Other island natives in the room also began sitting around them. Many were in traditional island attire while a few donned more modern clothing.
Terzin walked over to the elder woman and bowed. “Thank you, Orisihpa.” Already well aware of this sacred ceremony, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Taking a sip, she then inhaled through her nose to intensify the flavor.
William could not help but stare at her beauty. He appreciated her feminine silhouette as it cast a slight shadow in the torch-lit room. The violet flower behind her ear, which she must have taken from one of the many floral arrangements that decorated the room, accentuated her blue eyes.
“Close your eyes when you drink it.” Terzin said as she handed William the coconut. “And let your mind drift away in the process.”
William gently took the coconut, barely able to take his attention away from her. All concern about his safety and the authenticity of their hosts quickly dissipated. With a smile on his face, he closed his eyes and brought the drink to his lips.
The sense of serenity abruptly ended as he swallowed. The syrupy mixture tasted like a combination of mud and grass mixed together. With grainy bits of this chalk-like concoction clinging to his throat, William attempted not to gag. His only solace after drinking this mixture was that he would have the pleasure of handing it to his friend Alex.
Finally regaining his composure, William turned to Alex and said, “Drink up. Make sure you take a big gulp.”
From the bits of grass and brown substance stuck between William’s teeth, Alex could only surmise the taste. Acting as if he were taking a sip, he feigned a swallow before handing the coconut to Marissa. With a wink, he attempted to forewarn her of what she was about to drink.
However, after having stayed on the island previously, she was painfully aware of this brown concoction even before she brought it to her lips. She’d already had the misfortune of sampling what was known as sakau. Marissa certainly would not make that error again. Also feigning a sip, she passed the coconut to the islander next to her.
“I can sense that you are still worried about the Mark,” Orisihpa said, staring into Terzin’s eyes.
Terzin felt ashamed that she had somehow offended their host, and bowed her head as if asking for mercy.
“Be not afraid.” Orisihpa assured. “The Mark is in its proper place in the Mukulian Hall with the others that have fallen astray. All is well now. The world is at peace—for the moment.”
Terzin smiled, needing extra assurance. The elders had repeatedly taught her that if the Mark’s place at Pumapunku were at all compromised, it should be immediately brought to Nan Madol. However, she understood that time may have distorted the truth behind these old stories told to her at bedtime.
Alex wished he understood how the crystal worked. The knowledge that could be gleaned from this lost science seemed limitless. Plus, if these Marks stabilized the Earth’s electromagnetic field and tectonic plates, he would like to understand them more in case there was ever again a problem with the tectonic plates or the Earth’s electromagnetic grid. Hoping for at least some clue, he asked, “Who created the Marks?”
“One of the unenlightened,” Orisihpa responded with a smile. “You see,” she explained while holding her hand in front of her, “Pohnpei and Nan Madol were once part of a vast Pacific continent we referred to as Mu. Also known by other Pacific Islanders as Hiva, Ka-hoopo-kane, and Kumari Kandam, this great land was lost; only its highest mountaintops remain. Pohnpei, Hawaii, Fiji, Midway, Tonga, and Easter Island, to name a few, are all that are left of this once massive landmass.”
“What happened?” Marissa asked. “What could have caused such massive destruction?”
“Legend says Mu was lost in the great disaster.” she explained. “Swallowed up by the sea.
“The biblical flood?” Marissa conjectured. “As mentioned in the Christian and Hebrew Bibles?”
William looked at her skeptically. “I thought all of that was folktale or old stories created to make a point.”
“That’s not exactly true,” Marissa rebutted. “There are over 350 flood stories spanning the entire globe. Because my work took me around the world, I personally heard a few of these myths from the Berber in Africa, the Hopi tribe of North America, and the indigenous people of Australia. Not only in the Bible can you find these flood stories, but tales of a great deluge are also located in Mayan writing, the Babylonian story of Gilgamesh, the Ingorot tale of the Philippines, and the story of Nügua in China.”
