Amara huddled in the corner of her cell, her knees held against her chest, and closed her eyes as she heard keys rattling in the lock. Please, Almighty God, not again, she prayed to herself, wincing as she thought about what horrors lay in wait for her with the leader of the enemy camp she was imprisoned in. A guard entered, face impassive, and wordlessly unlocked her chain from the peg in the ground. He led her from the cell and across the compound to the general's tent.
Inside, the guard saluted to the general and left the tent, fastening the flaps behind him. The general looked up from where he reclined on a low, wide couch, and he raised one eyebrow expectantly. Amara felt tears gathering behind her eyes, but she lifted her chin and obediently untied her robe, letting it drop to the floor.
"Are you sure this is the place the man said?" Jonathan asked Sergei as they both crouched down low on a hill overlooking the compound.
"Da, this is where they keep the prisoners they take," Sergei answered. "This is where the sheik's young son would be."
Jonathan turned to look down the hill, to where Martha was waiting with the three horses. "We're going in," he called softly to his wife, who nodded. "If we're not out in three hours, go back to the sheik and explain what happened. Apologize for us, if necessary." Again, Martha nodded, and the professor turned to Sergei once more. "All right, let's go get the boy," he said.
Sergei nodded, and together they crept toward the compound. Both wore dark clothes, and under the cover of darkness they made it to the outer wall. "I have never snuck into a prison before," he muttered to Jonathan. "In Siberia, Mikhail and I were only interested in sneaking out."
Jonathan grinned slightly. "It's the same principle, though, right?" Sergei half-grinned back, and began walking slowly to the entrance of the compound. Jonathan followed, looking around in slight confusion. "It's not very well guarded for a military compound," he remarked. "So what's the plan?"
Sergei glanced around quickly, and then turned to Jonathan. "We want to sneak in as quickly as possible. There are three wooden cells situated in the rear of the compound. We will check each cell until we find the boy, and then we will make our escape. Hopefully, we'll do all this without being spotted."
Jonathan nodded. "All right, sounds good to me; nice and simple. All right, Sergei, lead the way." The Russian ducked into the compound, keeping to the shadows. Jonathan followed close behind and together they made for the first cell.
Sergei heard footsteps as they were passing by a tent, and he ducked behind the cloth structure as quickly and silently as he could. Jonathan, thankfully, followed his example. The guard passed without noticing them, and Sergei breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Staying close to the ground, he darted to the first cell and ducked into the shadows. Safely hidden, he peeked into the cell. It was empty. He muttered a choice word under his breath, then glanced back at Jonathan and shook his head.
Jonathan nodded to show that he understood and joined Sergei in the shadow of the cell. "I'll get the next one. You check the third," he whispered. Sergei nodded and, with a quick glance around to make sure that the coast was clear, he made his way carefully to the third cell. As he drew nearer, he heard sniffling. This cell, at least, was occupied.
He crouched in the shadows once more, waiting for a guard to move out of sight. This particular, guard, though, stopped close enough to Sergei that he could have reached out and touched him. Sergei held his breath, closing his eyes and praying that the man wouldn't see him. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the guard moved away. Both Sergei and Jonathan relaxed, Sergei because he had nearly been discovered and Jonathan because he had been worried about his companion.
Sergei straightened slightly and looked into the cell. Curled into the corner, a huddled heap lay sobbing. He squinted at it, but couldn't tell whether it was the sheik's son or not. An overwhelming pity for the small form bade him sneak to the front of the cell, where the keys were. Carefully, he reached for the keys and grabbed them to keep them from rattling. Holding his breath, he turned the key in the lock very slowly, to avoid making noise. Then he swung the door quietly open and went inside. Kneeling next to the sobbing form, which had yet to notice him, he tugged gently on the chain running from their ankle to a peg screwed into the ground.
The form instantly shot up to a sitting position, backing away and pressing itself even further into the corner. It was a girl, her dark hair matted with sweat and dirt, and her face smeared with the same, only with tears added in as well. She whimpered something in Arabic, hiding her face.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Sergei whispered, reaching out to carefully grab the shackle on her ankle. She flinched but made no move to pull her foot away. He unlocked the manacle and stood, reaching down to help her up. The girl wouldn't look up at him, but reached up to take his hand. He pulled her to her feet. The movement made the robe she was wearing fall from her shoulders, and Sergei hastily looked away from her nakedness. Thinking quickly, he shed his coat and offered it to her. "Wear this," he whispered.
