The Angel of Eden

by D J Mcintosh

  Alaz groped in my pockets and confiscated the other guns. “Take off that jacket. You even steal my clothes?” He pushed my face against the wall, bound my hands, and tied Bennet’s again. Yersan hauled Nick to his feet and sliced the cord at his ankles. He, too, was ordered to face the wall. We were lined up execution style. Bennet began to sob.

  I heard a scraping sound, something being lifted and dragged aside, something being cranked up. It reminded me of the heavy metal grates being opened on sidewalks in front of New York shops. “You first, Madison,” Yersan said. “The woman last.”

  I turned and saw that the carpet had been pulled away to reveal an open hatch in the floor. A flight of stone steps led into a black hole. I descended in almost pitch dark, the steps slippery with mold. Nick and Bennet followed, Yersan and Alaz behind them. At the bottom I could hear one of them fumbling for something and then a snap, as if he’d locked the trapdoor shut again. A dim light came on behind us, illuminating the shadowy outline of a long hallway. I stumbled forward over the uneven floor.

  We seemed to walk forever until we reached a dead end. Bennet and Nick were told to lie on their sides facing the wall on their right. Alaz moved ahead. I heard a click and then the sound of stone grating on stone. Light suddenly flooded into the corridor, so bright I had to shut my eyes. Yersan ordered me forward. I didn’t want to be separated from Bennet and Nick again but had no choice. I pushed myself away from the wall and blinked in the blinding light. At first, all I could make out were two towering flames, taller than me, that seemed to burst from the ground. I took a couple of steps closer, then lurched back from the wave of heat.

  “Turn to your right, Madison,” Yersan ordered. A third man ducked around the corner from the source of light. The stone slid back into place, locking him in with Bennet and Nick on the other side.

  Yersan kept his gun on me, Alaz not far behind. “Your friends are our insurance for your good behavior. Move.”

  When my eyes adjusted to the light, I gasped at what I saw before me.

  Forty-Seven

  Sahand Protected Area, Iran

  We stood in a canyon so long I couldn’t see its end. On either side gleaming red rock cliffs stretched to the sky. The canyon floor was hundreds of feet wide. I saw now that the flames weren’t shooting out from the earth but rather from holes in a square of perfectly fitted stone bricks. They must have been natural gas wells, just like the fire altar we’d seen near Kandovan.

  Eternal flames.

  A square pool lay at the foot of these natural torches, its clear water reflecting the flames without a ripple. Electric-blue stones encircled the pool, its far side emptying into a brook that flowed on into the canyon. The surroundings were lush with plants and trees of all kinds, greener than anything I’d seen since entering Iran. Some early spring plants had even flowered, pink petals unfurled to reveal bright yellow stamens heavy with pollen. The temperature here was warmer by at least twenty degrees. A unique ecosystem, hidden from the outside world. My senses took it all in but my brain was numb. “Magnificent,” I finally murmured.

  “You were determined to see it,” Yersan said. “You are a foolish man, but I’m happy to oblige you.”

  “This is what Helmstetter was searching for?” Alaz caught my eye and nodded. “How did you find this place?”

  Yersan answered for him. “We are its caretakers. A tradition of service handed down by our ancestors for thousands of years. Both Alaz and I were called to serve when we were young men. It is a privilege. A sacred trust.”

  He motioned toward the brook. “You may explore if you wish.” Like two baleful nursemaids, they trundled behind me as I walked upon a carpet of deep, rich green moss. I made my way over to the west canyon wall. The cliff face seemed to shine and I wondered why.

  Alaz sensed my unspoken question. “The canyon is oriented so that it has the benefit of the sun all day long,” he said. “Otherwise, this lush plant life wouldn’t exist.”

  The rock was red quartz—vast sheets of carnelian. I’d never before seen such an expanse of precious stone, and it had neither pockmarks nor the rough, unfinished surface you’d find in natural material. Although it was awkward with my hands tied, I touched the surface. It had been polished, sanded somehow, by hand. Tens of thousands of square feet. The entire surface shimmered like a rosy mirror in the waning rays of the sun. It seemed to produce a magnifying effect, intensifying the light. I cocked my head a bit, my ears picking up a faint hum, almost as if the light were singing.

