I had not forgotten Jessenia’s warning in regard to riding a horse in my condition, and I was not ignorant enough to suppose that a camel would be any more favourable. I had been forced to tell Cingar about my pregnancy so that he could make provision for it. Although he now understood my husband’s frustration and was doubly displeased by my decision to pursue my quest, Cingar assured me that with enough money, anything could be arranged.
‘Would jewels or coin be preferable?’ I assured my guide that money was no object.
Thus it was that I found myself travelling in the style of an Arabian princess. Atop my camel was strapped a carriage compartment, with a roof, two solid walls at the front and back, and a flat floor. To my right and left were thick curtains that could be drawn back, or closed and tied to keep out the desert winds and sand. Beneath me the floor of my travelling compartment was lined with rugs and cushions to absorb some of the impact of the jarring motion of my ride.
To act as a guide, Cingar had procured a Bedouin man well known to him, in whom he claimed to have implicit confidence. Our caravan consisted of ten camels, our guide and three young camel drivers, all of whom we were required to make provision for during the journey.
Our camels, at a steady pace, were capable of covering twenty-five miles a day. I was told they could reach speeds of twelve miles per hour, but bearing my condition in mind, Cingar insisted we did not push our luck.
Our Bedouins didn’t know quite what to make of me, a woman dressed like a man, who carried a sword and a pistol, but as Cingar made it clear that I was paying for this little expedition, I was treated with the utmost respect. I imagine the fear that I could dispense with their services as quickly as I had employed them, and thus withhold food, water and shelter, might have had something to do with the Bedouins’ faithful reverence.
Even in the shade of my compartment the desert heat during the day was nearly unbearable and I felt for Cingar enduring the full pelt of the sun. He assured me he’d tolerated the same conditions many times before.
After three days of travel we passed the only landmark to speak of between Cairo and Suez—a large green palm tree. It took three more hours to leave the landmark behind us and I could well understand why the locals preferred the vast sandy nothingness, as there was less to mark the slow progress of the passage. Still, the tree did serve as a preoccupation for the better part of a day.
By high noon the next day we came in sight of Suez, which appeared as a tiny dark city when compared to the mountains that neighboured it on both shores of the Gulf. Not one blade of grass graced the shore of the unsalubrious waters, so Suez relied on supplies from Cairo to keep the residents fed. The purpose of this city was mainly as a place of trade for the great caravans to Mecca, and both Cingar and the Bedouins agreed that we should only water our camels from the well and then move on. As I had been informed that the crossing of the Suez marked the halfway point of our journey, I was just as eager to keep moving and avoid any questions.
On crossing the Suez we entered the Sinai proper and for the first time since commencing my journey, I truly felt myself treading in the footsteps of my dearly departed Lord Hamilton. I could hardly imagine how his wife, Clarissa, had survived this journey wearing the attire of an English lady; with a light cloak over my silk shirt, I was still sweltering, and suffering from heat rash that itched with a vengeance underneath my corset. I did not wear the undergarment as tightly as most ladies would, and had it not held my treasure I would have dispensed with it altogether.
Albray had been greatly enjoying our travel in the desert, but then he did not have to suffer the heat. He did, however, sense my discomfort via the stone I wore, but as we were now so close to our destination he would not condone me removing the charm from my person.
We were one day out from the mount we sought when Albray’s good mood appeared to diminish somewhat. I was feeling rather weak and poorly by this stage and I gathered that my physical ailments might have been disturbing him.
‘Please won’t you let me remove the stone from my person?’ I appealed, feeling guilty. ‘I can’t stand to see you suffer at my expense when you have already suffered so much in your own lifetime.’
I am not suffering, I am worrying. He faced me from his cross-legged perch in my compartment. I’ve been unable to locate Molier’s whereabouts since we banished him in Ostia. I felt sure I would have been able to spot his party in the open desert, but I have been unable to locate them.
‘Perhaps they are not following us, or have taken a different route to the mount?’
No, he said with certainty. They would be close by now, or arrived, and they have not. Molier will not allow his precious vial to be locked in the mount, when he is dependent on its contents…of that much 1 am sure.
‘Then how could he hide from your sight?’ I asked. ‘Can he shield himself from us as we have from him?’
Molier cannot call on your great ancestors to shield him as he is not of your bloodline, Albray informed me.
‘Then maybe he can call on some other protector?’
Yes, Albray said gravely, and that is my worry.
‘Why so?’
There is no point in speculating, Albray answered after a pause. He forced a smile, clearly not wanting to cause me undue alarm.
‘According to metaphysical laws, no entity or spirit more spiritually advanced than he could come to his aid. And from what I have observed of Molier, his light-body is a bog of negative energy.’ That’s when I realised Albray’s worry. ‘You don’t believe in demons, Albray, surely?’ I was almost amused by the premise.
Not in the biblical sense, he said, but there are sub-planes below the physical world that correspond with each progressive plane above this one. These are frequented by tortured souls, thought forms and alien entities that have yet to exceed lowly desires and pleasures. King Solomon, among many other scholars through the ages, wrote volumes on the subject and how they might be put to good use. And I’ll grant that the Arsenal Library in Paris houses many such texts.