The girl took the coat and buttoned it up, looking at him for the first time. "Thank you," she said, barely audibly. Sergei glanced around once more to see where the guards were, then led the girl outside and locked the cell behind them. Jonathan was carrying a little boy out of the second cell, and they nodded to each other. Ducking into the shadows together, they made for the entrance.
"Who's that?" Jonathan asked Sergei, nodding to the girl whose arm the Russian still held.
"I don't know her name. I found her crying in the cell and had pity on her." Sergei propelled the girl out of the compound in front of him, and then waited until Jonathan and the sheik's son were out as well before following them as they made for the hill.
Suddenly, a shout rose behind them. "Time's up," Jonathan said, and they sprinted the remaining distance to their makeshift camp. "Martha, time to go!" he added as they crested the hill. The blond woman already had the horses ready to go.
"Did you get him?" she asked. Jonathan handed her the boy in answer, mounting his horse. "Good. I see we got another as well," she smiled at the girl, who was not looking at anyone.
"We've gotta get going," Jonathan pressed, casting a nervous glance at the hill.
Sergei mounted his own horse and pulled the girl up behind him. "Hold on," he ordered, then wheeled the horse around and followed Jonathan and Martha back toward the sheik's camp.
Amara held on tightly to the man in front of her, terrified but deciding that he seemed trustworthy enough. Certainly he had to better than the general who had so mistreated her. Suddenly, she realized that he was speaking to her. She raised her face from where it was buried in his back to listen. "-all right?" he was asking. She frowned. Was he asking if she was all right? "Are you okay?" he repeated himself when she didn't answer.
"Yes," she whispered.
He turned forward again, and Amara went back to thinking. She'd gone through a pretty horrific time in the compound, a time she wasn't ready to even think about. She put it from her mind, focusing instead on the men who had rescued her and the little boy she'd heard calling for help some nights, the man in front of her in particular. He seemed strong, from what Amara could tell from holding onto his chest to keep from falling off of the horse, and he had a kind, somewhat gravelly voice tinged with a foreign accent. Obviously, English wasn't his native language, either. And when she'd looked into his eyes, after he'd given her his coat, she'd seen that he had no malicious intent for her. That, at least, was points in his favor.
After another fifteen minutes, the man drew the horse in from its canter and stopped in another camp. Dismounting, he turned. "Slide down. I'll catch you," he reassured her, lifting his arms to show that he wasn't going to drop her.
Amara bit her lip, but swung her leg over the saddle and slid down the horse's back. The man's hands caught her waist and set her gently on the ground. The other man went into the largest, most ornate tent, still carrying the little boy. Amara looked around, but didn't recognize the area. This sheik was not one she was familiar with. She turned back to the man. "Why did you save me?"
The man smiled slightly, his blue eyes crinkling. Crow's feet at the edges of his eyes showed that he did so often. "You were crying. Sad females do not go over well with me. Plus, it would not be fair to rescue one of only two prisoners, leaving the second to suffer punishment because they'd been left behind."
Amara smiled back, looking down. "Thank you," she whispered. She curtsied in the cultural way. "I am called Amara."
"Sergei," the man supplied, sticking his hand out. Amara stared at it for a second, then, very hesitantly, reached out and met his hand with her own. "Where are you from, Amara, so that we might return you to your family?"
Amara ducked her head. "They were slaughtered, sir, in the same raid that resulted in my capture. I am afraid that I have no family to return to. My whole tribe is dead."
Sergei placed his hand, large and warm and heavy, on her shoulder. "I am truly sorry to hear that," he said softly, ducking his own head to look her in the eye. "I lost my friend Mikhail last year. He was like a brother to me." Amara smiled slightly, but it was little comfort.
"Sergei," the blond woman said, coming over, "who's your friend?"
