The Island of Echoes: A Novel Read online

  We turned to see our group gathering for breakfast. As much as I wished to remain at the bluff, we walked to rejoin them. The captain cooked some sausages over a fire while I helped Rémy take off his bandages. His wound appeared much better, so I cleaned it again and we left it exposed. We ate rather quickly, for the desire to ascertain our whereabouts and resume our journey was strong. After breakfast, we took down the tents and repacked our provisions trunk.

  “I suppose it makes sense to follow the path?” Lady Pearson questioned. “After all, it must lead somewhere.” She stood up, head held high, and leaned on her elegant cane.

  “Certainly,” the priest agreed, “With any luck…”

  “Look!” Ella exclaimed. She abandoned decorum and pointed across the field. We followed her finger down the cobblestone path and spotted the object of her attention. It was a woman walking up the road. She held a large wicker basket in her hands.

  “What good fortune!” the captain announced.

  The woman seemed unaware of our presence. She kept her eyes down and hummed a pleasant melody as she approached. Her gray hair, cut short to the shoulders, was decorated with a circlet of small white flowers. She wore a simple salmon-colored tunic secured by a leather belt around the waist. It ended just below the knee, revealing her legs and finely crafted sandals.

  “Hello!” Travert called out when the stranger neared us and she finally looked up at our group.

  If she was surprised at our presence, she hid it well. She simply smiled and nodded but continued to approach without word. Her basket overflowed with ripe fruit. I spotted pears, dates, and enormous berries within. She stopped mere feet before us and extended the basket to Rémy, who stood furthest to her left. He looked to us for guidance but we could only shrug our shoulders. He settled to accept her offer.

  “Merci,” he said and picked up a large blackberry.

  The woman appeared pleased and proceeded to Father Daniel.

  “No, thank you,” he declined, lifting his palm.

  The stranger nodded and progressed clockwise. Only Rémy partook of the bounty. I did not want to appear ungracious, particularly when our predicament may require her assistance, so I likewise selected a blackberry from the basket. It smelled enchanting and its flavor did not disappoint. The old woman stepped back and regarded us.

  We all instinctively looked to Travert, who had greeted the stranger from afar. He stepped forward.

  “Γεια σου,” he saluted in Greek, but the woman didn’t appear to understand. He then placed a hand on his chest. “I am Captain Lucas Travert.”

  The woman likewise placed her hand on her chest and uttered a single word. “Yawa.”

  “Good day, Ms. Yawa. That is our ship, the Bigorneau,” he pointed to the little vessel on the sea.

  The woman looked out at the ship and nodded. “Er thelón,” she said with a smile.

  “Parlez-vous français?” Rémy tried.

  The stranger looked at him with warm eyes but did not respond. She instead motioned for us to follow her and began walking down the path.

  “Maybe someone in her town will understand us,” said Travert.

  Rémy and I grabbed our trunk and the six of us followed her down the road. It wasn’t long before we spotted an approaching carriage. Ms. Yawa stopped walking and pointed at the vehicle. Four tan horses pulled a large open carriage unlike any I had ever seen. Everything from its shape to its craftsmanship was completely new. It appeared to be made entirely of wood, smoothed to a fine polish and painted white. The many embellishments of our own carriages, gold trim, decorative handles, and bedecked wheels, were nowhere to be seen. Despite its unornamented façade, it was superbly constructed. Intricate pieces fit together to create a sleek and revolutionary shape.

  The driver’s perch was large and padded with dark blue cushions. The driver, a young man likewise clad in a salmon-colored tunic, stopped the vehicle before us. Ms. Yawa opened the side door to reveal the passenger area and gestured for us to step in. Without a common language to inquire about distance or location, we decided to take advantage of the transport. Travert offered the woman several bills as payment, but she merely smiled and pushed them away.

  Rémy assisted the Pearson women into the vehicle, for our seats were uncharacteristically high. We sat well above the wheels and even higher than the driver’s perch. The interior was likewise padded in dark blue. Although the carriage didn't look old, it was very simple and lacked much of what a modern coach should have.

