Iona Portal (The Synaxis Chronicles)

by Robert David MacNeil

  “Piper, my life is over!” Tears were beginning to flow again. “The life I’ve known is gone… Nothing I was can ever be again. I can’t go back to my home… I can’t be seen in public… Rex and his thugs are looking for me and they’ll kill me when they find me. I have no future.”

  She pleaded, “Piper, what can I do?”

  Piper leaned close and held her hand.

  “Erin, I don’t know what lies ahead,” she answered gently. “It may be that none of us survive this time, but we can’t focus on that right now. There’s a battle ahead, and the stakes are bigger than all of us.

  “If we succeed, I believe there’ll be an incredible future for you... for all of us. But that time is so far distant it’s hard to see what it will be like. All we can do right now is take things one step at a time and keep moving forward.

  “The life you knew in the past was bound up with Rex and the Archons and everything you saw at the ranch. You didn’t understand what you were part of, but it had to end. I believe your destiny is beyond all of that.”

  “Piper, I know you’re right…” Erin sobbed. “But it’s so hard. I feel like I’m dying.”

  By Wednesday evening, Erin seemed much improved, though a tangible darkness still hung over her. Just before seven o’clock, the synaxis members began to arrive. For once, Eliel was there early. With her was Araton, and a male Irin Piper hadn’t seen before.

  Most of the synaxis member had not yet heard of Erin’s ordeal. They followed their normal pattern of breaking up into small groups, talking and laughing about the experiences of the week.

  Reetha and Michael got their drinks and sat together. Reetha listened attentively as Michael launched into a monologue on the nature of the universe. Eliel and Holmes retreated to the kitchen, quietly discussing Erin’s condition.

  Seeing Patrick and Araton without drinks, Piper walked over to take their order.

  “Whiskey and soda, please,” Araton smiled, “Irish Whiskey if you have it.”

  “Angels drinking whiskey?” Patrick blurted.

  “Check your history, Patrick,” Araton laughed. “In your world, whiskey was first distilled by ancient Irish monks. They even named it. In Columba’s day they called it Uisce Beatha. That’s Gaelic for ‘water of life.’ The English shortened the name to whisky. But…” He added with a twinkle in his eye, “Who do you think taught the monks to make it?”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Patrick laughed, turning to Piper. “I’ll have the ‘water of life’ also… on the rocks with soda.”

  Returning to the room, Holmes allowed the conversation to continue for a few minutes. Then, while Piper went to the guest room to retrieve Erin, Holmes asked the group to be seated.

  Piper helped Erin to her chair. She was dressed simply in one of Piper’s casual outfits, but her hair had been restored to its former glory. As she took her seat, Araton came and stood at her side.

  Holmes began, “Most of you haven’t heard that Erin was almost killed Friday night. Tonight I’ve asked her to share her experience with the whole group. It’s important that we all understand what we’re facing.”

  Haltingly, Erin began her story. There were long pauses, and several times she broke down in tears, but finally made it through. By the end, several members of the group were weeping with her. When she finally finished, both Reetha and Lys went to her and embraced her. There was a long silence in the room.

  Holmes looked quietly from person to person before continuing, “I asked Erin to share this, because I want you to have a clear picture of the battle that lies ahead. This is not a game.”

  “You must understand that to move forward with us from tonight, you’re committing your life. If you stay with us, it’s likely some of us won’t survive.”

  “But if we don’t succeed…” he added, “none of us will survive.”

  “So before we go any further, I want to give anyone who’s not ready to be part of this a chance to back out. You know where the door is. If you can’t do this, you’re free to leave now, no questions asked.”

  Holmes again looked from person to person, awaiting a response. An uneasy silence hung over the group as each one looked at the others.

  Finally Reetha broke the silence. “I’m in this thing for the duration!”

  Marty joined in, “Me too!”

  Patrick looked Holmes in the eye, “Holmes, I never chose to be in this. I was drafted. But you can count on me to the end.”

