‘Do you think this is the stuff that the prison cells for gods are made of?’ Devere attempted to make light of my failure, then descended the pathway to slip the lever to drain the canals once more.
I considered his jest not entirely unlikely. ‘I guess the gods needed to create some manner of containment for any renegades of their own kind—’
‘And the like of Molier,’ Devere coughed, as he tripped the lever.
‘And us, by the look of it.’ I wandered back down to the chamber. It reeked strongly of burnt chemicals that were abrasive on the throat when breathed in with the stale air.
The Highward Fire-Stone in my system didn’t prevent me feeling like I was going to choke, nor did it spare me from the need to breathe. I was not immortal; just more resilient than most mortals. I had an awful suspicion that once the air ran out, we would endure a constant state of suffocation—taking the contents of the vials would only keep death at bay. To accompany this agony I would endure a constant state of hunger and thirst. Molier must have a will stronger than these walls to have survived six hundred years of such misery and torture. This was not how I planned to raise my child.
‘There is one hope left.’ Devere took my hands in his, as the light in the chamber faded to the illumination provided by one torch, which was stuck in a wall mount by the entrance. ‘Lord Hereford speaks of a stash of the Star substance that he found inside the ruins of Hathor above us…with any luck my brother or Lord Malory will read the journal and find the key to getting us out of here.’
I was dubious of Lord Malory. ‘Did you tell your Grand Master about my pregnancy?’
‘I did not,’ he replied, pretending to be insulted. ‘I actually thought that your father should be the first to know.’
‘Oh.’ The thought of my father’s joy made me gasp and then cough. ‘How happy he will be at the news of a male heir to his estate!’
‘Lord Granville is not well, or so Malory informs me…that was part of the reason he sought you out.’ Devere knew the news was ill timed.
‘No! Father cannot die before he knows,’ I protested, knowing that a grandson was his dearest wish. I walked away from Devere to scold myself. ‘I should have returned to England when you asked me to.’ I turned back to Devere. ‘I was wrong, Earnest, and I’m sorry I did not figure that out before everyone had to suffer.’
My husband shook his head. ‘It’s not like you to give up so easily…I feel sure that in the end, your decision will be vindicated.’ He held his arms wide.
I obliged the invitation and as I embraced my husband for his love and my regret, I gripped tightly to the stone in the palm of my hand. Where are you, Albray?
FROM THE HONEYMOON JOURNAL OF LADY SUSAN DEVERE
Outside the gateway of the temple we were confronted by an ambush. Lord Malory’s knights had been surrounded by Arabs clothed entirely in black, right down to their fine mounts—even with our guides and camel herders we were outnumbered four to one.
Our shock of capture was quickly overcome when, with the sound of crashing metal behind us, we realised that Mr Devere and Ashlee had not made it out of the temple, but had been trapped inside.
My husband wasted no time in recruiting Cingar to speak with the Arabs. ‘Ask them what they want from us.’
Cingar shouted the question over the blustery winds of the sandstorm and the leader of the band furnished the gypsy with an answer. ‘They want us to leave with them,’ he conveyed.
‘Tell them we cannot leave. Two of our party have been trapped in the mount,’ Lord Devere instructed. ‘Do they know how we might get them out?’
Cingar obliged and then translated the reply. ‘He said he cannot help those whom the mountain has chosen to claim.’
We tried to debate the matter further, but the Arabs would not discuss it. Our party and camels were rounded up and escorted down the mount, where we were shown into some caves to wait out the storm. The caves were not natural formations, but the remains of mining operations undertaken by the ancients.
I had hours to sit there and ponder how my failure to pull the lever on cue had delayed the proceedings in the temple. If not for me, we would all have made it out of the temple before the storm arrived.
‘We are going to get them out.’ Lord Devere urged me not to blame myself.
I had already suggested that Lord Hamilton’s journal might hold some answers, but our captors were not letting us anywhere near our possessions, not even when we had Cingar tell them that we were only wanting to retrieve a book.
‘I’m surprised we are still alive.’ Cingar noted that the Arab band were all hardened warriors.