  We placed the trunk of provisions on the floor. The interior was spacious enough to accommodate it with plenty of room to spare. Ms. Yawa set her offering of fruit on top of the crate and motioned to another basket already waiting inside. It was nestled between several glass vases of spotless water. I opened its wicker lid to reveal a horde of bread and olives.

  To our surprise, the old woman did not join us. She closed the door, which did not have a handle but simply snapped into place, and took a seat beside the driver. They exchanged a few words in their foreign tongue and we began moving away from the great temple.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  T he odd cobblestones which had so captivated us the day before proved an excellent conductor of horse and carriage. All the sounds and shocks from even the finest street were absent as our coach glided down the road. I felt deceived with the knowledge that four beautiful steeds drew us forward without hearing the familiar clapping of their hoofs.

  The air outside was crisp and clear. The sun shone radiantly amid a clear sky, and I detected the smell of flowers and wild grasses in the breeze. It was heavenly. The countryside we crossed was charmingly picturesque. The rugged mountain pass was the most conspicuous feature of the landscape, providing the island with many lush valleys divided by steep red peaks. Our path weaved in and out of the rich conifer forests as we made our way along the coast. I spotted some auburn rams with bony crescent horns grazing along the road.

  The land was a haven for flora and fauna but seemed empty of all marks of civilization. Everything from the largest farmhouse to the smallest road sign was missing. The road itself was the only man-made construction I could discern. It split off every few miles, though I could distinguish no particular destinations in the distance.

  I sat at the forward end of the coach with the women. Lady Ella was beside me, in the middle. Her grandmother silently gazed out at the sea, arm stretched forward and resting atop her cane. Their brimmed hats shaded them from the heat.

  I wished I had glimpsed my pocket watch upon our departure. Time and distance were difficult to gauge upon the road. The great temple had long since disappeared behind the countless hills and we had no other markers to reference. I poured myself some water and observed the changing scenery.

  “Do you recognize anything, Captain?” Lady Pearson asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” he replied.

  “Has anyone seen any landmarks?” I inquired.

  “None,” said Father Daniel. “No ships, no people, no establishment of any kind.” He sat diagonal to me, looking out at the coast. I still couldn’t place his accent. Lady Pearson must have had the same thought.

  “Lady Ella and I have not traveled this far from England before,” she proclaimed, “I’m afraid we can’t offer much help in this matter. What about you, Father? What part of the world do you call home?”

  The priest stole a brief glance at the woman before him. “Far from here, I’m afraid.”

  “Ah. The center of the continent would be my guess, no?” she continued to probe.

  “It is not our origin that defines us,” he retorted.

  Lady Pearson chuckled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had something to hide.” She had a twinkle in her eye.

  Father Daniel squinted. "Some of us value our privacy. I am sure you would appreciate that."

  The point was made, and I realized the priest's cabin also bordered theirs aboard the ship. Lady Pearson directed her glower out at the water while Ella
pretended to be distracted by some hill in the distance. An uncomfortable hush fell over the coach as we continued our journey through the unspoiled countryside. It was quite a while, several miles perhaps, before Travert broke the silence.

  “Mon dieu!” he exclaimed, and we all jumped at the outburst. He stood to observe some point of interest behind me. Rémy’s eyes grew wide and Father Daniel crossed himself. I turned to see what had caught their attention.

  “Good heavens!” I burst out and we all looked upon the structure before us.

  It was a tower, but unlike any I had ever seen. I would describe it as a cone in shape, but the sides, rather than straight, were curved inward like a giant trumpet. Its tip came to a perfect point high in the sky and the entire exterior gleamed like silver. Its base was still obstructed by the hills before us, and I could only surmise how much of the monolith our eyes were privy to. We were mute with awe as we scrutinized the tower, half expecting it to disappear before us like a mirage.

  I felt such a complexity of emotion during those long minutes. Fear, naturally, for I realized I was seeing something wholly unknown. My anxiety from the previous day increased twofold. But there was also a sense of excitement about the marvel before me. I was like a child witnessing a terrible thunderstorm. It was both frightening and awe-inspiring at the same time. But most of all, I think I felt lonely, for I instinctively realized that my companions and I had no friends, acquaintances, or even methods of communication among these truly foreign people.

  “I need to put my head down,” Lady Pearson murmured with watery eyes. Ella took a hold of her arm.

  “I...” Rémy began, but was unable to finish his sentence.

  “Where are we?” Father Daniel whispered.

  We had no answer.

  My own eyes had begun to well up in confusion and distress. I desperately tried to justify what I was seeing, but each theory was quickly dismissed by logic.

  “I simply can’t believe our predicament!” Lady Pearson exclaimed. “We have just discovered a lost world.”

  “Come now, grandmother,” said Ella, “How could that be?”

  “Do you have any other explanation? Anyone? My head is spinning,” she closed her eyes and placed a hand over her forehead.

  “I admit, I have never heard of anything like this,” I agreed hesitantly.

  “A blank space on the map?” Travert scoffed. “In the middle of the Mediterranean?!”

  “I’ve read about these things, you know!” Lady Pearson piped. “Just look at what Napoleon’s men discovered in Egypt, and that’s not far from here. Or King Solomon’s mines in Africa.”

  “That was a fantasy story, grandmother,” Ella reproached gently.

  “No matter. Our eyes don’t deceive us, and that thing is entirely unnatural,” she declared.

  “Wherever we are, it's clear we are strangers here," said Travert, authority returning to his voice. "And who knows what these foreigners may want with us. We should at least get those rifles out.”

  Rémy opened our trunk and searched through the blankets and tarps. “I... I can’t find them,” he stammered.

  “But you packed it!” the captain growled.

  “I helped,” I quickly added and assisted him in combing through the provisions. “But I honestly don’t recall even seeing them.”

  “Well they didn’t disappear during the night.” Travert began rummaging through the crate himself, though it was clear that the arms were nowhere to be found.

  “We would have noticed two rifles lying out on the grass, wouldn’t we?” Lady Pearson quavered.

  As much as we hated to admit it, our primary defenses were gone.

  “Oh this is lovely,” Father Daniel proclaimed.

  “Let’s not be hasty,” Ella protested, “We’ve been treated with nothing but kindness thus far. These people seem civilized after all.”

  Lady Pearson and Father Daniel sneered simultaneously.

  “We should have stayed right where we were,” the priest grumbled.

  “We can’t get anywhere with a damaged ship,” I pointed out. "For better or worse, we are marooned with these strangers. Let's try to stay in their favor."

  “Well I can only surmise what that tower may hold,” Father Daniel warned, glaring at the metallic monolith. “Perhaps this place never made it on the map because its visitors never departed!”

  Lady Pearson put her hand over her head again, a groan of despair escaping her lips.

  “Well really!” Ella huffed. “I would kindly like to request that we stop these negative assumptions!” Her voice betrayed no fear and I admired her quality of character. She picked up one of the containers of water and wet a handkerchief to put over her grandmother’s forehead.

  "We are not on some lost island," Travert reassured. "We're on the brink of the twentieth century, after all. This must simply be some remote area outside the shipping lanes. And you know as well as I how quickly things get built of late."

  “But wouldn’t we have heard of such a monument?” Rémy asked.

  “Yes…” I replied. “There is always so much fuss and publicity surrounding the latest constructions.”

  “Exactly,” the young man agreed. “And this tower must surely be one of the tallest in the world.”

  “We must at the very least assume that visitors here are uncommon," I pointed out. "At worst, we may be the first outsiders to walk these shores in millennia.”

  “As a mariner of this sea, I simply can’t comprehend how that’s possible,” Travert stated.

  “As Lady Pearson pointed out, it has happened before," I explained. "Maybe not in this region, but there are certainly lost tribes throughout the world. And who knows, this may be where the ancient stories of Atlantis had come from,” I hypothesized. “Suppose we are the first visitors on this island in centuries. We are effectively ambassadors to the outside world.”

