The girl had been drawn to the corner, and as she had sung—without words, only clear, melodious notes—something amazing had happened. She was joined by five other Crystal Children of varying ages, and they had united in her unusual song. As they had sung, the wall before them had begun to move. The smooth, polished stone of the barrier had divided and shifted, like a bird rustling its feathers and opening to take flight. The partition had shaken and, as the dust settled, an archway and tunnel had become visible—but not to everyone.
“I knew it was here!” Nate had hooted happily.
“It’s miraculous,” Eden had marveled.
“It must have been here all along, we just couldn’t see,” Quinn had answered.
The six young Crystal Children had continued their song, and before anyone could stop them, the fearless little ones had entered the darkness. Eden had hesitated to follow and had looked to Quinn for counsel.
Meanwhile, life in the large room had continued unchanged. The Emissaries and other captives had remained completely oblivious, grouped in various stages of meditation, prayer, conversation, and rest.
Eden was shocked that other people did not seen the gaping portal. “But they’re all Emissaries, why don’t they see? Surely we’re all meant to escape from here,” she had proclaimed, staring at the archway and worried for the young ones who had already entered.
“It is not their course, and it is not for us to decide. There must be a reason so few are at a frequency to see this gateway,” Quinn had surmised. “Who opened this portal when you were last here, Nate? Do you remember?”
“I don’t know. I recall a tangle of paths, like the roots of an ancient tree. I think we have a long journey ahead of us.”
“We can’t just leave the others behind. We can’t just disappear! What if Elijah’s brought here?” Eden had said, horrified at the prospect of abandoning the Crystal Children she had innocently helped to lure there.
“Elijah won’t be coming here, Eden, that I can guarantee. Helghul is far too important to Grey Eld…”
“Don’t call him that! I know what you think, I know who he’s been … but he’s my son! He’s my baby and I won’t give up on him as long as I have breath left in this body! Not as long as I am his mother!”
“Of course you won’t and I won’t either,” Quinn had promised, taking her shaking body into his arms. “I do understand the love of a mother for her child. As you’ve told me many times, there is always choice … we can hope … we can help Elijah choose the Light,” Quinn soothed. “But first, we have to find him.”
“You think this leads to my son?” Eden had asked, her eyes flashing toward the wall.
“I think it opened to us for a reason, and Hel … your son is as good a reason as any.”
Nate, who had been silently listening to the pair, had interjected urgently, “We need to go quickly. The children are gone and this passage could disappear any second.”
“Not yet. Come help me,” Quinn had said.
For weeks he had been teaching the secrets of the Unity Grid to the captives, just as he had once taught the children in Atitala. When the portal had opened, he had immediately recognized that the time for the joining had come.
Once gathered, the group had built their human web, conjuring the kaleidoscope of colors and energy in the air above them, just below the copper ceiling. It hadn’t taken long. The Emissaries’ powers had grown intense. By the time Eden, Nate, and Quinn passed through the portal, the Unity Grid had been in youthful bloom in the air above the peaceful Emissaries. The Emissaries were doing their part.
Once Quinn, Nate, and Eden had passed through the portal, the stone wall had sealed itself behind them. Turning back was not an option. The six Crystal Children had disappeared deep within, but there was nothing to fear in the tunnels of Shambhala; or was there?
CHAPTER 44
A DIFFICULT PATH
Once the gateway disappeared, they saw that the walls of the tunnels were lit by glowing crystals.
Nate directed them forward. “This way, I think,” he said uncertainly, as the paths split from two into three, then five, then eight.
“Where will we come out?” Eden asked, feeling simultaneously hesitant and exhilarated.
“I’m as lost as you are, but I keep thinking of Egypt … I know how crazy that sounds,” Nate replied.
“More crazy than doors appearing and disappearing? I think these tunnels lead everywhere. You were right, Nate. They’re like the roots of the world. We need to use our intuition and believe we will end up where we are meant to,” Quinn said.