‘I suspect that these men are not your average desert bandits,’ Malory advised us all in a whisper. ‘I believe these men are warrior-priests, belonging to the ancient brotherhood of the Melchi.’
‘The Melchi,’ Cingar echoed in disbelief. ‘Surely that order couldn’t have survived since the time of the Crusades?’
‘Why not?’ Lord Malory shrugged. ‘Ours has.’
‘And just how does this help us?’ Lord Devere wondered, more concerned about freeing his kin than receiving a history lesson.
‘Have you forgotten that you are related to the brave knight who originally trapped Molier?’ Malory said, and Lord Devere’s frown only deepened.
‘Yes, but he was one of Sion’s great knights, I doubt—’
‘No…’ Malory said, with a good serve of intrigue in his voice. ‘That was only Albray Devere’s alias. He was really one of theirs.’ Malory rolled his eyes toward the black warriors. ‘To them he was Albe-Ra, the Shining One.’
We feared some of our captors understood our conversation when several of them approached to pull us to our feet.
‘What is happening?’ Lord Devere looked at Cingar, unable to fathom the foreign chatter.
‘The storm has passed and they are eager to escort us back to the Suez.’ The gypsy was hoisted to his feet by two large Arabs.
‘No! I refuse to leave!’ I tore myself away from my captor and, to my horror, I also wrested from him his large curved sword, which was extremely heavy.
‘Susan, no!’ my husband appealed, fearing that the Arab men would not tolerate a woman’s defiance as well as an Englishman might.
The Arabs reacted to my protest rather more favourably than expected—they all fell about laughing as they watched me struggle with two hands to keep the sword in the air. ‘I’ve been stampeded, lied to, hypnotised and kidnapped…twice!’ I was forced to lower the tip of the weighty sword to the floor, so I changed my grip to hold it as one would a cricket bat. ‘I am not giving up on Ashlee now!’
The Arab leader motioned to his men to retrieve the weapon from me, and with all my male companions firmly restrained, several of the dark warriors closed in on me.
I began to feel a little woozy; I hadn’t had much to eat recently. Then, my lightheaded and hauntingly sensual giddiness turned to strength and confidence. I raised the Saracen sword with the greatest of ease and wielded it around myself with complete familiarity. Then words began to gush forth from my mouth in the Arab dialect, and even more astounding was the fact that I understood every word. ‘I am Albe-Ra, guardian of this mount and servant to the great goddesses of the Elohim. It is by their command that you will release those trapped in the temple of the Star-Fire or perish on this sword.’
‘Oh, my goodness.’ Cingar was stunned.
‘What?’ My Lord Devere was totally out of his depth, unable to believe his wife’s show with the sword, nor the foreign dialect that I was suddenly sprouting. ‘What did she say?’
‘She claims to be Albe-Ra,’ the gypsy informed him, as bemused as the Arabs were by the idea.
‘What!’ My husband nearly had a fit! ‘First, my Lady Devere is hypnotised by a vampire, and now she is possessed by a six-hundred-year-old ghost! Could it be Molier again? He could be trying to get us all killed!’
‘I doubt very much Molier would claim to be Albray Devere,’ Malor
y said. ‘They were arch-enemies. ’
‘Kill her,’ decided the Arab leader. ‘For abusing the name of the great one.’
My husband struggled to free himself as I stepped up to fight several of our captors. ‘For god’s sake, Susan, please!’
In all likelihood I would have refrained, had I had any control over my limbs. I could scarcely believe the precision and ease with which I fended off my attackers and I felt not the slightest fear for my safety. I even managed to disable my opponents with superficial limb injuries.
‘Albe-Ra was said to be one of the greatest swordsmen to have ever lived,’ Malory commented to my stupefied husband.
‘Praise god for small mercies,’ Lord Devere mumbled in reply. ‘Or should I say, praise the goddess?’ His eyes remained glued to me, and he suddenly couldn’t help but grin with pride.
