Stealing Sacred Fire

by Storm Constantine

  Amytis turned to face her. ‘I have decided to take notice of you,’ she said, and held out a slim, dark hand whose fingernails were lacquered in dark, shining green like insect carapaces. ‘Come, we shall go and see what my husband’s people are so excited about.’

  Melandra looked at the hand for a moment, then saw her own hand within it, enfolded in fingers. Somehow, she had reached out and been taken.

  Nimnezzar sat upon the peacock throne, his courtiers arrayed around him; the Magians a black presence in dark-blood robes in a line beneath a canopy. This was a court of men; no women were present to witness the judgement upon Shemyaza, seducer of all women.

  The men of Babylon were dwarfed by the immensity of the throne room. Twenty foot statues stood to attention along its walls, some of them pillaged from the ancient sites Nimnezzar’s archaeologists had excavated. Some had been commissioned and represented Nimnezzar and his family.

  The priests of Etemenanki had proudly informed Nimnezzar that the angel king had been located and secured, although they were rather sparing on details concerning the manner in which their elemental creatures had failed to capture Shemyaza’s companions. They had muttered vague excuses as to why this had happened, but concluded that despite this small failing, their magic must be strong indeed, for had not Shemyaza come to their hands like a lamb? The ease with which they’d accomplished this task made Nimnezzar uneasy. It did not ring true to him.

  The king had not yet told Tiy that Shemyaza had been located, never mind that he had been brought to the city. He knew that Tiy would want to be present at this meeting, and for now Nimnezzar wished to keep the old woman’s meddling hands out of it. Superficially, she appeared to advise and support him, but some instinct warned him that Tiy had her own agenda.

  The doors to the throne room were thrown wide and a phalanx of ceremonially-dressed militia marched into the room, led by Jazirah, who was dressed in deepest crimson, his large turban adorned with nodding peacock feathers. Nimnezzar swallowed involuntarily, anxious for a fleeting moment that he had no control at all over these events.

  The soldiers came to a stand-still, surrounding a tall figure, whose head rose several inches above their own. Nimnezzar tensed. Was this the angel king? He looked like a man, less inhuman than the inscrutable Penemue. Nimnezzar wondered whether he’d been duped, or his Magians had captured the wrong person.

  Jazirah stepped forward and performed an obeisance to the king. ‘My lord, I bring to you the captive, Shemyaza.’

  Nimnezzar raised a hand and gestured to Shemyaza to be led forward. His hands were manacled together before him. The supposed angel king was dressed in dusty khaki, a traveller. His long white-blond hair was tied loosely at his neck, tendrils of it hanging over his face. His skin was tanned to a pale shade of honey. He seemed bemused.

  ‘So,’ Nimnezzar said in his most royal tone. ‘You are Shemyaza. I have been waiting to meet you.’

  Shemyaza smiled and inclined his head. He seemed perfectly at ease. ‘My sentiments are the same.’ He paused, then raised his hands. ‘Is this the way to treat a guest? There is no need for chains, I assure you.’

  Nimnezzar narrowed his eyes. ‘You have not yet attained the status of guest. You are my prisoner. Answer my questions with honesty and we shall see about the chains.’

  Shemyaza flared his nostrils, but did not appear particularly outraged.

  ‘You do not look like a king,’ Nimnezzar remarked.

  Shemyaza shrugged. ‘I have not claimed to be one. Others own that privilege.’

  ‘So, reluctantly, you assumed the role. Tell me, how have you survived these long millennia? Why now have you shown yourself in the world?’

  Shemyaza raised his chin. ‘I had a destiny thrust upon me. I follow it, because I have no choice.’

  Nimnezzar was not pleased with the answer, which he felt was hardly an answer at all. ‘And what are your plans? Will you raise an army against humanity? Will you breed a race of warrior sons?’

  Shemyaza opened his eyes wider, and for the first time Nimnezzar saw how blue they were and flinched slightly beneath the directness of the gaze. ‘My destiny is not that of the warrior.’

  ‘Where is your kingdom? Have you come to reclaim Eden?’

  ‘I have no earthly kingdom. That is not my role.’

  Nimnezzar risked a smile. ‘You are a king without a kingdom or an army. Some might say that is not much of a king.’

  Shemyaza shrugged again and continued to smile, while the courtiers laughed at the king’s joke.