"This is Amara," Sergei answered. "Her whole tribe has been killed."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," the woman instantly said, making as if to put her arms around Amara and then thinking better of it. She looked her over instead, gasping as she saw what Amara was wearing. Sergei's coat, while covering the extremely personal and private areas, left her legs completely bare from just above the knee on down. "Come on, dear, I'll find you some clothes. They might be a little large on you, but they will do."
Amara followed the woman silently, staring at the ground. She felt very out of place among this white-skinned group, with her own tanned skin standing out. And since she was still shaken up from her experiences in the compound, every little noise made her jump. The woman reached out and touched Amara's arm, and Amara flinched before she could stop herself. "Are you all right, Sweetie?" the woman asked quietly, obviously concerned. Amara nodded wordlessly. "Well," the woman didn't seem convinced, "if you say so. Here, you can borrow a pair of my trousers and a shirt. Do you need my help putting them on?"
"No," Amara whispered, taking the clothes with gratitude. "Thank you for your kindness."
The woman smiled gently. "I'm happy to, dear. My name is Martha, by the way." She put her hand carefully on Amara's shoulder, as Sergei had done. "You can get changed in my tent, if you wish. That's it, right over there," she pointed Amara in the direction of a smallish tent behind the horses.
Amara went into the tent and quickly pulled the clothes on. They were a little big, as Martha had suspected, but anything was better than wearing only a coat. When she came back out, she had to hold onto the waistband of the trousers to keep them from falling down. The coat was draped over her arm, and she immediately went over to Sergei, who was leaning against one of the horses and smoking a cigar. "Thank you," she said, holding the coat out to him.
He smiled again, taking the coat and laying it over the saddle of his horse. "You are very welcome," he answered. Amara hesitantly smiled back, hitching her trousers a little higher as she did so. "You need a belt with those," he added, amused. He pulled an extra strap out of a nearby pack and stepped closer, offering it to her. "Do you know how to use this?"
Amara took the leather strap and looked it over. It seemed to have holes in one end and metal buckle on the other. With a shrug, she wrapped it around her waist and let go. It fell to the ground. She looked up at Sergei in confusion. "How does it stay on?"
Sergei picked the strap up and fed it through some little loops in the trousers, carefully keeping a decent distance from her body with his hands. "It's called a belt," he said, threading the end with the holes through the buckle and pulling it taut. He half-grinned as he saw that the belt was much too big. Reaching into the pack again, he pulled out an awl and bored another hole in the belt, then fastened it. "That should keep your trousers up," he laughed, hitting her arm lightly.
Amara flinched away from the contact, and Sergei frowned. "Please don't touch my arms," she whispered, a blush heating her face. She looked at the sand beneath her feet, unable to meet his confused gaze.
Suddenly, it seemed to dawn on him and he tactfully took a step back to put more distance between them. "That general did more to you than keeping you prisoner," he realized. "Did he-?" Amara simply nodded, sinking to the sand and pulling her knees up against her chest. Then she burst into tears, trying to put her experiences from her mind. Footsteps sounded behind her, and Martha gave a surprised gasp. "She was raped," Sergei said before Martha could say anything, disgust tingeing his voice.
"Oh, Sweetie," Martha breathed, kneeling beside Amara and putting an arm around her shoulders, "I'm so sorry. No wonder you're so timid."
Sergei uttered what sounded like an impolite word in Russian under his breath, turning away and kicking a stray rock all the way across the campsite. Then he turned back and knelt in front of her. "I will never let him touch you again," he said softly and firmly.
Amara's tears increased tenfold in the face of such unexpected kindness from them both, and Martha pulled her into her arms. "There, there, Sweetie," she whispered, rocking back and forth slightly. "It's all right. You're safe now. Can you tell me how many times the general-?"
"Ten," Amara choked out before Martha had even finished her sentence. "He raped me ten times." Sergei swore again, turning to face his horse with a bowed head.
"Hey, is she all right?" Jonathan asked, confusion written all over his features. Sergei went over to him and explained quietly. Jonathan's face darkened with fury. "He did? Is that common practice in these parts, Amara?" Amara could only nod, and Martha tightened her arms around her. Amara leaned against the older woman and struggled to understand how these strangers, who she had only just met, could care so much about someone they barely knew.
