could now see all of the mosaic floor below, and what had looked like a pretty arrangement of colored tiles forming the sea and the cliffs along the Atlantean coast near the temple, formed a clearer picture at this level: secured with chains to a stake placed on the rocks was a young woman, dressed in the robes of a temple attendant, waiting in sacrificial readiness. Rising out of the sea to claim the offering was a vast creature with long arms, thrashing tail and sharp teeth: the Kraken. Suddenly all was now clear. Dana clenched her fists, unable to stem the tide of fury washing through her, dark waves of anger at her situation and Mulder's manipulation. She rushed from the room - and into the arms of the waiting priestess. "It's your time," Cassandra intoned. "Hurry now, you are the last entrant. Thirty have already been disqualified." "But I-" Cassandra grabbed Dana's arm and marched her to the stage. "No cold feet allowed. Our Festival needs new blood." Cassandra's cruel laugh would have chilled Dana a week, nay, even a day ago. Now, the red haze before her eyes blinded her to fear. And with so many entrants deemed ineligible, her own chances looked remarkably bright. Dana stepped to the podium, cleared her throat loudly to waken the yawning audience, and began her story's recitation. Scattered claps indicating a tepid interest transformed and built into loud cheering by the end of her tale. "Best! Best!" chanted the crowd, much to the obvious displeasure of Cassandra and her tight circle of cronies. Dana couldn't stop a burst of sudden laughter as she spied Princess Diana, a wide-eyed mask of complete shock marring the beauty of her vacuous face. She waved and mock-bowed to the audience and retreated to the outer chamber, hoping that Mulder has seen her performance and would try to meet her. Not one of the ever-shifting and pacing group of story writers spoke to her. Nerves, Dana realized, and fear. Fear of being last and thus the evening's sacrifice. Only Nila gave a small nod before turning and leaning against the white temple wall. And Mulder? He was nowhere to be found. Dana was on her third circle of the room when a tall, cloaked, priestess approached her. Leaning into her space, the priestess placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her into the corner, leaning over her and whispering, "Nice story." "Mul-" A hand was thrust over her mouth. "I know something important," Dana began again in a low voice. "You are in grave danger. Princess Diana and the Archon Spender are planning your death. Here and now." "I know something too. My sister and others have been sacrificed to a terrible beast to secure our country's good fortune. Ketos." He spat out the word. Dana grabbed Mulder's arm with a shaking hand. "The Kraken!" Nila rushed to Dana's side. "Dana, didn't you hear the announcement? You've won! You're our new Best Author!" "It's meaningless now," Dana muttered, then louder, "Nila, please tell the story writing committee that I'm unable to receive the honor at this time. Can you do this for me?" Scully turned from Nila's confused and hurt gaze and her, "of course." She and Mulder fled the room and, once outside, turned with unspoken agreement toward their ship. But when they arrived at the vessel, Mulder blocked Dana's entry up the plank. "Do you know what I have to do?" he asked. "Yes. Slay the beast that killed your sister." "Think long, Dana." Mulder brushed his fingers over her cheek. "It's an impossible task and one almost certainly doomed to failure. I will offer any crew who dares to come with me as much money as I have, but no riches can replace you. You will be declared a living goddess now. Go. Enjoy your well-deserved rewards." Dana smiled and shook her head. "Story writing is ephemeral, a mere gossamer weave on the cloak-sleeve of life. I choose adventure. I choose you." Mulder's gentle hand rested on Dana's cheek once more, and Dana read resolve and promise in his solemn gaze. "Dana Scullios." They broke apart at the shout and walked quickly up the plank and onto the main deck, Dana ignoring Pendras's scowl. "Nice trip?" Pendras sneered. "Very," Dana replied. "Rouse the Captain, call up the crew, we need to set sail within the hour. And Pendras, consider this your last duty. I'm declaring that you are now a free man." "Really?" "Yes." Pendras smiled, anger erased by wonder. "I know the first thing I'll do. The aroma of the cheese in that dockside shop has made my mouth water for days." He colored and shrugged. "I like cheese." "Cheese is good," Dana solemnly agreed. Her last glimpse of Pendras was his backward wave as he hurried to shore and stooped to enter an ancient feta establishment. Mulder's fat wallet kept some men on board; the vow to avenge the lost girls kept even more. And those reasons - as well as the possibility of slaying a loathsome mythical beast - clearly gripped the captain's imagination and ensured a quick cast off into deeper waters. But were they quick enough? They sailed through the night. When morning came, they spied a small speck of a boat in the distance. As adeptly as they caught favorable winds, the other ship seemed to mimic their course, slowly but surely closing the gap. This way and that, the vessels appeared to be framed in a watery mirror. "That's one hundred and seventeen times they've mimicked