“We don’t know where we’re meant to be!” Nate protested. “I’m not sure what I got us into.”
The threesome didn’t speak again for a few minutes as they proceeded through the passage. Eden screamed just as Nate turned to speak again. Before anyone knew what was happening, she fell. A gap had suddenly opened up in the floor between them and, with a gust of wind, she dropped into it. The tips of Eden’s hair brushed through Quinn’s outstretched fingers as she disappeared. He tried to follow her, but the floor closed up as magically as it had opened, and his knees and elbows slammed violently against solid stone as he dove after her.
“Theron!” he cried in anguish, his legs smarting from the impact.
Nate stared in disbelief. “Oh my God! What’s going on? What’s happening?”
“Theron,” Quinn whimpered, his forehead pressed against the solid ground.
Nate paced back and forth around his splayed companion. “There must be a trigger,” he supposed, doubling back, over and over.
Desperately searching, Quinn ran his hands frantically along the smooth floor.
After about ten minutes of panic and pacing, Nate finally spoke again. “We have to keep moving,” he nervously counseled.
“I promised I’d never leave her,” Quinn said miserably. “Why does this always happen?”
“I don’t know, man, but she’s not coming back the way she left. We can’t just sit here, we have to go on.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right,” Quinn said desolately, getting to his feet.
“Do you hear that?” Nate asked nervously. A low grumble had become audible. “Earthquake?” he guessed.
Quinn knew better. “We gotta move! We could be in trouble,” he said.
The path continued to wind and twist, and Nate led the way.
“Just follow your gut. There’s a reason you’re here, Nate, a reason you are always there to guide me. I need you to believe in yourself,” Quinn assured. The grumbling had grown significantly louder, and it was clear now that it was a growl. It was the deep, resonating snarl of a large creature. “We need to get as far away from here as possible.”
“Or as close,” Nate countered bravely. “Maybe they’re trying to scare us away from something, a passage that we need to take. As much as I hate to admit it, my instincts are telling me to go directly toward it.”
“Oh shit, you’re kidding me,” Quinn said heavily.
“I wish,” Nate said, shaking his head and heading toward the sound.
The tunnels were chiseled into solid, multi-veined stone. Crystals lit the way as the path ahead of them branched in eight different directions.
“This one,” Nate stammered nervously, pointing at a darkened path that was narrower and lower than the others. Sinister cries echoed from within it, growing in number and volume. The reverberation ignited their biological responses as their adrenaline surged. They descended deeper into the damp earth.
As his blood pounded in his ears, Marcus thought only about Theron. Where was she now? Lost? In danger? What if he died? How would he help her then?
“Here it comes!” Nate shouted. “Holy shit!”
An enormous beast, resembling a male lion but twice its thickness and muscle mass, was upon them. Its giant head swung side to side as its loud, hollow breathing echoed menacingly through the tunnel. Huff … Huff … Huff, the men heard, and felt. The sound, so near,
so calm and so deliberate, was far more frightening than the howls had been. The beast aggressively tossed its mane, which was twisted in tight loops and knots, rattling the studded, armored cuff around its neck and chest. It snarled, bearing its lethal fangs. The fur on its neck bristled and spiked like barbs.
“I’ve heard of these things, Nate. They’re the Guardians of the outer Grid,” Quinn shouted.
The Guardian looked more horrible than he had ever imagined, and its glowing eyes flared like hellfire in the dim light. Nate backed directly against Quinn, and the wicked creature crept closer. The rancid odor of decay that clung to it choked them. Its shoulders were almost the height of the low ceiling, and its massive head was extended forward on its outstretched neck.
Nate was reminded of the shishi lions he had seen so many times in his travels through Asia, their giant stone paws resting possessively on the sphere representing the world and the Grid. He knew there was no time to waste; the lions were almost always depicted in pairs.
As the monster approached, there was a click, click, click of extended claws on the stone floor, each nail as thick as an ivory tusk. They could not flee. The Guardian would surely be on them, ripping out their insides in an instant. And in the distance, another deep grumble resonated.
