The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set

by N. S. Wikarski

  “Is that...” she trailed off. Tapping Bobbye excitedly on the shoulder, she asked, “Is that an elephant?”

  Bobbye chuckled at her enthusiasm. “The delta attracts all sorts of critters. Elephants, antelope, crocodiles, lions, rhinos, even flamingos.”

  Cassie watched in fascination as the elephant reached up its trunk and stripped an entire branch. Stuffing the leaves into its mouth, it chewed in a leisurely fashion, untroubled by the sound of the aircraft gliding overhead.

  “They love acacia trees,” Bobbye added. “It’s one of their favorite foods.” She pointed out the window some distance in front of the chopper. “Look over there.”

  Cassie saw two animals, one big and the other small, leaping nimbly through the swamp. She assumed they were antelope.

  “Red lechwe,” the scout said by way of explanation.

  They passed the remainder of their journey taking turns pointing out the different creatures that called the delta their home.

  Cassie was so preoccupied with each new wildlife sighting that she barely noticed as the terrain changed from marsh to open grassland. Then something looming directly in front of their aircraft caught her full attention. Sheer gray rocks jutted up out of the perfectly level landscape.

  “We’re here,” Bobbye announced. “The Tsodilo Hills. There are four of them all in a line. The local people call them Male, Female, Child, and Grandchild respectively.”

  Cassie eyed the tallest of the mounds. “I’m guessing that’s the one called ‘Male Hill’?”

  “Right,” the scout confirmed. “It’s actually the tallest point in Botswana. About thirteen hundred feet high.”

  “After some of the mountains we’ve been climbing lately, that’s not very impressive,” Erik observed.

  “For a country which is basically flat, it’s impressive enough,” Bobbye retorted. “Even though Male Hill is the tallest, Female Hill is three times as big. That’s our destination today.”

  The helicopter set down a few hundred yards in front of the rocks. They all climbed out and headed for the gate that guarded the entrance to the hills.

  “Now that it’s considered a World Heritage Site, this whole area has been fenced off to protect the rock art.” Bobbye walked a few paces ahead, giving bits of info about the park as they moved along. “The site is patrolled by rangers, and there are some campgrounds inside the perimeter. The hills are still considered sacred to the San. They call them ‘the mountain of the gods’ or sometimes simply ‘the rocks that whisper.’”

  “The San?” Cassie repeated.

  “The tribes who live in the area used to be known as Bushmen, but ‘San’ is the more proper name. They’re gatherer-hunters who have been living in this region for as much as a hundred thousand years.”

  “I seem to recall reading about the San,” Griffin murmured. “They supposedly possess the most ancient mitochondrial DNA on the planet which means that the mother of all modern humans was an ancestress of the San.”

  “And San origin myths place the site of creation right in the middle of the Tsodilo Hills,” Bobbye added. “So, you can think of this spot as the pre-overlord equivalent of the Garden of Eden.”

  They had crossed into the parklands and were now making their ascent up Female Hill. The route they followed wasn’t so much a trail as a series of broken boulders which they had to climb over or crawl between. The lower half of the hill also contained a variety of shrubs and small trees that clung to the meager soil between the rocks and occasionally impeded their progress.

  “From the perspective of the Arkana, the San confirm a lot of what we’ve always believed about gatherer-hunter social structure,” Bobbye said. “They aren’t male-dominated, and division of labor isn’t rigidly defined by sex. Their social organization is relatively egalitarian with major decisions made by group consensus. Divorce isn’t stigmatized for either partner and spousal abuse is unheard of.” Bobbye paused to clamber over a huge rock blocking their way. “Of course, so many things are changing now because of outside influence. It’s hard to know how much of their social structure has been adulterated by contact with overlord culture.”

  Cassie came to a dead stop and pointed to the cliff slightly above them. “Did they paint that?”

  The others turned their heads upward to regard a specimen of rock art.

  Bobbye squinted at it. “Yes. It’s a gazelle. They used red ochre to paint most of the images you’ll see. Red silhouettes against a background of grey quartzite. There are about forty-five hundred different paintings throughout the park though I should mention that not all the rock art is ancient. Some of it is recent, only a thousand years old or so.”

  Erik chuckled. “I guess when you’re talking about people who have been living here for the past hundred thousand years, a millennium would seem kind of recent.”

  They resumed the challenging trek upward while Bobbye continued her explanation. “There are more specimens of rock art in the Tsodilo Hills than anywhere else in the world. It’s a form of expression that predates cave painting by thousands of years. Archaeologists once believed that the images in cave paintings and rock art were representations of hunting scenes. Of course, that’s what you’d expect an overlord archaeologist to think. However, it seems much more likely that the images were depictions of what tribal shamans saw while in a trance state. Some of the paintings are fusions of animal and human forms while others are spirals or geometric shapes. The images would have possessed symbolic significance to the artist and probably to her tribe as well.”

  “Perhaps in the same way a medieval person might have viewed a stained-glass window in a church,” Griffin offered. “The images were meant to evoke a different dimension of reality.”

