“What can we do about it?” Piper asked.
“The source of your problem lies in a realm you can’t see…” Eliel said, “an unseen world populated by beings you’ve only read about in myth and legend. Yet a very real war rages in that realm and it affects every member of your race. To avoid destruction, you must join in that battle.
“You’ve accepted the reality of angels,” she continued. “You need to see that the creatures you’ve called demons are also real. And you’ll have to learn to fight them.”
“Wait a minute,” Piper raised her hands in protest, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. “This is getting way over my head pretty fast.”
She paused a moment, trying to collect her thoughts, then continued, “Okay… I suppose it is logical to admit that angels exist… since I’m sitting here talking to one. Though to be honest, I don’t think you are exactly what they sing about in Christmas carols!
“And if angels are real, then it’s not a huge leap to believe in demons… But even if demons do exist, Eliel, how could we ever fight them?”
“Piper,” Eliel’s voice softened, “the Creator of all worlds placed incredible powers within you, but you’ve lost the ability to use them.
“In the warfare that raged before your history began, the Archons inflicted genetic damage on your entire race. Your lifespan was drastically shortened and your life-force nearly extinguished. Your race became a mere shadow of what it once was.
“The Ancient Ones assure us that your race will one day be restored. That’s a time all the realms look forward to with great eagerness. That’s why we volunteered to come here and fight… we remember what you used to be.”
Eliel paused a moment, looking intently into Piper’s eyes. “The human race was always the highest of the races. Your abilities were amazing. It was once common for humans to exercise powers you’d now call supernatural. If you can recover even a small portion of these lost powers, you’ll easily be able to stand against the Archons.”
“What kind of powers are you talking about?”
Eliel hesitated, as if uncertain how much to say. “Your race had abilities on many levels. Some were gifted to be healers. Some had the second sight—the ability to see into the future. Some could see beyond your own dimension. Some could alter matter by the sound of their voice.”
Then, choosing her words carefully, Eliel added, “And there are other abilities, far beyond those… abilities you remember now only in your dreams.”
“All of those abilities are still there, locked up inside you. You still have the potential… every member of your race secretly senses that.”
“Why can’t we use these powers now?”
“Part of the problem is fear…
“The Archons know what lies dormant within you, so they’ve used their influence to hold you in ignorance. They planted superstition and suspicion and filled you with irrational fears. For thousands of years, any human who tapped into even a small portion of his potential was burned at the stake.
“The other problem is the weakening of your life-force. Your life-force is what the Greeks called the pneuma. It’s the part of you that goes beyond physical existence, and it’s what energizes all your abilities. Because of the damage inflicted on your race, your life-force is greatly diminished… almost non-existent.”
“So, how can we regain those powers?” Piper asked.
“The key is what we call a synaxis.”
Seeing her puzzled look, Eliel explained, “The word synaxis is an ancient human term. It was coined by the Greeks to describe the union of two worlds—the natural and the supernatural realms meeting together. The Greeks believed when a synaxis took place, humans could mingle freely with angels, receiving hidden knowledge and gaining miraculous powers. That’s why the earliest Christians used the word synaxis to describe their secret gatherings in the Roman catacombs.
“More accurately,” she continued, “a synaxis is a group of humans who are brought into a special relationship with the Irin. In that relationship, a portion of our life-force is transferred to you and the damage inflicted on your race is partially reversed. Over the course of time, as you meet in synaxis, your dormant powers begin to awaken.
“In that process a synergy develops. The abilities of each member strengthen and reinforce the abilities of the others. Eventually, the members of the synaxis learn to function together, almost as a single living organism, exercising powers far greater than any of the individuals possess.
“There have been a number of times in your history—at times of great crisis—that we’ve entered into synaxis with your race. Each time, as humans regained their lost powers, the Archon forces were overcome.”
Eliel glanced at Holmes, then back to Piper. “Piper, you need to understand the importance of what I’m telling you. We’re about to initiate the first synaxis in the Human-realm in more than a thousand years, and it’s truly the only hope for your race. As your life-force is restored and your lost powers are energized, you will gain the power to confront the forces of Hades and drive them from your world.
“That’s why we chose you.” Eliel said, looking at Holmes again, then resting her gaze on Piper. “You’ve been chosen to lead the first synaxis… both of you.”
“Us?” Piper and Holmes both blurted.
“Wait a minute, Eliel…” Holmes objected. “For weeks now, you and the other Irin have been telling me about this group you’re forming to save the world… I thought you were recruiting Piper and me to be part of it. You never said we’d be the ones to lead it.”
“I’m sorry, Holmes,” Eliel responded. “I thought you understood... That’s why you and Piper were chosen. You both possess the necessary abilities to lead a synaxis.”
“Of course, we don’t expect you to fight the battle alone,” she continued, “There are others we must draw together with you. But our time is short. The Archon forces are strengthening rapidly and war is almost upon us. I fear we may be caught unprepared.”
Eliel tilted her head slightly, as though listening to a faint sound. “Rand is coming now… and Araton is with her.”
