* * *
Through the eyes of an artist, Dion Taine regarded his painting appreciatively. Propped on an easel in the centre of his living quarters, the first rays of morning sunshine struck the painting and seemed to give it life. The fingers of light that snaked across the drying paint brought a curious sentience to the three figures, which brimmed with a life-like vitality. The erudite quality of the craftsmanship that had gone into the intricate carvings of the rosewood frame took his breath away. The whole portrait was quite definitely his best work yet… it was a pity the subject matter was not of his choosing.
Smiling with pleasure, he sat on the hard wooden chair near to the painting and continued to stare at it. The figures had been painted from Diocletian’s memory before Dion became aware that the other spirit cohabited within his mind, and he now knew the figures to be Diocletian himself, Spiridon and Constantine: three men from another time and place, who had each somehow been reborn into this century.
Dion knew that Diocletian intended to exact some kind of revenge against the other two men, who would otherwise pursue him through eternity until he returned to the place whence he came.
The mere thought of another senseless murder horrified Dion. It was bad enough having the blood of Hafiz on his hands, even though his conscience was clear, for it was Diocletian who had so brutally ended the life of the Captain of the Janissary, with Dion able to do nothing but watch helplessly.
There had been occasions as Diocletian slept that Dion had reasserted a limited control over his own body. He had gradually managed to will his body out of bed, to wander around the room without Diocletian realising, and, able to probe gently into Diocletian’s mind, he had uncovered the identities of the other two men in the painting.
Dion had not the strength yet to fight for access to all Diocletian’s memories, but he knew this mysterious place was somewhere that terrified the intruder. If Spiridon and Constantine had the powers to return him, then Dion knew he somehow had to find within himself the strength to fight Diocletian’s will. If he could do that, the other two – whoever they were in this time – might just have a chance at succeeding in their own mission.
It would be dangerous, and he might not succeed… but he had to try at least, and the best way to do so was to feign total subjugation to Diocletian’s will during waking hours. He must do nothing to give his tormentor any cause for suspicion.
Dion acquiesced as he felt Diocletian begin to stir, making his way back to the bed.
* * *
Konstantin hovered uncertainly outside Dion’s chambers, hopping from one foot to the other in abject agitation. Selim had taken his Janissary and disappeared down into the catacombs, and whilst it was clear that the Sultan had intended for him not to find out, Konstantin overheard a couple of the guards discussing their excitement and apprehension. Realising he could say and do nothing to alter Selim’s decision, Konstantin maintained his silence until now, here he stood, contemplating certain suicide. If, as he firmly believed, Dion’s body was now inhabited by the vengeful spirit of Diocletian, when the two set eyes on each other they would both know, both share in the reality of their true identities.
My job in this century has been to protect Dušan until the return of Spiridon, he thought to himself, and now Spiridon is once more within our realm, we must face Diocletian and defeat his evil once and for all. Together or alone we must fulfil the path destiny has mapped out for us. We have a mission to complete, and should we fail again, with the passing of time we will once more return to do battle with our enemy. He must be returned to his prison for the sake of all humanity.
Glancing around, Konstantin suddenly realised how deathly silent the Palace had become. With Selim and his Janissary gone, it seemed almost as though Diocletian and himself were the only two people remaining. Of course, the harem and eunuchs were still around, as were numerous guests and dignitaries – but the silence none the less unnerved him.
Lost in thoughts of home, wondering what would happen should the task not be completed, and whether perhaps Diocletian had already killed Spiridon’s host, Konstantin failed to hear the approach of Dion Taine until the artist was almost upon him.
‘May I help you?’
Konstantin turned at the voice, and barely managed to smile as the full horror of recognition struck him. Dion Taine was Diocletian! ‘Good morning to you, Dion. You have been for your morning constitutional around the courtyard?’
Dion smiled, but the smile hid Diocletian’s inner hatred and anger, a loathing for the man who stood before him that was so virulent it had lasted through the dormant centuries, growing ever stronger and more powerful. ‘As I have always done. Fresh morning air clears the cobwebs of slumber!’
Somehow, though they both knew the other had seen the truth, they maintained outward ignorance. With a chance of someone passing in the corridor, the place was not right for a confrontation.
‘Might I have a word with you?’ Konstantin asked.
‘Certainly!’ spoke Diocletian, his mind racing as he formulated a plan. He had heard that Selim had left the Palace and taken many of his trusted guards with him, and though he believed it was a foolish move, Diocletian had not paused to consider the Sultan’s motives. Now he was grateful for the Sultan’s rash move, for it gave him the opportunity to eliminate one of his enemies with less chance of being disturbed and caught.
Valiantly fighting the urge to kill his nemesis on the spot, Diocletian opened the door and ushered the young man into Dion’s room.
Constantine knew he was a fly stepping into the spider’s web, but barely flinched from his duty.
‘So, Konstantin,’ said Diocletian as he closed the door behind them, smiling in a vaguely benign manner, ‘what can I do for you?’