Orisihpa added, “The flood story is the common theme among all of them. Every culture seems to parrot the same story. Though the names are different, the story remains the same.”
“The Greek myth of Phileman and Baucis,” Alex added, “also tells the tale of how Zeus brought the brothers to the mountaintop as the water inundated the Earth.”
“The sea, too, arose, and in a stupendous catastrophe of nature the land sank into the sea. The new Earth arose out of the womb of the last Earth,” Orisihpa said, “to quote the Samoan.”
“Where is the proof?” William asked, still unconvinced. “Maybe it’s a coincidence. Flooding is a common natural disaster that has occurred since the dawn of humanity. I’m sure every civilization has somehow been affected by it.”
“There is,” Alex said, “but we’ve ignored the evidence in the dogmatic pursuit of a uniformitarian version of history. Geologists abandoned such theories of catastrophism in the early nineteenth century.”
Alex took a small, black card out of his pocket and placed it on the stone floor in front of him. A holograph appeared above it. “I’ve always been intrigued by what geologists call Alaskan muck. As you can see on this image, there are bones, plants, trees, and mud crushed together and frozen as if created in some great cataclysmic event.”
Different holographic scenes displayed above the card, activated by Alex’s narration.
“This muck can also be found in Siberia,” Alex added, “and is full of insects, plants, and bones from various animals such as bison, mammoth, and other large mammals. Plus, there are caves and crevices all over the world that appear as if they were suddenly inundated with the same material. Not a single continent is without one of them. In addition, hundreds of sunken ancient cities have been found under the Mediterranean Sea, as if inundated by a mass deluge.”
“There are also these massive boulders,” the holograph changed as Marissa spoke, “found haphazardly in the Saharan desert. Geologists call them erratics because they have no explanation about how such massive rocks could be found in desolate areas. It is as if they purposely want to ignore the fact that the rocks appear to have been carried by raging waters before reaching their final destination.”
“So, if this biblical flood already occurred,” William asked, “what are you trying to stop now with these Marks of yours? Hasn’t the destruction already happened?
William looked around at his friends and host. “Did any of you ever think that these Marks may have somehow triggered this biblical flood, and by tinkering with them again, we may cause another one? Just look at what happened when Terzin’s Mark was removed from Bolivia.”
Despite his friend’s skepticism, Alex agreed that William made an astute point.
“My word is all that I can provide,” Orisihpa humbly responded. “It is all I have to give you.”
“Maybe the Marks are preventing something even more catastrophic from occurring,” Marissa added. “Maybe something worse is in store for the planet.”
“Legend has it—” Orisihpa began to say.
The room began to rumble, knocking down a few bowls and causing the potted plants in the room to sway.
Terzin looked suspiciously at the ground and placed her head on it. “The Earth remains unpleased.”
William jumped to his feet, “Orisihpa, I thought you said all is well since the Mark is in its proper place in the Mukulian Hall?”
Orisihpa appeared just as surprised as William. “Check
the hall!” she bellowed to one of the men in traditional island attire. “Find out what has happened.”
“Don’t bother,” Alex said. Taking the shield and turning it over, he revealed his ancient treasure to Orisihpa. “The Earth is not the one displeased with us. Peering directly into his vedere lens, Alex realized the problem was coming from above and not below.
“We must leave now!” Alex insisted. Looking at his shield, he realized his error too late. “We’ve been discovered.”
Chapter 17
Chapter_17
Christine continued to watch the members of the council argue. She could feel their tensions mounting as the frustration level in the room escalated rapidly. The two factions vehemently disagreed. However, she sensed the Phrees’ emotions transcended mere discontentment and ventured into the realm of hatred. More spiritual in nature, the Katholes refused to allow such basic emotions to overwhelm their conscious.
“The outposts will assuredly protect the planet,” insisted Zorian as he slammed his fist on the glass table in the center of the room.
