Time Odyssey: The Soul’s Memory; Part II: The Journey

By J. F. Weckesser

Fleeing the sinking continent of Atlan, Ketzah and six temple Initiates must now secrete the Records of Atlan's history. After surviving a tumultuous ocean journey, they find themselves in a primitive jungle, where they are mistaken for sea gods. They assume these identities for their own safety, and to teach a less-violent way of life in their new community. They introduce agriculture and music while erecting a small pyramid to hide the Records.

Ketzah has vowed to find Falima when his work is done, and after several years he and three companions head to Khemet to fulfill his promise. Part II of the trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. F. Weckesser
• Release date: Aug 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301676804

J. F. Weckesser

Legends and myths of lost continents have always intrigued me, and as a longtime member of the Rosicrucian Order, AMORC, and also the Association for Research and Enlightenment, one day “Time Odyssey: The Soul’s Memory” began to unfold in my mind: What would it have been like to live in those days? Curiously enough, I saw the world as a male for the first two books of the trilogy, and as a woman in the third.I believe even our greatest heroes and masters were human, and probably struggled with their own hopes, fears, desires, misgivings, lapses of judgment, joys and sorrows—especially during the dark and scary times. It is the rising above these roadblocks that make the hero. A Zen proverb says, "The obstacle is the Path."My present home is in Wisconsin, but I spent many years in California. My heart belongs in both areas.

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Time Odyssey: The Soul’s Memory

Part II: The Journey

By J.F. Weckesser

Smashwords Edition

Second Edition

Copyright 2013 J.F. Weckesser

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

* * * *

My deepest thanks to Gary, Davia,

and the great Mystery of Mysteries—the Source.

* * * *

Part 2: The Journey

Chapter 1 - Atlan’s end

Chapter 2 - Strange new world

Chapter 3 - A home in the forest

Chapter 4 - Slaughter!

Chapter 5 - A simple cairn

Chapter 6 - Agriculture

Chapter 7 - Romance and animosity

Chapter 8 - Music and marriage

Chapter 9 - The sons of Anaconda Three Suns

Chapter 10 - A visit with Teza Lepoka

Chapter 11 - Leaving New Atlan

Chapter 12 - Long voyage to Khemet

Chapter 13 - Finding Falima

Chapter 14 - The wedding of Ketzah and Falima

Chapter 15 - Return to the Source

Chapter 16 - Aaron

About J.F. Weckesser

Part 2: The Journey

* * * *

Chapter 1

10,056 B.C.E.

EarthChange 2

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown. And he replied: Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.


—Minnie Louise Haskins

God Knows

The others arrived at the dock soon after Ketzah. First was Dregl, who lumbered up the ramp and upon seeing his friend forced a smile and slapped his big hand on Ketzah’s shoulder. Ho, Brother! 

As usual, Ketzah lurched forward slightly from the blow, but managed a weak smile.

Right behind Dregl was Xio, whose worried scowl made him look much older than his twenty-six years.

Hara was next, a short, stocky man who greeted the others with a terse nod. 

Igri, like a small bird, fidgeted and looked around anxiously. Bad day, he said coming up the ramp. Look at the clouds; smell the air. I don’t like this.

Now Mot came, and the subtle radiation of his serenity seemed to instantly relieve the tenseness. At thirty years old, there was an inner strength in his gentleness. This strength was soon to be tested.

Last to arrive, to no one’s surprise, was Megar, a balding, pudgy man who tried to be punctual but usually failed. Dark-circled eyes showed a sleepless night; his robe was rumpled and he had forgotten to comb his hair.

At first glance, it would seem these men were an unlikely group of mystics ready to venture into an unknown future, and certainly a stranger looking at this lot would question their place as chosen guardians of ancient records. But temple initiates they indeed were, and their teachers had chosen them precisely for this group to Og because of their abilities: Ketzah, of course, was a botanist and herbalist. Xio, a scientist, enjoyed carpentry in his leisure. Dregl, the geologist, had also studied hydrology—the movement of water. Hara’s curious mind brought him to the field of machinery and invention. Igri was an astronomer, astrologer, and had studied navigation when the intention was clear that they would travel by boat. Megar was the group’s physician. And Mot was not only a priest, but a teacher too.

Together they made up a unit, for in the wild country they were bound for, all their abilities would be needed.

Xio went straight to the cabin and busied himself stacking and sorting each item.