Having witnessed ten of his finest warriors vested of their weapons, the Arab leader called for his men to fall back. Removing his cloak, he drew his sword. ‘Only if you can defeat me, shall I concede you are Albe-Ra.’
‘And you will see to my request?’ I demanded.
‘I will permit you to carry out your wishes,’ he allowed.
‘What I wouldn’t give for a pistol right now.’ Lord Devere again tried to pry himself free, which only served to gain him a punch in the stomach.
‘Have a little faith in divine intervention,’ Malory advised, his eyes fixed on the duel.
‘That is easy for you to say. She’s not your wife!’ my lord gasped, winded by the blow.
‘At present, I don’t believe she is your wife.’ Malory’s attention was riveted to the swordfight. ‘But the Lady Devere is, in all likelihood, the most psychically adept among us, which is why the guardian spirit has chosen to work through her.’
‘Just wonderful,’ my lord grumbled. ‘The last thing our family needs is another Ashlee Granville.’
‘On the contrary, the world needs all the Ashlee Granvilles it can get.’ Malory winced as I nearly tripped on my skirt.
Damn dresses! I heard a male voice in my mind. What is wrong with women wearing trousers anyway? My heart was thumping nineteen to the dozen as I regained my footing.
‘Come, my lady,’ the Arab said. ‘You are very skilled, but you shall only get yourself killed if you persist.’
‘Better to risk death than to allow a daughter of Isis to perish, and fail in my sworn duty.’ My retort struck a chord with my adversary.
‘You are lying.’ The Arab backed off, just to be sure. ‘The woman in the mount is no daughter of Isis.’
‘I assure you that she is,’ I said. ‘Both the woman, and her husband who is trapped with her, bear the mark to prove it.’
Every Arab in the room gasped, and Cingar too.
‘What?’ Lord Devere was going insane with not being able to understand the proceedings.
The Arab leader lowered his sword to stare deep into my eyes. ‘If you lie, I shall trap all of your people in the mount and release the scarabs to ensure that no trace of you survives.’
‘I thank you.’ I bowed to honour his judgement.
My companions were hauled out of the cave ahead of me. Their anxiey was not eased when Cingar explained the arrangement that had been reached.
‘You know the whereabouts of the secret deposit of Thummim-Schethiya buried in the Temple of Hathor?’ I asked the Arab leader, and he appeared truly flabbergasted.
‘I am one of a handful who do.’ He came to a standstill. ‘How do you know of it?’
I smiled and shrugged, as if that was elementary. ‘I am Albe-Ra.’
FROM THE TRAVEL JOURNALS OF MRS ASHLEE DEVERE
The torch on the wall was dimming in the thinning air and I was feeling decidedly lightheaded. My husband and I sat at the base of the pathway and were refraining from speech and movement to conserve what air remained.
I still clutched the Star vial in my hand. The substance had restored life to the son of Gasgon de Guise, and I had suggested consuming this substance as an alternative to abusing the Fire-Stone of his forefathers. Devere had agreed that this was more appropriate. The Star had a history of being fed to men by the priestesses of the Great Mother to enhance their bravery in the face of death, he had said.
My husband cited an incident written of by a priestess, Lillet du Lac, the day before the fall of Montségur in 1244AD. The name of the priestess was all too familiar to me, and I asked how the Sangreal knighthood had come by the journals of such a woman. Apparently, those of her order had been closely allied to many of the secret brotherhoods that were thriving at that time—the Sangrèal included. The priestess, one of the few of her faith who had escaped the siege, had lived out her days at Chateau Blancheford in France, chronicling the events of the time. Most of her writings had been duplicated and distributed to the Grail brotherhoods for their future reference and safekeeping.
My mind dwelt on the priestess’ current spiritual plight, and Albray’s, and if I accomplished nothing else in my lifetime, I still had enough of my sensibilities to appeal their cause.
‘Where are you going?’ Devere whispered as I rose.
‘I’ll be back,’ I assured him. ‘But there is something I have to do.’
I knelt underneath the centre of the large chamber’s golden dome, surrounded by the four pillars depicting the key goddesses of the Elohim, and bowed my head to pray for the first time in my life.