  Although it was not my intent, the weight of my words settled upon my companions like a great burden. They remained silent for the rest of the trip.

  Our carriage scaled the crest of a hill which descended down to a large stretch of flat land beside the sea. We were still a mile or two from the tower, but the peak offered us our first view down to its base. The silver cone protruded from a grassy field at the center of a densely forested region. Its base ended in a perfect circle on the turf, curving out like the lip of a trumpet. Although I spotted a multitude of other buildings among the trees, all were composed of stone and few emerged above the treetops. My rational mind was at odds with what I saw before me and I had difficulty judging the full height of the monument. It stretched into the heavens and I suspected it was at least seven hundred feet tall. Its bright exterior contrasted beautifully against the deep green foliage of the area.

  The red cobblestone road weaved down the hill and appeared to end at the tower, though the path was flanked on either side by a swimming sea of color. A horde of people, many thousands of individuals, stood between us and the tower’s base. Their pastel tunics flashed in the sunlight. The entire group erupted in cheers when we came into view and their collective voices formed a distant roar of enthusiasm. Our carriage continued down toward the sea of spectators.

  A line of ceremonial guards blocked off both sides of the cobblestone road so that our path was clear of the masses. Their uniforms were elaborate tunics of deep purple with thick gold belts around their waists. An ornamented purple cape fluttered from the back of each man and woman, for I noticed that both genders were reflected in the sentries. Heavy gold bracelets adorned their wrists. Unlike the sandals of the populace, the guards wore tall boots over their dark trousers. Although their belts had a number of objects attached to them, none were the pistols or swords that I would have expected.

  Several dozen individuals, all attired in pastel green cloth, stood waiting for us at the outskirts of the crowd. They were musicians. Most of them wore drums attached to their torsos by leather harnesses. The instruments varied in length and width b
ut all were wooden and beautifully carved with intricate patterns and symbols. The rest of the group held long silver trumpets, which resembled the great building before us.

  The musicians lined up in front of our approaching carriage; they would be leading us to the tower. As if reading each other’s thoughts, the drummers all struck their instruments in perfect unison and a thundering rhythm pierced the air. I do not know what tricks of sound they used, but the uproar was much louder than nature allowed. The cheers of the crowd were drowned out by the rapid percussion. My shipmates and I jumped up in surprise. The drumming was intense and more suited to a savage ritual taking place deep in the lost jungles of the world than among these smiling foreigners. The trumpeters soon joined the percussion with long powerful blasts. They balanced the dominant beats with a hypnotizing melody. It was an unparalleled presentation.

  The locals went wild with excitement, smiling, cheering, and throwing flowers at our passing carriage. They came from a mixture of hereditary backgrounds; I could discern every complexion among the group. It was most difficult to tell the men apart from the women. Both genders displayed varying lengths of hair, from extremely short cuts to shoulder-length locks. Likewise, flowers and braids were common embellishments on both.

  Their clothing was also very similar. The tunics had a few folds, but with simple silhouettes. Most ended just above the knee with short sleeves at the top, though several individuals, men and women alike, wore white trousers beneath the colored cloth. Everyone appeared to favor pastel colors: yellows, greens, pinks, and blues. The more I scrutinized them, the more I realized that I had already seen the garments before. They were chiseled into the decorative marble panels surrounding the roof of the great temple. What I mistook for poor workmanship was actually a representation of the simplified pseudo-ancient robes before me.

  Accessorizing appeared to have no particular rule. Some people wore jewelry, everything from wide metal necklaces to simple bracelets. Others wore none. Large ornamented broaches were clasped to the shoulders of most of the garments. I spotted a handful of odd hats with no brim but with silk sheets hanging off the back. Others wore purely decorative scarves, for the warm weather did not necessitate them, adorned with streaks of metallic thread. There were even a few silken capes fluttering in the breeze.