by Tom Hunter
“I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous!” scoffed Waleed. “Using a random memory to open a door? How’s that going to work? Next you’ll be telling us that daydreaming can transport us across the globe. It’s a silly suggestion.”
“Actually, I think Basile might be onto something,” said Akhenaton slowly. “I mean, none of the clues we’ve found so far have been straightforward and there has to be a reason why we all experienced the same thing. Sure, it could be the relic playing tricks on us, but it’s entirely possible that the warriors utilized its powers to give us some help that only the worthy would be able to access.”
“You could be right,” nodded Waleed, doing a U-turn when he heard Akhenaton’s reasoning. “Great idea, Basile!”
“So how can we explore the memory?” asked Shafira. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m struggling to recall any details. It was incredibly vivid at the time, almost more real than real life, but now I’m having problems remembering anything specific.”
“Is anyone really skilled in meditation?” Samuel looked round at the group. “If we relax, maybe we’ll be able to get into the same mindset we were in when we first experienced it and be able to see something that’ll help us open the door.”
Nobody said anything for a few moments until Josh sheepishly raised his hand. “I used to take yoga classes,” he confessed. “We always used to start and end each session with a short meditation. I can probably remember enough to take you all through it.”
He noticed Waleed hiding a laugh behind his hand. “What?” Josh protested. “Look, I was trying to impress a girl, okay? She was really hot! To be fair, so were all the women in the class. If you’d seen them, you’d have come to yoga too.”
“It’s not that,” giggled Waleed. “I just had a vision of you doing the splits in tight leggings. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever thought of! Ow!” He rubbed the back of his head, glaring at Akhenaton, who feigned innocence of having just slapped him.
“I’m deadly serious here, guys,” said Samuel. “As we’ve already seen, the scepter and the hat both seem to function on a mental energy level. I’m guessing that the best way for us to attune ourselves to them and even activate the device remotely is for us to try and achieve a higher state of consciousness, hard though that may be for some of us.” He glanced pointedly at Waleed. “And since our friend here sold all our weed to the border guards, we’re going to have to do it the hard way.”
“Meditation’s a total waste of time,” scoffed Waleed. “Even Josh has admitted that he only did it to impress a woman. Feel free to close your eyes and chant Hare Krishna if you want, but it’s not going to open the door. I’m not making myself look stupid for anyone.”
“You jerk, Waleed,” sneered Josh. “You shouldn’t knock it until you try it. I might have started because of a woman, but I kept going to the class because I got so much more out of it. Meditation has so many benefits–you really ought to meditate regularly. Maybe then you wouldn’t be such an ass.”
Waleed opened his mouth to argue, but Shafira stepped between the pair of them. “Enough!” she snapped. “Both of you. We’ve been here for I don’t know how long and this is the first semi-decent idea we’ve had. It’s got to be worth a shot. If nothing else, if we’re all more relaxed, maybe we’ll be able to think of something else to try.”
“Shafira’s right,” decided Samuel. “Josh, can you talk us through some basic meditation, help us achieve our calm, whatever it is you do.”
“Sure thing,” nodded Josh. “Okay, everyone. I want you all to find somewhere to sit and get comfortable. You’ll probably want to lean against the wall for some support–you’ll need to stay in the same position for a while, which is hard to do if your back starts aching.”
The group spread out, everyone finding a spot to get themselves comfortable. Josh waited for everyone to be settled before he continued.
“Sit with your legs crossed and just let your hands flop into your lap. Don’t worry about what you’re doing with your arms; simply do whatever it takes to make it easy to relax. Remember–you’re going to be staying still for a while, so you want to be as comfortable as possible.”
The others shuffled and fidgeted about, adjusting their positions until they were satisfied with their posture.
“Now close your eyes,” Josh instructed. “And turn your attention to your breathing. I just want you to watch how your breath goes in… and out… in… and out…”
The rest of the team visibly relaxed as their breathing became deeper and slower.
“Now, as you continue to breathe deeply, I want you to relax. More, and more relaxed, entering into that wonderful state of relaxation. You are safe, you are calm, you are at peace, as you relax deeply, letting yourself go down, down, and further down.
“With each in breath, I want you to now visualize that you’re bringing in a brilliant white light, flowing into you as freely as the air. As you breathe, fill yourself with this light, the light of the universe. Let it fill every essence of your being, every part of you filled with this brilliant white light, making you glow, filling you up, protecting you as you become even more relaxed.
“As the white light fills and surrounds you, I want you to see yourself surrounded by a ball of this light, connecting you to the energy of the universe. Know that you are the stuff of stars. All that you are now is all that you have ever been and all that you ever will be. Open yourself up to the light, knowing that you are safe, and at peace. Let the light take you to that wonderful state of relaxation.”
As Samuel followed Josh’s instructions, he could feel his body becoming lighter and lighter, as he began to glow. His body seemed to dissolve into the light, leaving him a purely spiritual being. The sensation was subtle at first, but Samuel gradually began to feel as though he was falling backwards. He scrambled to keep himself upright, only to realize that he was still leaning against the wall, his whole body paralyzed.
