The Flames of Time (Flames of Time Series Book 1)

by Peter Knyte

  ‘That may damage the map in some way,’ responded Marlow,’ while I know it’s in here, I have no idea what it could be made of or how fragile it may be. It could even comprise part of the fabric of the alter itself for all I know.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Harry, taking control of the situation,‘ we need to find out how to open it, as it was intended to be opened. I suggest we start by washing it down. This is an ornate object and secret joins could easily be hidden amongst the multitude of detail, which might just be shown up by a little water.’

  ‘Might there not be some clue in the writings or carvings upon the walls in the other chambers?’ asked Jean.

  ‘Yes, that’s a good point,’ conceded Harry, ‘perhaps you and George could take a look while we start with the alter.’

  It suddenly struck me, as I was retracing my steps with Jean, back through the earlier chambers, that this was all getting very real. We were moving beyond the possibility that this could be a simple co-incidence, or lucky find, and rapidly toward the confirmation of Marlow’s vision as a very tangible and objectively verified reality.

  We’d gone back to the original ante-chamber which Harry had literally fallen into, and stopping briefly to let Mkize and the others know we were going to be some time, we started to search each room methodically.

  As we were finishing in the second chamber having found no sign of altars or maps amongst the various carvings, I turned to Jean to voice my misgivings.

  ‘I also share your growing confusion in this matter George,’ he responded with a degree of resignation in his voice. ‘Robert is amongst my closest of friends, but I tell you openly and without hesitation, that I considered this vision and our journey to be no more than a fanciful dream, invented by an unconscious mind whilst under the influence of a powerful narcotic.

  ‘A narcotic which we all took, though with differing results. But I look upon this ancient structure,’ he said, reaching out and touching one of the exquisitely carved relief figures, ‘and the boulders, which have blocked its entrance for centuries, and I cannot explain how this could enter into a man’s dreams through the medium of a drug.

  ‘As a modern man, I cannot accept there is a mystical influence at work here, but as a philosopher and lover of wisdom, I can no longer deny the possibility that this is exactly what is going on.’

  ‘But surely you cannot think that block of stone could hold the secret of eternal life, or even a map that would lead us to it?’ I asked, almost desperate.

  ‘No George I do not.’ responded Jean, ‘To me the idea of such a thing is both terrible and wonderful at the same time. A ridiculous fantasy for children or perhaps a myth for simpler times. For such a thing to be a reality would change our world too much.’

  We continued to search through the rest of the chambers, including the ones we’d not previously visited. They turned out to be quite extensive, with some suggesting they may have been used for accommodation as well as ceremonial purposes. But there was nothing anywhere to indicate how to open the altar.

  We returned to find that Harry, Peter and Marlow had had similar luck with the altar itself.

  ‘The only possibility I can think of is that some part of this can be lifted off by brute force.’ suggested Harry, obviously defeated.

  With no better ideas, we gathered round and agreed to focus our efforts on the uppermost rim just a few inches below the top of the altar. There was ample space for us all to get a good grip, and we could even have got a couple of the guides to help us, but decided to give it a go by ourselves to begin with.

  We took the strain and all tried to lift. There was nothing at first, but a second later the top moved just a fraction before seeming to get jammed. A small gap had appeared at one end of the alter a few inches further down the rim on which we’d been focusing our efforts, and Peter just managed to get a pencil into the gap before we had to let go, and the top slid back down.

  As we recovered our breath we had a look at the gap that had been exposed. If the pencil hadn’t been there then we still might never have found it, so well was the join crafted. It hadn’t been hidden by the detail at all, but right in the middle of one of the plain areas of stone running right around the altar.

  We decided to focus our efforts on the opposite end of the altar top, in the hope of lifting it and then jamming something into gap, hopefully if we could gradually raise each end we’d eventually be able to remove the lid altogether.

  It was still heavy going, and required the sacrifice of both Jean’s pen knife and Harry’s petrol lighter, but we managed to raise the lid high enough to be able to twist it round across the top of the alter and expose the space within.

  It seemed the lid had been a solid piece of stone, which had been fitted snugly onto the base via the thick rim. Once this was out of the way it revealed a small interior cavity and a box wrapped in some now ragged cloth.

  Peter and Marlow very gingerly removed this object laying it on the floor next to the altar. After a moment’s hesitation Marlow knelt down and carefully removed the cloth, which itself seemed to carry the faintest of colours and markings. Within was a simple hardwood box dark with age, about eighteen inches long by about six inches square. The lid seemed to be carved into a relief similar to some of those we’d seen on the walls of the other chambers.

  It was sealed with some form of gum or resin, but after carefully breaking this seal with Jean’s now dented pen-knife, Marlow slowly lifted the top of the box to expose the contents. Inside was a large scroll rolled around two delicately carved ebony rods. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I caught the scent of sandalwood or some other light scent as the box was opened.

  ‘It seems fairly robust,’ said Marlow, carefully removing the scroll, standing and then slowly unrolling it on top of the cross-wise lid of the altar.

  Miraculously the parchment of the scroll was still flexible enough to be unrolled without cracking. And as it was unrolled the contents were revealed, but it wasn’t a map. The scroll just contained more writing.

