The Prophet’s Tale
Later in the morning, Daniel woke up alone. He sensed excitement outside and rose from the goat-skins. His feet shrieked in pain, and he had to limp outside, although the rest of his body throbbed to a more languorous tide. Shem and he had been united in love once more. Shem had spoken of his doubts in the furry warmth of their bed and Daniel had been able to soothe him. ‘We will find the answers. Gadreel will come.’ He had also told Shem what Mani had revealed to him about the Elders and the Chambers of Light.
‘The Elders were Anu’s ancestors,’ Shem said thoughtfully. ‘I think we are beginning to touch upon knowledge that was forbidden even to the Anannage.’
Now, as he walked between the towering stone chimneys, Daniel felt taller. The camp was a flurry of activity; people were shouting to one another; quick, eager voices. Daniel saw Shem and Salamiel standing with Qimir at the centre of the camp. They appeared to be waiting for something, or someone. Daniel hobbled over to them. Shem smiled warmly at him as he approached, but Daniel could sense his tension.
Salamiel uttered a cry of surprise when he saw Daniel. ‘I hate to say this, but whatever you two were doing last night has done wonders for your appearance! You look remarkably healthy, Daniel, and rather smug about it too.’
Shem put his arm around Daniel’s shoulders. ‘Flattering though it would be to think I’m responsible for the change, there’s more to it than that.’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Daniel said. He did not want to discuss his experiences in Mani’s cave in front of Qimir. ‘Do I take it the Yarasadi are expecting visitors?’
Shem nodded. ‘Qimir summoned me a short while ago. I didn’t want to wake you. I thought you needed the sleep, but looking at you now, perhaps not.’
‘Is Gadreel coming now?’
‘I haven’t been told that in so many words, but I suspect that’s who’s on their way.’
Daniel asked no further questions but, like everyone else, fixed his eyes on the steep pass down from the mountains. He expected a convoy of trucks, armoured vehicles of some kind.
They heard it first; a thunderous sound amplified by the towering cliffs. Then it was the dust thrown up from the rough road. Finally, a band of horseman came galloping crazily into the valley; the riders clad in black and red, the horses adorned with multi-coloured tassels and ribbons. At the sight of them, the whole camp uttered a joyous roar of welcome and surged into a knot of bodies. The horsemen urged their beasts right into the centre of the welcoming throng. Horses reared and screamed, exciting the animals corralled among the tents, who began cantering up and down, snorting and wickering. Dogs barked and goats ran in panic in all directions.
One horse leapt free of the crowd and its rider directed it to where Qimir stood. The animal stopped just in front of them, prancing and rearing. Its rider was clothed in the traditional costume, face covered.
Qimir bowed. ‘Gadreel, you are welcome.’
For a few moments, the rider made no sound or sign of welcome, then jumped down from the horse, allowing it to skitter away. Its dragging reins were grabbed by one of the children, who had gathered expectantly to perform this duty for the Yarasadi peshmergas. Gadreel was tall, and the commanding stance spoke strongly to Daniel of Grigori blood.
‘Gadreel,’ Qimir began in a careful voice. ‘This is Shemyaza, your brother.’ He made a sweeping gesture with his hands which included Shem in their orbit.
Shem inclined his head. ‘I have been waiting for this moment,’ he said.
The figure in front of them did not move, but stood with hands on hips, head thrown back. Only the eyes were visible, and even from a few yards away, Daniel could see their intense blue.
Shem seemed rather non-plussed that Gadreel had not responded to his greeting. ‘Perhaps we could talk somewhere,’ he began.
The figure raised a single, admonitory hand as if to silence him.
‘Gadreel,’ said Qimir. ‘You must not keep your brother in suspense like this. He has waited long to meet you… man to man.’ Here, Qimir uttered a delighted laugh.
Gadreel shifted from foot to foot, and then, with slow, deliberate movements, began to unwind the concealing face-scarf. Yards and yards of it, there seemed. Daniel could not help but be held in suspense, wondering what would be revealed.
Finally, Gadreel threw the scarf onto the floor and stared defiantly ahead.
‘Great Anu!’ Shem exclaimed.
Gadreel laughed coldly. ‘Yes, my brother. Great Anu.’
