“Nor am I your enemy,” Marcus said benevolently, and together, in agreement, they jumped into the magical eddy and were gone.
Whoosh! The ground fell away like a trapdoor, and Eden cried out in alarm. She heard Quinn shouting as his fingers grazed her hair, and then she was gone. Down, down, farther and farther, she continued to fall, slip, and turn across smooth stone. It reminded her of a slide at the water park back home. Back home, she knew where it would come out. Back home, she knew she was safe. Her heart was racing and she wondered if she should hold her breath. Was she about to burst through and be drowned, burned, eaten? Where would she come out?
Theron landed lightly, sliding like a feather into place. It was a strange seat, unlike anything she had ever seen, with carvings and artwork on every possible surface. She had dropped into an ornate golden throne.
It took her a moment to get her bearings and register her surroundings. There was an elaborate gold scaffolding in front of her. The white limestone room had high ceilings and intricately carved cornices and porticos all around its walls. There was a whimper, like the mew of a kitten, that called her attention back to the gold structure before her.
“Children!” she shouted joyfully as she saw the six young Crystal Children several yards above her looking down. They sat on two separate gold platforms with low edges around them, three to the right and three to the left. Eden tried to stand but could not. She was not bound, she felt no weight or pressure on her, but though she struggled, she was unable to lift her stuck body from the seat.
“Please, please, help us! Get us down!” six small voices called.
Eden looked up at the pink, chubby faces beseeching her. The children were between the ages of three and seven. Eden could see the fat, fleshy dimples in their elbows and fingers as they wriggled around, obviously trapped just as she was. The girl with the golden ringlets, who had sung so sweetly, now cried softly.
Eden contemplated how she would get them down once she was able to get unstuck. It’s a scale, she realized with confusion. “How did you get up there?” she called to them.
“I don’t know. We just landed here,” the little girl cried.
“I can’t move, I can’t get to you, there’s something holding me in place,” Eden said. “I need help. I don’t know what to do, I need some help,” she added under her breath.
Beginning as smoke and becoming solid as Eden’s eyes struggled to focus, the King of Shambhala, in white, gold, and jewels, appeared in front of the enormous scale, almost equal its size. His black hair was smooth and shiny beneath his glittering crown.
The children marveled in awe from either side as he reached out his giant hands to soothe them. They were not afraid; the energy that surrounded the good king was pure and light, and he shimmered like gossamer inlaid with fine crystals.
“Welcome, Theron. What is it that you wish to know?”
“What is this place?”
“You have returned to Shambhala, to the inner world. Before you stand the Scales of Justice. Weighing upon the scale is a sacrifice in equal balance to the gains ahead. There is a door beyond and it leads to that which you seek. To pass you must first retrieve the key. You cannot go back. You must choose,” he answered.
Eden noticed for the first time that on either side of the scale, dangling from the bottom of each bowl, was a large gold key on a chain. Behind the contraption was a huge gold door.
“That door will lead to my son?”
“Yes.”
“But I cannot move from this seat, it holds me,” Eden said.
“You are limited only by your beliefs. Reach deep inside yourself and you will move freely through this chamber and beyond it,” the king assured.
Eden trusted. She pulled her feet up onto the seat and crossed her legs. She straightened her back, lifted her chin, and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Free. Release me. Free, she thought, concentrating her energy on her forehead and on the pineal gland inside her skull.
Eden didn’t know how long she sat like that, but finally the lines of her face blurred as she began to take on the appearance of another. Her arms, her legs, her torso began to vibrate and shudder gently. The children watched silently from above as she, like the Shambhala king, became something more like smoke and cloud than solid. A filmy, ethereal spirit stood and stepped out of Eden. The children exclaimed in wonder.
There stood Theron, as she had appeared in Atitala. Her hair glimmered like garnets, and the fine point of her nose made her resemble a bird, perhaps a phoenix. She was completely separate from the uninhabited, resting shell of Eden on the throne behind her—only a thin umbilical cord linked them. It looked like the strand of a spiderweb and maintained their connection regardless of where she moved.
“Miraculous!” she beamed, marveling at her hazy hands and legs and regarding her inert shell.
“To pass, you must make your choice. When you take a key, the balance will falter and the sacrifice will be determined. The side you choose will rise up safely, the opposite will crash to the ground. What will you choose?”
“I have decided,” she said, too quickly.
“There is no undoing what will be done. You understand that one side of the scale will be released?” the king cautioned.
The children stirred anxiously. They were young but they understood, and the protests and pleas that rose from the baskets filled the room.
“I know my choice,” Theron said loudly, and the children cried in anticipation. “Neither … I choose neither. You said I could not go back. You did not say I could not stay here. I choose not to pass. There is another choice. I will remain here. None will be sacrificed by my hand,” she said simply, and loud cheers erupted from the children above.
The Shambhala king lowered his head respectfully, and the glittering jewels in his crown flashed throughout the room. “You have chosen well,” he said.
Instantly the scale and the children disappeared, and Theron was sucked back into her body, filling it like air into a balloon. Eden became animate and was no longer stuck. She slipped easily from the golden throne, and she followed the giant king through the door opposite her without the aid of any key.