  By now they had progressed halfway up the hill. The vegetation had thinned out, and they were traveling over bare rock. The higher they climbed, the hotter the sun became. Bobbye suggested that they pause and take a break. Everyone had come equipped with bottled water in their backpacks. Cassie noted that she and her companions were red-faced and out of breath, but their guide hadn’t even broken a sweat.

  “I guess you’re used to this climate,” the pythia remarked.

  Bobbye shrugged. “After a couple of years in Africa, I don’t notice the temperature anymore. But whenever I’m back in the states, I sure do feel the cold.”

  They resumed their upward journey, periodically pausing so Bobbye could point out various specimens of rock art. Eventually, they reached the crest of the hill and stopped briefly to admire the view of the surrounding grasslands. Because it was flat as far as the eye could see, Cassie understood why these hills would be considered so remarkable a feature of the terrain. Once they’d caught their collective breath, Bobbye led them downward along the northwest face of the hill.

  A little way down the slope, the scout stopped abruptly before a narrow aperture in the rock and announced, “We’re here.”

  Cassie stared. “There’s nothing here but more rock.”

  “This is Rhino Cave.”

  The pythia tilted her head to the side to regard their destination. It didn’t look like any of the caves she’d visited on previous expeditions. Those had been huge gaping holes in the ground with entrances as big as cathedral arches. Rhino Cave was little more than a tall narrow slit in the side of the hill. There were boulders piled up around the entrance which made it easy to miss if you didn’t know what you were looking for.

  “C’mon,” Bobbye instructed as she clambered over the giant rocks obscuring the portal.

  The others followed her lead.

  There were more boulders which had tumbled inside, and the group had to climb down these before they reached level ground. The floor of the interior had been packed hard over the centuries and was smooth compared to the rubble outside. The cave itself wasn’t very large and didn’t seem to be very deep either.

  Cassie’s attention was immediately drawn to a rock painting on the right-
hand wall. Part of it had been worn away, but it seemed to represent an elephant. “Why is this cave so special?” she asked, still contemplating the picture. “The rock art we’ve already seen on the trail is a lot more impressive.”

  “Because of this.” Griffin turned her around to face the opposite wall.

  “Oh, my goddess!” Cassie exclaimed.

  Chapter 10—Stoned

  Once Griffin spun her around to face the other side of the cave, Cassie knew why this place was so remarkable. She drew her breath in sharply, startled by the object that confronted her. A huge stone snake about twenty feet long and three feet wide seemed frozen in the act of emerging from the back wall of the cavern. Its head and most of its body were free-standing, raised at their highest point about seven feet from the ground. A crack in the rock formed a mouth, and a natural indentation mimicked an eye.

  “It’s called the Python Stone,” Griffin said.

  The group gathered around the strange sculpture if it could be called a sculpture at all. It looked more like a natural rock formation that someone had shaped to accentuate its resemblance to a giant snake.

  “It’s been theorized that the ancestors of the San carved the mouth,” Bobbye pointed to the reptile’s snout. “Or at least they deepened the crack in the rock that was already where a mouth should be. And look over here.” She moved to the middle of the snake’s body and gestured toward indentations which had obviously been chipped into the rock. “There are hundreds of these ‘cupules’ as they’re called. It appears that the stone was flaked away deliberately in spots to make the surface look like the scales of a snake’s skin.”

  “But why would anybody want to do something like that?” Cassie wondered aloud.

  “To the San, the python is one of the most sacred of creatures,” Griffin answered. “It is the largest snake in this part of the world. In the San origin myth, it is said that all humans are descended from a great python. In fact, the dry riverbeds that are so prevalent in the area were supposedly created by the movements of the huge snake in its endless search to find water in the desert.”

  Cassie made no move to touch the sculpture. She regarded it warily. “This cave must have been a holy place to the people who lived around here. It was like their church.”

  “You’re right,” Bobbye confirmed. “To this day, the cave is considered sacred. At least a few archaeologists believe ancient rituals were performed here. Stone spear points which were left as offerings are about seventy thousand years old. That chronology upsets the mainstream view that humans didn’t start performing religious rites until forty thousand years ago.”

  Cassie looked at the scrivener suspiciously. “What are we doing here? Griffin, is this where the surprise comes in?”

  The Brit cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We’d like... ahem... that is...we thought... perhaps... you might validate the Python Stone for us.”

  “That thing?” Cassie drew back.

  “Nice going!” Erik shot Griffin a scornful glance.” Then turning to Cassie, he added, “It wasn’t supposed to come out like that, but Griffin was afraid if he told you too much ahead of time, it might affect the outcome of your reading.”

  “I get the part about not telling me too much, but giving me some advance warning might have been a good way to go.” The pythia walked toward the head of the snake, eyeing it dubiously. “Guys, this thing is beyond ancient. I don’t even have to touch it to know that. I’m getting vibes from everything here. The painting, the walls, the snake. All of it. I’m not sure I know how to deal with an artifact like this. It’s so alien to anything I’ve channeled before. Who knows what’s waiting for me down this particular rabbit hole?”