‘Shemyaza,’ Qimir said, still laughing. ‘There is no brother for you to meet, but I am delighted to introduce you to your sister.’
Gadreel shook out her thick red hair. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, which perhaps indicated one of the reasons why she chose to hide her gender. For a moment, she still stood arrogantly before them, then took a few steps forward. ‘Do you not remember me, Shem?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. How could I not? I simply did not expect to find you female.’
Gadreel laughed again. ‘I do hope you are not disappointed!’
He shook his head. ‘How could I be? But why the disguise?’
‘It is easier for me if people believe me to be male. You have to remember we are in a part of the world where prejudice and injustice against women is high. Only the Kurds of the ancient beliefs think otherwise.’ She looked Shem up and down. ‘Well, you are as fine as I remember you, and Salamiel, you have hardly changed at all.’ Then she glanced at Daniel. ‘But who is this? I feel I should know you.’
‘It is Daniel,’ Shem said, ‘my vizier.’
Gadreel narrowed her eyes and smiled. ‘Of course. You are different, Daniel, but then this is a changed world to the one where we once walked as friends.’
Daniel had an inkling then that there was perhaps a history between Gadreel and himself, perhaps at a time in the distant past, when the young vizier had felt wounded by Shem’s obsession with the human woman, Ishtahar. How would Gadreel react if she knew that until the previous night Daniel had been as human as Ishtahar? He did not have clear memories of the past as Shem and his companions did. He felt it best not to say anything, in case he betrayed himself, and merely inclined his head and smiled.
Gadreel walked past him, touching his shoulder briefly as she did so. She gestured at Qimir. ‘Is there no welcome feast? I have a hunger like the sky, and a thirst of the desert.’
Qimir embraced her warmly. ‘We shall retire to my dwelling, where you may refresh yourself and speak with your brethren.’
The rest of Gadreel’s followers had dismounted and were now being dragged off by their families and lovers to separate homesteads. Shem exchanged a glance with Daniel and Salamiel, then the three of them followed Gadreel to Qimir’s dwelling.
Qimir left Gadreel alone with his visitors for a while, perhaps sensing Shemyaza wanted to speak in private, although Daniel was sure that listening ears were concealed within the labyrinthine chambers of the tent.
Gadreel sat down on the floor cushions in a careless, less than demure sprawl. She scratched at her hair and stretched her limbs with a groan; a woman who oozed power and confidence. She seemed insouciant about meeting Shem, but Daniel sensed she was not quite as relaxed as she appeared. ‘I feel we should make small talk,’ she said, ‘catch up on old times, but the truth is I have much to tell you. When I have spoken, we can take wine together, but first I must tell you my story. I have waited long for this moment.’
Shemyaza nodded. ‘I understand. But first I must ask you one thing. Do Qimir’s people know what you are?’
Gadreel smiled, resting back on her elbows, her long legs crossed at the ankles. ‘Oh yes. The Yarasadi are quite aware of the Grigori. I, and Qimir’s vizier, Mani, have made sure of it! When we first received news that you were looking for me, Qimir would not believe you were the original Shemyaza, but Mani and I both thought you would be of my blood. I cannot believe you came looking for me. I always knew we would be reunited one day, but I thought I would have to search
long and hard to find you, perhaps even wake you from a tomb.’
Shem shifted uncomfortably on his cushions. ‘I am glad that was not necessary! Where do the Grigori live around here? Is there a settlement?’
Gadreel shook her head. ‘No, not locally. As far as I know, our people have avoided settling in this area since the great wars after the Deluge. I was born in Egypt, into the Re-akim, the Grigori clan that lives in Cairo. My name then was Sofiriel. A few years ago, I underwent a strange… change. I had dreams, which seemed like memories, of the time of The Fall.’ She grimaced. ‘I remembered another life, being male. In my dreams, people called me Gadreel. Also, my life became haunted by portents and omens. It was as if the universe was trying to tell me something, but I did not know what it was. I told no-one, neither family nor friends, about what was troubling me, for in some way, the experiences made me feel unwholesome. But gradually, I accepted the knowledge that in some way, I was Gadreel, reborn into this time.’
‘So what urged you to take on the role of a prophet?’ Shem asked. ‘To essentially create the Yarasadi?’