  One by one, they all made their commitment.

  Holmes motioned to Eliel, who took the floor. “Tonight,” she began, “I want to introduce a powerful Irin prince.”

  Gesturing to the tall alien standing next to Araton, Eliel smiled. “This is Mendrion. He’s come to assist us in something unusual. Because of the urgency of our situation, we need to abandon our normal procedure. We’d normally prefer to work with each of you individually, gradually energizing your life force as we train you to recognize and use your gifts. But time won’t allow that. So Mendrion has consented to come.

  “As I explained last week, in the wars of your distant past, the Archons inflicted genetic damage on your entire race. Your life force—what the Greeks called your pneuma—was weakened, almost extinguished. When that happened, an important part of you died. You lost the use of many of your abilities, and your normal lifespan was drastically shortened.

  “Mendrion has the unique ability to repair crucial elements of your DNA, undoing—at least in part—the damage that was done, and reawakening your life force. This is a highly invasive process and it’s not done lightly. It means going into the shadow realm, and actually changing portions of your DNA sequence on a cell-by-cell basis. The time involved varies, depending on the severity of the damage present in your individual DNA.

  “When the process is complete, you may or may not notice an immediate change; but gradually, sometimes at unexpected times, your gifts will begin to activate. Hopefully, we’ll be close enough to assist you when that happens. If not, there can be some confusion when your new abilities begin to function.

  “Because this process is so invasive,’ she added, “the Ancient Ones won’t allow us to do this without your express permission.”

  Eliel paused, looking from face to face, awaiting a response. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as the members of the synaxis glanced at each other, uncertain what to think.

  “Does it… hurt?” Reetha asked finally.

  “You’ll feel no pain,” Eliel answered, “though there are often physical sensations. Sometimes strange things happen in your emotions, but that’s only temporary. Some won’t feel much at all.”

  Piper looked around at the others, then back to Eliel, “This all seems a little crazy,” she said nervously, “but somebody’s got to be the guinea pig… I guess it might as well be me.”

  Without saying a word, Eliel nodded to Mendrion, who walked over and stood before Piper. He studied her for a moment and she returned his gaze, smiling uneasily. Then he reached out his hand and gently touched her forehead.

  Piper continued to watch him intently, uncertain what to expect. To her amazement, Mendrion silently faded from view.

  Every eye was now fixed on Piper. At first it seemed nothing was happening.

  Then, as if responding to inaudible instructions, Piper closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair, and allowed her body to relax. Her breathing deepened. She looked totally at peace.

  Several minutes passed. Almost unnoticeably at first, a slight tremor appeared in her eyelids, as though the tiny muscles in her eyelids were rapidly twitching. The tremor grew in intensity. Piper’s fingers began to quiver also. Then her whole body tensed and began to tremble. She was breathing deeply in ragged gasps.

  Without warning, Piper broke into a childish giggle, which quickly gave way to uncontrolled laughter. Then, just as suddenly, she quieted.

  The shaking gradually subsided. Piper sat motionless for several more minutes, breathing slowly, in and out.
Finally, she took a deep breath and her body again relaxed. Thirty seconds later, her eyes blinked open and her face lit up.

  “Oh, wow!” she laughed, smiling broadly and glancing around at her anxious friends. As Mendrion reappeared beside her, she looked at him with a twinkle in her eye and said, “Mendrion, thank you. That was fantastic!”

  Holmes was the first to speak, “Piper, what just happened?”

  “I don’t know how to describe it,” Piper answered. “It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever experienced. It felt like something penetrating through layer after layer of my personality… reaching down to the core of my being… and when it got there, there was an explosion of light.”

  “How do you feel now?” Eliel asked.

  “At a loss for words,” Piper smiled again, looking down at her body, then back up to Eliel. “I feel …lighter. It feels strange, but it’s a good feeling.”

  Seeing Mendrion already glancing around for his next volunteer, Michael raised his index finger eagerly, “I’m next!”

