Sword- Part Two

by D B Nielsen

  Within seconds, they were little more than an inky dot, blending, blurring into the mystery of the distant darkness. And I, earthbound, alone, remained.

  A CUNEIFORM CHALLENGE

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The imposing, dense walls and high towers of the Archangel Michael Monastery and Cathedral rose a radiant white under the auspices of pale moonlight. Only the wide open night sky bore mute witness to our harried parting. Cruel time, once again, had stolen moments for words of encouragement or luck. No margin existed for error, for misstep or a slip of concentration. Yet it was the misstep I worried about the most – even though my sister had the genes of a mountain goat.

  Wrapping my arms about my middle to capture some small warmth, I focused my attention on the steeple thrusting up like an arrowhead into the night sky, piercing through a zodiac of silvery points. Breathing shallowly, I concentrated to align my conscious being with Fi and the whited beacon in the distance that signalled wisdom and power and the next destination in our quest. The tower’s white stone stretched unbroken and intimidating towards the stars and moon in the night sky. But the waiting was excruciating and I felt the chill void of darkness close about me.

  I heard them before I saw them – a rolling boom of thunder ruptured the silence over Arkhangelsk as the speed of their plummeting flight exceeded sound. They quickly passed through the elements of the atmosphere, darting downwards, leaving only a temporary ripple of trapped energy in their wake. In the rarefied gases of the earth’s high altitude, it flared and died just as quickly, like a fugitive slipstream or the tail of a comet, marking where the fallen angel and my sister fell to earth – though, it seemed to me, through a sensory illusion, that the earth rose to meet them and that they would be speared upon the tower’s spire.

  I could only watch, agonised, as, with an inhuman dexterity, the Watcher swung my sister to catch hold of the edge of the bell tower in an acrobatic manoeuvre and released her. And, in that moment, the stars winked out, one by one, as if to provide cover for tonight’s disturbing deeds.

  Pure night surrounded my twin, its blackness met only with the deeper, more claustrophobic, suffocating darkness of the interior of the bell tower which she climbed up and into ... and disappeared from my sight.

  I could see nothing more.

  I could only imagine the horror of such stifling environs which she would need to feel her way within, touching with her fingertips, tracing like braille, sluggishly moving forward. The black void engulfing her was the stuff of nightmares for me – revealing no form, impenetrable, featureless as the perfectly still surface of blackened water within a deep well.

  And it was up to Fi alone to find the next clue. I had no doubt she would. But I feared for her safety anyway.

  Ineffectually, I stood about. Chilled. Idle. Uncertain of what to do next.

  The expanse of the Watcher’s wings seemed to lovingly wrap around the steeple and surge back against the night with every beat, never touching its blessed purity, simply allowing the Fallen to defy gravity. The flapping of his wings was hypnotic, presenting a distraction from the murk of gnawing uncertainty and fear.

  Time slowed. Pooled. Pale moonlight dissolved. I knew of no time, no space, no beginning, no end. And, in that time that was no time, I realised that what the Fravashi had told me was true – the game had always been in motion. For the Grigori, there had never been a beginning nor would there be an end. The beginning was the end. And the end was the beginning. From this world to the next. The Wheel of Fortune turned.

  This creature helping us – Grigori, Watcher, fallen angel, St. John’s father – was not of this world. Deep and vast as the vacuum of space, the void between stars, he held a knowledge that outspanned the combined history of all humankind and all the stars and planets in the known galaxies. He and the Seed both, belonged to some other realm. Beyond. They were ancient. Their beginning lay in epochs so terribly, unimaginably distant that mortal thought could never dream of nor encompass their origin. And Fi and I were scarcely conceived – no more than the light of a dying or dead star still visible; so that just as when we looked out into the universe, we were looking back in time, for this immortal being we had barely crawled out of the primordial swamp.

  Mesmerised, I stared upon the fallen angel beyond time’s daunting, stark drift, until I was roused from my stupor by a victorious shout. A movement near the enormous cathedral bell caught my eye. Perched on the edge of the bell tower was my sister as if examining the lay of the land sweeping out from the monastery and cathedral grounds. As I strained to study her pose, I could just make out something cradled within the nook of her arm.

