Montana Rockwood in Amorous Atlantis - Part 4

Chapter 4 - I’m Making This Up As I Go Along

Hudson woke the next morning feeling conflicted. He kept his eyes closed for a good twenty minutes extra, even though they were losing daylight. He didn’t know what he was going to say. How could he look Frank in the eye after what they did? The sound of pencil scratching across paper reached his ears. 

Instantly, he recognised the sound; it was something he’d woken up to plenty of times on these adventures; Frank scribbling away in his notebook. Probably organising notes for his big story on Atlantis. A story that was probably ruined now, since Jaques had destroyed the map and was halfway to Atlantis without them. 

‘Come on, Hudson, be a man even if you didn’t act like it last night.’

He forced his eyes open and rolled over toward the sound. Frank was hunched over his notebook as expected, but it was sideways, his pencil moving back and forth slowly over the lines with a look of concentration on his face. Maybe it was he golden morning light bouncing off the dunes, but he almost seemed to glow, and Hudson felt his heart squeeze in a way that had nothing to do with what happened last night. 

“What are you doing?” Hudson asked, sitting up slowly. 

“Drawing.”

“Drawing? Since when do you draw?”

Frank flushed. 

“Well, if we’re going to find Atlantis, we need that map, right? I have a pretty good memory, enough that we should be able to at least head in the right direction.”

“You don’t know shit about cartography.”

“But you do, if I get this close, maybe you can figure out the rest.” 

That funny feeling in his chest was back; it was respect, at least that’s what Hudson told himself as he looked over the map. It certainly looked like the stone one he remembered from the old temple. At the very least, it was more than he had before. If a little simpler. 

“So if this is Atlantis…” Hudson muttered, pointing to the round island in the top part of the map, “And this is the coast…it looks like we’ll have to navigate these currents here and here and the whirlpools to the south…no wonder nobody has found it.”

“Whirlpools?” Frank said, “Maybe I shouldn’t have drawn it up and we could just take a nice liner home…”

He didn't mean it, Hudson could tell, and they both grinned. It seemed that, like so many other things, they had silently agreed on how to deal with the sex: ignore that it ever happened. With Atlantis now within reach again, Hudson couldn’t bring himself to care. 

~

The trip down the coast seemed to take forever. When they finally reached a small fishing town near where the map said to set off, all it took was a bit of flirting with a local to get them a boat. Frank climbed on nervously, testing the wooden sides with a grimace.

“Are you sure about this? I don't think this boat is supposed to sail through whirlpools and rough currents…”

“Do you have a better option?” Hudson shrugged, “This is all we can afford. Actually, it’s more than we can afford. I sweet-talked him into giving us the big one.”

Frank clenched his jaw.

“I noticed.”

“Excuse me, Miss?”

It was the local man he’d rented the boat from; his cheeks were flush as he handed over an extra bit of netting that definitely wasn't necessary. 

“Just in case.” He smiled, twiddling his thumbs.

“Oh, you’re so lovely.” Hudson sighed, leaning in for emphasis.

He kept one eye on Frank, watching how his shoulders tensed; he was jealous. A thrill ran down Hudson’s spine.

“I was wondering,” He added, stepping a bit closer, “Has anybody else come around asking about boats, or travelling from the same direction?”

“Oh well…uh…”

Hudson leaned against him, tracing circles against his shirt.

“If you could remember, I’d be so grateful.” He muttered, pouting his lips a little. Somewhere behind him, something wooden splintered. 

“A foreign man.” The sailor replied, slightly breathless, “He rented a boar as well, the biggest one I had. He seemed to be charting the same way as you.”

Jaques. It had to be. 

“Thank you, I’m so grateful.” Hudson patted the man’s chest. “I will definitely have to think of some way to repay you…when I get back.”

He quickly jumped down into the boat and gave the sailor a wink as he threw off the moorings. Frank sat at the back of the vessel, scowling, his good mood from the morning entirely gone. 