“Through that door,” he said, pointing, “you will enter into the sacred Hall of Records. You are one of three from the west who will enter today,” the king announced.
“The Hall of Records? It truly exists?” Eden said in amazement.
The Hall of Records, also called the Halls of Amenti, was legendary and was said to contain a complete collection of knowledge from every Age. It held the secrets of the Universe, and only the most worthy could enter.
“It is all there. Blessings, good Emissary,” the king said.
Eden passed through the door and he was left behind. She walked up a long, dimly lit corridor, which opened into a vast library.
“What would you most like to know?” a voice from far back in Theron’s memory echoed to her from behind a bookcase.
“Where can I find my son?” Eden demanded. With all knowledge and possibility at her fingertips, she was still a mother first, her child’s welfare utmost on her mind. Eden’s head rotated as if it were on a swivel, noting all of the nine passageways and doors jutting out from the circular room.
“You will find your son in the King’s Chamber of the Great Pyramid,” the man said. He stepped out from behind some shelves and tables, which were filled with scrolls, tablets, and books. He was a stocky man in white robes with a trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, a round nose, and smiling cobalt eyes. Red Elder, the Keeper of Records, drank in the effervescent karmic colors of Theron.
“Red Elder!” Eden exclaimed happily.
“Yes, Theron, you have known me many times, even in this lifetime before I passed.”
“Many times … I don’t … Jamie!” Eden gasped. “Red Elder! It can’t be! You were Jamie? My husband?” she said, bursting into tears.
The Keeper of Records embraced her warmly.
“Our son … Elijah
…” she began, her voice muffled by his robes.
“Calm, there is much yet to be accomplished. Your path to the child will be clear.”
“Did you know? When we were … together … did you know about … all this? Who we were?”
“Who we are,” he corrected gently. “I knew.”
“You didn’t tell me … why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your inability to remember was a gift of mercy. It was not my place to take it from you.”
“But I remember now.”
“That too is a gift, but given well-timed.”
“How are you here? Are you real?”
“This place is not wholly of your world. I remain energy and light and flow within the Grid. I am of a parallel universe to yours.”
“But I can touch you … you’re right here,” she stammered, tapping his chest.
“Your eyes have been opened. You have come to my dimension, not I to yours. The Hall of Records is Shambhala, Theron. What is solid one moment may disappear the next. I exist in a place of ebb and flow and endless possibility. It is time to deposit your knowledge; the Darkness looms.”
“What? I don’t under…”
“What have you learned … your lesson?” he explained kindly.
“How do I decide? There are too many lessons. How do I choose what to say and not?”
“What do you feel most deeply?” he asked.
Theron thought for a few minutes. “Gratitude,” she finally said. “I am grateful that the Great Source has allowed me to experience creation. The birth of a child, my life as a mother, has let me experience the love of the creator for her creation. It is a tiny glimmer of the great love that our creator feels for us.”
“It is recorded. Proceed quickly and with blessings.”
“Can’t you come? Help me find Elijah; he’s your son too,” she said, taking the Elder’s hand as if she would pull him along with her.
“I have played my role in your current life. My place is here. We will meet again.”
Eden shivered as an ominous energy coursed through her, prompting her every hair and cell to quiver at attention. She embraced Red Elder, and to her left a corridor glowed.
CHAPTER 45
THE HALLS OF AMENTI
Elijah woke with a start. He expected to be soaked, wet from head to toe, after diving into the cenote vortex with Marcus. His sheets were dry and luxurious.
“Wake up, it’s time to go,” Grey Elder said, prodding the boy gently.
Had he been dreaming? Helghul knew better. There were certain dreams that were more.
It was ten p.m. A strong wind had blown the clouds and smog away, and the night skies over Giza were clear and bright. Grey Elder carried the black sports bag over one shoulder. His forearm rippled with the muscles that he had maintained diligently, knowing that his duties might someday challenge his aging body. He was dressed in western clothing and had ensured that Elijah did the same. They entered a taxi, and Elijah was grateful for the occasional gust of air through its open windows. The night remained warm, and traffic was noisy and slow.
“I hate baseball,” Elijah had complained, when Grey Elder had tossed him a hat.
“We need to look like tourists. That’s how we’re getting into the Pyramid.”
“Can’t you just pay our way in?” the boy had asked, turning over the Yankee cap in his hand.
“Of course, I’ve done that too. Egyptian politicians are easily bribed. However, they don’t have the same control of their military as they like to pretend. I have papers allowing us access to the pyramids and surroundings, but we must be prepared to deal with potential problems. We cannot be perceived as any kind of threat. As much as the soldiers are happy to take bribes, they’re truly protective of the Great Pyramid and they don’t want any trouble. They understand how dangerous times have become.”
“Isn’t it dangerous to advertise that we’re Americans?” Elijah had said, waving the cap in the air.
“It’s necessary. When I get close, the guards will know me anyway. This is the body I have to work with. I mustn’t look like I am trying to hide it or they’ll be more suspicious.”
“What if they don’t let us in?”