us," commented Mulder, gripping the deck's railing against the strong wind. "Think it's coincidence?" Dana snorted, and Mulder turned to her and grinned broadly. "What?" Dana felt the tease in his eyes. "It's your hair. Whipped up into some kind of," he waved his hand vaguely, "desserty froth. Or sea foam froth. It's frothy, anyway." Dana scowled and tried to tame her errant locks, but the wind kept tugging strands out of her grasp. "More like a bird's nest. Do you have anything to help me bind my hair?" Mulder immediately removed the leather thong circling his neck, his silver ankh shimmering in the morning sunlight. He murmured, "Let me," and stepped behind her, combing back her hair with his strong fingers. Dana stopped herself from leaning into his touch. "Mulder, no. I've never seen you without your necklace. It must have special meaning for you." "Life to life, Dana." She bit her lip before whispering her thanks. A geyser of water suddenly shot up from the depths of the seabed, followed by an earth-splitting roar that had the crew - Mulder and Dana among them - scrambling to hide behind any small nook of safety. Row upon row of razor teeth gleamed in a malignant face as the Kraken turned its snake-like neck and focused his burning eyes on their vessel. "May the great Poseidon save us! We're doomed!" shouted the cabin boy, who was promptly backhanded by the captain. "Hold fast men," the captain shouted. "Lances at the ready!" As the Kraken undulated swiftly towards their ship, a storm of lances were thrown - to no good effect. Dana drew her sword with the others, staunchly set herself behind a borrowed shield - and screamed as Mulder threw his shield to the deck and dived, sword in hand, into the roiling foam. "Mulder!" Dana cried, and only strong sailors' grips stopped her from diving to his aid. Dana's sob was caught in her throat as the Kraken rose high above them, claws flashing, when she spied Mulder clinging to the beast's scaly neck. The Kraken shook his head violently but could not dislodge him. Mulder reached back with his sword arm, seemed to gather an enormous strength, and suddenly pierced the Kraken under its chin - a killing stroke, the sword slicing up its throat and into its brain. "RAHaharrrr," the Kraken gurgled and fell into the sea, his vile serpent's blood coating Mulder from head to toe as he fell with the beast. "Mulder!" Dana cried again, though her voice could not be heard over the cheering of the crew. It was Dana who - her face set in stone - threw over a rope and kept vigil; Dana who ignored the sympathetic condolences of the crew; Dana who refused a tot of ouzo to celebrate their amazing victory; and it was Dana who first spied Mulder swimming to the ship in the blood-stained sea, something small and white under one arm. Eager hands pulled Mulder on board, and he placed a child's skull in Dana's hands. "Hold this," he murmured. Mulder turned toward the captain, stripped off his gory garments, and began to wash himself in a nearby bucket. Dana demurely turned her back after only a small peek or two at his bare chest, and a seaman handed him a rough spun robe. "The Kraken is dead. I also found the answer to what happened to the lost girls. As I was dragged with him to his watery grave, I spied a cave full of bones. Dana holds one skull among the hundreds I saw. It's not a happy ending for their families, but it's an ending - and the girls of Atlantis will be cruelly sacrificed no longer!" The cheering began once more, and the back slapping, and the congratulating, as Mulder and Dana withdrew to the side of the vessel. Dana carefully examined the skull. "Do you think this is your sister, Mulder?" "No." The tone was sad. "But she was someone's sister. I will bury this remnant to honor Samantha." "That's a very nice idea." Dana wrapped the skull in her cloak, and resolved to be a part of his honoring ceremony. "Ahoy to starboard," shouted the watchman. "The vessel speeding towards us is flying Princess Diana's colors. It must be her Highness, come to congratulate us on our victory!" More cheering. "Uh, captain," Mulder yelled as they rushed to his side. "Go. Now." "What?" "Now, captain," Dana announced. "Princess Diana wants us dead. We'll explain later." The captain gave them a grim look before nodding. Signal drums were hastily beaten and the crew grumbled back to their posts - but it was no small thing to start a vessel sitting at a dead stop. Princess Diana's ship soon came into clear view, and Dana swallowed at the sight of Diana's vitriolic glare and Spender's sneer. The captain shrugged and ordered the men to lower the sails. "You fools," Princess Diana's shouts could be but faintly heard, "You've ruined everything!" "What does she mean?" said the captain. "We'll explain later," Mulder and Dana answered in unison. But there was no time to explain later for, Dana realized as Diana's ship pulled ever closer, without the protection of the Kraken the sands of Atlantis's favored time were quickly running out. First it was a deafening crack of explosion. Then smoke and flames blanketing the distant shoreline of Atlantis rose so high as to be clearly seen across their broad expanse of water. All faces, from Princess to cabin boy, mirrored this horror. Black smoke filled the air with the stench of an enormous funeral cairn. Next, sheets of