“You’re too comfortable doing that.” He muttered once they were out to sea. “Flirting, acting like…like a woman.”

“You didn’t seem to mind last night. I thought you said you were thinking of me as Montana now.”

Frank’s jaw locked. “That’s…different.”

“So it’s different if you’re the one getting all the sugar? Is that why you ruined my little investigation on the ship?”

“You mean acting like a twenty-dollar street walker to get information?”

Hudson felt his face start to heat for reasons other than arousal.

“I was getting information.”

“Oh, please, I saw you ogling his behind, you had the hots for him on the ship too. Even though he’s our enemy. You always had a thing for the bad girls, remember the doll back in Paris?”

“That was one time…”

“She robbed us blind because you had to dip your wick! And now it’s worse because you’re flirting with a man.”

“A man who isn’t you, you mean.”

Frank’s face went from white to red, to purple; then he lit a cigarette to avoid having to speak, which was fine by Hudson. He was also stuck somewhere between annoyance and…arousal? Having Frank be jealous was oddly hot, but there was something else there. A burning in his gut, he never felt for any of the ladies he’d been with over the past few years. He tried not to think about it and instead focused on the water currents and the crude map he had to follow.
It became obvious why ships never travelled this way quickly. Reef after reef of razor-sharp rocks and coral got in the way and required careful navigating to avoid getting turned around. And things didn’t get easier when they finally got into deeper water and the rain began to pelt down in sheets. 

Hudson gripped the edge of the boat, his knuckles white as the wind howled around him. He was staring at the grey water ahead, littered with deadly whirlpools and jagged rocks that seemed to leap out of the spray. Frank gripped the edge for dear life.

"Don't worry! It's not as bad as it looks!" Hudson lied, yelling over the wind.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Frank shouted back.

Hudson gritted his teeth as another gust of wind pushed their small boat dangerously close to a yawning whirlpool. At least all this danger meant Frank's map was right, this had to be the way to the hidden city. 

His heart skipped a beat as the boat lurched again, throwing him off balance. His boots slid against the slick wood. His centre of gravity was lower now, and he was too slow to adjust. For a terrifying moment, he was airborne, his body pitched toward the churning black water. 

“Montana!!” 

Jonno’s hand shot out just in time, grabbing his wrist with a strength that surprised him. He yanked him back with a force that nearly snapped his arm.

Hudson tumbled against Jonno, his breath coming in sharp gasps as the rain lashed at them both as they lay on the soaking deck. For a second, the storm seemed to fade, and there was only the heat of Jonno’s body pressed against his, the faint pulse of his heart beneath the soaked fabric of his shirt. The rest of his body was freezing, but his chest was warm against Frank.

“I-” Hudson started, but the boat rocked again, jarring them both back into reality.

“We need to get out of here,” Frank said. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the wheel, yanking it hard to avoid yet another rock.

"We need to keep going!"

"This is insane!"

"That's why the city has stayed hidden, stay the course!"

Hudson gripped tightly to Frank's waist and helped steer him. With Frank's masculine strength, the ship was maneuvering better, and then he spotted something. 

They rounded a jagged rock, and through the mist, a darker silhouette came into view, a ship, its sails tattered. Figures rushed back and forth, and one fell into the swell without anybody else noticing. Even through the spray, Hudson saw him.

“Jaques,” he muttered. “He had a head start, but no way he’s beating me to Atlantis. Not today.”

The two boats raced side by side, the water churning beneath them as they hurtled through the storm. Hudson could see Jaques' smug face through the haze, his ship’s wheel gripped tightly by his gloved hands, his eyes locked onto the horizon with single-minded arrogance. He didn’t seem to care about the dangers of the treacherous water ahead.

Hudson's heart hammered in his chest as they neared the largest whirlpool yet; it was bigger than a football field, and the current was already threatening to send both ships hurtling down its maw. But then he saw something else, a great shadow looming in the distance, like a mountain...or an island. Jaques saw it too; his eyes locked up, he didn't even seem to notice the danger he was in. His ship creaked and groaned as it struggled against the current; the few men who were left held on for dear life. 