  One by one they took their turn. Each one had a different experience. Some wept. Some trembled and shook. Ron Lewis collapsed to the floor and lay, apparently unconscious, for about five minutes. But each one ended their experience reporting an overwhelming sense of wellbeing.

  As they worked their way around the room, Michael noticed the darkness resting upon Erin appeared to increase. There was an unmistakable look of fear in her eyes. Then, as he watched her, he saw the faint outline of what appeared to be several dark, fuzzy, amoeba-like creatures attached to her body. They varied in size from three inches, to more than seven inches across. One of the creatures was attached to the left side of her face. Another was on her side. Still more were fastened to her arms and legs. From each of the creatures, dark tentacle-like limbs extended and wrapped around Erin’s body.

  He was about to go to Holmes and tell him what he was seeing, when Marty Shapiro let out what could only be described as a cowboy whoop. The whole group broke into laughter as Mendrion reappeared beside Marty, who had opened his eyes and was looking around, smiling sheepishly.

  Mendrion then turned to Erin, who was next in line. But Erin looked down for a moment, then shook her head, and said simply, “I’m sorry… I’m not ready yet.”

  Piper leaned closer, “Erin, are you sure?”

  “Look, I’m in this thing with you, but I’m just worn out. I don’t want to have any new experiences just yet. You go ahead. I’ll join in next time.”

  When the synaxis ended, Eliel drew Holmes and Piper aside.

  “Things are developing much faster than we anticipated,” she said. “I need to see what takes place this week, but by Friday our direction should be set.

  “Piper, someone needs to stay with Erin at all times. Ask Lys to come and stay with you to help. Erin must not be left alone.

  “Holmes, plan on meeting me Friday night at seven at the lake house. By that time I should be able to give you our plan of action.”

  Chapter Eighteen: Angel Dance

  THE LAKE HOUSE – THE PINEY WOODS OF EAST TEXAS

  Friday afternoon, Holmes left directly from the office for his 7:00 PM meeting with Eliel but the trip did not go smoothly. Heading south from Frisco, Dallas North Tollway was a virtual parking lot, with stop-and-go traffic creeping along at 10 MPH.

  Swinging onto Loop 635—the broad, multilane highway encircling Dallas—Holmes breathed a sigh of relief, thinking the worst of the traffic was behind him. But in less than a half-mile, traffic came to a complete standstill. An eighteen-wheeler had overturned on the road ahead, blocking the interstate and backing up traffic for miles. It took almost an hour for crews to reopen the road.

  Finally clearing the blockage, Holmes exited onto Interstate-30 east and mashed the accelerator. The Mercedes responded smoothly as he transitioned from gear to gear until he was cruising at 80 MPH. He was finally on the way to East Texas almost two hours after leaving the office.

  As he drove, Derek thought about Eliel. He had been surprised to detect the note of fear in Eliel’s voice when she described the horde of Archons at the Vanderberg ranch. What had she said? “If I’d tried to stand against them, I would have been destroyed.”

  That was a new revelation for Holmes about the Irin. While the aliens don’t naturally deteriorate and die as humans do, they could still be destroyed.

  That meant the battle ahead was as real for Eliel as it was for him. Victory was not assured, and neither was survival. Holmes had asked the members of the synaxis to be prepared to lay down their lives. For the first time Holmes realized that Eliel had made the same commitment.

  Exiting the interstate in the gathering dusk, Holmes noticed a shooting star streaking across the sky from the north. He glanced at his watch and frowned. It was almost seven o’clock. He was running late.

  The night was clear, and traffic on Texas Highway 37 was light. As Holmes took the turnoff to Cedar Hills Lake, he lowered the windows and opened the moon roof, savoring the feel of the wind in his hair as he traced the winding road through the cool pine forest. Finally arriving at the lake house, he walked through the great room and out onto the deck. And there he saw Eliel.