‘Let us hope you are wrong about that.’ Now I really was feeling ill.
Mid-morning, on our fifth day of travel from the Suez, our mounts scaled the hard dirt track that led to the top of Mt Serâbit. Excitement and fear gripped my stomach. I was so tense I could barely consume water, let alone eat.
If you would just partake of a little of the Highward Fire-Stone, your strength and vitality would be restored. Albray had been trying to persuade me to take the substance for days.
‘Am I dying, do you think?’ I asked for his opinion only half in jest; deep down I knew I was fine, although I did feel like death warmed up today. I had already told Albray that, because I was pregnant, I would only take the mysterious substance to save my life.
No, you are not dying, Albray conceded, frustrated, but you are weak and in no state to combat a psychic attack!
‘I fear I left my strength back in Alexandria.’ How I wished I could be back in that bath with Devere. My being literally ached to feel him close, wet and cool against my skin.
Albray rolled his eyes. He is not back in Alexandria. He is less than one day behind us.
‘Really?’ My spirits suddenly soared at the notion that I could be reunited with him within the day. ‘How much less than a day behind us?’
My knight was grinning now, caught up in my elation. That would depend on how early he arose this morning. But, as he is in the company of some gentlemen that we do not entirely trust, it would be preferable to complete our quest before your husband arrives.
Good cheer departed and my fear returned. ‘His brotherhood?’ I ventured to guess, although I desperately wanted the answer to be in the negative.
Albray nodded.
‘The man who threatened my Lord Hereford?’ I almost choked on my words.
The very one.
‘Your personal power will only be realised upon her pleasure…And, with any luck, you’ll have many, many adept offspring.’ The man’s wor
ds, from the memory I accessed in Devere’s mind, came back to me forcefully.
What if the secret brotherhood had discovered that I had fled Devere and had now come in pursuit of me personally? What if they knew I was with child? What did they have planned for me and my family? And worst of all, what if the brotherhood sought the vials in my possession for their own purposes?
Questions and doubts cured any homesickness I might have felt for either England or Devere. ‘Do you think my suspicions of Devere’s brotherhood are justified? After all, you belonged to a brotherhood, not so very different.’
Such brotherhoods exist for your protection, he reasoned. But their agenda does not always accord with the individual initiate’s.
‘And what was your brotherhood’s agenda?’ I wondered what my dear friend had ultimately died for.
To preserve the greater mysteries, and the bloodline of Isis, until such time as mankind is ready to dispense with religious doctrine altogether and think for himself…or herself. Then the wisdom of the ancients can be released into safe hands and be used for the higher good of creation.
‘Do you think that time is now, Albray?’
That would be nice. The knight obviously cherished the thought. And that would make my vow pretty much redundant. Still, he did not look too hopeful, do you really think that all those godfearing folk you left behind in England are ready to know all that you have learned?
I winced when I considered the uproar such an account would cause in merry old England. ‘I think they would bring back witch burning, just for me.’
I think you might be right. Albray clearly felt he was in for a wait. However, I am sure that the outcome of today might have a bearing on the advancement of that time that has been hailed as ‘the end of days’.
This comment shed a whole new light on the dogma of the Book of Revelation that had been feared by all of Christendom for so long. It seemed that this time of reckoning was an event to look forward to and not to be dreaded.
Our party came to a stop below the incline that led up to a rocky peak and Lord Hamilton’s excavation site, which had almost entirely been swallowed by the desert sand once more. Ahead lay the large round metal gateway, encircled by a ring of mysterious black stone embossed with ancient hieroglyphs.
I had expected that we would have to excavate the gateway, and we had brought shovels and picks with us for the chore. Considering the amount of time since the gate had been opened, I had thought it would have been buried by the sandy dirt churned up by the sirocco winds. And yet, here it was, glistening in the sun as if it had just been exposed and polished for our use. The entrance was just as Lord Hamilton had described it.
Our entire party stood in awe of our discovery, until the Bedouins spied several wild camels wandering around the ruins further up the mount, and with a mighty cheer, they ran off to round the beasts up.
‘Where the hell did they come from?’ Cingar was immediately suspicious, although the beasts were not saddled. ‘I shall investigate. There are places enough amongst these boulders for bandits to hide.’ The gypsy borrowed my pistol and whistled to the Bedouins to advise them to exercise more caution.
Whilst the rest of my party were preoccupied with searching around the rocky mount and excavation site above me, Albray had me scale the rock face alongside the strange metal gateway until I came to stand on top of it. ‘Well, that was fun.’ I wiped the sweat from my brow and neck. ‘What now?’ I looked to Albray for further instruction.
Take the stopper from the Star vial and pour the contents over the door.
‘But surely, even all the contents won’t be nearly enough to cover the doorway?’ I knew the vial was self-filling, but would that still be the case if every last grain of the substance was spent?
It will be all right, Albray assured me, knowing my fears. I’ve done this myself.