  Nimnezzar thought, he has charisma, but he is just a man. He seems deluded, a dreamer. ‘What were you doing in the mountains?’

  ‘Visiting my old home.’

  ‘Just a visit? Why were you in the company of Yarasadi. Are they your people now?’

  ‘The Yarasadi guided my friends and I through the mountains, that is all.’

  ‘I am wary of any who keep the company of Yarasadi. They are the enemies of Babylon.’

  ‘The Yarasadi have ever been somebody’s enemies, yet all they yearn for is their own land, and to be able to live in it as they wish.’

  Nimnezzar raised sardonic brows. ‘A political statement, yet you claim no kingship over them.’

  Shemyaza lifted his manacled hands in what was designed to be a casual gesture. ‘I was merely stating the obvious. Whether I support that desire or not is irrelevant.’

  Nimnezzar leaned back in his chair, pointed an accusing finger. ‘You are lying to me. You lead the Yarasadi now.’

  Shemyaza frowned. ‘No, I lead no-one.’

  ‘What were you doing at the gas fields? Planning a terrorist attack?’

  Shemyaza stared back at him. ‘Not at all. I was just looking.’

  ‘What were you looking for?’

  Jazirah made a small sound to attract attention and, bowing, approached the king. ‘The captive had this in his possession when we found him.’ He held out the crystal cone.

  Nimnezzar took it and turned it in his hands. ‘What is this?’

  ‘A stone,’ Shemyaza said, ‘a curio.’

  ‘Did you find it in the mountains?’

  ‘Yes. It is probably very ancient — a decorative stone that perhaps once adorned a statue or was inlaid into an altar.’

  ‘He was muttering into it,’ said Jazirah, ‘when we found him.’

  ‘It is a stone of power, then,’ said the king.

  ‘If it is, I cannot fathom it,’ Shemyaza replied. ‘Why not enshrine it in your Tower of Babel? There it might remember its function.’

  Nimnezzar narrowed his eyes. ‘What do you know of my tower?’

  ‘Only what I saw as your people drove me through the city. It is a good copy for an edifice built from guess-work.’

  ‘Not guesswork,’ Nimnezzar said. ‘The Magians learned from the sacred fires how it should be built. Djinn breathed life into its stones.’

  Shemyaza grinned. ‘Djinn are capricious creatures. You should use them with care.’

  Nimnezzar objected to the tone of this remark. ‘If you are Shemyaza, hear this. I am the appointed heir of Anu, the father of all gods. I command djinn, I command men. And now, I command angels. Shemyaza fell, he lost his power. His time is past. He should now submit to me, the rightful heir and give me what remains of his power.’

  Shemyaza laughed aloud at this. ‘Should he? By what right do you claim this kingship? Does Anu speak to you? If so, you are truly privileged, for he has neglected to speak to the thousands of his descendants who inhabit this earth.’

  The word thousands clearly took Nimnezzar by surprise. ‘Enough of this craziness. Tell me now of your plans. I am the true inheritor of the sacred blood-line. I will not tolerate rivals.’

  ‘I am no rival to you, Nimnezzar,’ Shemyaza said.

  Nimnezzar was beginning to feel slightly numb. The interview seemed unreal. He had power over Shemyaza — he could feel it in his blood — yet how could this be so? If Shemyaza was who he claimed to be an
d who the Magians believed him to be, surely he would not submit to this treatment? Nimnezzar decided to test the situation. ‘I shall give you one more chance,’ he said. ‘Where are your armies? What is your first target? If you do not answer, I will have you beaten and cast into a pit.’

  Shemyaza laughed again. ‘Would you dare to do that to the king of angels?’

  Nimnezzar did not hesitate, although his heart beat fast and painfully behind his ribs. ‘I see no angel king. I see a man. If you had power, true power, you would have evaded capture. You would blast us now with divine fire.’ Nimnezzar sneered. ‘No. If you have strength, it is in the weapons and hearts of others, many others. And I want to know who they are.’

  Shemyaza stood straight-backed before the king, his eyes gazing unwaveringly into Nimnezzar’s own. ‘If you would be the true inheritor of the royal blood, you should learn that true strength comes not from brute, physical force, but from the heart and soul. You say you do not see a king in me, and you may be right, but all I see in you is a bullying child.’