The others looked around dismally. The city, so near from the end of their little ramp, seemed like another world now, a world they dearly wanted to return to. But it was over, and it was useless to talk about it.

We’re all here now, so we’d better be off, said Ketzah.

Mot glanced around. Where is Master Atel?

 There are just us seven, Ketzah said quietly. He has refused to go. He wants to remain in Atlan.

Certainly not! cried Dregl.  Come on, let’s go get him.

He was adamant, and he’s of sound mind. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t truly desire to die in his homeland.

He must come! Xio insisted. Oh, haven’t we said enough goodbyes?

We need him, said Hara, with his guidance and strength. We’ve got to convince him. We need a priest with us.

I tried to change his mind. And, he nodded toward Mot, we have a priest. Mot is well-trained—he’ll remind us of who we are if we forget.

Xio and Igri sputtered disapproval. 

We’re in charge now, said Ketzah. We were trained for this, whatever befalls us. Wisdom must now come from within ourselves. We can’t rely on others for guidance when knowledge has already been given to us.

Megar chuckled emptily. I suppose you’re right. And we really have no choice, do we?

Dregl looked back at Poseidl and squinted, as if to see Atel if he only looked hard enough. Well, then let’s go bid him farewell. It won’t take long.

Mot placed his hand on Dregl’s arm. Let’s honor his request. It must’ve been a painful decision for him. He wouldn’t want to be the cause of our trip being delayed. And it would only prolong the anguish. Let’s remember him as he was, and honor him for his sacrifice. He must have realized his age might be a hindrance in a new land.

Look, interrupted Igri. The Earth grows angrier each minute. We can talk about this as we go, but we must be off now.

So Dregl and Xio tackled the sails and hoisted the big red and gold canvas up the mast, where it billowed majestically in the wind. The lines were taken in and the little galley slowly headed out to sea. It rocked gently in the swells, guided by Mot at the rudder, Ketzah and Igri each manning an oar. 

Xio eyed the churning swirls of water. I wish we had a motor.

It’s just as well, said Hara, staring over the side. We all agreed we couldn’t afford one, and you know we’ll have no use for it when the Crystal energy is gone.

I know, said Xio wistfully. Still, it would be nice right now.

The men were silent now, each steeped in thoughts of what they were leaving behind and what lay before them. On another day it would be pleasant. The water quietly splashed from the creaking oars, the sails ruffled in the wind, a gull screeched, while the wind blew through their hair and clothes.  

But on this day it was enough to simply gaze back at Atlan. They fixed their eyes for the last time on this land of marvels and promises—the only world they’d ever known, now suffering the throes of death.

Outside the bay, the winds blew stronger and the men looked up from their thoughts. Ketzah brought in the oars. The sails worked well now, filled with wind and carrying them out to sea.

In mid-afternoon, Ketzah took out his panpipes and blew familiar melodies out across the waves. Sometimes Dregl and Hara hummed along, but the others listened silently, looking over the water, at Poseidl behind them and the unknown ahead. Mot retired to the cabin and sat in prayerful solitude.

Ketzah played as many melodies as he could think of until twilight, then took first watch with Megar while the others slept. Though the waves were high—the swells even higher—still there was a rhythm to it and it was peaceful, though melancholy. Ketzah kept to the rudder and watched the compass by a small battery-powered light. Though only temporary, it was a good help. Megar adjusted the sail occasionally as they went, gently pushed by the wind. When their shift was over, they slept soundly through the night.

* *

What’s that? Aah! Igri’s cry pierced the early twilight, and Ketzah shot bolt upright out of his sleep. He tore out of the cabin and looked around. The others were already at the stern, staring out to where Igri pointed. There, out across the waves!

Ketzah’s heart stopped.

Fiery red and yellow streaks topped by black billowing smoke curled up into the sky from the direction of Atlan, now long gone from sight under the horizon. 

Then, BOOM!—a monstrous roar, and another and another. 

It had begun.

Hold on! shouted Xio.

A heartbeat later the air roared in solid thunder, like a thousand storms raging. The sea turned suddenly wild, waves and wind churning and howling.

Slate clouds hid under black clouds and sunrise disappeared. Night had returned.

Ketzah clutched the rail to keep his footing. Get a line! he screamed. Anchor yourselves onto something!

The boat heaved and pitched, and they struggled on the slippery deck. Each managed to find a line and tie on to something—the mast, the cabin, an oarlock. 