  It occurred to me that the rock’s satiny surface served another purpose: security. The cliff was as smooth as glass, making it virtually impossible to scale unless you had climbing equipment.

  At intervals along its face, life-sized winged figures—the Apkallu of Mesopotamian art—had been carved into the rock. “Our angels,” Yersan said when he saw me admiring them. A noise startled me and I turned to see a gigantic bird take off from the crown of a small tree with a flap of its expansive wings.

  Yersan raised his hand as if to trace its trajectory. “A vulture. Our ancestors believed them to be godly because they touch heaven. They fly higher than any other bird, sometimes as much as thirty thousand feet, and seem to disappear into the sky. These are the birds the ancient ones immortalized as angels.”

  I could hear the pride in his voice. But it cracked with sadness when he spoke again. “The man you shot in the back is dead. We will take him away to a dakhma to be consumed by the vultures. After three days he will enter paradise. That is our way.” The image of the man writhing on the ground came back to me, yet I felt no remorse.

  Yersan instructed me to head down the shiny brick pathway that followed the stream for what he said was a mile or more. I’d taken the bricks as red quartz until I saw that, through some primitive type of metallurgy, they’d been fashioned from a rudimentary pink gold.

  Surely we had little time left to live—Eden’s guardians wouldn’t let interlopers escape with the secret to paradise—and yet I felt content to meander along the path, listening to the tinkle of brook water and wrapped in a deep, encompassing sense of peace.

  The canyon walls narrowed, refracting the rosy light and creating a strange, pervasive glow that seemed to hang in the air as if it were a living presence. I had to shield my eyes against it. The hum grew louder.

  We turned a bend. The light faded and I could look up again.

  Ahead, the canyon ended in a low wall and a small plaza fashioned from the same bricks as those forming the path. Abutting the plaza was another building hewn into the rock of the cliff, this one boasting two huge double doors made of cedar. The stream diverged outside the wall so as to form a T-shaped moat.

  Alaz undid my bonds and I flexed my hands and wrists.

  “Before you enter the temple, take off your shoes and socks, Madison,” Yersan ordered.

  Yersan and Alaz removed their own footwear and bowed toward the strange temple. Then Alaz waded across the moat and mounted the stone wall. I followed suit and Yersan came last.

  A fat vine grew around the cedar door frame, its stem as thick as a young tree, its creeping tendrils and swelling green buds spreading upward to cover a good part of the temple’s lower facade. To the left of the door was a primitive stone carving of a snake, to the right a vulture. Another stone carving, this one a winged figure, was set above the lintel.

  The Sacred Tree

  Yersan touched the vine. “This is the tree of knowledge. It is not particularly rare. It grows in many countries, even your own. Are you surprised that it is a vine and not a tree? The art of our ancestors has always shown the truth.”

  Forgetting myself and the holiness of this place, I scoffed, “The tree of knowledge is only a metaphor.”

  “Is it not interesting that literalists take every word in Genesis as fact, except for one sentence? ‘Of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil thou shalt not eat of it; for in the day thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die.’ This is interpreted to be allegorical,
that Eve was given the direst warning against temptation lest she usher sin into the world. But what if it was meant to be taken literally? What if you could die from ingesting the fruit of the tree? What if God, who cared deeply for his newly formed creatures, wanted to protect them like a loving parent? Warned them the same way Enki warned Adapa about eating the bread and water offered by the snake god?”

  “You’re saying it’s poisonous?”

  “This vine contains a most potent hallucinogen. Even in the hands of experts it can be deadly.”

  Yersan paused. “The legend of the serpent stealing the plant of immortality, first recorded in the Epic of Gilgamesh, emerged, thousands of years later, as the serpent winding around the tree of knowledge in Eden. The snake was transformed by early Christian theologians into the devil.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  Yersan smiled. “Are you not the one who wishes to taste the forbidden fruit and learn about the man who came here to seek immortality?”