Suddenly, Nate knew what he must do. He saw an opening. Without another thought the guide shouted, “You must get through!”
“No!” Quinn bellowed, but it was too late.
Nate sprinted directly past the front of the Guardian down one of the branching tunnels. With a fierce pounce, it took the bait. “Run!” Nate screamed.
Quinn paused, not wanting to leave his friend, but he knew it was a lost cause. The beast was on Nate easily. He had ducked under its chin and wrapped his arms around its banded throat. It was too strong. It shook him free and was on him, razor sharp claws pinning him beneath its weight. It was certain death. Without weapons, Quinn and Nate had been completely defenseless.
It could not be for nothing! Nate’s sacrifice must not be for nothing! Quinn bolted through the gap that had opened as the Guardian had been distracted. He must escape. Nate’s valor could not be in vain.
Quinn ran until his lungs burned and his sides ached in sharp knots. The beast’s hideous roars echoed in his ears. Turn, turn, branch off, and turn. Nate had been only a brief distraction. Quinn could hear the beast close behind him, or perhaps it was another. How many more would there be? He hadn’t considered this when they had chosen to leave the safety of their prison bunker.
Nate had been tested and had bravely sacrificed himself. For what? What could Quinn possibly do to make the sacrifice worthwhile? Should he have stayed and fought? Now he would surely die anyway! Should he have died with Nate?
Huff, huff, huff, click, click, click. The Guardian panted as it ran, still growling its deep guttural warnings.
Quinn knew he couldn’t run much longer; his thighs and lungs burned as he sprinted. Would he die here? Would this useless end complete this useless life? An Emissary by mistake, there was no doubt left in him now. He was a miserable failure; thirteen thousand years and all the wisdom of the Universe could not help him be a better man. The human condition was difficult for everyone, and once again he was failing to fulfill his purpose.
Shameful … shameful. You’ve done nothing with your knowledge, he admonished himself inwardly as his pace slowed.
“Stop!” Quinn commanded aloud. The sound of his voice echoed through the passages. “No more despair! I am a tool of the Light, and I am not responsible for Nate or for the beast! I will succeed! I will not add to the darkness of this world with unconscious thinking!” he panted.
He was now barely a hundred steps ahead of the charging Guardian, though he dared not look back. He need not look back, for a second Guardian had appeared in the corridor directly ahead of him. Trapped! He was now most certainly doomed, and he could see the bulging eyes of his attackers as they narrowed. He could almost feel the heat of their breath on his neck, and he prepared to be devoured.
“God help me!” he cried, just as the snarling creatures pounced.
A door, just to his right! In the split second it took the hideous sentinels to crash into one another, their prey disappeared. Quinn slipped through the fleeting opening, and when the door had closed behind him it immediately disappeared into the craggy stone wall. It was enough. The Guardians had not passed through.
Quinn found himself in a familiar place. It was the cenote of Atitala. The beautiful place where Marcus and Theron had spent so many joyous hours, and where he and Helghul had battled for her honor. It was exactly the same—the enticing blue water, the hanging roots and vines stippling the sunlight that peeked through the skylight above.
Tunnels shot off in different directions, and as Quinn wondered which one he should take he saw someone emerging directly opposite him. His heart leapt as he thought of Theron, but it was not Eden who emerged through the archway. It was Helghul! Helghul as he had been in Atitala—a man in his early twenties, blonde and smug, his usual sneer directed at Quinn. Quinn soon realized that he too was changed. His body was young and muscular; the skin of his arms was deep caramel brown. He was as he had been as well. Marcus had returned.
“You!” Helghul snarled. “It’s time to do what I should have done in the beginning,” he said.