In the name of the Mother, I held both hands to my forehead; the daughters, I covered my heart and then my womb; and the holy ghost, I held my hands together in front of the light centre of my solar plexus …It has always been difficult for me to place my trust in any being apart from myself, but during this quest I have developed a glimmer of understanding of the source of my rare gifts. Ladies of the Elohim, I thank you for choosing me to continue your tradition and purpose here on earth, and I am indebted to you for your aid and support. However, I have one more request to ask of you and that is that you release the knight Albray from your service and allow him to move on to a better stage of existence, where he might finally find a happy and prosperous life.
It is not a curse of our design that keeps Albe-Ra in our service.
I raised my eyes to perceive a ghostly apparition: an Eastern woman attired in a long, flowing black robe. Lillet, I wondered, although the comely woman’s attire and free-flowing black ringlets reflected a warmer climate and less prudish eras than the Middle Ages.
The glowing apparition shook her head. I am one of her kin, as I am one of yours.
She spoke to me in perfect English, and yet echoing below this I also heard another dialect whispered—my mind was translating her discourse.
And I can assure you that all your foremothers together could not release our knight from what he feels is his duty, for he has a score to settle. I’m afraid there is no dismissing him before certain matters are laid to rest.
Molier. My heart sank. I’d come so close to destroying Molier today. Albray must have been devastated to discover that even a daughter of the blood as psychically adept as I could not vanquish the creature that was stifling his future existence. Was my failing him the reason he would not come to my aid now?
I believe you know our knight better than to entertain such a notion… the lady of spirit sought to put my mind at rest. It was not your destiny to free Albray, but to return our treasures to their resting place. You aided Albray to complete half his chosen mission.
I was finding it difficult to focus on the lady. Her presence was becoming blurred. But when will the other half be fulfilled?
One of our future daughters will aid our favourite son to final victory, she assured me with a smile. Pass on all the knowledge you have gained during your quest and rest assured that Albe-Ra will discover, just as you have, that love always finds a way.
But—I lost my balance and crashed to the ground, feeling unconsciousness taking hold.
‘Ashlee!’ I heard my husband cry. ‘The gateway is opening! We’re sa
ved!’
A gust of fresh air washed over me, but it was not enough to keep me from my slumber.
LESSON 23
SUPERCONDUCTORS
‘Damn you, Ashlee!’ I glanced over the journal page that followed. It was an epilogue detailing the events that occurred after my foremother’s return to England. The text made no further reference to her dialogue with the mysterious female apparition about Albray’s future, and it did not seem to mention anything about the other mysteries contained within the Star-Fire Temple.
Am I the future daughter to whom the spirit lady referred? I pondered this momentarily but, as I was still very much in the mindset of my great-great-grandmother, I decided to rephrase the question. ‘I am the daughter to whom the lady referred,’ I stated surely. For who could possibly love Albray more than I? Lillet, perhaps? Ashlee’s account of the personal discussions she’d had with our knight seemed to imply that his relationship with the priestess was more one of deep respect and obligation. Even Lillet herself had claimed that Albray was in love with me! I hated to think that I could not solve this dilemma; that it would fall to some future daughter of the blood to release Albray at last. I felt too much for him to allow him to suffer any longer.
I looked at the clock on my computer to discover that it was now past midday. I was running out of time to find a stone through which I might summon Albray back to my counsel. I had learned much from Ashlee’s account about how Molier might be bested. Molier’s demise was the key to freeing Albray from his vow to my foremothers, that was now clear. And yet, my knight had done all within his power to prevent me from opening the gateway for Molier. Was his concern for my welfare so great that he would deny himself his only shot at freedom out of concern for my safety and wellbeing?
I felt suddenly suffocated by the overwhelming emotions the realisation stirred in me. All that time Albray had spent complaining about my lack of psychic expertise might have been in order to protect me. There was also a distinct possibility that it was the treasures within the temple that he ultimately sought to protect. The thought brought my runaway sentiments back into check.
Gene of Isis Page 47