  My first impulse was to call out to her, but I could not find my voice. Overwhelmed by stark horror, I could only watch as she bent her knees and jumped.

  She hurled herself out into the night air, wind whipping at her hair and clothes like a parachutist without a parachute, a bungee jumper without the cord, surging towards the ground. My body tensed as a tugging, falling sensation assailed my stomach, the blood draining from my face, clogging my throat, paralleling her motion, her downward direction.

  Immediately swooping down like a bird of prey, Elijah did not let his quarry crash to the ground though she was mere inches away, enough for the long tendrils of her chestnut hair to brush against the hallowed lawns as he caught her. Instead, the fallen angel gracefully swept Fi up into a close embrace and bore her aloft to safety.

  They landed not more than three metres away from where I was standing, heart lodged in my throat, hands covering my mouth in shock. Far from being scared as her feet finally touched the solid ground, Fi, on the other hand, gave a loud, excitable whoop and burst into wild laughter.

  ‘That was totally sick! Girl, you gotta try it sometime! What a rush!’ Fi’s enthusiasm rolled off her in waves, her words excitedly tripping over themselves in her haste to speak.

  ‘Are you completely mental? Have you lost what little sense you had to begin with?’ I shouted angrily. ‘Just what the hell did you think you were doing?’

  Fi’s hazel coloured eyes widened in surprise. Caught off-guard, her eyes flickered from me to the Watcher and back again. ‘What’s wro–?’

  My tone was scathing. ‘What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong! You jumped off the bell tower! Jumped. Off. Into. Thin. Air.’

  ‘The Wise One was never in any danger,’ the Watcher observed coldly.

  ‘I see. And that makes it all good?’ I said, sarcasm lacing my voice. I wasn’t convinced.

  Helplessly, Fi bit her lip.

  ‘My bad. But I wasn’t in any danger,’ she put in quickly. ‘I knew Elijah would be there to catch me. Call it a leap of faith – like in The Last Crusade.’

  ‘You are not Indiana Jones!’ I replied shortly, my eyes flashing as I continued to rage.

  Instead of being incensed by my acerbic remark, she seemed genuinely perplexed. Instantly, she reached out to grab my arm as is afraid I was about to walk away from her.

  ‘No shit, Sherlock! And I’m not Watson either ... but, hey, I managed to retrieve the next clue!’ She watched as the wind deflated from my sails, proudly holding aloft the clay tablet in her other hand. ‘Look, I know you’re upset. But, honestly, I wasn’t in any danger. I wouldn’t have jumped if I hadn’t already arranged with Elijah to catch me. I just wanted to know how it feels to be daring and ... well ... heroic. You know, like Tris in Divergent.’

  I sighed.

  ‘You’re not–’ I began but she cut me off.

  Throwing her hands up into the air in rejection, Fi retorted, ‘I know. I know. I’m not Tris but–’

  ‘Stop!’ I commanded, interrupting her. ‘Listen, okay? I was going to say that, yes, you’re not Tris ... but you don’t have to be. She’s a fictional character and you’re not. Besides, you’re so much better than her! Look at you! Look where we are! You are heroic!’

  She frowned, letting go her hold on my arm.

  ‘You’re not mad anymore?’
Fi finally asked.

  ‘Mad?’ I rolled my eyes and then looked over at the Watcher whose stillness was disconcerting. ‘Mad is what you get when your twin sister borrows the outfit you were planning to wear for the job interview of the century without telling you. But forget it. It’s not important now. No, I am not mad. I was not mad when you pulled that crazy stunt. I was petrified.’

  Fi swallowed. ‘And now?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll tell you that after we examine the clay tablet.’ My lips twisted in a wry reassurance and I held out my hand to take the tablet from her grasp. I felt, rather than saw, her sag in relief as she passed me the ancient artefact.

  It was about the size of my iPhone, no more than ten centimetres in length, containing a cuneiform inscription. I recognised the script by sight as my father had laboured over many a translation from similar relics – it was ancient Sumerian in origin.