"The sheik's son is returned to him, right?" Martha asked. Jonathan nodded. "Then we can get going. I think we should take Amara with us, seeing as she has nowhere else to go."
Amara lifted her head, unsure if she'd heard correctly. She saw Jonathan staring at her contemplatively, and she hurriedly dropped her gaze. "Of course she can come with us," he said at last. "It would be indecent to leave her behind, after all that she's been through." Amara looked up again, and he smiled at her. "Do you want to come with us?" Shyly, Amara nodded. "It's settled then. She'll ride with you, Martha, since you're the lightest."
"My horse also has the supplies," Martha said. "Your horse is carrying our equipment as well. Sergei has only the guns; I think Amara should ride with him. Is that all right with you?" she asked Amara, pulling back slightly to look at her.
Amara glanced at Sergei, who had paused in the process of mounting and looked at her expectantly. "That is fine," she answered softly. As long as she could sit behind him, it was no big deal, as long as he didn't touch her. Martha helped to her to her feet and gave her a gentle push towards him. Hesitantly, Amara stopped beside the horse, looking up at him a little nervously.
He reached down. "Give me your hand," he instructed. Amara lifted her hand, and he grabbed her wrist. "Step up and put your foot on mine, and push up with your leg as I pull you up." She did as he instructed and with dizzying speed she was on the horse, holding onto him tightly. She felt him laughing. "Not so firmly," he wheezed. With a blush, she instantly loosened her grasp on him. Martha and Jonathan were also mounted, and when Jonathan saw that everyone was ready he turned his horse in a general Eastward direction and nudged it into a canter. Just like that, they were on their way.
"Why are you in India, anyway?" Amara asked, shivering in the coolness of the night. Without thinking, she pressed a little closer to Sergei, who looked over his shoulder with a smile.
"We're on our way to Egypt," he answered.
Amara, having picked up on Jonathan and Martha having American accents, was confused. "But you would have already passed through Egypt," she frowned.
He laughed. "If we had come from America, yes, we would have. But we crossed the ocean from the Alaska territory, coming through Russia and China. Egypt, and the library of Alexandria, is what Jonathan and Martha are after. I came along because we travelled through my native country and I was able to barter passage to China."
"You are Russian?" Amara asked, using deductive reasoning. Sergei nodded. "You know English very well."
Again, Sergei laughed. "Niet, not really, but thank you anyway." He went on with his story. "We are searching for the ancient submerged city of Atlantis."
"Atlantis," Amara rolled the word in her mouth. It was a beautiful name. "Where is it?"
Sergei shrugged. "We are not sure. But Jonathan is convinced that it is somewhere in Egypt, perhaps underground in a giant cavern. Legend says that it sank under the sea because the Greek gods were angry at the people, who had become greedy and corrupt."
She thought this over. "So how would it have come to be in an underground cavern in Egypt?"
"I do not know. I am not the scholar," he grinned at her. "Perhaps a natural disaster of some kind, maybe a volcanic eruption, caused the city to end up in Egypt."
"A volcano on the island of Santorinas, about ten miles from Crete," Jonathan called over his shoulder. "I believe that the force of the eruption caused a tidal wave to swamp Atlantis. It's only a short distance from the island of Crete to the Gulf of Sollum in Egypt. It would have been easy for Atlantis to be swept there."
Amara nodded. That made sense. "So the volcano broke Atlantis loose from the rest of Crete and caused it to arrive in Egypt. It seems very plausible."
"And I'm hoping that's what happened," Jonathan added. "Otherwise, this will have been a very long and wasted trip."
"Not wasted," Martha said. "We found Amara." Amara blushed, and Martha laughed. "No, really, Sweetie, I'm glad we found you. You balance out our little group. Jonathan, dear, I think we should bring Amara back to the States with us."
Jonathan shrugged. "If she doesn't mind living in our house for the time being, that would be fine with me."
Amara put a hand over her mouth. A chance to live in the United States! "You are sure?" she asked, skeptically.
Martha smiled. "I would love to have you with us, Amara." Amara felt a large smile growing on her face, and Martha laughed. "Wonderful! Then you're coming with us."