The whirlpool’s pull was growing stronger. Hudson's boat lurched sideways as the current threatened to drag it in, but he kept his hand steady on the wheel, steering hard against the tide.

It happened so quickly. Jaques' ship took a final, defiant lunge toward the edge of the whirlpool. The boat creaked, its timbers splintering under the pressure. Then, with a terrible, ear-splitting crack, the ship’s hull smashed against the jagged rocks that dotted the whirlpool’s edge. It pitched sideways, tossing the bodyguards into the tide. 

Jaques held fast, clinging to the mast, his eyes finally snapped to Hudson and then, to his shock, Jaques swung. He flew through the air and gripped the side of their ship. Hudson clung to Frank, this close to the whirlpool; it was too dangerous to let go, and he had to keep his hands on the wheel. The boat groaned, skimming the edge before finally passing the danger entirely. 

The dark shape of the island rose up in the distance, and almost as if by magic, the sea turned calm. It was like they'd passed through a barrier; roiling pools on one side, calm on the other. 

The rain still pelted down as Jaques fell onto the deck, his face a mask of frustration. His glare was sharp as a knife. 

“You think this will stop me?” he spat, barely able to stand. “I’ll-”

“There is still time to kick you overboard." Hudson scoffed. "You want to see Atlantis I suggest you get some gratitude."

Frank stepped to Hudson's side, his voice low. “You’ve got a plan, right?”

Jaques pulled himself to his feet, despite being soaking wet, he somehow managed to still look slick and sophisticated at least until he screwed up his nose at them.

“I thought your cult would have sprung for a better boat.”

“My cult?” Hudson snorted, “You’re the cultist, how else do you explain that tattoo?”

“The symbol of Atlantis!” Jaques scoffed as if it should be obvious, not that…insane cultists who have taken up destroying every bit of evidence that it ever existed. Jokes on them, that map was right on their doorstep and they didn’t find it.” 

“If you’re not part of the cult…why are you here?” Asked Frank. 

“For the same reason as you, I suppose.” He muttered, “The magic.”

Hudson blinked at him.

“T-the magic of transformation? Good Gods, if you don’t know about that, then why are you here?”

“That must be the magic that made you this way…” Frank said, and Hudson nodded.

If that was the case, then there would have to be a spell or a stone to turn him back. Before this adventure, he’d never been big on mysticism, but getting turned into a woman makes a man reevaluate such things. 

The boat cut through the water, and the three of them were at a standstill. 

“We should throw him overboard.” Frank said, finally, “What, we’re both thinking it.”

Normally, Hudson would agree. But something made him pause. 

“We stay alive. He knows more about Atlantis than we do.” It almost physically hurt to admit that aloud. “Now that we know he isn't one of those cultists, we could use him.”

“And if I refuse?” Jaques snorted. Frank took a menacing step forward.

“The water is right there. And if not that, I have a very big knife.”

Jaques cleared his throat and smoothed over his soaked hair.

“I am amenable.”

“How lovely.”

Hudson could feel the tension sparking between the two men. Frank wasn't normally bloodthirsty, but he was practical. When they’d had to kill a man in self-defence back in Egypt, it hadn't kept him up at night, but he’d never been the one to call for blood. Hudson wondered what was different now; was it that jealousy? Or the fact that Jaques had hurt him? Seeing Frank be so protective made emotions swell in his lower abdomen. He gripped the wheel and focused on the island ahead, slowly emerging out of the gloom. Atlantis was on the horizon; confusing feelings about his best friend and new rival could wait. 

Hudson pulled the boat against a small stone pier. It was cracked with age, and the rest of the city loomed forth, built upwards like a mountain; there were towering spires and huge buildings all made from white stone with green tile roofs. It looked like something out of a fantasy book. Or rather, it would, had the ravages of time not taken their toll. Vines and overgrowth had overtaken most of the buildings, and the stonework was cracked and weathered with age. 