  ‘I thought it was supposed to be a map,’ commented Peter echoing the confusion of the rest of us.

  ‘It was’, responded Marlow, a thoroughly confused expression upon his face. ‘I was sure this was it. Even the scroll and box seem familiar to me now.’

  ‘Do not despair my friends,’ interjected Harry, ‘You may in fact be looking at a map without realising. I know it seems strange, but to the peoples of the ancient world the idea of cartography as we know it today was almost unknown. More useful to them was a description of the landmarks, distances and directions. Often passed by oral tradition, but occasionally, carved, or as we may have here, penned.’

  ‘But how can we find out what this says if none of us read this language, and there is no map to guide us.’

  ‘This is certainly beyond my level of skill,’ answered Harry, ‘we would need to get this translated by a scholar far more familiar with the language than myself. Cairo is possibly the closest, but I have a friend who works within the Armenian library of Jerusalem, who may not only be able to help us with the translation, but who could also be relied upon to be discrete.’

  The air inside the cavern was beginning to get a little smoky from the torches, so we decided to retire back to the surface to discuss the matter further.

  The afternoon sun and heat was in stark contrast to the cool and shade of the underground temple, and following our return to the surface, we decided to withdraw back to our main camp in order to more comfortably discuss what we’d discovered and weigh our options.

  Jean started us off.

  ‘This is an interesting situation my friends, one which, I hope you will forgive me for saying Robert, I did not think we were likely to find ourselves in, and which I am not sure I yet fully comprehend.’

  Everyone seemed in agreement, and even Marlow managed a wry smile before Jean continued.

  ‘We have followed your vision Robert, given to you it would seem by that strange potion brewed ben
eath the Singing Stones, and that has lead us unerringly here, to this temple. Which, if I understand Harrison correctly is a significant archaeological find. Not only that, but we have now also discovered this scroll, which again, if I understand correctly, may lead us to yet more remarkable things.

  ‘Now I know I cannot be the only one who finds this ... Incredible.’

  ‘No Jean, you’re not the only one,’ responded Marlow in a sympathetic tone, but with an increasing passion in his voice, ‘this is a remarkable thing for anyone to accept, including myself. There have been times on this journey when I have thought this to be all pure madness, and by choosing to pursue it we have become mad men. But this temple with its ruined doorway, that tranquil pool and the scroll we’ve now retrieved. These things are not just our imaginings, they are real and whether they fit in with the way we see the world, or belong to something we can’t yet explain, we should take them seriously, without hesitation or doubt.

  ‘The only question for me,’ continued Marlow with a tone of determination I hadn’t heard in his voice before, ‘is where I go next.’

  ‘I’m with you Rob,’ responded Harry without delay, ‘I don’t yet know where this ride is taking us, I don’t even know whether I’ll like where we end up, and I certainly don’t know how these things can have come about. But I know this place is real, and that for me confirms there’s at least an element of value in what we’re doing.’

  ‘But are we sure we really wish to achieve this goal?’ Retorted Jean. ‘If this should by some miracle lead to… such a discovery. . . to unending life! My friends such a thing could change and damage our society in ways which I can barely imagine.

  ‘To suddenly increase a lifetime beyond measure, it could have psychological repercussions upon even the strongest mind. Perhaps undermine a person’s faith, damage their relationships with loved ones and friends… How could a marriage survive if just one member chose to become young again? How would you or I feel at the sight of our parents or even grandparents made younger than ourselves?’

  ‘They’re all good points Jean,’ responded Peter with an unexpected enthusiasm. ‘But take a look at it from another angle. Surely a longer life would fit right in with those exalted socialist ideals of yours? With just a few more years might not a person overcome even the most humble birth, to acquire the education and opportunities of their more fortunate peers. What would it take… another fifty years, perhaps a hundred? Before your long awaited peaceful revolution delivered itself.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ conceded Jean, thoughtfully, ‘and yet . . . with immortality a man could become many things, not all of them so good.’

  It was dusk by the time we finally finished debating the pro’s and con’s of our situation, and what we should do next. Harry was eager to share the temple discoveries we’d made with the world’s academic community, but also begrudgingly accepted that to reveal such a find might well jeopardise our chances of pursuing the thing further. As such, after much disagreement and compromise we all eventually agreed to document the site as best we could, before concealing it pending our own further investigations.

  Copies of our collective notes along with directions to the site would be sent for secure storage with family or friends in our respective homelands, in order to avoid the possibility of the site ever being lost again. We would then journey to Jerusalem to discover what the scroll and wall writings could reveal.

  Despite the debate and disagreement though, it was still an amicable decision once made, and then it became just a question of breaking the work down into its necessary actions for the following few days labour. Documenting our findings was going to be the single biggest task, and for that we were going to rely heavily upon Harry to identify the areas where we should focus. Jean would then attempt to capture as much detail as possible of the relief carvings and inscriptions in a number of sketches and rubbings. Peter and myself would simultaneously attempt to survey and map the layout of the temple, its dimensions and alignment, the chambers we’d discovered within it, as well as to describe as best we could its construction materials and the location of the different elements being documented in more detail. The idea being that we’d be able to figure out where each illustration, script or feature was located within the complex, even after we’d left the site.