  She was dancing. But it was a dance no human had ever seen. Eliel was dancing in the air, out over the middle of the lake. Holmes stood transfixed by the sheer beauty of what he was witnessing.

  As Holmes watched from the deck, Eliel skimmed horizontally across the lake, just feet above the surface, then rose into a graceful pirouette, twirling rapidly with arms extended, poised fifty feet above the water. Then she broke for the shore and flew along the edge of the lake, flying a high-speed slalom through the pine trees. Her whole body was glowing as she flashed smoothly in and out among the trees, not even rustling the branches as she sped through.

  Next, she veered to the left and up, climbing without effort. She banked and flipped, and then flipped again.

  Holmes had never seen anything more graceful. He couldn’t help laughing out loud at the sheer joy of it. It was the joy of freedom. The joy of flight. The joy of life.

  Angling her wings to catch the edge of the currents that constantly flow between the dimensions, Eliel began executing a series of graceful twirls and loops, each one rising higher, as she compassed a great circle around the lake.

  Like some surreal figure skater, Eliel spun around and jumped from current to current, then swooped again toward the center of the lake and shot upward, all the while twirling in another pirouette. As she rose, she drew her arms and wings close to her body, and her spinning accelerated until all that was visible was a blur of white light. Finally, when she was almost out of sight, she broke her upward momentum and, extending her wings, made a long, triumphant spiral back down to the lake.

  Holmes suddenly understood what Eliel was expressing in her dance. She was heading into battle and—perhaps for the first time in her long existence—faced the real possibility of death. But this was her protest against the powers of darkness. In the face of unthinkable destruction and death, her dance was an extravagant celebration of life.

  Eliel whirled effortlessly, executing a graceful loop that flowed into a series of aerial somersaults, then swung into a smooth arc across the lake that brought her to a stop directly over the deck. Extending her wings horizontally, Eliel allowed herself to descend, drifting to a stop mere inches above the deck’s surface.

  Breathless, Eliel noticed Holmes and broke into a broad smile.

  He couldn’t resist breaking into applause. “Eliel, that was beautiful!”

  Holmes sensed a slight embarrassment that her dance had been seen. “I used to dance before the twenty-four Ancient Ones in Hi-Ouranos,” she ventured, trying to catch her breath, “But that was before the Great Wars. When the Archons invaded, I volunteered to come here to defend your world.” Then she added, “But I still enjoy dancing.”

  She drifted gently down to the deck surface and folded her wings into the unseen plane. She looked up at him and s
miled again. “You’re late,” she said quietly. It was not a rebuke, just an observation.

  Holmes opened a Guinness for Eliel, and an English ale for himself. They took seats opposite each other in the great room.

  Taking a sip of the Guinness, she began, “Holmes, our worst fears have been confirmed. The Archons have amassed great numbers and are on the move. We believe they’re preparing to take Iona, and if they do, our cause is lost.”

  “Why is that?” Holmes asked, sipping his ale.

  “Iona is crucial,” She replied, looking at him with an intensity he’d never seen in her. “It’s the only place on earth we can open a lasting portal with our present level of strength. Our forces in your world are now greatly outnumbered. If we can’t open the Iona portal, I fear we’ll all be destroyed.

  “So we must make a drastic change in our strategy. You must make plans immediately for the entire synaxis to travel to Iona. The time for battle has come. Most of our forces are already there.”

  “But Eliel,” Holmes protested, “you said our training would take months. We’re not ready! Most of us have never even had a chance to use our gifts.

  “I’m not ready!” He continued, “I don’t even know what my gift is!”

  “I understand that, Holmes, but our time has run out. I know you don’t feel you’re prepared, but we must go with what we have. It’s our only chance. We must try to open the portal before the Archons seize Iona.”

  “But you do need to know your gift,” she acknowledged, “and that’s why I’ve asked you here tonight. Your gift is vital.”

  “What is my gift?”

  “Your gift is to be what we call a sent-one. There’s no word for it in your language. It means something like an envoy or ambassador, but much more.