Rise of Prophecy

by Abdur Mohammed

  Calis regained consciousness hours ago. He has had many visitors since the accident, but now he thankfully has only one, Carrell.

  “It was not easy getting this; that’s three you owe me,” Carrell says to Calis. He empties a vial of dark blue liquid into a cup of water; the contents instantly transform into a thick substance with tiny shimmering specs of gold.

  “Thank you, my friend,” Calis expresses gratefully. “I need to get to Rovina. She may be in danger.”

  “Not to worry; Lyra has the books,” Carrell explains.

  “That miserable child,” Calis complains as he gets off the bed. “She’s more than likely keeping it for her selfish ends. Don’t be surprised if the little criminal sells them, or worse, sells them to Inias.”

  “All the same, she’s hidden the books. Won’t even tell Rovina where they are.”

  “Where is she?”

  Carrell smiles, “At Chow’s; she’s taken an apartment there. As fate would have it, so has Alexius.”

  The weakened High Priest grabs the sea Captain as he tries to walk, “Let’s hope fate allows us the courtesy of not letting them collide.”

  “I take it you want to see Rovina?”

  “Yes, and I’ll be giving Lyra a piece of my mind; she will bring those books to us, one way or the other.”

  Carrell helps his friend get his things together. With some luck, the staff will release Calis. With more success, they won’t ask any questions about the quick recovery.

  -CHOW’S APARTMENTS-

  One prerequisite to living in Chow’s apartments is the understanding that the landlord is very, very cheap. He has strict rules about wasting utilities; for this reason, the water pressure drops considerably at night. Also, the lights outside the apartments are shut off one hour after sunset; only the lighting for the restaurant remains.

  Deidra struggles with Cleo to carry Alexius up the dark stairway to their apartment door. Thankfully, light from outside shines through a window on the second floor. Alexius is bloody and limps up the stairs. They reach the top to face the door; the girls struggle to keep the behemoth upright, for, in addition to the pain, he is intoxicated.

  Aggravated with Alexius’ state, Deidra lets go, “Drag his ass in,” she tells Cleo.

  “No,” Alexius mumbles, “Since the bed is not big enough for the three of us, I’ll just go over there.” He points to Lyra’s apartment.

  “Are you stupid?” Deidra asks.

  “You’re really asking that?” Cleo jokes.

  “Yup,” Alexius confirms. “She doesn’t live here, she told me so.”

  “Oh let him Deidra, do you want him making a mess in your living room?”

  “You know what? I don’t care,” Deidra says.

  Cleo lets go of Alexius’ arm, leaving him to lean on the wall. She goes over to Lyra’s locked door. She quickly retrieves an all-purpose tool from her bag to pick the mechanism.

  “My friends are criminals,” Alexius jokes. Cleo smiles as the door opens. Both girls toss him in Lyra’s apartment.

  The place is dark and shows all signs of not being lived in. Alexius locks the door behind him before making his way to the bedroom. He falls on to the neatly made up bed, ready to welcome the sleep that is descending on him.

  Fifteen minutes of quiet allows Alexius to drift off, but suddenly, he hears the door open. Panic overcomes him; She said she was not staying here. It could just be Deidra or Cleo. The sound of Lyra grumbling confirms his fears; she lied. He rolls off the bed then dives beneath it.

  He sees expensive boots entering the bedroom. They make their way to a corner, then Lyra’s butt drops in his view; she squats in front of a wall to open a hidden panel. Moments later she pulls out a leather satchel, the same bag he saw her with last night.

  Lyra drops the bag at the foot of the bed before pulling off her boots. Her skirt, shirt, and underwear fall to the ground, then the legs disappear into the bathroom.

  What’s in the bag? Alexius wonders while he slides as best as he could to it. He manages to reach a strap and pulls it closer. The bag tumbles over, exposing an edge of one of the books.

  There is something familiar about the color of the binding. He decides to investigate some more. Before Alexius could pull one out, the legs return. He retracts his hand quickly then holds his breath. The legs stand there, four feet away from his face.