Piper could see, far out above the lake, what appeared to be two great white-winged birds soaring in their direction. Approaching the house, the aliens spread their wings and floated gracefully down to a soft landing on the deck. As their wings faded from sight, Eliel opened the door to welcome them inside.
***
ISLE OF IONA, ARGYLL, SCOTLAND
It was now more than a month since Patrick arrived on Iona.
He felt he’d always been there. There were few parts of the island he had not explored. It amazed him that he felt more at home on Iona than he’d ever been in Dallas.
As spring merged into summer, the pilgrim hordes came. During the day, the tiny island was overrun by pilgrims of every variety – Catholics, Protestants, Orthodox, Neo-pagans, Druids, New Agers, history buffs, and a few retired couples from Michigan on a bus tour of Scotland. It seemed like everyone wanted a piece of Iona.
With inquisitive strangers hiking all over the island, Patrick stayed close to the hotel during the day. But with just two small hotels and a handful of bed-and-breakfasts on the island, most pilgrims retreated to the mainland for overnight accommodations. When the last ferry departed for Mull in the evening, life on Iona returned to normal.
So Patrick continued his nightly vigil on Cnoc nan Carnan. It was much warmer than when he first arrived, and the summer sun lingered late in the sky. Patrick purchased a used sleeping bag from a departing pilgrim and often spent the night on the hill. He’d discovered a book on astronomy in the bookcase of the hotel dayroom and could now identify almost every constellation as they wheeled overhead.
Patrick had just stretched out the sleeping bag for his nightly vigil when a shooting star flashed overhead… a bolide, or fireball, by the look of it. The astronomy book had mentioned an annual meteor shower, the Lyrids, occurring about mid June, but that was over a week away. He wondered if h
e was seeing an advance guard of the Lyrids.
Patrick relaxed and savored the crisp night air. The night was crystal-clear. The great cloud-like band of the Milky Way marched majestically from horizon to horizon. How often did Columba sit on this same hill, a millennium and a half earlier, watching these same stars? Patrick mused.
Sometime later, Patrick closed his eyes and was about to drift off to sleep when he heard a faint sound on the road below. Looking up, Patrick saw, by starlight, someone approaching up the hill.
A few pilgrims made their way up the hill by day, but none had yet disturbed his vigil at night. “Hello,” Patrick called, hoping the intruder was seeking an isolated place and—finding this one occupied—would choose to look elsewhere.
But the stranger continued in his direction, responding to his call with an answering, “Hello.”
By the faint illumination provided by the stars, Patrick could see that his visitor was a man, probably in his mid-forties. His hair appeared to be prematurely grey, actually white.
The man stopped a few feet away from Patrick and stood, looking at him, as if waiting for a response.
“Can I help you?” Patrick asked.
“Yes,” the man replied, “but I can also help you, Patrick of the Ui Neills.”
Patrick sat up, suddenly wide awake. “How did you know my name?”
“My name is Khalil. I knew your ancestors when they lived on this island and your namesake Patrick in Ireland as well. I’ve been assigned as your defender.”
Every hair on Patrick’s body was now standing on end.
His initial skepticism about Michael’s “angels” had faded with his discovery of the Hill. Patrick’s first glimpse of Cnoc nan Carnan convinced him that these creatures, whatever they were, had called him to Iona. He’d resolved to remain on the island until he found out why. But he suddenly realized that all of that was merely a mental exercise. He was totally unprepared to actually encounter one of these ancient beings.
“Are you really an…” He could not even bring himself to say the word. “Are you really one of them?”
“If you’re referring to the beings your ancestors called angels, yes, I am. Although we prefer to call ourselves the Irin.”
Patrick was strongly tempted to go into a “doubting Thomas” mode, demanding some proof of the unknown visitor’s claim. Three weeks ago, he would have. But not now. Somehow he knew Khalil was speaking the truth.
“Patrick, I have something to tell you, and it is very important. A great war is about to take place, and much of it will take place right here. But the Irin don’t yet have sufficient strength in this realm to assure victory.
“To gain the strength we need, a portal must be opened between your world and ours, and it must be done here on Iona.
“Your ancestor, Columba, opened a portal in his day, but it was later allowed to close. Because of your ancestry, you have the authority to reopen Columba’s portal. But you can’t do it alone.
“Your time on Iona must end, for now. You must return to Dallas. We have others waiting for you there. They’ll show you what must be done.”
Something in Khalil’s tone left no room for discussion or argument.
“Who am I supposed to meet in Dallas?”
“Don’t worry. Just go,” Khalil replied. “We’ll contact you there.”
Patrick was surprised by his willingness to accept the angel’s direction. Independent by nature, Patrick usually resisted being told what to do. Yet he never had a second thought about obeying Khalil’s instructions.
“I’ll make preparations tomorrow for the trip home,” Patrick agreed, “but first, I need to ask you one favor. I have a friend here who must meet you. He’s studied angels his whole life but has never spoken to one. Can I bring him here to meet you before you leave?”
“You mean Michael Fletcher, of course,” Khalil said, smiling. “I’m quite familiar with Michael, and his books. By all means, bring him here. But go quickly. I have very little time.”