The reverberation from the strike echoed throughout the hall but did little to curtail the argument. Instead, it acted as if it were a bell, signaling the next round of the fight.
“My people have harvested more Marks,” Zorian maintained, “and have strategically built more outposts throughout the entire globe. It will be only a short matter of time before we have them all fully operational.”
“Plus,” one of his female counterparts interjected, “we have plans for another hundred more. Do not let your fear continue to blind you.”
“How may outposts will it take?” questioned a calm and sophisticated Kathole representative. Her strong voice engulfed the hall, overpowering the minor bickering that interfered with the conversation. “Will 100 work? Will 1,000 work? Will there ever be enough?”
“Bhadra is correct,” bellowed Rhukma, the leader of the Katholes. “The more outposts we erect, the less effect each one provides.” He looked up at the Phrees standing opposite the table. “Let us not fool ourselves into the blind belief that these outposts will prevent the inevitable.”
Before the Phrees could amount a rebuttal, Rhukma waved his hand over the top of the clear table. Its surface began to shimmer in translucent colors as a three-dimensional image became visible under its surface.
The other twelve members of the council aggregated around the table’s perimeter, waiting for the image to come into focus.
“As you all can clearly see,” Rhukma explained as a three-dimensional representation of the Earth became visible, “the problem lies here at the northern icecap.”
Christine peered at the image. It was as if she had become one with the council members and was in the room standing around the table. However, the planet she saw was far different than the one she recognized today. Instead, it appeared much like the etchings of the maps she observed under the Art Museum. Though the planet looked foreign, she could clearly recognize the basic outline of the modern-day world. In this image, North America was far closer to the north while Africa boasted large lakes and streams, without the massive desert currently engulfing it.
The ice cap located at the Earth’s northern pole was larger than she had ever seen. Encroaching far into North America, Asia and Europe, its size was immense. Christine wondered if these people were living sometime during the last ice age.
That has to be at least 10,000 years ago! she concluded, remembering her history. Dumbfounded, she was amazed that such technology, or even any technology, existed at that time. She thought humanity was still hunting wooly mammoths and rummaging for food.
“The increasing weight of the Earth’s asymmetric northern ice cap,” Rhukma explained, “is being accentuated by the planet’s rotation and inherent wobble, creating an enormous instability within the Earth’s fragile crust.”
“The outposts,” Zorian insisted, “will correct this instability and neutralize the problem for the next hundred generations. It’s success in undeniable.”
Zorian then held out his hand to remove the image. However, Rhukma firmly pushed it aside, denying him the opportunity. The act only infuriated Zorian, who felt as if it brought dishonor to him and his council members.
Calmly, Rhukma continued speaking as Zorian’s gaze bore down upon him. “Zorian, you and the Phrees must remember: The Earth’s crust is but a thin layer floating atop a massive ball of hot, flowing magma.”
With a clenched fist, Zorian shook, “No, it is you and the rest of the Katholes who must remember the outposts have brought us all great prosperity. Without the toil and labor of my people, you would still be living in the dirt from which you came.”
The Katholes were aghast at such an inflammatory comment. Many gasped in disgust.
Red dots sprung up all along the globe as Rhukma waved his hand over the table once again. Unaffected by mere words, his mind was clear, and his thoughts remained coherent. Spiritual in nature, he turned inward and upward for self-control and motivation.
“The Earth’s crust is slipping,” Rhukma continued, “and continues to slip as the weight of the ice cap grows. As you can see Zorian, despite the outposts, these places here have already been destroyed as a result of minor crust slippages. As the weight of the ice cap grows, it will eventually destabilize the crust enough to potentially destroy the entire planet.”
The image in the table shifted to that of rubble with another wave of the hand. With H-shaped blocks and shattered wooden boats, the area was completely razed to the ground. “Our port city of Svastra,” Rhukma explained, “is now over 10,000 feet above sea level. As you can see, what once was a magnificent harbor is now lost high in the mountains, never to witness a sailing ship again.”