  Forty-Eight

  Without another word, he handed his gun to Alaz and approached the cedar doors. They were so heavy it seemed to require all his strength to brace them open. Each man bowed toward the dim interior before entering. I followed them in. Despite my skepticism, I felt I’d stepped into a sacred place.

  A wide stone basin sat in the center of the room. Like the Zoroaster shrine in Yersan’s New York shop, it was filled with a fragrant oil. Delicate, flickering flames rippled across the oil’s surface, producing a rainbow of color. I couldn’t place the scent—a little like incense but not as cloying or spicy. Some kind of flower tone. Augmented by the heat, it penetrated the room. It made you want to take deep breaths as though it was a drug you craved.

  Polished carnelian blocks formed the walls and floor, reflecting the light thrown by the flames. A simple room, but somehow it felt more elegant than a king’s salon. I caught my breath and stopped in my tracks when the two men stepped aside to let me see what lay beyond the fire basin.

  A figure was seated on a throne-like chair of wood inlaid with gold and lapis lazuli. A vulture’s-head mask of hand-beaten gold, primitive but somehow all the more regal for it, covered most of the skull. That didn’t disguise the skull’s elongated shape, just like the statue I’d found in the salt cave and the one Strauss first showed me. The figure’s white hair and beard were tightly braided, wigs perhaps, added after vultures had picked the bones clean. It wore a sleeveless wool jerkin that might once have been red but was now badly deteriorated. Gold bands embossed with rosettes circled each wrist and ankle.

  Two massive wings, bent and folded, black feathers intact, jutted from the figure’s back. The eyes, shell for the whites and glossy obsidian for the irises, glittered behind the mask. “Was this once a king?” I asked in amazement.

  Yersan kept his tone low, reverential. “One of the seven sages, immortalized in legend as the Apkallu. A genius, a high priest from ancient times. The wings are a skillfully constructed piece of its raiment. As the myths tell us, the Apkallu and their followers, over time, bestowed many gifts on mankind: the calendar, the interpretation of the stars, the taming of plants and animals, the potter’s wheel. They were worshipers of the god Enki, the giver of wisdom.” He heaved a long sigh. “We will each take a place at his feet. Please sit.

  “Imagine yourself,” Yersan continued, “as a young acolyte. At puberty you would have been hand-picked from the community to serve as apprentice to a high priest. You would be introduced at sunset, through a prescribed ritual—the taking of the plant of immortality. Can you imagine the effect on a child’s mind of seeing this gold-bedecked, winged figure when under the influence of the drug?” Yersan glanced at Alaz. “It would be like Alaz’s wonderment when he first laid eyes on the sorcerer Helmstetter, only much greater. That experience, to be repeated over and over again for many centuries, gave rise to myths and, I believe, our notion of angels as messengers from heaven.”

  I’d have given anything to examine the priest, to take pictures. It would be a life’s work just to study its meaning and cultural significance. But right now that felt like a sacrilege.

  Yersan sat cross-legged to the figure’s left and beckoned me to sit beside him, dead center. Then he reached under the right side of the throne and brought out a carafe and a bowl. The dishes looked similar to the bowls and urns I’d found in the cart during my sojourn in the salt caves. Utensils at least 5500 years old.

  He poured some liquid from the carafe into the bowl and held it out to me. “Made from the fruit of the vine—the tree of knowledge,” he said. “Thirty-five years ago Helmstetter traveled halfway across the world seeking immortality. I offer it to you— freely. And with it a promise. To reveal the true story of your birth.”

  “You want me to drink this?”

  “It is your choice. I have partaken many times and am still here.”

  “Is that how Helmstetter died—from drinking it?”

  Yersan shook his head. “He wanted to take the liquor. It was refused him.”

  He sat beside me and touched my arm. “Taste it first. And then drink the whole of it down. Do not fear. The priest will guide you.”

  I would die at their hands anyway. Perhaps if Yersan was lying and this was a poison, it would be a faster way to go. I said a quick prayer for Evelyn, Nick, and Bennet, then raised the rim of the plain little bowl to my lips.