  Marlow had decided to focus entirely upon the final chamber. He was convinced he’d missed something or not understood his vision correctly, as such he was going to attempt to document the layout and detail of the cavern, its obelisks and perhaps most importantly the altar. We’d also asked Mkize and the other men to work on a couple of makeshift ladders for the entrance and a cover that we could place over the hole before filling the earth back in, once we were ready to leave.

  It was interesting work once we got into it, and there were several details within the chambers we only really began to pick up on once we started to examine them in a more systematic way. In fact it was only the gradual build up of smoke from our torches that made us break off from the work once we’d started. But even with our dedication the level of detail was always going to be too great for us to be able to capture anywhere near all of it. Perhaps if we’d had better lights to enable us to take better photographs it would’ve been different. But without them, having to record everything by hand became at times frustrating and overwhelming experience, especially for Harry. Over the course of the next week though we eventually managed to capture enough detail for him to give his reluctant approval he still made us leave a message inside indicating when and by whom the temple had been rediscovered, just in case.

  CHAPTER 8 - REVELATIONS

  Blocking the hole up into the temple and then back filling it along with the rest of our excavations, was an oddly frustrating experience, which just seemed to jar with something inside me. I understood why we we’d agreed to keep the discovery a secret, but on some level, even with the veracity of Marlow’s vision literally staring me in the face, I still found the idea of trying to follow it further somehow foolish. At the same time, foolish or not, I was still eager to find out more about this place, with its elaborately carved walls and enigmatic writing.

  As soon as we were sure the site was once more secure, we started our journey back to Fort Victoria, from where we intended to travel to the coast and then hopefully by ship northward to Mogadishu, Mombassa, the Red Sea, Suez and finally Jerusalem.

  The journey back was relatively straightforward. We stopped briefly to look around the mighty ruins and speculate once more about the people who once lived there. But with no sudden revelations or vivid descriptions from Marlow they seemed a pale imitation of antiquity beside the perfectly preserved temple we’d just left behind, and so before long we continued on our way again.

  It had been several weeks now since the rains, and the flush of greenery and growth that had followed, was beginning to fade again. Dust once more began to accompany us as we walked, and I found myself thinking thoughts that until recently would’ve been unthinkable for me… that it might be good to leave Africa for a short while, not to go back home, but to explore somewhere new.

  Another couple of days and we were back at the Fort, once more intending on a quick change around, to get in, make the arrangements we needed to make and get out again, but on our arrival Marlow discovered a telegram from Luke waiting for us. There was no real detail, simply the statement that he’d had a change of heart and would like to re-join us. The telegram was just over a week old and had obviously missed us by a few days. In any event he was heading back to Nyrobi and was expecting to be there in another weeks’ time, which meant he was probably travelling through the Red Sea as we spoke and we might just be able to get a message to him before he headed inland from Mombasa.

  The surprise and pleasure at getting this good news was apparent on everyone’s face, and whilst it hadn’t even been two months since he’d left with Silvio, all that had happened somehow made it seem longer, and we were all eager to see him again.

&nb
sp; After sending a return telegram to try and catch Luke, we enquired about the timetables for ships heading up the coast to the Red Sea. We knew there was likely to be something heading our way sooner or later. But, as chance would have it, the same passenger liner I’d originally caught to bring me to Africa was due to call at Maputo in the next week on its quarterly trip from Portsmouth to Suez. It didn’t leave us much time to travel to the coast, but more by luck than planning we managed to get passage down the Limpopo, and ten days later we were steaming into port at Mombassa on the Portsmouth to Suez ship. Luke was waiting there for us on the quayside ready to come aboard, along with the various cases and trappings we’d left at the lodge.

  There was a momentary awkwardness when we all stood facing him again, which was soon brushed aside by the ever-enthusiastic Harry, who seemed perennially oblivious to such things. It wasn’t long before we were exchanging tales of our respective travels, much to Luke’s wonder and amazement, and as soon as our respective belongings were aboard we retired to one of the deserted lounges with our pipes and cigars to catch up properly.

  Mombassa was also the point at which Mkize was leaving us, and it was with genuine regret that I prepared to say goodbye to him and thank him for his help. I think, if I’d had a better idea of where we were going and when we’d be returning, I might’ve been able to convince him to travel with us a little further. But he was understandably reluctant to leave his homeland again so soon, so I walked with him down the gangplank, before shaking his hand and saying goodbye.

  Back in the lounge with the others, and it seemed Luke and Sylvio had made good time after they’d left us, despite the rain and sodden earth, they’d managed to get back to Nyrobi and then by train to Mombassa without incident. Sylvio had apparently continued to be troubled by the visions of his lost brother, and as they travelled and discussed their plans, he’d eventually decided to return to Italy to see his family and visit his brother’s grave. Luke had accompanied him back to Italy with the intention of visiting his own family, before perhaps heading off for a little skiing and to visit friends just the other side of the Swiss boarder in Austria.