“Atlantis…” Hudson breathed. “To think…we might be the first people here in a thousand years.”

“Unlikely.” Jaques cut in, “Look over there.”

It was hard to see through the rain, but Hudson followed his eyeline, a flicker of light in a building over a mile away and halfway up the tiered city.

“The cult?” Frank questioned, Hudson and Jaques nodded. 

“They have been chasing me down, trying to stop me from getting here for years.” Jaques breathed, “But who’s laughing now…”

He shook his head for a moment, as if to clear his thoughts. “We should get under cover; it would be a tragedy to catch pneumonia and die at the edge of greatness.”

“Hey,” Frank gave him a light poke with his knife, “you’re our prisoner, don't go acting like you’re in charge.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’ll have us stand out here and freeze to death just to spite me?”

Hudson sighed.

“Come on, let’s go find some shelter.”

~

The city’s massive size worked in their favour. Despite the flickering lights in the distance, the area they had landed in seemed abandoned. What started as a slow, careful walk soon turned casual when it became obvious nobody was going to stumble upon them. 

They found a quiet hall, complete with a few dead vines they could use to light a fire and dry their clothes. Hudson shivered; his blouse was stuck to his skin, leaving very little to the imagination. He could feel both Jaques and Frank’s eyes on him as they stripped down to their boxers, and he stayed fully clothed. 

“Oh, for goodness' sake, you Americans, so prudish.” Jaques sighed.

“You’re just trying to look her up and down, you pervert.”

“I’m not the one red in the face.”

Hudson bit his lip and turned his back on them as they continued to bicker. They were so busy arguing, they didn’t even notice he was unbuttoning his wet shirt and laying the clothes down by the fire. Did he ever do this as a man? Talk about a woman as if she weren't standing five feet away? Still, having two men fight over him was…interesting. 

Hudson felt his skin heating, and it had nothing to do with the fire. With a huff, he got to his feet; he was too excited to sleep anyway. This might not be how he imagined his arrival at Atlantis, but that didn't change the fact that he was here! Who knows what relics and history were waiting for him!  He brushed dust from a carved serpent relief, his fingers lingering on the ancient stone, just like the snake that had been wound around the stone that changed him. 

"They worshipped snakes," he murmured.

"Of course they did." Jaques stepped into the light, arms folded, a crooked smile playing at his lips. “The serpent was sacred. A symbol of solitude and self-reliance. And power. Not to mention, snakes have long been considered seductive. It was the perfect symbol for a society of women fleeing patriarchal rule." 

"You're smarter than you look."

“Ah, ma chère, you wound me,” Jaques said, pressing a hand to his heart in mock pain. “But you cannot deny that you are glad I am here. You wouldn't have let me live otherwise, and after seeing the company you keep, I cannot blame you.”

"Frank is my best friend." He defended.

"And a dullard who clearly doesn't care one wink that he is standing in the greatest historical find of the century. Maybe even the millennium."

He hesitated, just for a moment. Because Jaques wasn’t wrong, Frank was a good friend, loyal and brave, but he didn’t care about the Atlantean glyphs or the murals. Jaques clearly did. Too much, probably. Hudson watched as Jaques reached up to grab a small snake idol off one of the pedestals, only for the stone to shift ever so slightly. It was the sort of trap Hudson was well acquainted with. 

"Watch out!"

He barely shoved Jaques out of the way in time as the pressure plate lifted and a spike, glistening with long, dry poison, shot out of the wall. Hudson let out a sigh of relief, only to realise just how close they were standing. Jaques' eyes flicked to his lips.

“You know,” he said softly, “for rivals, we make a pretty good team.”

Hudson tilted his head, voice low. “Don't push your luck, Frenchie.”

Jaques chuckled, but leaned in anyway. Hudson was frozen; he'd always had a weakness for bad girls, apparently, in this new body it translated to men as well. That same arousal swelled within him, and he found himself frozen as Jaques' lips got closer and closer. Then, a cough. His head snapped toward the sound, and his eyes landed on Frank. 