“You will get in. Everybody has a price … anyway, if I have any difficulty I have my ways,” Grey Elder had answered darkly.
They exited the cab and walked toward the Great Pyramid, leaving the streets of chaotic traffic and honking behind.
“Move quickly and don’t speak to anyone. The crowds are large and prone to violence,” Grey Elder said, as they approached the largest pyramid. It was lit around its perimeter, but the evening light shows that had once entertained tourists had ceased months before when Giza had become too dangerous.
The Egyptian army had been staunch, not allowing anyone entrance, but as time passed the higher-ups had made exceptions in order to reap the financial benefits. Pilgrims and tourists were willing and able to pay for access to the site, and life in Egypt was a struggle for its people, both military and civilian, so they took what they could on the side.
To Grey Elder’s displeasure, despite the warnings of danger and the legitimate threat of harm, the area outside the metal barricade fences was surrounded by pilgrims. There were thousands of people from all over the world, who had been arriving for months. There had been a great deal of animosity and violence directed at the peaceful pilgrims, much of it directly engineered by Zahn himself. Despite the danger, they continued to come. From outside the army barriers, they paced, prayed, sang, and just stared at the monuments as though waiting for something miraculous to happen. Very soon it would.
“Open the bag,” the soldier at the barricade orderded, but Zahn was prepared.
“It’s nothing, just snacks and water,” he answered, but as he opened the pack toward the man he held a huge wad of money as a bribe in his hand.
The soldier didn’t want to be seen taking the money; he might get in trouble, or worse, have to share it. He pocketed it quickly and waved them through. He had earned more in that brief moment than he would make in five years.
Grey Elder and Helghul had passed the first barrier easily, with the Emerald Tablet safely concealed. Now they had only to make their way to the Pyramid’s tourist entrance and into the King’s Chamber.
Quinn woke as if from a deep sleep and was back in his forty-something body. He rubbed his aching neck as he tried to make sense of his unfamiliar surroundings. He had escaped from a bunker in Torres del Paine, he had lost Theron, Nate was dead, and he had jumped into a cenote with Helghul. Now he found himself on the floor of an enormous round room.
There were scrolls and books and tablets and shelves that seemed to go on for miles. The white marble walls were steep and polished to a brilliant shine. The room had corridors jutting off in many directions, and Quinn couldn’t guess which pointed north or south. There was no wind, no cool, no heat—just stillness and the sound of his breathing.
Suddenly, Quinn heard a small sigh behind him. He whirled. “Red Elder!” he gasped. “Where am I?”
“All tunnels lead back to the Source, some just take longer to arrive,” the Elder said cryptically. His robe shimmered as he moved.
“Is this Amenti? Am I in the Hall of Records?” Quinn guessed, looking at the overflowing shelves, and the Elder nodded.
“You are beneath the Sphinx next to the Great Pyramid of Giza. You are the second of three prophesied to come from the west at the end of the Age.”36
Quinn knew that any answer he could ever seek could be found in that room, if only he knew where to look and what to ask.
“Where is Theron? Did she come before me?” Quinn asked hopefully.
“As always, Marcus, I see little has changed for you … or has it? She has come and gone. You are one of three in a destiny. Your fates are woven together like the strands of a whip,” the Elder declared, repeating the familiar phrase that Plato had first been told by the Oracle of Amun in Siwa.
“Where did
she go? Which way?” Quinn asked triumphantly. Eden had made it safely!
“As it is for her, your path is laid for you, Marcus. The outcome is far from certain and the Darkness approaches. You must make haste to the Great Pyramid, but first you must impart what you have learned, to be recorded in the Hall of Records.”
“There isn’t time …” Quinn began.
“It is the only way,” Red Elder insisted.
“Okay … ummm … I’ve learned … that memory is a curse and a blessing. I have learned that our path is unclear to us as we travel, but upon looking back the lessons become obvious.”
Red Elder did not speak, but cocked his short neck slightly to the right … waiting.
“I’ve learned that loneliness is an illusion … that isolation and individuality are … well, I can only describe them as holographic projections. In our hearts and souls we are unified at all times as One.”
“And what about love, Marcus? What about Theron?” Red Elder probed, pushing Quinn to consider himself, pushing him to consider more than thirteen thousand years of searching and struggling.
Quinn paused thoughtfully before answering. He had been rocking back and forth slowly on the balls of his feet, anxious to move on, but he stopped and said, “Love takes many forms, and … and they are all valuable. When we know love for everyone and everything, none above the other, then we truly understand Oneness.”
“Your deposit has been recorded.”
“Thank you, blessings,” Quinn said, bowing respectfully as he ran toward the distant passageway that had lit up for him.
“Where are we going? I thought you said we were going to go through the tourist entrance,” Elijah said, as Zahn turned toward the Sphinx.
Even though it was nearing midnight, there were many people milling around the area, pointing at the stars and remarking at their brightness.
“I’ve arranged passage for myself through the tourist entrance. If that is hindered, I will enter by cash or by force. You must enter through the Hall of Records. Your passage is through the Sphinx. We will reunite in the King’s Chamber.”
One Great Year Page 41