Now the boat heaved and tossed with hideous violence, nearly capsizing again and again. Water deluged over the sides and sloshed up to their ankles, their knees; in the next heave, the water exited over a side, to be followed by more flood, more emptying.

The explosions continued, another and another, more than they could count.

Everything was cold, wet and inky-black but for strobes of lightning. They held on desperately, swathed in terror.

It raged on and on and maddeningly on, hideous chaos screaming about them, and all they could do was grasp on to any firm thing and hope their boat—and their lines—were sturdy enough.

An eternity passed—a day maybe?—two? There was no way to know. They shivered and cringed and their bodies cramped in this unending hell.

Then, from in the air and under the sea and every direction, the loudest explosion of all roared over all creation, so loud that they cried out in pain and held their ears.  

Atlan is gone. We’re doomed! cried Ketzah. 

But no one heard in the blast, not even Ketzah himself.

And now the explosions stopped, but the thunder and lightning and wildness of the sea persisted. The cords binding them to the boat held fast as the little vessel tossed violently.  

Another forever passed and they didn’t know what was sleep and what was waking. Were they alive?—or were they dead, relegated to some unspeakable damnation?

A small light went on in the blackness; their eyes bolted to the spot. Hara had loosened his ties and made his way to the compass with stored Crystal light. The feeble lamp was like the sun in this inky night. And one by one, as their eyes focused, they were astonished.

The dripping compass stood under the light on its battered mounting, standing alone in shadows of endless black. A small disk is all it was, with a pointer that rotated on a pin and a protective clear dome to keep it dry. Now it was an object of bewilderment, for the needle shot this way and that, not knowing where to point—a mass of jerking, confused motion. 

It’s gone wild! Megar cried. How do we fix it?

We can’t, said Hara. It’s a simple instrument. It can only point to the north. A magnet is a magnet. It can’t break, so can’t be fixed.

They stared in dismay until Hara turned the lamp off to save the waning power. In maddening darkness, they clutched and groped at anything secure, yet in the misery of the coldness and wetness and tiredness, their minds focused most on the mystery of the compass. What was wrong with it? What was happening to Earth?

 The poles! exclaimed Igri, realizing at last. The poles are moving! 

 Merciful Divinities! moaned Dregl. What have they done? They’ve destroyed the whole Earth! They’ve killed us all! He slumped to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

It was a few moments before Ketzah could breathe again. Maybe, he said at last, but maybe only a change is occurring. Take heart, friend. 

He remembered Master Bol telling him once that the Earth had been altered before and it will no doubt happen again. We will survive this! He didn’t know why, but he was sure of it.

The little galley floundered on in the darkness. The needle slowed on the compass and finally became stable, but they didn’t trust it to point the way to Og. If the cardinal directions changed, they wouldn’t know where any land was until they could see the stars—unless they too had moved.

The wind blew relentlessly and waves thrashed the boat, splashing over the men again and again until they were nearly crazy with the torment.

The light finally gave out, the battery’s energy gone. Blackness became even blacker without the occasional respite from the lamp. They could only hold tight to their places and suffer whatever fate was in store.

It was senseless to try to control the boat, for the wind and the ocean were too powerful. No sounds reached their ears but waves slapping and splashing, wind raging and howling—and the occasional stifled groan of a man, no longer stoic, joining in disharmony with nature’s wail.  

Now wrapped in the dripping canvas of the sail, their bodies trembled and shuddered, only slightly sheltered from the sting of the brutal ocean, the fury of the endless screaming storm. Bitter dampness filtered through to their skin, which wrinkled it and stung and caused their bones to ache.

In the black forever, no day or night appeared, no way of telling how much time had elapsed. Was it a week?—a fortnight? They didn’t know. 

Then, a low moan shocked Ketzah from his despondent stupor. It was Dregl! Bless me with death! I beg for it! Let me die!

Ketzah reached over to comfort Dregl and felt him loosening his ties. Dregl, no! Someone help! Dregl is gone!

He’s here at the rail! called Xio. I have his ankle! Dregl, stop! Help me, Brothers! I’m tied and he’s so strong!

Ketzah’s fingers felt thick and nearly numb, but he fumbled quickly to untie the lines around his waist. Freed, he scrabbled across the deck, bumping into Mot as they reached Dregl. Grab him, called Ketzah, clutching an arm.  

You’ve got to calm down, Dregl, Mot soothed. "We’re