  Incredulous, I just wondered how this ancient artefact had made its way into the bell tower of a cathedral, built more than three thousand years later, in a Russian coastal town at the farthest corner of the earth.

  ‘Can you read it? What do you see?’ whispered Fi, touching my shoulder. I turned to look at her. ‘I don’t see what you see.’

  The Watcher remained immobile as the Sphinx gazing upon the timeless desert sands. I couldn’t tell if he attended to us at all; for a moment all I could see were the whites of my sister’s eyes shining brightly in the gloom. But the gloom was so dense, her eye colour wasn’t visible.

  She shivered. ‘There’s darkness and shadow here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ My tone harsh but hushed, I felt as if someone had walked over my grave.

  ‘Look at the tablet. Your mark.’ Fi’s voice was not as faint as mine as she said sharply, ‘Even if I could understand what’s written on the tablet, I can’t read it in the dark.’

  Surprised by her words, I looked back down at the tablet in my hands and swore. The inscription was illuminated, shimmering golden – dully at first and then with a brightening strength.

  I felt a dull pressure then pain. Reflexively, I let go of the artefact.

  Lightning fast, the Watcher deftly caught the clay tablet in his hand before it could shatter on the ground. He extended one strong, powerful arm – an arm that had wielded weapon in war – and, in his open palm, held out the artefact to me, waiting patiently for me to take it from him.

  As I did, quite tentatively and with slightly shaking hands, he commented, as if to prove an earlier point, ‘The Wise One was never in any danger.’

  Not being able to contain herself, Fi gave a snort as if to say, Well, he’s got you there, but did not utter a word.

  Instead, the mark on my hand throbbed with a dull ache upon contact with the ancient artefact, but not with its usual tingling sensation of fire and ice as when linked to the Seed. There was mage craft at work but not bound to the Seed. Looking back down, I noted the cuneiform script had settled to a dull golden glow, enough to illuminate the inscription to be read.

  Gathering any stray thoughts, I focused upon the tablet and said, ‘The inscription on the tablet loosely translates as a riddle. “There is a house. One enters it blind and comes out seeing. What is it?”’

  My sister’s eyes widened. Then she crossed her arms, looked up from the artefact in my hands and frowned at me. It was a sombre frown, a formidable frown. ‘A house. So then ... Not a room ... So maybe a church? A temple? A library?’ Flinging her arm to encompass the vicinity of the holy grounds. ‘A monastery?’

  An uneasy silence fell.

  What Fi said made sense but there was something niggling at the back of my mind – I knew, somehow, that I’d heard this riddle before and it irritated me that I couldn’t recall the answer. Much to my surprise, the Watcher reached out and touched my head gently as if I were a small child.

  ‘There was another like you. He was not the first of the great thinkers in the Age of Enlightenment. Nor was he the last of the Magi, the last of the ancient and mystic Babylonians. But, like you, Wise One, he looked out on the visible and intellectual world with the same eyes.’ I gave a start, thinking of the tribute given to Newton by John Maynard Keynes, whose words the Watcher echoed, to celebrate the tercentenary of his birth. But never in my wildest dreams had I thought to be compared to the genius that was Newton, even though he was perceived as the last of the Magi in the modern age. ‘Like this Magi, you must look upon the universe and all that is in it as a riddle ... as a secret which can be read. The Creator has laid mystic clues about the world to allow a treasure hunt for those who seek truth and knowledge, Wise One. Only the worthy will be rewarded.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Fi breathed in awe at Elijah’s prophetic words.

  ‘Know that I cannot give you the answers. I can only guide you in your quest. I am bound by a covenant. For this is your trial, Wise One, and yours alone.’ He turned to look upon my sister with his erudite eyes.

  I thought I understood. Keynes had claimed that Newton believed “that these clues were to be found partly in the evidence of the heavens and in the constitution of elements ... but also partly in certain papers and traditions handed down by the brethren in an unbroken chain back to the original cryptic revelation in Babylonia. He regarded the universe as a cryptogram set by the Almighty ... By pure thought, by concentration of mind, the riddle, he believed, would be revealed to the initiate.” And Newton did read and unlock the riddle of the heavens.