The Saint Columba Hotel was only a few minutes’ walk south of the Hill, and Patrick made it in record time. Michael was sitting at his desk furiously typing on his laptop when Patrick bounded up the stairway and pounded on his door.
Not waiting for the door to open, Patrick called out breathlessly, “Michael. Come quickly, there’s something you MUST see.”
Michael did not hesitate, and a few minutes later they were both making their way up the steep slope to the top of Cnoc nan Carnan. As they entered the sheltered area between the ancient monoliths, Patrick felt panic rising within him. The place was deserted.
Then, Khalil walked around one of the huge stone slabs and stood before them. But Khalil had changed. As he stepped into view, Patrick saw that Khalil’s wings were now unfurled, and his whole being glowed with a brilliant white light.
“Good evening, Michael.” Khalil said with a knowing smile, “It’s been a long time. The last time you saw me, you were only nine years old.”
Michael’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes widened in recognition. For the first time Patrick could remember, Michael Fletcher was speechless.
Chapter Thirteen: The Shades
THE LAKE HOUSE – IN THE PINEY WOODS OF EAST TEXAS
Holmes welcomed the newly-arrived Irin, and introduced them to Piper.
At the sight of Rand, the new female alien, Piper’s mouth fell open in amazement. There could hardly have been more of a contrast between Eliel and Rand. Eliel was small and delicate in appearance. While she possessed great strength and intelligence, it was tempered by an aura of gentleness and an almost childlike playfulness.
Rand, on the other hand, was a stunning beauty—tall and slender, yet with an intensity about her that was more than slightly intimidating. Dressed simply in a black belted tunic and leggings, Rand’s piercing brown eyes, coupled with the long dagger strapped to her right thigh, gave her the unsettling appearance of an Amazon warrior. Her lithe body was crowned by a long flowing mane of dark auburn hair.
The male Irin was equally striking. Araton was tall and muscular, with rich, dark-brown skin and closely shaved head. He wore a multicolored, two-piece garment reminiscent of a West African dashiki, with a metallic mesh belt cinched tightly around his waist. Attached to the belt, the hilt of a scimitar protruded from a three-foot-long steel scabbard. Piper somehow knew the sword was not for ceremonial purposes.
As the newcomers entered the room, Piper leaned close to Holmes and whispered, “I think I need a drink.”
“A little early in the day for that, don’t you think?” Holmes chided, “How about some more coffee?”
“Let’s compromise,” Piper urged with a subtle smile, “How about coffee with Baileys?”
“Compromise accepted!” Holmes laughed. Piper knew it was his favorite Saturday morning beverage. “Coffee with Baileys coming right up.”
Holmes took orders for coffee, and was surprised that the Irin chose the coffee with Baileys as well.
Holmes brought in the coffee, along with a bottle of Baileys Irish Cream, and the five sat down in a cluster before the unlit fireplace of the great room.
Rand spoke first, looking from Piper to Holmes, “Has Eliel explained the synaxis?”
“Yes,” answered Holmes, “But I must confess, I’m a little overwhelmed. Are you sure Piper and I are the ones you want to lead this?”
“I agree with Holmes,” Piper cut in. “If our world is falling apart we want to do what we can, but I don’t see that the two of us have the ability to head up a secret group to save the world.”
“I understand what you’re saying…” Rand came back, “Your problem is, you don’t see who you really are, or what you could become.”
“What do you mean?” Piper asked.
“Surely, as psychologists, you recognize that most humans use only a tiny fraction of their true abilities. Your literature is full of examples. Are you familiar with the case of Kim Peek?”
“I remember hearing the name,
but I don’t recall any details,” said Piper.
“Kim Peek was born with brain damage, yet developed almost superhuman mental skills. He could, at will, recall detailed information from any page of the twelve thousand books he’d read. He could read a new book in about an hour, and remember ninety-nine percent of its content. Peek also had perfect pitch, and could remember every tune he ever heard.”
“I read an article about him just a few months ago,” Holmes interjected. “A few years before his death, NASA scientists ran a series of tests on Mr. Peek to try to discover his secret.”
“He’s just one example,” Rand continued. “The blind American savant Leslie Lemke never had a piano lesson, yet could play Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1, after hearing it only one time.
“There are people who can fluently speak dozens of languages, multiply multi-digit numbers in their minds as fast as they can be written down, figure out cube roots faster than a calculator and recall the value of pi to 100,000 decimal places. There was even a boy who could recite all six volumes of Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire… backwards or forwards. And their brains are not significantly different from yours. But they’ve tapped into abilities most humans have never used. And those are just the mental abilities.”
“What are you saying?” Holmes asked.
“I’m saying that both of you have gifts and abilities you don’t comprehend at this point. If you allow those powers to be activated, you’ll be able to do things you never dreamed possible.”
“So, if you activate my gifts,” Holmes grinned, “you’re saying I might finally be able to remember where I left my keys?”
“Holmes, I can see the abilities that lie dormant within you and Piper. Allow them to be activated, and you’ll have everything you need to turn back the destruction that faces your world.”
Iona Portal (The Synaxis Chronicles) Page 10