  Forty-Nine

  A side from a numbness in my mouth, at first I felt nothing. Neither Yersan nor Alaz spoke. My head was a little woozy, but that may have been a result of the fear coursing through my veins. Then the smooth liquor hit my bloodstream as if I’d just taken a morphine shot. My legs began to feel heavy, like waterlogged sponges. Minutes later I retched and had just enough time to turn my head to the side before I threw up. My heart hammered, the beats coming so close and loud they drummed out any other sound. My throat seized and an overpowering thirst struck me. “I need water,” I heard myself croak. “Please.”

  Yersan loomed over me; his face seemed to have expanded to several times its natural size. His voice echoed. “Stay still,” he said. “He will come to you. It will be worse if you try to move.”

  Torrents of fear raked my body. I could feel the poison invading every cell.

  I sensed motion, was conscious of bodies nearby. I lashed out. An electric jolt tore through me; my own body felt as if it had been cleaved in two. Had Yersan gutted me with a knife? I looked down at my chest but my vision had blurred. I shook like a summer leaf spinning in a tornado. Hands held me down. It felt as though they were squeezing me flat in a giant vise. The pain was immense. I stopped resisting and lay still, which lessened the agony a little.

  Someone passed a cool wet cloth over my forehead. I opened my eyes but when I focused on his fingers they appeared almost transparent; I could see glassy skin, purple-red veins, tiny capillaries.

  Scent overpowered me. Cedar, the perfumed oil, the men’s sweat, the garden’s plants, soil, and mold. I could even smell the quartz dust drifting down from the ancient walls. Slowly the pain subsided and my heart settled down. I tried to lift my head. A cramp gripped me and I doubled in two again. I think I screamed.

  “Stay still, stay still” came a disembodied voice floating through the air. When the aftershock of the second cramp lessened I lay quietly, too terrified to move.

  I felt myself being lifted. The walls of the room disappeared. A flickering darkness, a soft grayness, surrounded me. A dazzle of gold flashed so brightly I had to shut my eyes. I opened my lids a fraction and looked again.

  A winged figure stood before me. Tall as the tallest man I’d ever seen. His gold mask glittered. His robe was no longer in tatters. On it were painted beautiful designs in strange symbols of green, red, and blue. Jewels circled the neck of his robe. The colors shimmered and seemed to melt into the flare of rosy gold.

  He held his arms crossed over his heart. The skin on his face, arms, and hands was the colour of old parchment, the hair o
f his long braided beard white as bleached bones. His dark eyes bored into my soul.

  And then the being spoke. I couldn’t understand the words but somehow knew what he was saying. As if his thoughts had the power to flow directly into mine.

  An invitation.

  A warmth stole over my body. I stopped trembling. Then his great wings unfolded and in the next moment I lost all awareness of time. Now I was surrounded by darkness, the indigo black of night. Far below I saw the frothy crowns of trees, the stream, the golden path. But how could everything appear so clearly in the gloom? The colors of the natural flora below me were as bright as if they’d been brushed with neon paint. The whole terrain glowed, yet each detail was crisp and clear.

  I was seeing with a bird’s eye.

  It was cold but that didn’t seem to affect me. The moon had come out, casting a silvery light, and the first stars began to appear. I sensed the winged one’s presence, heard his murmurings, yet could not see him. He seemed to hold me safe in a kind of tender embrace. We flew that way for a long time. Then he left me. No, that’s wrong. I was alone but at the same time my flesh had joined with the pulse at the core of the universe. My heartbeat became the rhythm of waves flowing onto the shore, the punch of thunder, the burst of a sapling pushing out of the earth, the swish of a bird’s wings. I began to forget who I was and I welcomed it.

  I have no idea how long that journey lasted. Only that at some point I opened my eyes and saw I was outside the temple and the great cedar doors had now closed. My head hurt yet I felt strangely energized. Voices seemed to come from far off. Yersan and Alaz leaned over me.

  “Can you get up?” Alaz said. “You should have something to eat and drink now.”

  Yersan caught my arm and helped me to my feet. We crossed the moat, put our footwear back on, and sat on rocks beside the stream. I nibbled at some flatbread and drank a cup of strong sweet tea from a thermos Alaz handed me. By the strength and angle of the sun I could tell it was morning.