  Nimnezzar snarled. ‘Enough! Perhaps in the pit you will realise the folly of your insults and learn to be more informative.’

  For a moment, Shemyaza seemed to become taller, and a light blazed from his eyes. Then he lowered his head, and his shoulders slumped. ‘So be it.’

  ‘Take him away!’ Nimnezzar ordered the guards. ‘Teach him to respect the King of Babylon.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Secret History

  Amytis, Tiy and Melandra had watched the proceedings from the gallery high above the throne room. Tiy had objected to the American being present, but Amytis was insistent. ‘She should not be here,’ Tiy had said in her own tongue, so that Melandra would not understand. ‘You know she has a mission. She might cause a disruption, which would be inconvenient to us.’

  ‘It is my wish to have her by me,’ Amytis had answered. ‘She won’t do anything here. You have befriended this woman, Tiy, and have heard her stories. I too want to hear them, so she must also see me as a friend. We both know that Nimnezzar won’t speak to her and soon he will send her away from the city.’

  ‘That woman holds more in her heart than she’ll ever tell you!’ Tiy had snapped, but relented. She was annoyed that Amytis had become involved in the matter of Melandra, for Tiy had been carefully nurturing a relationship with the American. The reason Nimnezzar was yet to grant her an audience was because Tiy had advised him against it, and had assured him he could let her deal with Melandra’s interrogation. Nimnezzar was so obsessed by Shemyaza and Penemue, he saw Melandra as of minor importance. Tiy knew otherwise, but now, Amytis, with her brash, voluptuous presence, might spoil the delicate machinery of words and suggestions that she had constructed.

  Tiy had sensed Melandra’s tension when she had beheld Shemyaza. The old woman knew that Melandra had wanted to kill him there and then, but fortunately lacked the means. Melandra’s hour would come, but perhaps not quite in the form she imagined. That morning, Tiy had experienced a revelation. She was still reeling from its effects. Ever since Melandra’s arrival in Babylon, Tiy had been visiting the temple of Etemenanki in order to scour the astral world for information about the woman and the men who held dominion over her. She knew the Magians felt extremely uncomfortable about her using the power of the temple, and would have liked to ban her from their sacred premises, but she ignored their complaints, confident that Nimnezzar would ultimately sanction her presence there. What Tiy had recently learned from trance was rather more than she’d expected, and was of severe importance to both Melandra and Shemyaza, but the moment was not yet right for Tiy to use this information.

  ‘I must talk to the king,’ Tiy said, once Shemyaza had been led from the throne room. ‘It is time for me to meet Shemyaza.’

  ‘We should all like to meet this Shemyaza,’ Amytis said. ‘He did not look like a king, I must agree with my husband on that! Still, he was beautiful.’

  ‘I have seen his power!’ Melandra blurted, causing Amytis to raise her eyebrows in surprise.

  ‘Of course,’ Tiy said in a soothing voice, and reached out with her twiggy fingers to squeeze Melandra’s arm. The muscles were tight beneath Tiy’s touch. ‘Go now with Amytis and stay by her. I shall go and see how the land lies.’

  ‘Be quick,’ Amytis said. ‘I’m now quite impatient to learn what my husband plans to do next.’

  Tiy smiled and swept off up the passage-way. She had many tasks before her now, but her first was to convince Nimnezzar that Shemyaza was who they all thought he was. She could not see the angel king with her eyes, but his power had radiated into her mind like a burst of fire. Nimnezzar, the clod, could not perceive that with his muddy senses. He saw only a man. Tiy guessed that was what Shemyaza had wanted him to see. Still, she was surprised the angel had apparently allowed Nimnezzar’s thugs to lead him off to a beating. His motives were yet more complex than she’d imagined. Up until the moment she’d ‘seen’ Shemyaza, Tiy had been prepared for infinite patience in this matter. Now, her energies and emotions were stirred. She had to act.

  Nimnezzar, as Tiy had suspected, had been unsettled by his meeting with Shemyaza. When she entered his private office, she sensed the king was relieved to see her, but was striving not to reveal it. Fool! Didn’t he know she had always been able to read his feelings? Now, he wanted advice, but he’d be condescending and aloof, attempting to disguise his need.