Panic welled up, as he felt himself losing control of his mind, as well as his body. He tried to talk, but he couldn’t open his mouth as the light grew brighter, brighter, brighter, completely overwhelming him…
Thirty-Three
The light faded and became the burning hot sun hanging directly overhead in a cloudless blue sky. A gentle breeze brought with it the smell of sweat and blood, tinged with sand and grit.
Looking around, Samuel could see that he was walking through a desert settlement that bore more than a passing similarity to parts of Meroe, but much earlier in its development.
“Watch where you’re going!” barked a soldier standing guard over the workers, as Samuel accidentally bumped into him from behind.
He opened his mouth to apologize, or at least, he tried, but Samuel discovered that he wasn’t actually in control of this body, and whoever was in charge simply continued walking. It would appear that he was merely a backseat passenger in the mind of whoever this person was.
There was a loud rumbling as a huge boulder fell from a pile of stones. Overseers shouted instructions as slaves rushed to stop the rock doing any damage to the surrounding materials. Samuel’s ears were pounded by the cacophony bombarding him, as the stones were loaded back together, craftsmen pounded away in workshops to create bricks, materials and tools, whips cracked, slaves grunted with effort.
He soon saw that he was heading towards a stele that was still in construction. It bore a remarkable resemblance to the one that was towering over their heads back on the surface. However, this one looked much more like the painting they’d seen in the catacombs, complete with freshly-laid stone. He could only assume that he’d traveled back in time to the building of the stele.
A group of men dressed in a rudimentary version of the Knights’ robes stood by the entrance to the stele, deep in serious discussion. As Samuel approached, one of them broke away and hurried down to the entrance to the catacombs. He beckoned to Samuel to follow, but didn’t wait to see if he did.
Samuel pick
ed up the pace to keep up with his guide, almost missing a rung in his hurry to get down the ladder. He caught himself just in time before he fell down the ladder. He hoped that the person in charge of the body would be more careful in future. He’d already seen just how deadly it could be in the tunnels, and he had no idea what would happen if he died in this vision. He had no desire to find out, either.
The tunnels were lit with flaming torches set in the walls at regular intervals, making it easier for Samuel to follow the Knight, as he deftly made his way through the underground maze. Samuel could hear the sounds of workers carving out more corridors and installing more traps. The noises echoed through the catacombs, making it impossible to figure out where they were all coming from. However, despite the din, he didn’t see a single person as the Knight led the way to the tiled room.
Once more, the mysterious stranger didn’t stop as he hopped and skipped his way across the tiles, using the same pattern they’d followed to safely traverse the flame traps. Whoever it was that had painted the Arabic on the wall had yet to decorate the walls, not that Samuel would be able to read the instructions in any case. He paid extra careful attention to the steps the Knight was taking. One misstep and he’d be burned to a crisp. His guide didn’t seem to care whether he survived the traps or not.
Suddenly, Samuel found himself in control of the body he was in, its usual owner going dormant to let Samuel get across the trap.
Yet another way of proving my worth, Samuel thought to himself, as the man leading him disappeared into the corridor ahead. Samuel was only half-way across the room, but he resisted the temptation to move faster. More haste, less speed, Samuel. The last thing he needed was to step on the wrong tile because he was too desperate to catch up.
The sound of a door slamming up ahead, caused Samuel to lose track of where he was in the pattern. Did he need to take two steps forward, or three?
He stood there, one foot in the air, wobbling on one leg as he debated where to go. Two steps, or three? Two, or three?
He wasn’t close enough to the edge to attempt a repeat of his earlier athleticism and jump straight to the end. He had no choice. He had to get it right first time or die.
Samuel closed his eyes and crossed himself, muttering a little prayer. Although he wasn’t religious, the person whose body he was piggybacking clearly was, and it wouldn’t hurt to ask for a little divine intervention. Taking a deep breath, he jumped forward two tiles. To his relief, no flames leaped up to engulf him. However, he was so on edge at the thought of being burned alive that he almost overshot, ending up teetering on tiptoes. His arms flailed around in the air as he desperately pulled himself back. Falling would be deadly.
At last, he had successfully negotiated the tiles. Samuel hurried along to the room with double doors, being careful to take the right hand door this time. Soon, he was in the chamber where his future self was currently meditating.
The Knight was crouched in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for Samuel. A small bucket-like container, similar to the ones used for storing paint, was on the floor in front of him. Next to it was a small, but wickedly pointed knife.
When Samuel pushed through the door, the Knight gave him an enigmatic smile. Picking up the knife, he cut himself deeply in the middle of his palm, holding his hand over the bucket to let the blood drain into it. When the blood finished flowing, the Knight picked up the container and placed it in a little hollow in one of the walls. There were a few bricks on the floor and the Knight used them to close the hole, sealing them with a cement-like substance so that no one would know what was there once it had dried.
When he was done, the Knight stood and pointed to the wall.
“Strike here,” he said.
Thirty-Four
“Think… about… your breathing!” ordered Josh through gritted teeth, trying with little success to keep his voice calm. “Sit still! Don’t fidget! Let the brilliant white light fill you with peace and calm.”