Gadreel wrinkled her perfect, straight nose. ‘It is hard to explain. I knew I had a purpose, and once I assumed the name Gadreel, my dreams changed. I saw visions of the Elders, when they lived upon this earth, in Egypt. I knew that other brethren of mine would also be born into this time, and the approaching epoch was important. The Elders implied to me that the time was approaching when the Chambers of Light could be opened again, and all that was lost through our Fall could be regained.’
‘Mani mentioned those to me,’ Daniel said. ‘Some kind of hall of records. I also had a vision about the Elders. One of them attempted to hand me a key.’ He related the vision to Gadreel, who listened intently.
When Daniel had finished his story, Gadreel smiled wistfully. ‘Perhaps, in whatever region of space or time the Elders exist, they think this world has suffered enough, or that humanity and Grigori alike are now ready to receive their knowledge.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, one day I left my home and let my instincts guide me. I had many strange adventures, but eventually found my way to the homeland, Eden in the mountains. Perhaps I was searching instinctively for Kharsag. I met a group of Yezidi, and while in their camp, had another dream of the Elders. I wasn’t conscious of receiving information in the dream, but when I awoke, I just knew that the tribes-people were Grigori hybrid descendants. They had been scattered, perhaps during the Deluge, and the knowledge of their ancestry expunged from their minds. The Kurds have been persecuted throughout the centuries, perhaps because of their heritage. They are the results of the experiments in Eden, Shem, successful results.’
Shem frowned. ‘I find that hard to believe. We were sorely punished for interbreeding with humanity.’
Gadreel nodded. ‘We were. That is the injustice of it. What we did was illegal under Anu’s law, but his own loyal Watchers were involved in clandestine breeding experiments with select individuals from the tribes of the lower plains. It was all done under controlled conditions, and I think that few people, other than the higher echelons, knew about it.’
Shem smiled bitterly. ‘Perhaps we should have guessed. Our race is famed for its cabals within cabals. It is typical that we were made scapegoats for a crime that Anu was committing himself.’
Gadreel smiled ruefully. ‘Obviously, over the epochs, the original Kurds have interbred with other races, which has diluted the blood, but certain individuals in the tribes carry the genes of these ancient ancestors. I knew it was important to re-establish these people as a nation, and the best way to do that seemed through religion. The indigenous belief systems have never faltered from the worship of the angels, and because, deep inside, these people know what they are, it wasn’t that difficult to reawaken the awareness and knowledge within them.’
Salamiel was staring at her, as if entranced. ‘And what is your aim now? To send your reawakened armies out into the world and fight a holy war?’
Gadreel shook her head. ‘No, that would be doomed to failure as all other attempts have failed. My task is simply to make sure that all the Yarasadi are aware of what they are, and that they have a special place in the future of the world.’ She raised a closed fist before her face. ‘They must take their ordained place amongst humanity. They are the leaders, the guides. For too long, they have suffered persecution, and have sought aid from other governments, but that is not the way for them. We must gain access to the Chambers, for I believe that once they are open, all the senseless bloodshed will cease. The eyes of the world will be opened to the truth.’
‘A miracle,’ said Salamiel, dryly.
‘Yes,’ Gadreel agreed. ‘Something of that type.’ She fixed Shem with steady eyes. ‘There are four of us now. We must find the others.’
‘How many?’ Salamiel asked.
‘Our company should number seven,’ Gadreel answered. ‘Of this I am sure. It is the sacred number of the Yarasadi, and also of the Watchers. Once we have formed this cabal, we shall be able to gain entrance to the Chambers.’
‘But first we need to know where they are,’ Daniel pointed out.
‘Don’t you know?’ Gadreel asked Shem.
He shook his head. ‘No. I haven’t thought about it yet, but I imagine they must be somewhere near or in Kharsag.’
‘We need to find the key first,’ Daniel said.
Gadreel frowned. ‘I had hoped you would already be in possession of such an artefact.’
Shem tapped his lips thoughtfully with steepled fingertips. ‘Perhaps this is where your knowledge of this area will help, Gadreel. Daniel has received information that the key will be found in a Cave of Treasures.’
Gadreel thought about this for a moment. ‘There is a place known as the Cave of Treasures in these mountains. I have heard of it, although never visited it. It is a secret and holy shrine, to where adepts of the Yezidi have made pilgrimages for centuries. Qimir should be able to offer more guidance.’ She paused, then said, ‘Perhaps the entrance to the Chambers will also be found at the cave.’
