Stealing Sacred Fire (48 page)

Salamiel’s eyes had taken on a
hard, yet knowing expression. ‘I see…’

‘But why do you have to die?’
Daniel asked. His voice was high. ‘Why can’t you just go naked into
the Chambers?’

Shemyaza turned to Daniel. ‘The
Chambers of Light are the original holiest of holies. Flesh itself
must be surrendered before the guardians will allow me passage.
When I enter the great crystal at the centre of the complex, I will
return to the source itself and cannot take my body with me. My
soul will travel the route through the universe, that was the path
used by the Renowned Old Ones, all those millennia ago, when they
brought the life-giving light to this planet.’

‘But the Elders had bodies,’
Daniel said. ‘Why should you have to surrender yours?’

Shemyaza rubbed his brow. ‘The
way to the stars has been closed down. You know that. The old ways
are no longer strong enough to open them up.’

‘We can’t allow you to die,’
Gadreel said. ‘Let the Chambers stayed closed and the world carry
on as it is.’

Shemyaza looked at her with a
strangely emotionless expression, although his eyes were wild with
feelings beyond mere emotion. His voice sounded hollow. ‘The light
from the Source is greater than any love you might feel for me. And
love itself goes beyond life and death.’

He’s not himself, Daniel
thought. It’s almost as if he’s possessed.

‘If you have to die,’ Pharmaros
said timidly, ‘how will you do it?’

Shemyaza turned his lambent
gaze upon her. His voice had become colder, more alien. ‘The sphere
of my solar power must be pierced. It is the only way that my life
essence will drain away. If I die by any other means, I could be
capable of regeneration.’

‘Shem,’ Daniel said gently.
‘You can’t expect one of us to do this thing to you, and Melandra
isn’t here. I doubt if even she would be able to kill you now,
anyway. So, if you insist upon this sacrifice, you must accomplish
it yourself.’ He thought he had Shemyaza trapped now. If he was
crazy enough to stab himself, the others could act immediately and
save him. At this point, Daniel was convinced Shemyaza had lost his
mind.

‘That’s right,’ Salamiel said.
His face bore an expression of cynical incredulity. ‘Take your own
life, Shem. We don’t agree with this, and we won’t condone it.’

Shemyaza’s eyes widened
fiercely as he stared at Salamiel. ‘Only you are strong enough to
do it, Sal. It must be you.’

Daniel uttered a panicked, ‘No!’ which
Shemyaza ignored.

Salamiel laughed uneasily. ‘I
don’t share your madness. I can’t do it.’

Shemyaza advanced towards him,
until he was mere inches away from Salamiel’s face. ‘You think I’m
mad, but I’m not. You must face what is ordained and inevitable.
Look up to the heavens: stop staring at the ground. We are tiny
cogs in the vast machine of the universe. We have our parts to
play. You know that.’

Salamiel shook his head, and
backed away. ‘You can’t ask this of me. You can’t!’

Shemyaza followed him across
the room. ‘Kill me,’ he said, in a chilling matter-of-fact manner.
‘Pierce the sphere of Tiphareth, the solar plexus of my body, with
the seventh sword.’

For a moment, there was
silence. It seemed that Gadreel, Pharmaros, Kashday and Penemue
sensed this drama had only three actors, and they were not part of
it.

Then Salamiel said simply, ‘I
won’t. I can’t.’

‘You can.’

Daniel marched across the
chamber and put his hands upon Shemyaza’s arms. ‘Shem, wake up! You
mustn’t do this. It’s insane!’

Shemyaza smiled faintly at him.
‘I’m not insane. