This is the last story in the trilogy, and, unlike the previous two stories, does NOT stand up on its own as well. I highly urge you, if you have not already, to read "The Dark Continent's Enigma," at least. Things hinted at in that story manifest themselves in this one, and simply reading this may seem as if I'm recklessly throwing you into an underdeveloped story. Also unlike the previous two stories, this has a slightly different style, no longer following a single character, and no longer waiting a few chapters to come into conflict.
In case you're interested, if there were a soundtrack to this, it would be "Waterworld." Just because the tone seems similar from this end of the pencil, and I wrote to it mostly.
I'm pretty sure I butchered the Swahili, too. All I had to go with was the lyrics of Lebo M.'s "Rhythms of the Pridelands."
TEAM ATLANTIS: SHARDS OF CHAOS
In a world where chaos was nearing the throne, in a world where life was being shortened, in a world where sorrow and fear were becoming a plague, there was Atlantis.
CHAPTER 1: Shards of Chaos
The city seemed deathly still, as if waiting to even take a breath, for fear the movement might bring forth its own demise. The sanguine fireball was being eclipsed by those it protected, slowly silencing its freedom. The glow was dying away, forcing the molten inferno below that surrounded the city to be the only light source.
Khobdesheh watched from the plaza, dark brows furrowed. Before him was a small, pyramid-shaped structure that stood perhaps three feet tall. Over the four exposed faces where the glyphs of the Atlantean language combined with the intricate spiral circuitry of the culture's technology. Both pattern and inscription glowed a sad, pale blue. A man stood at one corner, tinkering with it, when a shot of energy lashed out, striking his arm. The man yelped in pain, cradling his injured limb.
"Are you all right? Watch what you are doing! We do not need any more casualties!" Khob went to him and examined the wound.
The man nodded, removing his own crystal to heal it.
"How much longer until you are ready? Milo and Kida are not patient rulers."
"I know. I am almost finished. All that is left for me is to connect two symbols. If I am correct, Sanklah should almost be ready as well."
Khob looked upward, seeing a man on an Aktirak lower the last panel into place to connect with the crystal's casing. "Let us pray this works."
"Yes, but… What if it does not?"
"Then we shall have the wrath of Queen Kidagakash wrought upon us! We must not fail… We should thank the Spirits Milo is not yet fully equipped in the powers of king, or else we should pray for death if we do not succeed!"
. . .
Something did not seem right.
Milo could not decide what it was, but something felt wrong. He pushed with all his might on the last rock, steadying it at the top of the pile of boulders. The scholar puffed for a few seconds, wiping his brow with a furred arm protector. Walking to a corner of the cave ledge, he looked over. Sure enough, the rope had just been put into place by a fellow hunter.
"Are you finished, Milo?"
The scholar turned his head to look down at his wife. "Sure am!" he called. Milo watched as she paced toward the underside of the trap, inspecting it to see if there were any flaws. He saw her motion to the rest of the hunting party to step back, in case it activated. The queen stood in the "bait area," a section where the rocks would not fall when the rope was pulled. From there a charokh could be pummeled while the person in question would remain safe from the controlled avalanche. To be sure the trap would not go off prematurely, Kida butted the ledge's underside with the bludgeon on her spear. Milo looked on as she smiled, contented with the construction.
"Well done!" she called to all as she stepped out, walking to the main group. "Ahkir? Go with Bendoh and Thlar. Lead a charokh here. To all else here, take positions on the ledges and on--"
In a place where ambush seemed impossible a charokh appeared, lunging for the hunters, who scattered. Milo could only look on in fear as Kida bounded for the "bait area." With an abrupt turn the massive insectoid pounced at her, claws flailing in search of its victim. To the linguist's utter horror he saw the beast snag the rope before Kida reached safety. First obscured by the mighty bulk of the charokh, Milo's view was lost by the avalanche of boulders.
"NO! KIDAAAA!!!" Unthinkingly Milo jumped from the ledge, landing painfully hard. He did not care. Clenching his teeth he picked himself up as fast as he could and ran with a limp to the mountain of rocks. Protruding from the back was the unmoving carcass of the charokh. "KIDAAAA!!!" With all the strength he could muster he tried to move the boulders, managing some success. "HELP ME!" he cried, but the hunters were already heading toward him to do so. After a few seconds he found a bit of pure white hair peeking out. "KIDAAA!!! " The king moved away some remaining debris and turned her over to see her face…
. . .
The man finally chiseled away the remaining rock on the pyramid, connecting the symbols with a long, perfectly cut crystal rod. Both the advisor and the worker stepped back as it began to hum powerfully. They turned their eyes to the sky as the panel finally connected with the case.
A bright flash enveloped the city. Khobdesheh heard a cry and, when his eyes finally adjusted, saw an Aktirak hurtling toward the ground, driver unmoving.
. . .
Upon seeing her features, Milo felt himself rush upward at a dizzying speed. He looked around in confusion to find himself someplace else. "Where's Kida?!" his mind cried. The scholar searched desperately, breathing hard, to find her curled up on the other side of the bed he was on. He examined her face first. An innocent, peaceful smile caressed her lips, he noted. Her visage was intact. Still unsatisfied, he looked to her side. Through the wrinkles of her long nightgown it rose and fell slowly at first, but the rhythm changed as she began to stir.
"Another, Milo?" she mumbled, the smile fading.
"Yeah… another one." He ran a hand over his face and hair, only to find them soaked with a cold sweat. The erudite man wiped his hand on his pajamas and looked back to his wife, eternally thankful she was fine. Kida still lay curled up tightly away from him, like she always did. He still thought it strange she did that, even in this heat. To his amazement, however, he found her asleep again. This sort of occurrence had always awakened her completely.
He looked down at his lap, seeing the Shepherd's Journal lying open. Milo had fallen asleep reading again, though this time he had been reading it to Kida. This explained the pile of pillows behind him. The scholar wondered whether it was him or his wife who had fallen asleep first.
Milo realized just how hot his feet were, and habitually pulled the covers slightly to try and cool them. When nothing happened, he looked to his feet, seeing Fluffy had taken her once usual spot back. Her little face was lit from beneath by her crystal collar tag. It had been nice to have her come on this trip. Slowly he lifted her off his feet, the cat shifting. Milo put his fingers to his lips, as if it would quiet the animal. She yawned and curled up in a new spot next to his wife.
Only just then did he notice the gentle swaying motion beneath him and remember they were still on the ship. "We must be near the equator, now," he thought. He glanced to the porthole, noticing the glow of morning. "There is no chance I'm getting any more sleep." With the utmost care he slowly got out of bed, so as not to disturb his wife, and he picked up his clothes to head to the bathroom. There he did not need to worry about being quiet. As soon as he did so, he passed back by the room to deposit his pajamas, hoping Kida wouldn't mind that he left them in a pile next to the door. He looked in simply to reassure himself Kida was still there.
The sun had not yet risen, but a flourish of bright colors announced its coming. Milo sighed heavily, walking to the side of the ship to lean on the railing. He was exhausted, but not sleepy. He watched the swells off the ocean, already gleaming red, buffet the ship's hull. The scholar was thankful he had gotten sea legs, remembering many an unpleasant time at the railings of the ship for the first few months.
Milo inhaled deeply. The salty air of the ocean was somehow comforting. The churning waters seemed to whisper something urgent, but even to the linguist it was gibberish. He ran his hand over his face, trying to energize himself.
He thought of recent times. Whitmore and the crew were always sure to bring him papers so he could catch up on current events. It was one event in particular that bothered him most.
One would never think that it could be this warm in December, even if it was the equator. But this heat did not compare to the heat of the battle that raged only two weeks ago. America had been attacked.
He would never forget the date of December 7th. Pearl Harbor had been ravaged by the cruelty of Axis forces. It was the same cruelty that abducted the nation and himself to the conflagration of anger. America charged into war like a colossal tiger enraged by its wounds.
The scholar sighed and rubbed his face, watching the waves until there was a flicker of golden light shining upon them.
Somehow the fiery winds managed not to scorch the notes of a distant song. Changing his attention, he listened closely, noting a deep, feminine voice.
"Ixesha lifikele (the time has come)
Busa lelizwe (Rule this land)
Lefatshe la bomata rona (This land of our ancestors)
Ubokhosi bo khokho (Throne of the ancestors)
Fatshe leso lea haklea (The land of our ancestors is holy)"
"Swahili," Milo thought aloud. "Must be that African sailor."
"Fatshe leso… (Our land…)
Fatshe leso… (Our land…)
Uli buse le lelizwe (You must rule this land)
U'zuli qondise (Keep it in order)
Ulibuse kahle (Rule it with care)
Ubuse ngo thando (You must rule with love)
Ubuise ngo xolo (Rule with peace)
Liqhakazise baba (Brighten our future)
Vusa amdolozi bo (Wake the Spirits up)
Sikhokhelebo (Lead us)"
The bookish man stood up, looking to the source of the song, a place obscured by a cabin. "Is that a normal folk song?" He began to listen closer.
"Ninga dinwa (Do not get weary)
Ninga phelewa nga manda (Do not loose your strength)
Uzo libusa (You will rule)
Izwe Lethu (The land of our people)"
Milo paused for a mere moment, cocking an ear.
"Shwele baba (Hail to you, Father)
Ndi ya ku khumbula mna (I miss you)
Siyakubongela (We are grateful to you)
We baba ngivelelwe (Oh, my Father, I am in pain)
Ndi ya ku khalela mna (I cry for you)
…La la kahkle… (…Farewell…)
With a curious, suspecting smile, the king walked forward to the singer's direction when the music stopped but for a few seconds.
"Teeg! (Yes! [I hear it!])
LAH-nekh THREH-tem, SHEH loh (Hear the hum, of it)
Shoo SHEH-kahk TOO-leh-noak, KAH loh (The thrum of our hearts, to it)
PAH-lokh SHEKH-luhp tahn, soh-loh (Every breath that we take, with it)
MAH-tihm-noak… (Our mother…)"
Being so familiar with the language, his mind automatically translated the song without heeding the tongue being chanted at first. Just short of reaching the corner where he would see the singer, Milo realized what it was, and grinned in delight. It was Atlantean.
In direct contrast to his dream his wife stood, full of life and backlit as she sang to the rising sun. The light of dawn made her white hair glow gold and ruby red. From her movements he could tell Kida fully absorbed in her chant, arms and head moving gracefully to their respective melodies, the shoulders rising and fists closing with power and volume.
"BAY-nen soh-kuhr-HUAH-nah… (Come with the first [great] king…)
BAY-nen EH-strah NEE-tuhg… (Come as a blazing star…)
GEH-dee-lihn-moak toog… (The great purity…)
MEH-kahn-rihk SOO-shem-tah-kohn (The benevolent power…)
Milo leaned against the wall as he listened, a dreamy look appearing on his face as he took in the moment. Never before had he seen her do this. To him, it was one of the wonders of the world.
"Lulp-SHEN-toak krihp… (Its secret life…)
Loh GAH-lokh NOHS gihm kahk-noak SHEH loh! (It gives to us and our hearts to it!)
"Kahk AHD-lihn-tih-suhg… (The Heart of Atlantis…)"
On those graceful notes she ended, leaning on the railing to watch the sunrise.
The husband shook his head, almost disbelieving, and began to walk to her. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Kida, you--"
The warrior gasped, whirling around to take a pose he had only seen her use during the hunt. The snarl on her face quickly melted away when she saw who it was. Kida sighed in relief. "Milo, you…" Her expression slowly turned to one of impressed revelation. "…Surprised me."
"I… I guess I did…"
"You have never surprised me before…"
"Well, not in that sense…"
"Yes. Your skills have improved much, it seems. You will be a good hunter yet."
"Sorry about that. Surprising you, I mean."
"It is not a bad incident. Be not worried." The queen stepped forward, slowly running a slender hand up over the muscles of his upper arm and humming a pleased note. Her gentle touch made his spine tingle. "You have improved," she added quietly.
Milo smiled, and then wrapped his arms around her. "Kida, your singing… It was beautiful! Why haven't I heard you sing before?"
"You do know what I was singing was a hymn, do you not? I enjoyed it, but it was for the Heart."
"Yes, but getting back to the question, why haven't I heard you sing before?"
"The times were not right. Either you were busy, or you were not around, as during prayer. Or," she added, "we were preoccupied by WEH-dihn-tem."
"Well, could you please make sure I'm around? Whether it's for a prayer, or just for joy, I want to hear it."
Kida hummed a laugh. "Very well. Had I known I would have sung simply for you."
As far as I'm concerned," he king began, holding her close, "you just did."
After a moment, she moved back, simply to smile to him. Milo turned her around so they could see the sunrise together, but still he kept his arms around her.
After what seemed to be a hesitation for thought, the huntress spoke. "You had another disturbing dream."
"Yeah. I thought you actually slept through it."
"No, but I do not believe I was aware for long."
"Neither do I."
"Tell me about it."
The linguist paused, not wanting to frighten her or lead her to believe, with these nightmares with the same outcome, that he wanted her dead.
"Milo, what is it you told me? If you need to talk, it will not bother me." She looked back at her husband with a raised brow.
"Well, I dreamt we were setting a charokh trap, and one attacked too early. The trap caught you, too…"
"My king, have you not been having a nightmare for each of the past three nights where you fear for my life? Do not worry about me so much. I will be fine."
"It's just… I can't stand losing you."
"Nor could I survive losing you. But do not dwell on the thought." Kida reached back to touch his cheek. "At least this dream makes more sense than the last. What was it? Little… demons you called them… threatening to imprison me in a box and kill me with… Sticks or switches?"
"Switches." He laughed weakly. "It was pretty silly, wasn't it?" Milo felt her pull his arms around her neck and she clasped his hands. "You seemed to be having good dreams."
"Yes! I had a delightful one!"
"Hmmm?"
"I dreamt we had beautiful wings, and we soared in the heavens together." Milo cringed, but luckily, because she faced away from him, she did not notice. "It will be nice to be home again," she stated after a moment.
"Yeah…"
Slowly they swayed as if wanting to dance. The world seemed like a perfect place, peace covering it like a gentle mist.
Kida's hand moved, slightly, and the scholar noted she was squeezing his. She looked back at him in delight and pointed to sleek shapes shining a silver-red in the light as they shot from the water's surface, seemingly to some breathtaking rhythm.
"That's what a dolphin looks like." Though there was no need to whisper, the king did so, anyway. He felt his wife break from him to rest her arms on the railing, getting a better look. Milo leaned beside her, taking joy in hers. The dolphins seemed to be as much a part of the water as the spouses were a part of each other.
. . .
"Sonklah!!! No!" Khob heard the man beside him cry. The sleek vehicle exploded in a burst of yellow and blue. "NO! Sonklah…!"
Khobdesheh put his hand on the man's shoulder as he fell to his knees in emotional anguish. "I am sorry, Protar. I know you were close. He must have been a wonderful brother… Remember, he died making Atlantis a better place, ensuring it would be there when his children are grown and when his grandchildren become elders." He looked to the sky, brushing the ash-white hair from his face.
The crystal, imprisoned in its many-sided prison of glowing runes, began to float downward, the king stones hanging in place. The great case perched upon the pyramid's tip, a seemingly precarious thing to do. Khob approached an irregular side, different in that it had a tube of sorts protruding from it.
"This is the time… It has finally come…" he thought in silent wonder. "Atlantis will be stable if I do this… I have read the ancient texts dozens of times. What holds me back?" His mind paused. "A fear of the unknown." The advisor clenched his fists. "It does not matter. I must ensure our future!" Slowly he reached out his hand, gingerly putting his fingers in the tube. "With their journeys nearing a temporary completion, they have been gone longer… Thank the spirits for that…" were his last thoughts before thrusting his hand fully in, sliding fingers into the three slots. With all his might he yanked the mechanism out.
Khobdesheh only had an instant to admire the gauntlet he retrieved before the world was enveloped in an eruption of yellow light. Pain sucked the air from his lungs as he was thrown through the burning air. A stone pillar in his path only increased the pain as the world was enveloped in night and nightmare.
. . .
The wave of yellow energy blasted through the caves, momentarily stunning animals. Like some salamander it moved a fiery light through the lava tubes, washing over shards of crystal imbedded in the igneous rock. So the shock passed, seemingly without effect.
A single crystal, marred with a blazing red impurity, began to vibrate, the rock around it crumbling as it shook. Upon winning its freedom it shot forward, moving to the center of the old volcano shaft. A chattering, clinking noise began to echo through the caves as tiny fragments of crystal began to work their way out of the long-hardened lava and rush to meet with the first. The growing pile began to assemble itself, orchestrating an eerie music. Slowly a form began to piece together, arm stubs putting handless nubs on the side of a broken head, waiting for completion. A screaming buzz began to fill the chambers as it formed, and it fell to its knees in immense pain. Images were scorching into its brain.
. . .
The wind, for an instant, seemed to blow hotter and harder. A strange, slightly dizzying sensation swept over Milo, and he grabbed the rail to steady himself. He coughed forcefully, feeling as if something had lodged in his lungs for an instant. "I'm okay," he reassured Kida, coughing again. The king placed his hand on hers. "I'm okay…"
Milo felt her hand quiver under his. He lifted his up to see her hand clutching the rail as if holding on for dear life, her knuckles deathly white. The queen was shaking. "Kida?" he looked to her face.
She was pale. Her glazed eyes were flickering shut. Milo saw her falter as she began to gasp.
"Kida! KIDA!" The scholar caught her and laid her down gently. "Kida, c'mon, Kida!" Her eyes shut entirely. "Help! Sweet! Anyone! HELP! KIDAAA!!!"
. . .
It was quiet, peaceful and dark. There was no worry to burden him, just a tranquil stillness.
There was a great upheaval as a pain in his shoulder shocked his frame. It felt like it was being crushed. He felt hands firmly gripping it, hands causing the pain. Rourke opened his eyes and grabbed for them immediately. No one would get the best of him today.
"Rourke! Ow! Rourke! It's me!"
"What? Holy cats! Sorry, Doc."
"'Ya had me scared, there, for a moment. Permission ta finish treatin' 'ya now, sir?"
"Yeah. Go ahead." Rourke looked to the side to see another man unconscious in the grass beside him. He had already been bandaged. The future commander grimaced as his shoulder was cracked.
"Better?"
Rourke began to move his shoulder, but a searing pain spirited through it. Instinctively, he looked to it, unsatisfied. Over his shoulder was heavy gauze and bandaging. "No. What happened back there?" he ordered for an answer.
"You were shot in the shoulder. Then in the haste someone barreled inta 'ya. Sergeant Bernard, maybe. One of the bigger guys. You were sent down the hill the hard way. I have no clue how 'ya landed, but you managed to dislocate your shoulder pretty bad, too."
"Must have been Bernard," Rourke silently mused. "No one else could take me down like that." The man shifted painfully. "So, how bad is it, Doc?"
"You or the casualties?"
"Both, but I meant the casualties."
"You'll recover. Just get your rest. The battle… Not good, I'm afraid. We won, but we lost a lot of men."
The captain sighed sadly. "What about Jonathan? Did he make it?"
"I'm sorry, sir." The physician solemnly looked to a distant body. "You literally just missed him by a couple of minutes."
"Aw, no…" He shook his head. Rourke was silent for a few minutes as he recalled his friend. They had often talked and joked, even as teenagers, how they would retire and live off the pay from it. Now he was gone…
. . .
Another memory surged agonizingly through Rourke's mind.
. . .
It was only a year later. He had just come home, tired from his first week of combat instructing. Rourke comfortably sat at the kitchen table, setting down a stack of letters. Relaxedly he opened a letter he noted was from the army, expecting the first of his retirement pay. Instead was a letter explaining his pay would be permanently docked, for reasons that could not be disclosed due to involvement with higher-ranking individuals. "The money I so rightfully deserve for all my years of service!" he growled. "They won't even tell me why I'm not getting it!" He had a suspicion it had to do with the censures from so long ago.
. . .
The memories sped through faster now. The most prominent was as clear as if it had just passed, though, for him, it had.
Though he wasn't getting the money from his military, necessarily, he would surely receive money from a military, surely. The opportunity had presented itself only a few years ago with the discovery of that page in the Journal. That crystal would steer him back on course to his dream. "This thing is gonna make us all rich, and if Thatch is right, there would be a lot of buyers for a power source like that," he thought. "It's about time I won. I've deserved this for years!"
He let his hands slide off the pod as it rose, seeing a bizarre sight. People on flying stone statues were speeding toward them.
"We've got company!" he yelled.
The battle burst through his mind with the same force of the fiery volcano. He remembered how Helga had turned on him, though that was to be expected. "Then there was Thatch. He wasn't a fighter. His obvious, weak punches were easy to catch. That piece of glass… Somehow he changed me, turned me into this!"
In his rage he released his head, slamming crystalline fists on the ground. A spray of crystal fragments rose as the rock crystallized and shattered immediately.
"What am I?! Will this pain ever stop?!" His voice buzzed as he stared at his hands, glowing blue with flaming red impurities coursing through. He painfully flexed his fingers, watching the red glow seeping from the cracks scorch the rocks around it in the light.
A grin slowly crossed his face as he noticed the crystallized stone. "What…am I?" He began to muse aloud. "I was trying to steal the crystal. I AM the crystal!" Tactical applications began to appear to him. How much would a country pay to have a fighter like this?" The ex-commander looked upward, seeing a tiny light still at the top of the shaft. "I'm not going to be able to climb out…" He laid a hand on the volcano wall as he stood. "Hmmm… For that matter… where's most of the ash?" The cave walls and floor seemed unusually smooth. "Could the volcano have erupted?" He put his fingers together thoughtfully. "The Gyro-Evac! That would've been a heckavah blow. That could set it off…" Rourke looked to a tunnel. "In that case, the city's finally dead." That still did not answer why he was alive, what he could do, or how to escape. "If I could find the remains of Atlantis, maybe I could find one of those statues and get a straight shot out of here… And maybe some remedy for this pain!" he added head still throbbing.
The light of his own body, dancing like flame, guided him onward down the lava tube.
. . .
The world did not seem to exist in image or sound, but only in pain. Khobdesheh re-awakened to it with an agonized shout. He felt as if the flesh of his right arm was being devoured by some ravenous fire. He looked to it, seeing only normal skin and the stone shell of the claw-like gauntlet, the designs burning red upon it. He clutched at his claws, hoping the feeling of the pressure might numb the pain. Tears ran down his cheeks as he tried to stand. He looked up to see all those around him also picking themselves off of the ground as if they had been knocked unconscious by some incredible blow. Scattered across the city were fallen King Stones. A hot new wind now blew, carrying the sound of an occasional cough, to which he would sometimes join with his own. He looked at his claws again, the gauntlet lit not only by its own patterns, but also by another, eerie light source. Something was not right. In a hurry, Khobdesheh looked downward.
Khobdesheh's crystal appeared a ghostly white. Quickly he looked to those around him, whose crystals blazed red, their owners gawking at them.
Khob held up the gauntlet, his arm shaking slightly from trying to withstand the pain. He had known what it could do, but he had not anticipated the machine would obey so quickly. Even now, he noted, his crystal was beginning to glow with more intensity while the others dimmed. He also noticed the fallen King Stones.
Khobdesheh looked to his hand, now armored in stone. The advisor needed to know…
With great effort he raised the claws above his head, trying to ignore the need to press it to his side. He looked to the Crystal case and saw it rise with his command, just as the old writings had said.
Through the look of agony on Khobdesheh's sharp-featured face slowly emerged a pleased smile.
. . .
Milo grabbed for his crystal, not having any idea as to how to heal her with no apparent wound. He held her up slightly, propping up her body with his.
"Milo! What's wrong?!" Sweet was the first on the deck, still in his long johns. When he stopped, he reeled slightly, as if he, too, had a dizzy spell.
"She's not breathing!!! Out of nowhere--!"
A sharp inhalation and spasm went through Kida's frame. Violent coughs racked her as she curled up on her side instinctively. Her breathing was convulsive.
"Kida! Oh, Kida!" Milo put his arms over her. The queen was cold to the touch.
The woman's words came in gasps. "My---loh… Crih--! Crih--! Crystal!" She was looking at what he clutched and held up her own. Both smoldered crimson. Kida continued to cough.
"Jiminy Christmas! Sweet?"
"I'm on it!" He knelt as the scholar moved out of the way, checking her heart and examining her clammy face.
"I will be fine," Kida wheezed.
"All the same, Miss, you're gettin' a checkup."
Others arrived on deck. "What's the matter?!" cried Audrey.
To Milo's horror, he looked from Sweet to the others, noting the condition of their crystals. Each blazed like his own. "Either the crystals have side effects if we're away for too long or something's wrong with the Heart of Atlantis! Tell the captain we gotta hurry! We have to get back to Atlantis now!"
Based off the Disney Picture "Atlantis: the Lost Empire." The Name "Shards of Chaos" is property of Disney. The characters, "MUH-suh MIH-kee" and Khohbdesheh are my property, and I acknowledge I do not own the names. Fan fiction storyline also my property. Milo Thatch, Kidagakash, Bendoh, Rourke and other characters, names, concepts, and all Atlantean in this story are property of the Walt Disney Company.
Disclaimer: Atlantis: the Lost Empire, and the characters, language, symbols, storylines and titles are property of he Walt Disney Company. This site has been created for entertainment, non-profit purposes only. See sources.
Permission must be granted by the fan authors/artists before their material is to be used. Credit must also be given to the respective author/artist in question. Do so via their e-mail. Questions? Comments? E-mail me at Like_A_Star8800@yahoo.com.