* * *
Feeling oddly brave for one so cowardly, Selim led the way down into the catacombs. His father had shown him several of the secret doorways many years ago, yet he had never once had the courage to venture down into the inky blackness. His father had warned him as a child that the Great Visionary, a fearful wretch matched only in her evil power and ugliness by the mythical Medusa, would devour the souls of anyone foolish enough to enter her domain.
An impressionable youth, that was the only time Selim paid heed to his father’s words. It was the one command he had obeyed unquestioningly – until now.
However, there came a time in every man’s life when fear had to be conquered, and Selim’s life had finally reached that impasse. There was very little that frightened Selim, but the Great Visionary terrified everyone in Constantinople.
It was said she had the power to destroy the great city just by dying, and the souls she devoured kept her alive… and so nobody ever sought to avenge any of the mysterious disappearances over the years. A few sacrifices were a small price to pay for the continued safety of the city. The only time anyone had dared to disobey the unwritten law was when the foolish harbourmaster rescued his beloved Najat. That same week an earthquake shook the foundations of the city, displaying the wrath of the Great Visionary, and though she clearly relented and ceased the trembling that might otherwise have destroyed the city, it served as a potent reminder to all of her terrible capabilities.
Selim stopped so suddenly in his tracks on the stone steps that the following Janissary only just avoided colliding with him. He was very afraid of what he might discover down in the depths, and he berated his fear: he was not going to kill the Great Visionary; he wished merely to find his friend, Dušan. If the Great Visionary held him captive he would perhaps try to secure the lad’s release, but he was not foolish enough to try a valiant rescue attempt.
The Janissary knew what must have been going through their Sultan’s mind, and they could sympathise with him. Many of them liked to think of Dušan and his brother as friends, but if the Great Visionary indeed held Dušan captive and refused to set him free, not one amongst them would argue and fight her. They knew the risks: there was a distinct probability that the Great
Visionary would kill them all, for none had set eyes upon her and lived.
‘It is not right that you should lead us into this danger,’ whispered the new Janissary Captain. ‘It is our duty to protect you, Excellency, something we cannot do if you are in front. Any danger that lurks ahead shall strike you first.’
Selim turned and nodded, smiling in the dull glow flickering from the sporadically placed candles. ‘Wise words indeed, Captain. You and five others shall lead the way; the remainder shall follow behind me.’
They continued down, each as terrified as the rest, yet unwilling to show their fear. Every one of them knew how foolish it was to continue, but they each knew the strength of the Sultan’s love for Dušan, even though none of them knew what form that love took. There were many kinds of love, but whichever form it took, there was no stronger bond between two people than such emotion. Love gave a person hope and strength and courage. Love could conquer fear, and the love to conquer the stark terror of the Great Visionary must be potent indeed.
When they finally reached the bottom of the steps, they found themselves in a high vaulted cavern, so high the ceiling vanished into shadow. Great pillars, carved out of the stone to support the darkness, towered upwards as they disappeared into the gloom. Three other arches led into passages, two of which were pitch black, whilst faintly flickering candles illuminated the one furthest to the right, much like the steps had been.
It was obvious which way they were intended to go, so the Captain of the Janissary led the way into the illuminated tunnel. Every so often, the tunnel would lead to another high vaulted chamber where there would be any number of arches leading off in different directions. Each time only one of the tunnels was illuminated.
After three such chambers, the Captain commented that it felt too easy, that he felt they were being led into a trap. Selim concurred, so instead of taking the illuminated tunnel, they chose one of the pitch-black ones. Lighting one of the torches they had brought with them, two of the Janissary cautiously investigated while the rest stayed in the vaulted chamber. A little way in they started splashing through water, and when they eventually came to the next chamber, they found the chamber flooded. A step forward by the lead guard revealed that the floor dropped away instantly, and the weight of his armour dragged him under before he had a chance to scream.
The other ran back to the main group. ‘That way is impassable… a great lake of water under the city.’
Two of the other four dark tunnels leading from the chamber revealed similar perils, so Selim decided the way forward was to follow the candles.
They reached the next chamber, to find yet another reservoir of water. The Captain ordered the guards to retreat, but Selim stopped him. ‘This is the route we were intended to follow. I no longer think it is a trap, I believe we are being guided forward for another reason.’
‘But the water, Excellency?’
Selim waved his hand dismissively. ‘Merely a diversionary tactic.’ He cautiously took a step forward, and sank up to his waist in freezing water. As he moved forward, the water became deeper, until it was up to his neck. He backtracked and moved around the edge of the chamber, keeping his back pressed against the wall, and the water remained waist high, until he finally made his way to the illuminated tunnel on the far side.
He stepped out of the water and waved the others across, pleased at his own bravery. Their spirits lifted, the guards followed him, and once through the water-filled chamber they continued on their way.
* * *
Cassandra had insisted he remain in the catacombs, citing recognition of destiny and maintaining it was for his own protection, leaving Dušan confused and understanding nothing. Within his mind, Spiridon shared his thoughts, understanding precisely what was going on, but Dušan had no wish to listen to the mental explanation. Since there was no way he could block out the words, they echoed around his mind and he had no choice but to listen.
