Endworlds - Nicholas Read [15]
Neither he nor Eisman anticipated what they found. Expecting a few crumbling structures formed of hand-gathered coral rubble, they were astonished to find themselves motoring softly along canals between walls of carefully worked and laid basalt that in places towered more than twenty-five feet high. Seabirds hunted the coral shallows while bolder frigates patrolled overhead. Sweat poured down their faces as their guide, wearing as little as possible, guided the open shallow-draft craft between the immense edifices.
“Palaces for nobles, homes for priests, even dwellings for commoners. All built out of prismatic basalt. Construction began more than a thousand years ago.” The boatman turned down another artificial canal. “See that stone there? It is a single piece, twenty feet long and weighing more than fifty tons; carved and shaped like it was butter.”
While Hills gaped in wonder at their surroundings, an initially distracted Eisman remembered snippets from having the late night History Channel playing in the background during countless nights working from home.
“I know how the Egyptians moved such stones, including even larger ones than these, but how could people out here transport them? Across water, no less?”
Hills eyed him uncertainly. “You know how the Egyptians moved stones, sir?”
Eisman blinked as he wiped his face and forehead. “Figure of speech, Bill. I meant to say that I know how the archeologists say it was done. With log rollers and pulleys and leverage.” He gestured at their decidedly un-Egyptian surroundings. “There’s no hard ground here to pull these stones across.” He turned back to their guide. “So how did they do it?”
Turning down yet another canal, the guide smiled. “One legend says that a powerful sorcerer’s black magic was responsible. He flew the stones here from the quarries. Another legend says the Skypeople built a palace on Earth here to teach and rule from their ‘reef of heaven’. If you believe such tales, this city was once a gateway to the gods. The origin of such stories has been lost to us today.”
Raef shifted in his seat. “A gateway you say? Here on the ground?”
Their guide smiled wanly as he steered the boat. “On the ground, yes. And straight up through the air. A pillar of light, they said, right into the dark heart of heaven.”
Hills grunted. “It’s the same story one hears for every megalith. Not just Egypt, but India, Africa, Mexico, and of course Britain. These sky people and magicians sure do get around.”
Eisman nodded slowly. “But if we discount the legends and believe that tribal elders commissioned the work, all those sites you refer to, Bill, are located on soil capable of supporting log rollers and the weight of the great stones.” He gestured at their surroundings. “This is all water out here.” Already he was running calculations in his head. “Could local Micronesians of a thousand years ago build rafts capable of floating fifty-ton stones around an island subject to heavy wave action and daily tides?”
“Well they certainly weren’t flown here,” Hills huffed. Immediately after he had voiced the objection he hastened to face the guide. “Meaning no disrespect to your traditions, of course.”
The boatman grinned. “I watch television, I read the news. I am not an ignorant man, visitor William. I can guide tourists in German and Japanese as well as English. You will not catch me talking seriously about giant flying pillars of stone and doorways to heaven. But you must admit it makes a wonderful story.”
Relieved that he had not offended, Hills smiled back. “So this was basically a center for politics and religion. Like most ancient cities. Given how isolated it is, there would have been little commerce with outsiders, I guess. Too far to trade with the next ‘civilization’, at Kosrae.”
The guide nodded. “Some ruins there as well, but not like this.” Using the hand that was not manipulating the tiller he indicated their cyclopean surroundings. “There is nothing in all