I pulled the vial from its usual resting place in my cleavage—the Fire vial I still kept in its velvet case in a shoulder bag that I wore underneath my cloak. I removed the stopper and, kneeling down to get close to my target, I began to pour the Highward Fire-Stone down over the door. It flowed in a steady stream from the tiny vial and, as there was not a breath of wind, the glittering particles were attracted to the metal. I was amazed at the amount of the substance that gushed down over the gateway, and when I had at last coated the entire barrier, I turned the vial upright to find it still full. ‘That’s incredible,’ I uttered, amazed. An ear-splitting sound of buckling metal urged me to get off the gateway and down to ground level.
I backed away from the gateway, unable to peel my eyes from the sight of the tiny light-filled specks that seemed to be eating through the barrier. Then, in a final burst of blinding light, a void was exposed inside the dark ring of hieroglyphs.
‘Dear goddess.’ I was so stunned by the spectacle that I couldn’t move. The moment of truth had arrived. ‘It looks dark in there.’ I could have used the Star vial to light my way in, but how would I get out?
I moved to our pack-camel as it carried the long-stemmed torches that the Arabs used to light the camp at night. The top of the torch was wrapped in fabric that had been doused in a flammable substance and with one whiff I immediately recognised it. It was the same foul-smelling stuff contained in the bottle inside the hollow journal Lord Hereford had given me—which I had also left with Devere. The Bedouins held a thick rounded piece of glass some distance from the fabric, allowing the sun to burn into the cloth. Where the ray of light was focused, the cloth soon ignited. I used the same method to achieve my goal.
Albray looked around, unable to believe Molier was nowhere to be seen.
‘You’re being paranoid, the sun is far too bright for Molier.’ Of that much I was sure.
Albray glanced to the horizon and spied something that bothered him.
I looked for the source of his concern to see storm clouds churning. ‘How long until that gets here?’
An hour perhaps?
‘Plenty of time to get in and out,’ I said, moving off toward the gateway, determined to deliver my charge without further delay.
My knight accompanied me into the darkness; we didn’t notice the four camels that descended to the gateway and follow us down the glistening red pathway.
At the entrance to the central chamber I was taken aback by the skeletal remains of a knight, and I realised at once that this was all that remained of my dear Albray.
I’ve seen better days. Albray attempted to make light of the moment, but I realised how disturbing it must be for him, and so I did not stand and dwell on the tragedy.
‘The best of you still lives on,’ I replied, turning my attention to the spectacular chamber that was revealed in the light of my torch. ‘You could have picked worse places to dwell for eternity.’ My heart leapt into my throat at the sight. I felt such excitement at penetrating this ancient, sacred place that was still in immaculate condition. Now I truly understood Lord Hamilton’s obsession with this site and why men had died to prevent its discovery and subsequent desecration.
I walked past the round canals that circled the chamber, down the entrance path that led to the crossroad of red, to approach the pillars that supported a beautiful golden dome. These huge columns depicted goddesses of the Egyptian pantheon. I was truly mystified by the artistry, which appeared to be as pristine and brilliant as the day it had been worked. In the centre of these four amazing pillars was a round platform where the red pathway extended out in the four cardinal directions. To one side of me was a white-pillared annexe; to the other an identical annexe with pillars of red at its entrance. Directly ahead was a large arched gold door. ‘A sacred Ark could lie behind those doors,’ I thought out loud, ‘that could grant passage to another realm of existence.’
And you are one of the few mortals on this Earth who could activate the porthole without fatal results, Albray commented. Are you tempted?
‘With a storm massing in the distance, and Molier’s whereabouts unknown…?’ I brushed o
ff the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, inwardly regretting that circumstances were not in my favour. Only the goddess knew what such exposure would do to my unborn babe. ‘I think not. I am all for getting these vials back where they belong and retreating as fast as possible.’
A wise decision, Albray confirmed, smiling proudly at my restraint.
I moved toward the Fire-Stone’s annexe and had not even cleared the dome when several gusts of a suspect, chilly wind rushed past me and around the chamber. I halted, put on guard by this development.
The vial, Albray urged me. Now! I was so rattled by the sudden negative atmosphere in the chamber that I complied with Albray’s instruction and, in my panic, I consumed rather more of the Star vial substance than I had to date.
My inner being seemed to explode with bright light that was just as inwardly blinding as the dispersal of the gate had been to my external sight. The world beyond my own being vanished, and I felt myself propelled into a timeless, weightless void of pure peace, contentment and love. I struggled to hold on to this vast, all-knowing, all-loving feeling, more exciting than any ancient knowledge, discovery or experience I had witnessed since birth. I felt connected to the answer I had been ceaselessly chasing all my life…What is god? And what in the heavens was the Almighty thinking, placing me in this era? The answer was just as the Bible had always claimed: god is love, the bliss and contentment that is the inspiration of creation. The divine was the birth of every new and constructive contribution in the evolution of life.
You must return to me. I need you now, a male voice instructed. Although the message was clear, the source sounded far away. I felt I should recognise this voice. Was it that of my knight? Albray!
The recollection of him brought me rocketing back to my senses. To my great relief, the situation had not altered. Albray seemed no more alarmed than he had when I’d left him. I could only assume that my little trip to heaven had been momentary.
Gene of Isis Page 45