  Newton sought knowledge. Knowledge from the universe. From God.

  He knew as I did ... to be ignorant was blindness. To gain knowledge was sight.

  The universe housed all the mysteries. It was our ...

  ‘Schoolhouse!’ I shouted, the excitement and the certainty building inside of me. ‘That’s the answer to the riddle! The house where one enters blind and comes out seeing is a schoolhouse.’

  Almost as if cognisant, the dull gold luminescence of the inscription fizzled out, leaving no trace behind. I had found our answer. And it had done its job – almost like the cryptic espionage ciphers that were burnt or destroyed after reading.

  ‘But there must be dozens of schools in Arkhangelsk! Are we expected to search them all?’ protested Fi. ‘Why couldn’t it have just pointed us in the right direction? Like “X marks the spot” or something?

  ‘That would have been far too easy for a trial,’ I admitted with a slight shrug. ‘But I think you already gave us the answer to that anyway. It’s in the Monastery.’

  Fi did a double-take. ‘In the Monastery?’

  ‘Well, more specifically, a Monastic School.’ I shot her a smug look as I stated, ‘The Monastic School was the most important educational institution in the early Middle Ages, lasting right up till the twelfth century with the rise of medieval universities. You’re probably thinking that all they taught was of a spiritual or scriptural focus. But these schools didn’t just teach theology; they taught the Classics, philosophy, and even science. And one of the sciences significant to the monasteries would have been astronomy.’

  Fi stood staring up at the old monastery and gave a deep sigh. ‘Fail. I’ve done some pretty dubious things in my time, but I can definitely say that I’ve never thought of breaking into a school. In fact, that’s probably been the farthest thing from my mind ... especially one that’s religious. Why would I? I spent too many years trying to get out of school. And, for that matter, I’ve never once even thought of breaking into a sacred place.’

  ‘What about in Paris? You and Gabriel?’ I retorted, reminding her of her desperation to see the Seed in the Crypt next to Notre-Dame Cathedral.

  ‘With the exception of the Crypt,’ she hastily added.

  With a dry smile, I teased, ‘And the Garden of Eden.’

  Fi shot me a look as if to say, Whose side are you on anyway? but I ignored her.

  After a moment, my sister said, ‘Well, I hate to tell you this, even though I’ve snuck into places – you know, nightclubs and the like
– I’ve got no experience of breaking into anything. I could probably hack their computers – do priests use computers? – but that’s about it. So how are we going to get in to this Monastic School?’

  ‘Well–’ I began, but was abruptly cut off.

  The Watcher intoned, ‘Around the monastery, you will notice the remains of the earthen rampart that surrounded the old town and was part of its fortifications. Walking along the rampart will be most illuminating; you will get a pleasant view from different perspectives on this ancient, small Russian town.’

  Fi scoffed. ‘Yeah, riiight. If I could see in the dark, maybe.’

  Rather than ignoring her, the Watcher turned his dark eyes upon my sister and said, ‘You do not see because you do not choose to see, Wise One. You must open your eyes to the world around you.’

  There was something in his tone that made me shiver but, looking over at Fi, I noted her extremely pale face. All the blood had drained away. And it seemed as if her legs weakened under her, but she made herself stay upright by sheer force of will.

  ‘How do you–? Who told you–?’ she stammered.

  But in that moment, the fallen angel hurled himself into the air and against the stars, providing no answer.

  ‘What is it?’ I whispered, reaching out to touch my twin’s trembling form.

  ‘Finn,’ she replied bitterly. ‘Those were his very words to me.’

  I looked astonished. ‘I’m sorry. Elijah seems to know things. I don’t–’

  ‘It’s okay.’ She sounded as if it was anything but okay.

  For a moment, she stared uncertainly into the shadows of night. Nothing moved within them. And, for all I knew, Elijah had abandoned us.

  Her voice stronger, Fi repeated, ‘It’s okay. The Watcher reminded me of something ...’

  ‘I’ll bet. Finn. Louis. Semyaza.’

  Fi’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yes. No ... What I mean to say is that he reminded me of Satis House.’

  ‘Yes, I know–’ I began when she pointed it out to me.