  ‘I have spoken with the captive,’ Nimnezzar said in a haughty tone, ‘and am now unsure he is what you said he would be. He looks like a vagabond and talks like a man out of his depth. I think he is just a vain fool who has read the ancient stories and has cast himself in the role of Shemyaza. He’s a misguided crusader who has duped the Yarasadi. A lunatic from the West.’

  ‘And you had him beaten,’ Tiy said.

  Nimnezzar sniffed. ‘Yes. It was expedient for he was insolent. I have already received reports from Jazirah that he offered no defence as the guard beat him senseless. Is this the behaviour of a king?’

  Tiy sighed quietly. She was not pleased to discover that Nimnezzar had actually carried out his threat, and had hoped Shemyaza would have offered some resistance. For whatever reason, he must be playing with Nimnezzar. ‘Do you doubt my counsel, Great King? Perhaps I am too old, and my ‘sight’ isn’t what it was.’

  Nimnezzar uttered a sound of annoyance. ‘I would like your opinion.’

  ‘Then you must let me speak to him.’

  Nimnezzar paused, then said, ‘Very well. I shall send Jazirah with you.’

  ‘I would like to speak with Shemyaza alone.’ When Nimnezzar didn’t respond, she said, ‘You must trust me. Haven’t I helped you well in the past?’

  ‘Very well. Speak to him, if he can speak.’

  Shemyaza had been confined in a dank hole, far below Etemenanki. The smell of the place offended Tiy’s heightened senses as she was led by two of Nimnezzar’s personal guard to the steps that disappeared down into the dark. She reached for the wall with her left hand and began her descent, dismissing the guards from her presence. They withdrew reluctantly and she heard a heavy door slam behind her. There was no source of light, but this did not matter to Tiy.

  As she went slowly down the steps, Shemyaza’s feelings drifted up to her like smoke. He was hurt and bitter, yet still she sensed no urge to fight in him. He felt defeated, confused. Tiy shook her head in bewilderment. He was a creature of contradictions, unsure himself of what and who he was. But there was no denying the flame of his soul, burning strong and true. Nimnezzar was more blind than she, for he had not noticed this flame.

  At the bottom of the steps, Tiy stepped onto soiled straw. Others had been confined here, and perhaps still were, hanging dead in their chains. The smell of death hung in the air like unholy incense.

  ‘Shemyaza,’ she said, and heard a rustle nearby.

  She moved towards the sound, feeling in front of her with sensitive fingers. Presently, she felt cloth beneath her touch and
the warmth of living flesh. Shemyaza appeared to be half lying in the straw. Almost greedily, her hands moved over his body, up to his face. She felt his fine bones, his high brow, but also the swelling there, the patina of dry, crusting blood. ‘You have been enjoying the hospitality of Babylon’s king,’ she said.

  Strong, agile hands gripped her own, lifted her questing fingers away from his face. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I am Tiy, a seeress. I came to the city with Nimnezzar’s queen.’

  She heard him sigh. His breath rattled slightly in his chest. Perhaps they had damaged him there. ‘What do you want?’

  Tiy squatted down before him. ‘To speak with you, to learn why you have allowed Nimnezzar to abuse you so.’

  ‘He cannot kill me. It is not yet time for me to die.’

  ‘How bravely you suffer your pain.’

  He paused, then said, ‘It is inconsequential.’

  Tiy became aware then that part of him gorged itself on pain because it justified the fear that he was again to be a martyr. She spoke carefully. ‘I understand that Babylon is graced by your presence only because that is your wish. You want to be here. Why?’

  She heard Shemyaza shift position slightly upon the straw, his soft grunt of discomfort. ‘I wanted to meet the man who claimed to be the heir to my people’s kingdom.’

  Tiy’s voice became insidious, an invisible serpent in the dark. ‘You could have come with fire. You could have come victorious. I know you have that power.’

  ‘Do you?’ His voice was weary. ‘Your king sees only the weakness of a man.’

  ‘You cannot blame him. That is all you let him see.’

  Shemyaza was silent for a moment. ‘Then why do you think differently?’

  ‘I am blind,’ she answered. ‘Therefore I see by other means.’

  Shemyaza again hesitated before speaking. ‘It is more than that. I feel that you…’ His voice trailed into silence.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Tiy murmured. She reached out again to touch him. She could not help herself. Words came quickly that she had intended to preserve within her until later. ‘Shemyaza, I have waited long for the moment when I would meet you again.’