The graphic descriptions of doom and the death of the future did not fall on empty consciousness, though. However difficult it was for him to accept what was happening, and no matter how much he might deliberately wish to disbelieve all he was told, Dušan knew in his heart that everything he heard was true.
He was terrified and wanted no part in proceedings, so he willingly surrendered his body and soul to Spiridon, and from the higher plane of existence in which he found himself, watching events through his own eyes but playing no part in what was going on, he felt he was beyond life and death.
He understood the nature of the battle that lay before Spiridon, but knew there was little chance of success. Diocletian was more powerful in this time than before. The only hope left was Cassandra’s betrayal.
The time has come for you to leave, Spiridon.
Spiridon turned to face Cassandra as she approached.
Behold… witness through the eyes of my Observers.
She waved a hand above the brazier that warmed the air near to her throne, and the smoke dissolved into nebulous void, replaced by an image of Selim and his Janissary as they approached the Inner Sanctum through the tunnels.
They follow the eternal flames and shall soon reach my inner sanctum. You must intercept them, Spiridon. Convince them that all is well, and return with them to the Palace.
‘Shall I take the others?’
Abbas and Jabir shall meet you shortly. Makdil shall remain a while longer to guard the inner sanctum while I am gone.
‘Where are you going, Cassandra?’
There is unfinished business to which I must attend.
The nebulous void above the brazier disappeared, as did Cassandra, leaving Spiridon alone until Jabir and Abbas appeared from the main entrance.
‘Come, we must leave this place,’ Spiridon said.
Jabir nodded. ‘We saw the approach of the Sultan. The Great Cassandra commands our obedience, so we obey.’
‘Without question,’ Abbas added.
‘Yes, you are connected to her spirit. I was forgetting.’
Spiridon led the way from the Inner Sanctum, reminding the pair to call him Dušan, just as they always had, to which the two eunuchs retorted that they were not fools. Spiridon laughed, and he was still laughing moments later when they rounded a bend in the tunnel to find themselves confronted with the Sultan’s Janissary, weapons drawn, terrified and only too ready to use them.
‘Dušan!’ Selim cried, pushing his way through his guards, embracing the young man warmly. ‘Dušan, where have you been? I have been so worried – I feared the worst!’
Spiridon patted Selim on the back, touched by his concern. ‘As you see, Excellency, I am quite all right, but there is danger in these catacombs. We should return to the Palace at once before the evil ensnares us.’
‘By evil you mean the Great Visionary?’
Spiridon shook his head. ‘Oh no, old friend, Cassandra is no more evil than I am, though she is as powerful as rumour dictates. No, the great evil comes from centuries past. I shall tell you everything once we have returned to the relative safety of the Palace.’
* * *
Eudora turned away from the view through the painting and stared at Spiridon. ‘You have not yet told me what civilisation you come from, or where these pieces of jewellery originated!’ She tugged at the amulet on her arm, pointing at his too.
‘I am from the Island of Atlantis,’ he said with a gentle smile.
Eudora laughed derisively. ‘The mythical lost continent of Atlantis?’
‘Theodora, there is nothing mythical about Atlantis. It is real, but exists in another dimension. In our dimension, physical form has long since given way to pure energy.’
Eudora stopped laughing. Was it any more difficult to believe that Atlantis actually existed than to believe everything that had so far happened? Was it so hard to believe that somewhere there could exist beings of pure energy? Spirits perhaps, or ghosts? ‘And I from Atlantis as well?’
Spiridon nodded. ‘Indeed you are, my Queen.’
> Eudora choked. ‘What did you call me?’
‘You are Theodora, Queen of Atlantis.’
‘I don’t remember ruling a lost continent.’
‘That is because it has yet to pass. The vagaries of time travel unravel before you, Theodora. It is best not to dwell upon it. Your memories have been altered to protect you, but will be returned to you when the time is right.’
Eudora held up her hand. ‘Okay, okay, this is all too much for me to digest at the moment, so I’ll just accept your word for it. But getting back to these jewels – are they the same set, duplicated due to time travel?’
‘There are six jewels altogether. I have three concealed within my prison, given to me in secret by Cassandra, the Protectorate of Time. Diocletian stole the other three from Atlantis. They were lost through time, until they arrived at this juncture. That is one of the reasons that this moment in time is so pivotal. Dion Taine has possession of the other ring, Dušan the pendant and the Sultan the amulet.’
Eudora frowned. ‘How can that be? If you have one set, and I have the other, and if there are only two sets, then how can there be another set out there?’ She pointed dramatically at the image of Dion Taine’s room.
‘You are forgetting that time is relative. The three jewels out there are the ones that will come into your possession in your own century. In this time that has yet to happen, therefore they are still out there in the Sixteenth Century. You are vital to this moment in time, Theodora. When you leave the painting, you must leave behind the jewels. You will then play your part in local history, securing the ring, the pendant and the amulet before returning to me, and from then we shall travel forward.’
Portrait of Shade Page 21