  Lyra picks up the bag then returns to the bathroom. Alexius exhales, not sure of what to do next. He wants to leave, but his curiosity is getting the better of him.

  He hears running water from the bathroom. What’s the worst that can happen? She screams? I get thrown out? He ponders. With determination on his face, he marches into the bathroom. As he steps in, Lyra cracks him over the head with a solid marble statue. The ornament falls to the ground with Alexius.

  With a triumphant look Lyra point to Alexius’ unconscious body, “That’s what you get for trying to rob me; wait.” She squats down to look at his face. She fans away from the alcohol fumes, “Soldier Boy.”

  -THE NEXT MORNING IN LYRA’S APARTMENT-

  Sunlight streams into the bedroom from a window, hitting Alexius’s face. He slowly opens his eyes, feeling the pounding in his head, the soreness in his body, the restraints around his wrists; iron restraints attached to the wall.

  He looks at the shackles, slowing realizing that he is lying on Lyra’s bed, naked, with only a thin white sheet across his waist. Panic creeps in. The bindings are tight, but somewhere in the back of his pounding head, he feels, no he knows, that he can easily break through them. He begins to pull on the restraints but stops when the door opens.

  Lyra casually struts in with a mischievous smile on her face. She stares at Alexius and wonders; does he really think he could break those chains? Idiot

  “It’s awake. Good, I’m about to leave,” Lyra says.

  “Look here wench, release me this instant!” Alexius grumbles.

  Lyra sits on the bed then lifts the thin sheet; she giggles. “I guess you’re not very happy this morning.” She frowns, “Or is it always like that?”

  Alexius is furious. He begins to tug at his restraints once more. The wall starts to crack.

  Lyra panics when she sees a crack forming, more worried about Chow than Alexius, “Hold there soldier. I’m just having a bit of fun. Calm down. I’ll let you go.”

  “Let me go now, or I’ll…”

  “You’ll what?” she interrupts. “Break into my room, and rob me?”

  Lyra puts her hand over her mouth and gasps. She knows the fake damsel act is annoying. She giggles then jumps on the bed to straddle him. She slowly gyrates her hips, playfully teasing him.

  “Get off me, where are my clothes?” Alexius screams.

  “You saw my naughty bits, so I see yours.” She taps his chest with her index finger. “I had Brutus help me tie you up. He has your clothes.” She pinches his nipples. “He is very fond of big tough girls like you.” She taps his nose then rolls off.

  “Who the fuck is Brutus?” Alexius asks, a bit calmer now.

  Lyra smiles mischievously, “He is your soon to be rapist husband. Oh, I’m robbing you. Call it compensation for my troubles.” She blows him a kiss as she walks out.

  As soon as she disappears, a seven-foot giant lumbers in the room, smiling; it’s Brutus from the Furry Chariot. His head is big and matches his oversized body. He is dressed in brown trousers which could be heavy drapes, a white shirt the size of a ship’s sail, and a black sleeveless jacket. It doesn’t matter to Alexius that Brutus appears to be a simpleton; the thought of the impending rape is sending him into a panic.

  Brutus offers a friendly smile, “Little man no be fraid. Brutus bring friend.”

  The gentle stare of the creature calms Alexius a little. He looks at the big face smiling at him as if they were playmates.

  “Friend? What friend?” Alexius asks.

  Calis calmly walks in then nods to Brutus, who leaves. He notes Alexius’ look of horror has gi
ven way to disbelief. He places some clothing on the bed, along with the heirloom.

  “Do you have any idea just how embarrassing this is?” Calis points out.

  “You’re embarrassed?” Alexius asks in an annoyed tone. “I had a run-in with a demon from the underworld.” He looks at Calis with some curiosity, “How did you…I left you in a state of…”

  “It’s not important right now,” Calis cuts him off. He frees Alexius from the restraints. He notices Deidra looking in.

  Alexius quickly gets dressed. His necklace drops on the bed; Calis picks it up. He looks at the ancient symbols and smiles.

  “Your father’s part of the key,” Calis reminisces.

  “I should have expected you would know about this,” says Alexius.

  “Keep it hidden,” Calis cautions. “There will be time enough to explain. I am sure you have some understanding that this is important?”

  Alexius nods as he straightens himself out. He could hear Deidra giggling with Cleo in the other room. “Lyra’s parents should be flogged, and her father’s cock chopped off for bringing that into the world.”

  “Maybe that’s a bit harsh,” says Calis. “It might be that she had a criminal for a mother. Let’s go. I am sure Chow will be having a fit right about now.”

  They leave the room, headed downstairs to calm the angry landlord. Calis knew that he would have to appease the Aryan somehow, even if it meant paying for a year’s worth of rent for both apartments. He suddenly realizes the brilliance of Lyra’s idea to keep the books away from the Furry Chariot. Maybe this could be another safe house, he muses.

  Chapter 19: The Gap of Cora

  In each of the civilizations there exist multiple swaths of territory aptly named, ‘The Wastelands.’ In Illyria, it’s the tundra coming down from the once glorious Hyperboria. In Aryavan, there are barren deserts that were once rich with life. In Atlantis, on the landmass across the small sea just east of Egypt, there is the scorching desert of Rekem.

  This was once a land full of lush woodlands, rivers, streams. Now, it is covered with red and orange sands rising high like mountains. The ground is beaten by the wind and heat, creating flowing sand tracts which appear like giant serpents from afar. For thousands of miles the desert stretches, a blinding reminder of what weapons of mass destruction can accomplish.

  The expanse is named after a prosperous trading kingdom that once thrived here. It was an outpost really, founded by an Anuk prince belonging to a minor house of ENki. They were artists, carving unusual structures out of the igneous rock. Far removed from the major conflict of the great houses, they thought they would be safe in their oasis.

  Red structures were hewn into small hills covering 102 square miles. Many were decorated with marble and rose granite edifices, along roadways paved with asphalt. A reservoir supplied water from a nearby lake, serving a population of twenty thousand. The pride of all the residents was a magnificent palace which also served as an assembly hall, constructed in the city center.

  Today, this gem called Rekem lays hidden in the desert. It is also the secret dwellings to the King of Atlantis. The population is made up of nomads, runaway slaves, and fugitives from all three civilizations; they number nearly ten thousand.

  Life here is not bad. Despite this rock city being in a desolate place, it is also a citadel for one of the hidden nomad civilizations. Underground streams provide water. Smugglers frequently bring in goods and agents of ‘The Master’ supply an abundance of weaponry.

  ~BARISH~

  Barish was the firstborn of King RU, who was the son of King Tiberius, begotten by King Rigel, the heir of King Atlas. Rounded off to the nearest century, Atlas lived for 900 years, Rigel for 700, Tiberius for 900, RU for 800, and Barish for a mere 400 years. These were all pureblood Anuk, direct descendants of the forefathers of house ENlil.

  The last, pure direct descendant of this line will be Liviana when the King dies; Timon is only a half-brother to her, born to an Aryan princess of human and Anuk heritage. This fact is only known by the immediate family but was revealed to the prince shortly before he was sent off to Aryavan.

  In his youth, Barish was carefree, devoid of any interest to rule. He often found himself immersed in literature and history. Archeology was his passion, but war would change that. His siblings were all killed in the first Egyptian uprising. Those who survived ultimately died off at the onset of a mysterious plague.

  Barish’s own family was killed in the conflict between Aryavan and Illyria; treachery almost put an end to his house along with the line to the forefathers.

  Barish is still an Anuk worth beholding, for even though he is 372 years, he is exceptionally young when measured against the lifespan of his ancestors. He stands six-feet-four-inches, is a muscular 220 pounds, and wears his head of long and flowing red hair; it matches his short, well-groomed beard. At first meeting, one may think he is a warrior lord of old.

  Now, in self-imposed exile, he is the secret symbol of hope for the nomadic peoples of the civilizations. Together with the mysterious Nebpkara, he rallies the disenfranchised, the rejected, the weak, to a cause still hidden to the masses. All they are aware of is that this great man helps them live in a world controlled by the corrupt.

  Sleep often escapes the King, more so when Liviana visits. It has been three days since she arrived from Harappa, bringing revelations from Old Mother, and the gem of Persephone. That mysterious stone no one knows anything about, but the King knows. He remembers quite well where he hid it.

  Barish strolls across the well-polished marble floors of the stone palace. It is far from being one of the magnificent dwellings his ancestors would call a royal home. For him, it is comfortable. Plants adorn stone walls, accentuating paintings of grand landscapes of Illyria. Columns spread across the massive hall, rising to the forty-foot ceiling. It is almost midnight; Barish silently ponders the information from Old Mother.

  He is startled by a sound coming from behind a column. “Papa,” Liviana announces as she rolls into view holding a large goblet of wine.

  “At this hour?” Barish asks, pointing to the goblet. “Between you and Mica the wine stores will be dry before the next moonrise.”

  Liviana gives him a questioning stare, “You’ve got that much?” she jokes.

  “Daughter, if there is one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s to keep you away from good wine.” Barish takes Liviana’s hand, “When are you going to tell that boy about his true heritage?”

  “One day I suppose; when I know I won’t lose him for it.”

  “Why aren’t you asleep?” asks Barish.

  “Why aren’t you?” Liviana responds. “I went to your chambers, but you were gone.” She pouts as her father takes the goblet. “It will be three months before I can get away from the capital. Is it wrong to want to spend my last hours with my loving papa?”

  Barish takes a drink as they make their way to a stairway leading to the ground floor. Lights embedded into the wall brighten as they pass, providing a soothing dull glow to the area. They head to a large opening leading outside. It is dark out. The wind howls across the canyon.

  “Why do you insist on keeping up this, walkabout of yours? Come home!” Liviana complains.

  “It has been the tradition of our people since the beginning of time. I will return when my term is up,” the King insists.

  “It has been twenty years now; the prescribed period is ten. You do know the tradition only suggests wandering in insolation; it doesn’t say it has to be in a wretched desert.” Liviana grabs the goblet. “Why didn’t you name an heir before you left?”

  The King smiles. The wind is cold, causing him to drape his arm around his daughter. They stroll across to what is referred to as ‘The Monastery’; a grand structure carved into the canyon walls.

  “How can there be an heir to Atlantis, when there is an heir to the world?” Barish mutters to himself. He has heard this question from her and countless others before.

  “I di
dn’t quite catch that,” Liviana complains as the wind howls, but quickly forgets her inquiry as they climb some short stairs. “Why are we here?”

  The lights automatically turn on in the stone building. Burnt umber on dark sienna colored ceilings shows off their splendor up high. There is an altar with a small flame in a clear urn directly in front of them; an eternal fire which is always lit.

  The flame has been burning for the better part of 300 years. There is a peculiar flicker tonight; not the usual red with yellow, but an intense blue.

  There are rows of seating before the altar with a pathway down the middle. They make their way to the fire, stopping just in front of it. Father and daughter stare reverently into the flames, embracing the slight warmth which it brings.

  “Why did you seek out the gem of Persephone?” Barish asks in a serious tone. His uncharacteristic tone causes some concern for the Princess.

  “I don’t know,” she responds. “I saw the reference in Arias’ journal, then again in Rihzon. It was a mere coincidence that I found it.” Very rarely has Liviana had to explain herself to her father.

  “Yes, I suppose it was,” Barish mumbles.

  “You’re acting weird. Should I not have brought it here?” Liviana asks.

  “It’s perfectly fine that you found it. It’s just everything seems very real now.”

  “All that we have done, all that we are doing, to what end are we racing towards? Why is our house so determined to resurrect the memory of a heretic queen?”

  Barish gives her an angry look, “Watch your tongue child,” he snaps.

  It was all confusing to Liviana. She resigns herself to sip her wine. Her eyes widen when her father produces the Persephone gem. He holds it up to the fire.

  The ruby-like stone sparkles, creating purple streaks of light that bounce off the walls. Very casually, the King drops the gem into the eternal flame; Liviana protests. At first, nothing happens, but then the fire rushes into the ruby as if it got pulled in. Darkness envelopes the area. Then a soft burgundy glow emanates from the gem.