rain suddenly fell, washing the smoke away but flooding Diana's larger, cargo-laden vessel, which began to sink. Dana and Mulder's smaller ship began to naturally bob away, like a cork on water. "Help us!" they cried as one, though Diana's voice pierced the rest, but the smaller ship was pushed further to sea. Wave after wave came crashing onto the large vessel and, to Dana's horror, over her homeland. She and Mulder clung together on deck as they watched Atantis and Diana's ship slowly sink as one into the darkened sea. After an eternity of destruction nature stilled and all was silent. The last thing Dana saw before turning to set sail was the Princess slowly sinking into the dark waters, Diana's glub. Glub. Glub, glub. Echoing in the eerie stillness. ***** "You're right, Mulder. You're not entirely crazy." Scully crouched and peered into his fish tank. "See! That little plastic figure at the bottom there looks just like Diana. Question is, who put it there - and why?" Scully shook her head. "Only you." Mulder flipped open his cell and punched a number on his speed dial. "Frohike, I've got something here you've got to see." "No!" Scully could hear Frohike's excitement quite clearly. "I've got something for you that you won't believe. Bring your something and meet me at l013 Conundrum Crescent." After fishing out a couple of dead goldfish Mulder rolled up his sleeve and pulled out the tiny Diana doll. "Evidence bag?" Scully held it open. He was about to drop the doll into the bag when it seemed to jump out of his hand and tumbled beneath the tank. "Slippery?" Scully asked, leaning down and then straightening, holding the doll by its head. She sealed the bag and Mulder put it in his pocket. A short time later, Mulder pulled his car behind the Gunmen's minivan. "What's your something, Mulder?" Frohike asked. He pulled out the plastic bag. "I found it in my fish tank." "Weirdness. That looks very much like your former partner." Frohike took out the doll and rubbed its torso with his thumb. "Mind if I keep it?" "Sure." "Thanks, pal." Frohike tied a piece of string around the doll and hung it on the car mirror next to a rubber shrunken head. "Now listen up. This is big. One of the Gunmen's informants came to us today, claiming there's a metal room in that building with someone inside. Someone who is the true controller of Fox Mulder's life. Somebody named," Frohike smirked, "Percy." "What a load of," Mulder looked at Scully and continued, "cow manure." "And we know from manure," Scully added. "No seriously, check it out. He even gave me the key to the room." Frohike held an ornately old-fashioned metal key in his hand. Mulder snatched up the key and shrugged, "As long as we're here." Scully nodded. "No, wait, guys. The informant said you had to go in alone, Mulder." "Forget it," Scully said, "I'm coming with you." Frohike gave them a nervous glance. "I'll wait here." Guns at the ready, Mulder and Scully entered the silent building, searching from room to room. A small door off the library was ajar, and Scully nodded as they went in high and low. Another door, and then at last a large metal vault door with an ornate lock that was the key's perfect match. Scully stepped clear as Mulder turned the lock. The door swung open slowly and they blinked against the unexpected brightness. The room was almost bare. To the left was a large statue of a benevolent Shiva, graceful arms posed around a golden net. "Look at the statue's expression, Mulder. The face has an amazing feeling of joy." Mulder nodded, then held a finger to his lips. Scully froze, and heard the faintest of sounds coming from behind a red velvet curtain in the corner of the room. Scully touched the curtain. Mulder nodded, and she yanked it open to reveal a startled, frock-coated man of indeterminate age, a cup of tea in one hand and a dusty tome in the other. The man raised the book like a shield and Scully gasped. It was titled, 'Past Lives of Fox William Mulder'. "What the-" everyone cried, simultaneously. "How did you?" they all shouted. Mulder leaned over and plucked a duplicate vault key from Percy's vest pocket and, with a wry grin, pulled Scully out of the room as he firmly locked the vault door. "That should take care of our problem," Mulder declared. They ignored the indignant, muffled cries. "But I did it because I adore you!" Scully blinked. "Who was that odd little man, anyway?" "Beats me, but his snooping days are over." The reverberation of fists striking metal faded to - was it screams or merely histrionics? They quickly exited the building and Scully took a welcome breath of the fresh night air. Mulder handed the keys to Frohike. "Wrap it up in your next issue. We're outta here." Scully smiled. Why did that 'master of your own fate' poem suddenly spring to mind? No matter. She walked beside Mulder to the car, feeling freer and easier than she had in a very long time. xXxXx Dear Gentle Reader, This is, of necessity, the final volume in the Wheel of Dharma Trilogy. Answering feedback will be difficult from beyond the grave, but I'm certain that, if given cause, the author's Ethereal Spirit will make an effort. Other volumes in Mr. Blakeney's Wheel of Dharma Trilogy (A Pirate's Revenge and All the World's a Stage) are also readily available from the Gossamer Lending Library. Yrs., Percy Blakeney's estate.