The trip to the Gulf of Sollum took nearly two weeks. By the time they arrived, Amara had grown used to travel with the threesome and enjoyed it immensely. Jonathan and Sergei were forever getting in debates over which way was fastest, something that they did often if Martha's tolerant smiles were any indication. Amara also found herself accustomed to touching Sergei, although it had been very awkward at the beginning. Her experience with the general had left her very distrustful of men in general, but Sergei quickly convinced her that he would never do anything to damage her honor in any way. He and Jonathan were the only two men that Amara trusted. She remained wary of all others.
When they finally arrived, the first thing Jonathan did was get them two rooms, so they had somewhere to stay while he hunted for clues to Atlantis's location. The two men were in one room, and the women stayed in the other. The quartet stayed in the hotel for three days while Jonathan and Martha poured over thick volumes borrowed from a local library. Finally, on the third day, Amara was bored enough to beg Sergei to take her exploring.
Sergei nodded, strapping his revolver to his waist just in case. Amara left the hotel giddy with anticipation, having never visited Egypt before. She was anxious to see what it was like and if it was as exotic as it sounded. She practically skipped next to Sergei as they made their way towards the docks, and he laughed at her enthusiasm. "Do not worry, the ocean is not going anywhere," he reassured her when she tugged impatiently on his arm.
At the docks, however, Amara felt a sense of terror clawing at her. Rough-looking men were everywhere, and although there were plenty of other people, including women, around, she still found herself casting fearful glances in their direction. Sergei caught one of them giving her an appreciative once-over and put his arm around her protectively, wordlessly telling Amara that he would take care of her. "Okay, I'm ready to go somewhere else," she whimpered softly.
"I think that is a good idea," Sergei replied, leading her back the way they'd came.
They were stopped, however, by a sailor who spoke rough English. "How much is she?" he asked, gesturing to Amara.
Sergei's mouth fell open. "She is not for sale," he answered stiffly. Amara, finally understanding what the man was talking about, shrank back against the Russian.
"Pity," the man said, looking her over. "I think she's make a fine-"
He abruptly found himself looking down the barrel of Sergei's revolver. "I think you should rethink talking about her in that way," he growled menacingly. The sailor looked put out, but backed away and let them pass. "Amara," Sergei sighed, "I believe that it is time we returned to the hotel."
"I believe that you're right," Amara answered, still walking as close to Sergei as was socially acceptable. "I do not like it here."
Back at the hotel, Sergei reported what had happened to Jonathan. "I think that when we are searching for transport, we should leave the women at the hotel or at least make it absolutely clear that they are not for hire," he left his sentence vague, but everyone understood what he meant. "The sailor obviously thought Amara was a prostitute."
Amara cringed at the blunt use of the word. Martha put her arm around her again, communicating reassurance. "I think that we will stay at the hotel until it's time to leave," she said decisively. "That sounds safest at the moment."
Jonathan agreed with her. "That isn't the best area for women to be in," he nodded. "Perhaps we should search for a safer port, one where they will not be mistaken for…" Everyone nodded to show that they followed his meaning.
Two days later, they were on a ship headed for the city of Alexandria. There was, they were told, an entrance to what was thought to be a cavern about fourteen miles from the ports on the Gulf of Sollum, but the entrance was well-protected by a maze of rocky spires and tiny islands that lurked just under the surface of the water. It was considered too dangerous to attempt to go into the cavern. Still, Jonathan had procured a small boat and bartered passage on a large freighter bound for Alexandria. His plan was that he and Sergei would row the boat, and the two women would keep an eye out for submerged islands as they made their way to the cavern. The freighter would wait a single day for them, and if they were not out by that time, it would continue on its way. It would stop again on its way back, a week later.
Jonathan had agreed to this, as it was a very generous offer by the captain of the freighter. Finally, they lowered the little boat into the ocean and climbed inside. "Good luck," the captain said in a deep, bass voice.
"Thank you," Jonathan replied with a smile, and then he and Sergei manned the oars. Amara held a long pole in the prow of the little boat, and she put it in the water now, to help probe for the deadly underwater islands.