He was standing in the arched doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable. A cigarette hung forgotten between two fingers. 

Jaques chuckled, "Ah, the ever-watchful press."

Without a word, Frank flicked his cigarette to the ground and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the hollow halls. Hudson's stomach twisted. Guilt, sharp and sudden, surged in his chest. He turned away from Jaques, eyes settling back on the serpent carvings.

“Looks like not all traps are made of stone,” he muttered.

~

Once their clothes were dry, they continued through the city. Frank scribbled away in his notebook, probably drafting his story, while Hudson and Jaques studied the walls and buildings. It was frustrating. Jaques spoke the language and would look at the letter with a knowing smile until Hudson swallowed his pride and asked him to translate, which he did, with a smug smile on his face. Hudson, for his part, disarmed the traps. 

It seems the last few Atlantians had boobytrapped almost the entire city in order to stop men of the future from discovering their secrets. It slowed their progress, but it kept them alive. Hudson kept his eyes peeled for more of those serpent stones, but of course, the odds of a magical item being left out in the open were slim. 

A large temple seemed to show promise; they walked through an ancient hall in awe. Even Frank couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping as they took in the beautiful murals that covered the wall. They showed an island, and a group of people all bowing down to a central woman, holding a stone above her hair that shone with the sun's rays.

“This is the history of Atlantis…” Jaques said in awe. “Look, the discovery of the magic they based their technology on and…the transformations!”

There it was, a wall showing a priestess holding the gem high as a man transformed…into a woman! Each mural was accompanied by a row of text made from delicate tiles. The language meant nothing to Hudson, but it seemed like Jaques could read it; he didn't ask how.

“It looks like Atlantis was founded by women who wanted to escape the cruelty of the patriarchal ancient world…” He muttered, “All new arrivals must be female, or be turned female in order to stay and enjoy the bounty of Atlantis…Men were basically second-class citizens.”

Hudson hung on his every word, so that was the magic of the endant. It had turned him female; perhaps that female cultist had been male once as well. That had to be why they were so good at fighting. Yes. It was the only explanation. 

They passed by yet another mural, this one showed the city in ruin, boats being turned away by more of those priestesses. This one seemed newer than the others, and Jaques ran his fingers over the tiles. 

“Seems like over time, the priestesses were more selective with who they let into Atlantis. They started turning away all men, even female refugees who didn't meet the ‘feminine ideal’. Eventually, there were too few of them to support the city, and it started to fall. The last few artists left this as a warning for the future…” 

“If they all died out, who the hell are those cultists attacking us?” Frank asked.
“I thought you were with them,” Jaques said.

“We thought the same of you,” Hudson added, and Jaques snorted. 

“I’m here for my own reasons.”

“And those would be?”

“Mine.”

He didn't elaborate; instead, he focused entirely on taking notes. Hudson was sure there was more he wasn’t telling them. Eventually, they found a small house and settled down for the night, not daring to light another fire, just in case those cultists saw the light through the windows. 

“Who’s on watch?” Frank asked, “I’m not sleeping with this guy, ready to knife me in the ribs.”

“Do whatever you please, I’m going to be well rested for tomorrow.”

Hudson rolled his eyes. He didn’t have the energy for this. He unrolled his sleeping bag and shoved his fingers in his ears. Normally, he wouldn’t sleep with an enemy so near, but Frank was at his side. He knew Jaques would be knocked out cold if he even thought about trying something. Despite the insanity of the day, Hudson was shocked by how quickly and deeply he fell to sleep. It was only when Frank's hand gripped his shoulder and shook him that he realised time had passed. In the gloom, he could see Frank lift a finger to his lips. 

“We need to go,” He whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Jaques, he isn’t some competing archeologist, he’s insane!”

“What are you talking about?”

Hudson glanced over to where the Frenchman was lying, fast asleep. Frank held up a familiar notebook in his hand, the one Jaques had been scribbling in.

“I’ve seen his plan, and we need to get out of here now.”