‘That’s possible,’ Shem agreed. ‘But what do we do first? Wait for or find our remaining three cabal members, or go looking for the cave?’ He turned to Daniel. ‘Can you work on finding these other Grigori?’
Daniel nodded. He felt more confident about his abilities now. ‘I’ll try.’ He shrugged. ‘It seems likely that your brothers — and perhaps sisters — are already looking for you.’
‘We shall speak with Qimir and search for the cave,’ Gadreel said. ‘Why waste time? Once the others find us, we should be ready for them.’
Chapter Thirteen
Advice of the Seeress
Babylon
The king of Babylon stood before the great cedar wood table in the sunny cavern he called a study. He was sifting through a pile of photographs, laid out before him. Tiy the seeress sat nearby, upright on a chair, her fingers gripping its arms. Nimnezzar had never seen her relax; she always seemed to be straining forward against life.
Every day, the king’s daughter, Sarpanita, had been led into the presence of Penemue. The Watcher lord would not speak to her, but stared at her without blinking, as if she was an exotic animal, tamed and purring before him. He seemed content to gaze upon the princess. In turn, Sarpanita always sat before him with eyes modestly downcast, a faint blush upon her face. Nimnezzar suspected the two were somehow communicating, but when he asked his daughter if this was so, she only shook her head.
‘He gazes upon her for long hours at a time,’ the king had confided to his wife in the privacy of her bed-chamber. ‘What is going through his head? What has Tiy said to you?’
The queen had stroked his chest, resting her head upon her hand. Her shining hair had spilled down upon him like the coils of a lamia. ‘Sarpanita has said nothing to us. Perhaps she likes to sit there with his eyes upon her. For now, it seems that nothing else of his will touch her.’ She had laughed.
The king, annoyed that she made light of such a matte
r, had begun to wonder whether a conspiracy of women was involved in this scheme of silence.
He had summoned Tiy to his study, intent on prising the truth from her, but what seemed feasible as an idea now seemed unlikely in Tiy’s presence. Not for the first time, Nimnezzar thought about how Tiy told him only so much as she wanted him to know. Jazirah, his vizier, disapproved of the apparent power that Tiy wielded at court, and often hinted that the king should not be so lenient with either the seeress or the queen. Nimnezzar sometimes hated and distrusted Tiy, but deep within, he respected her age and her female strength. When she deigned to help him unreservedly, her assistance was worth more than the might of all his Magians. Amytis too, for all her slippery guile, he admired. He knew that her loyalty to him was unassailable, despite its selfish motives. Jazirah would not understand or agree with these sentiments, therefore the king kept silent about them. Jazirah had worked for Nimnezzar for many years, yet was still unaware of the regular private meetings the king had with Tiy, and how he sometimes acted upon her advice even when it contradicted the vizier’s suggestions.
‘Tell me how my daughter progresses,’ Nimnezzar said casually, arranging a set of photographs in front of him. They were all images of the buried city.
The old woman remained rigid, her white eyes blinking. ‘She is shown to the angel lord at dawn and dusk.’
‘This I know. Have they yet communicated?’
Tiy shook her head. ‘He cannot speak.’
Nimnezzar sighed. Even though he was not looking at the old woman, he sensed smugness in her words. He was impatient with the manner in which women seemed to enjoy keeping secrets from men. He turned to look at her, but her head was directed away from him, as if her sightless eyes watched things he could not see in the corners of the room. ‘I was not referring to speech,’ he said, ‘but a more subtle contact. I think you are aware of what I mean. Tell me now; what transpires between my daughter and the angel?’
Tiy turned her head towards him, and he glanced away from her. The sight of those milk-pearl eyes always made him uneasy, as if, lacking the power to see the physical world, they could spy all too well into the human heart. ‘My Lord, I speak to the girl morn and night. Whatever occurs between her and the angel lord, she cannot speak of it clearly. This is not wayward behaviour on her part, but simply a human inability to articulate matters beyond her understanding. Sarpanita is a sensitive child, and neither I, nor anyone else, will profit from bullying her to give more information.’
Stealing Sacred Fire Page 19