They had gone scarcely twenty feet before Amara felt one against her pole. "To the starboard side!" she quickly shouted, and the men quickly worked the oars. They narrowly avoided hitting the island, but they had no time to congratulate themselves. Amara swished the long pole back and forth in the water, but hit no more islands until they were a short hundred feet from the entrance to the cavern. "Big one straight ahead!" she called back. Jonathan pulled hard on his oar, and they swung to the left, moving around the island smoothly.
Finally, they arrived at the entrance to the cavern, and Sergei pulled the boat ashore. "Ready?" Jonathan asked. When everyone nodded, he grabbed his pack and shouldered it. "Then inside we go." They walked in a single file line, as the entrance was narrow. Just inside, there was a path about two feet wide that led deeper into the cavern. Jonathan pulled out his electric light and cranked the handle vigorously. The light came to life and shone brightly, showing that the path was long and disappeared around a bend about two hundred feet inside the cavern. "Follow me," Jonathan called back.
Amara followed Martha, who was just behind her husband. Sergei took up the rear, cranking his light as well. Amara felt useless, having no light, and fretted about being the only unloaded one. "Is there anything I can carry?" she asked Sergei, who smiled in response and handed her the three canteens he had around his chest. She accepted them and pulled them over her head, so that they hung comfortably against her side.
It was fairly easy going. The path was straight and even, and surprisingly undamaged. Suddenly, the path took a sharp turn to the right and sloped steeply downwards. Jonathan put a hand on the wall to study himself, and then reached back for his wife's hand. "Hold on to each other," he instructed. Martha took his hand, and then Amara's. Amara turned and offered her hand to Sergei, who took it. "This way, if anyone starts to fall, the rest can hold onto them."
"Good idea," Martha said.
It took a long time to pick their way carefully down the steep path. The stone was smooth and hard to stay steady on, and more than once someone nearly slipped. Finally, after what seemed an eternity to Amara, they reached the bottom safe and sound. A large tunnel ran straight ahead, the crashing of water echoing from within. "It sounds as if there is water at the end of the tunnel," Jonathan breathed excitedly. He was like a little child on his birthday.
"You think Atlantis could be at the end?" Sergei asked, speaking for the first time in a long while.
"I hope so," Jonathan answered. He cranked his light again, as the light had started to go dim, and led the way into the tunnel. The walls were wet with condensation, and Amara wrinkled her nose at the smell of musty dampness. After another hour of walking, Jonathan stopped abruptly. "Oh, wow," he breathed.
The others came abreast of him, and all understood what had him so amazed. There, in the center of one of the largest caverns anyone had ever seen, bathed in light from a mysterious source, lay the forgotten city. It was surrounded in water that glowed green in the light. "That's pretty," Amara remarked, earning a laugh from everyone else. "Is it Atlantis?"
"There's only one way to find out," Jonathan said. "We have to try to find the Temple of Poseidon. Inside there will be a statue of the Sea God and six winged horses." Jonathan followed the light up to its source, which was a small hole in the top of the cavern that let sunlight in. "There's where the light is coming in," he added. "Okay, let's see if we can get to the city."
Fortunately, there seemed to be a rock ledge near enough to the city that one could leap over the water and onto the safety of the rocks on the edge of Atlantis. Jonathan went first, and then caught Martha as she leaped. Amara jumped third, narrowly making it. Martha reached forward and caught her arm, pulling her forward and onto the rock. Sergei took a running start and sailed easily over the chasm. "What now?" he asked.
"Now we split up," Jonathan said decisively. "I'll take Martha. You take Amara and search the southern part of the city. Look for a large, ornate building. That should be the temple. We'll meet back here in about three hours, all right?"
"Da," Sergei nodded. "Come on," he said to Amara, and they began walking toward the southernmost part of the city.
"Do you think this is Atlantis?" Amara asked as they walked.
"I have no idea," Sergei answered. "For Jonathan's sake, I hope that it is."
They walked in silence for a few moments, and then Amara paused. Something gleamed white in an alley, and she cocked her head at it, coming closer to investigate. There was a thick plant of some sort in the way, and she moved it aside. A skeleton lay behind the plant, its skull grinning widely at her, and she jerked back, gasping in horror. Sergei jumped as she ran into him, and he caught her as she nearly fell. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"There-that-it's-" Amara could form no coherent sentence.