  Her two teammates traded concerned glances. Bobbye offered no comment, but her face wore a troubled expression.

  Erik stepped forward. “Look, if you’d rather not, nobody is going to force you.”

  “Absolutely,” Griffin hastened to concur. “If this frightens you, please don’t feel you should. I realize it was stupid of me not to give you at least a hint of our intentions.”

  Cassie regarded the snake in silence for several more seconds, debating with herself. Then she sighed. “It’s OK. I needed a minute to process the idea, but I’m over it. Stuff like this is in my job description, right?”

  “I believe you said the same thing just before you touched that obsidian dagger in Turkey,” Griffin commented. “It proved to be a most unpleasant experience for you.”

  Erik turned pale at the mention of the episode. “Cass, don’t do it. This artifact doesn’t matter to the relic hunt. It’s just a side trip.”

  “Thanks,” Cassie said in a soft voice. “I appreciate that you guys want to give me an easy out, but we’re already here. It would be a shame to pass up a chance to understand what happened in this cave just because I got cold feet.”

  Abruptly, she walked toward the back of the python where its body joined the rock wall and sat down beside it. “I think I should be sitting for this. It beats passing out from a standing position.”

  “Good grief!” Bobbye gasped. “If that’s what you expect will happen then you definitely shouldn’t try.”

  Cassie smiled up at her. “Too late. My mind’s made up. The train has left the station.” Focusing her attention on her two teammates, she said, “Guys, if I do anything strange, be prepared to shake me out of it, OK?”

  They both dropped to the ground on either side of her.

  “Got it,” Erik said with great determination. “At the first sign of trouble, you’re out of there.”

  Bobbye knelt down a few feet from the others so as not to interfere. “I have to admit I’m curious,” she said. “I’ve never seen a pythia in action before.”

  “It’s not always a pretty sight,” Cassie replied. “Trust me.” She glanced around at the three of them. “Everybody ready?”

  They all nodded solemnly.

  “Then let’s get started.” She leaned her head back against the stone and shut her eyes.

  It took only a second to make the connection. She was still inside Rhino Cave but had landed in the consciousness of a woman sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the snake’s head. There were a dozen other people dancing, singing and chanting around the spot where she sat. Night had fallen outside, but a bonfire illuminated the interior of the cave. The flames cast flickering shadows over the snake, making it appear to sway from side to side.

  The woman was looking at a bowl resting on the earth in front of her. It held a single flower with a large white bloom. Her dark arms moved forward to grasp the flower and to cut the root at its base with a stone knife. She mashed the juice of the plant against the sides of the bowl. Then she raised the knife and made small shallow cuts in her own forehead. She smeared the juice into the cuts. After this operation was complete, she stood and joined the dance. The other people in the cave chanted and clapped louder. A few stamped their feet in time with the chant. The woman took a position at the front of the line, stamping her feet rhythmically. Cassie understood that the woman was the magic-worker— the shaman. She also understood that the land had suffered a prolonged drought. The delta had dried up, and all the game had fled. This ritual was meant to call back the waters.

  As she danced, the shaman’s eyes became blurry. Objects doubled and changed color. The woman floated like a feather on the wave of music that bounced off the cave walls, and Cassie floated right along with her. The shaman swayed from side to side and then, without warning, dropped on all fours. Mimicking the movement of a snake she crawled across the cave floor on her stomach, making for a dark gap in the stone right below the python’s raised head. There was a short tunnel hollowed out in the cave wall. She followed the tunnel as far as she could go and when she could go no further, she curled up next to the rock. The shaman rested her forehead on the cool stone that formed the python’s flank until she felt her mind merge with the creature. She became the great snake. Her awar
eness diffused and spread through the stone reptile’s body until her eyes were seeing out through the eyes of the python. She watched the dancers in front of her.

  Then, the snake shed its stone skin and came to life. The shaman raised her snake’s head higher and willed herself to break free of the connecting rock. The dancers parted, and the great serpent slithered through the entrance and out into the night. It threaded its way down the hill until it reached the flat plain. Then it circled each of the four hills before turning in the direction of the star that does not wander. The shaman controlled the motion of the snake’s body, commanding it to find the place where the waters still flowed. They traveled on and on through the night, all the while the snake’s movement hollowed out deep gullies through the parched ground. When it was almost dawn, they came to a rushing river. The sky had broken open, and rain was swelling the stream to the point of overflowing.

  The snake cut right through the embankment and propelled itself into the midst of the waters. Then the creature raised its head and reversed direction causing the river to flow backwards through the spillway it had created. The flood raced through the furrows made by the serpent all the way back to the base of the sacred hill, bearing the snake along with it. The shaman-python slithered out of the torrent and made its way up to the cave where the fire still burned and the people still danced and chanted. The snake burst through the entrance and fused with its stone form once more. The shaman separated her mind from the creature and settled back into her own body. She knew the waters would return now. She had called them forth, and they would come. It was done.

  Cassie opened her eyes. She blinked a few times. The other three were staring at her apprehensively.

  “Are you OK?” Erik asked cautiously.