“This, you blame on these ice caps?” Zorian exclaimed indignantly. “Could this not be of natural causes? We have records dating back thousands of years. Who says things such as this could not have occurred millions if not hundreds of millions of years previously?”
“Listen to reason Zorian,” Rhukma pleaded. “Don’t you see how the Earth’s crust buckled at this location? While Svastra rose, other parts of the continent sank, lost to the depths of the ocean.”
“What you see here is just a precursor of more to come,” Bhadra interjected. “The Earth’s crust barely shifted during this incident. Imagine what will happen if it shifts an entire degree—or even a few degrees? There will be mass destruction unlike that described in even our most ancient texts.”
“So, what is your solution?” Zorian heckled. Joined by the rest of the Phrees, they taunted Rhukma and his companions, hurling disparaging remarks.
“Shut down the cradle,” Rhukma insisted, bringing an instant hush to the room. “Before any further ice forms on the northern cap.”
“You surely gest!” Zorian rebutted. “What you speak of is blasphemy. We will all be lost without the cradle.”
Tired of further discussion, Rhukma wanted to end the conversation. “As leader of the council, I call for a vote.”
Zorian walked with a huff away from the table, indignant at such a request. With his hands folded, he could only utter, “You old fool.”
“All those for not shutting down the cradle,” Rhukma stated succinctly.
Instead of a show of hands, Zorian’s fellow councilmembers protested the vote and pounded on the glass table as a boisterous display of their discontent.
“Those for shutting down the cradle,” Rhukma then voiced above the commotion. He and the other six Katholes raised their hands in defiance of their detractors. Their voices would not be silenced by the Phrees’ disobedience.
“Bhadra,” Rhukma stated solemnly, “bring me the key.”
The room went silent. Rhukma’s words struck all present like a bolt of lightning. With the gravity of the situation now bearing down on all of them, each understood the far-reaching consequences of their decision.
Bhadra slowly walked to the far wall and waved her hands over two brilliantly shi
ning rubies along its face. Attempting to suppress her fear of humanity’s future, she knew what must be done. A portion of the wall next to the precious stones slowly descended in response, revealing a sacred object secured for centuries behind it. All those in the room gazed upon the artifact. Though many had heard of its existence, few believed it actually existed. Even Zorian was at a loss of words at the sight.
“Proceed,” Rhukma commanded.
With trembling hands, Bhadra secured the object in her grip and slowly brought it to Rhukma. Mesmerized, the councilmembers watched in amazement. The artifact was long conjectured to be more myth than reality. Now, with it in front of them, each stood in awe.
Christine’s only thought was that the object looked nothing like a key. Instead, it reminded her of something she read in the ancient Greek poem, The Iliad. To her, it looked more like the shield described in its pages.
“Thank you,” Rhukma stated as he went to take the key. Before he had an opportunity to grasp it, a sharp, piercing pain seared straight through his back, knocking him down upon his knees. No longer able to support himself, Rhukma fell flat on his face.
Bhadra stepped forward, attempting to help her fallen leader. Zorian waved the bloody dagger that he had just thrust through Rhukma’s back in her direction, deterring any sudden movements.
“Now, give me the key,” Zorian insisted, brandishing his bejeweled weapon.
“Never!” Bhadra yelled as she turned and sprinted out of the room. Though priding herself in her spiritual prowess, Bhadra also took great pride in keeping her body as fit as her mind.
Before Zorian could follow, a finely dressed Kathole councilwoman pulled a slender, half-hourglass-shaped golden object from her shin and belted him across the side of his head with it. Zorian dropped the dagger and staggered backwards from the blow. Before he could react, the rest of the Katholes joined the fight.
Blood splattered onto the floor as the two groups clashed. Christine could hear and see the breaking of bones and the smashing of skulls as each defended themselves with different weapons they had stashed on their bodies. Helpless, she just wanted to reach out and bring an end to the fight.
The Final Reality (Alex Pella, #3) Page 12