Fortunately, Sergei saw what she was gesturing at. "It is merely a skeleton," he reassured her, moving the plant back to cover it up. "It will not harm you."
A shout of excitement made them both turn and sprint towards the middle of the city, where they found Jonathan laughing in complete and utter joy. "The temple!" he said, pointing at a large, beautiful building on top of a hill. "Just where the manuscript said it would be!" He ran up the hill and stopped at the top to let the others catch up. He bit his lip in excitement. "Should we go inside?"
Martha smiled at her exuberant husband. "Of course we should, dear. We've come this far; don't you want to be certain?"
Jonathan nodded and turned. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the temple. He walked forward about twenty feet and stopped, staring in wonder at something in the middle. Amara went in after him and paused beside him, taking in the huge, golden statue of Poseidon that stood on a raised pedestal. Six winged horses pulled the chariot he stood in. "It is Atlantis!" he laughed again. Turning to Martha, he kissed her soundly and whooped in happiness. "We've done it! We've found Atlantis!"
"It's beautiful," Amara said to Sergei, who stood next to her. A sound made her turn, and what she saw made her gasp. A couple dozen people had materialized behind her, staring at her in solemn silence. "Jonathan?" she asked. "I think that you didn't discover it first."
The others turned as well, and Jonathan groaned, placing his forehead in his palm. "Why does there always have to be a secret and ancient civilization that prevents me from revealing my scientific discoveries to the world?" he asked no one in particular. Martha touched his arm comfortingly. Jonathan sighed, bowing to the people. "These are most likely the Minoans," he said softly. Gesturing for the others to follow him, he left the temple slowly, allowing the people time to move away. The Minoans followed the quartet all the way back to the stone outcrop that had allowed them passage onto the city, a silent procession of fearful faces.
Jonathan leapt across and helped the others as before, winding his light up again. "We won't tell anyone," he called back. "I doubt they can understand me, but I thought I might as well tell them," he added to his wife. She nodded; she obviously thought this a good idea. "Come on," he said to Sergei and Amara, who followed him back into the tunnel and to the path.
Three hours later, they were emerging, blinking, into the sunlight. The freighter waited a few hundred feet away, and they clambered back into the boat. Soon they were hoisted back onto the ship, and they continued on their way to Alexandria. "Did you find the lost island you were searching for?" The boat captain asked.
Jonathan shook his head. "No," he said softly. "We didn't find anything."
Amara stood in the prow of the ship, staring off into the waves and thinking about Atlantis. Jonathan had made the right decision; telling the scientific community and the world about Atlantis would cause all sorts of problems for the people who lived there. "Are you all right?" Sergei asked, coming up to stand beside her.
She turned and smiled up into his blue eyes. "No, I was just thinking," she said softly. "Am I really coming with you to America?"
Sergei nodded. "Jonathan doesn't break his promises. He and Martha are more than happy to have you in their house."
Amara blushed with her next question. "Are you coming, too?"
Again, Sergei nodded. "I came back with them after our last adventure, a journey to the center of the Earth." He smiled at her, and she blushed again. What was with her? She started to turn away, to hide the pink in her cheeks, but Sergei caught her arm and prevented her from doing so. "Amara," he said softly. She raised her eyes to look at him, and slowly he bent his head over hers. He gave her plenty of time to move away if she chose to, but she found that she didn't mind the soft, slow kiss he pressed onto her mouth.
Jonathan came up, excited once more. "Sergei, Amara-" he broke off as he saw Sergei pulling away from her. "Oh, sorry, you two," he apologized, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. They both smiled at him, and he went on. "I have a new artifact for us to find: the Book of Thoth!"
Fin
A/N: I worked hard on this little oneshot and I strove for historical accuracy. However, I did take a few liberties. The scientific community didn't discover the Minoan community until the beginning of the 1900s, and I set this story around 1875 or so. So, technically, the theory that I used of Atlantis's disappearance hadn't been postulated yet. But I did my research on everything else and hopefully you'll not hate me for my little tweak in history.