The two men ran at one another, determined to battle, determined to end one another at last. As they collided, something extraordinary happened. Instead of meeting flesh to flesh and grappling, they each hit an invisible barrier and rebounded with a jolt. They sat, mirror images of one another, in exactly the same position, stunned, on the stone floor. Marcus stood up and, still in perfect reflection, Helghul did the same. The light and the dark, they stared at one another. Marcus reached out to feel for the barrier between them. As he did so, Helghul’s corresponding arm was pressed back in equal extension. But there was no tangible separation, he felt no screen or wall, yet the two men were unable to touch.
“What is this between us? Why do you back away so strangely?” Marcus asked angrily. He had no time for these games. He must find Theron and he must do so before Helghul intervened.
Helghul punched toward Marcus, who retreated in exact response. The men looked at one another in confusion. Helghul nodded his head forward three times and Marcus’s head simultaneously bobbed backward three times.
“Stop that!” Marcus shouted, once again lunging toward Helghul. Helghul’s body responded in exact reversal and therefore could not be touched. For every movement, there was an equal and opposite counter-movement. For every intention, there was an equal and opposite intention. Marcus turned to leave; he would find Theron and be done with this nonsense, but as he did so, Helghul also turned.
Marcus marched out of the cave, and twenty yards ahead he saw an archway. He entered and, to his bewilderment, he was back in the same cenote and Helghul was entering from the opposite side. Step by step they were in perfect, but opposite, sync.
“What is this? What have you done to me?” Marcus shouted.
“It is you who has done it,” Helghul snapped angrily.
“Is there something you are not telling me?”
“We will stay here like this indefinitely. Time is irrelevant in this place. Until we understand it, we are stuck here, together,” Helghul said irritably.
“What are we to understand? Tell me so we can be done with it.”
“I wish nothing more than to be done with it, but the solution to this riddle eludes me just as it does you. Do not tire me with your demands anymore. It is bad enough I have to endure your face, your stench, and your energy. Let me think.”
Marcus made some more movements, complex and strange, and in every instance Helghul did the equal and opposite in perfect sync, without effort, each time growing more annoyed. Marcus sat down to think and as expected Helghul did the same. They could not leave the cenote and they could not touch one another, though everything that one of them did undeniably affected
the other. Each man thought and struggled.
“What are we missing? I have to get out of here. What are we missing?” Marcus said, wracking his brain.
Suddenly Marcus grew very still. He slowed his breathing, closed his eyes, and instead of trying to think, he tried not to think. He emptied his mind and breathed.
Marcus meditated for just less than eight minutes, while Helghul sat nearby in exactly the same pose facing the glistening blue cenote. Why the cenote? Was it because of Theron? Atitala? The fight so long ago? No! Marcus jumped to his feet, and Helghul stood beside him.
“It’s the water! Water is the most ancient of ancients! Everybody who’s come before us is alive in the water. Every birth sac and withered corpse returns to the water cycle like a puddle drying in the sun. The water holds knowledge!” Marcus proclaimed.
It took him a moment to contemplate further. He ran forward to jump in the water but, as he did so, Helghul stepped equally away. As if a rope held them core to core in a tug of war, Marcus could not enter. He had been so sure! What could he be missing?
Marcus bent down and picked up a small pebble. He threw it into the pool, and beside him Helghul mirrored the equal and opposite motions, though he tossed no stone. The single stone dropped in with a plop. In response, a ring rippled out, and then a second. From that zero point were born two rings, and they split one from another, which is not the way of water. Instead of living within one another, the rings split into the vesica piscis, like the splitting of a cell in the creation of life. The rings rippled side by side, and between them, where they touched, was their point of origin, like an eye. Together they were duality—the yin and the yang, balance—and they made the eternity figure eight, which began to spin. Larger and more quickly a great whirlpool was created in the center of the cenote, and the sound of its rushing water filled the space.
“We must go together, side by side,” Marcus said to Helghul over the rushing water.
“It appears it can be no other way,” Helghul agreed. They both stepped simultaneously toward the edge. “You are still no friend to me, Marcus.”
One Great Year Page 40