Chapter 1
The Bay of Rincón, off the NW coast of the island of Hispaniola. January 13, 1493 CY
Even from a distance, the pale beach sand showed definitive evidence of the violence of battle, and the blood of many Ciguayo warriors stained the sand in great dark patches. The Portuguese longboat was also clearly visible, with a handful of captives bound and gagged at the bow, already rowing hard against the surf towards the two caravels anchored safely out of arrow range.
Almirante Colombo shaded his eyes from the glare of the tropical sun as he scanned the shore for further opposition. He was not pleased by the failure of the encounter, but at least there were a few more slaves to bring back to Spain. The loss of the carrack last Christmas Day, his precious flagship La Santa María de la Inmaculada Concepción, still troubled his thoughts, since the smaller vessels combined could scarcely hold a hundred tons of cargo between them, cutting his bounty by more than half.
Still, there was enough gold, silver, and native slaves to justify financing a second expedition. He was already forming plans in his mind. He would be returning to this primitive land with sufficient soldiers and priests to conquer it, and then he could wring from these savages enough wealth to earn the respect of those European snobs that had ridiculed him for his boldness. Lunatic, they had called him. Crackpot. Maniac. Charlatan. Nincompoop.
Maximilian the First, Holy Roman Emperor, had called him a “großer dummkopf” (Big Dummy). To his face!
He was, after all, the first to find a new trade route to China. At least, he tried to think it was China. The native people found so far looked nothing like the descriptions of Chinese people he had read about. In fact, nothing about this land seemed to be very Chinese at all. Where was the silk? The rice paper? The fireworks?
He was very disappointed by the lack of fireworks. He fondly remembered watching fireworks displays in Genoa as a young boy, and dreamed of even more amazing shows in China, where fireworks had been invented. He was certain that the art of pyrotechnics must be more advanced there. Such wondrous detonations there must be!
His attention was drawn to a strange light on the beach. It was a bluish flame in the shape of a hoop that stood upright on edge, slightly above the sand. He squinted his eyes against the glare, and saw a humanoid figure step through the hoop as though stepping across a threshold. There was a feminine shape to the figure, but it was clad in a hard carapace, like a suit of armor, that covered it from head to foot. If it was a woman, then she was undoubtedly a warrior of some kind, as she carried a long staff of unusual style, seemingly made from the same hard substance as her armor. Her shell-covered head turned to the pair of small ships in the bay. She raised her staff with both hands and pointed one end of it at the foreign vessels, bracing the other end against her shoulder, like a soldier aiming a musket. The figure stood in that pose for some time, occasionally adjusting her position on the sand. A low humming noise could be heard, barely discernible above the roar of the surf.
Then the sails caught fire. Smoke started to rise from the wooden gunnels and masts. The Portuguese sailors began to organize a bucket brigade to put out the fire. Then the sailors began to catch fire, and they started screaming and jumping overboard.
And then Almirante Colombo noticed that he was on fire, but it was too late to do anything about that, because the kegs of gunpowder in the hold began to explode.
The final thought of the man who would, in a different timeline, be known as Christopher Columbus, was, “At least there were fireworks.”
All of this was witnessed by the remaining Ciguayo warriors hiding in the line of palm trees just off the beach. Towards the end of this spectacle, a younger warrior pointed out that the strange woman and her hoop of blue fire were now gone. The Ciguayo looked at each other and slowly began to smile, then laugh out loud. The gods had obviously favored the faithful, and had come to smite the invaders. As the sea breeze cleared away the smoke, it was observed that the cloud-canoes were now little more than scattered bits of burning driftwood. Some of the crew could be seen trying to swim to the beach, while the longboat bobbed on the waves, its stunned soldiers unable to decide where to go next. Singing a prayer of thanks, the Ciguayo band made their way down to the beach to “welcome” the survivors.
And thus the world was changed…