A little giggle escaped Basile’s lips, and he put up a hand to hold back the full on laugh that threatened to follow.
“Je suis désolé, mais je me sens si stupide,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, but I really do feel stupid.”
Waleed yawned and scratched the side of his nose, giving up all pretense of trying to meditate.
“Stay… still…” Josh repeated, the frustration clear in his voice. “Just go into the light.”
“I’m not having a near death experience here,” Waleed muttered.
Basile snorted again, unable to control himself this time. His giggles turned to guffaws, and they were infectious. Josh shook his head, throwing his hands up in defeat, as Waleed and Shafira started laughing with him. Even Akhenaton had an amused look on his face.
“Why do I even bother?” moaned Josh, as Waleed and Basile fell to the floor, rolling around, they were laughing so hard.
“Go into the light, Carrie-Anne!” Waleed wailed with laughter, setting off the others even more. Basile clutched his sides, as he laughed hysterically.
In amidst all the chaos, nobody noticed Samuel at first, as he hopped to his feet and crossed over to the wall he’d been shown in his vision. He tapped a finger against his lips as he tried to figure out where the Knight had hidden the paint. Kneeling down, he ran his hands over the wall, attempting to find a crack or indentation that might suggest where the secret cavity was.
“What are you doing?” asked Josh, coming to squat next to Samuel. The laughter died down as the rest of the group realized that Samuel was onto something.
“While you were all messing about, I went back to ancient Meroe,” Samuel explained.
“What do you mean?” frowned Waleed. “How could you go anywhere? You were in the room along with the rest of us.”
“I don’t know what you did, Josh, but it clearly worked,” Samuel told him.
“See?” Josh folded his arms smugly, gazing around the others with a triumphant smile. “If you’d all paid attention to me, maybe you could have gone time traveling too!”
“Yeah, right,” scoffed Waleed.
“Look, I didn’t literally go back in time,” Samuel told him. “Of course not. But I did have a vision of the past, more vivid than anything I’ve experienced so far. It was as though I went back and possessed someone who worked with the Knights, or was even one of them. I don’t know. Maybe they were my ancestor, maybe it was a figment of my imagination, or maybe it was genuinely someone who lived way back then. Whatever, I saw the stele being built.”
“Wow. That’s crazy!” breathed Shafira, a tinge of jealousy to her voice.
“Crazy’s the right word,” sniffed Waleed, although he pressed closer to hear more of Samuel’s story.
“One of the Knights saw me and asked me to follow him into the catacombs,” Samuel continued. “He went through all the tunnels and traps until he ended up right here in this very room. He showed me a hidden compartment in the wall. And now I have the overwhelming feeling that I’ve already done what I’m about to do. This feels familiar. This feels right.”
“I don’t know. I think Waleed’s onto something,” commented Basile. “This feels crazy. Maybe you’ve had too much sun today.”
Samuel ignored him, looking around for a stone or brick he could use to test his theory.
“Stand back, everyone,” he warned, as he picked up a small rock and smashed it at the spot pointed out to him in the vision.
At first nothing happened, but then a low rumbling started.
“Get out!” warned Basile, frantically waving his arms at everyone to leave the room. “It’s a cave-in!”
Akhenaton went to go through the door out of the chamber, but it slammed shut in his face. He felt around, but there was no handle on their side of the door.
“The door won’t open!” he called. “We’re trapped!”
“It’s fine.” Samuel had to shout to be heard over the sound of stones cracking and the panicked cries of his friends. “Look!”
He pointed to where he’d hit at the wall. A crack had appeared where the stone had hit it. As they watched, it spread, fanning out like splintering glass. When it reached the ceiling, the wall collapsed, revealing a small room. Larger than the cubby hole Samuel had seen in his vision, there wasn’t just one paint pot inside. Countless ancient clay pots lined the floor, piled up on top of each other to pack the small space to capacity. The ditch that bisected the main room ran into this extra chamber, finishing in a strange little mount that looked about big enough to hold one of the pots, suggesting that they could be placed there. Smashing a pot in the mount would send paint running down into the ditch.
An array of ancient brushes in different sizes lined a shelf to the side of the chamber. Samuel picked one up, blowing the dust away from it. He rubbed the bristles up and down his hand, looking in wonderment at the ancient instrument. “I don’t know whether it’s the materials, or the fact that they’ve been shut in a hermetically sealed room for centuries, but these seem perfectly sound,” he announced.
“So what do we do?” asked Waleed. “Pour paint into the ditch and dip the brushes into it? Won’t all the colors mix into one if we do that?”
“I suspect that we only need to use a couple of pots to fill the ditch,” Samuel replied. “Look at it as more of a sacrifice than a weird palette.”
“Let’s give it a go, then,” suggested Josh.
Samuel picked up a pot at random, putting it in the stand. Carefully, he cracked the base of the pot with the butt of his gun. Sure enough, the clay split open. Bright red paint flowed out from the pot, and drained out into the shallow ditch.
Nothing happened.
“I think another two or three and the ditch will be full,” Basile observed. “I think we should do that.”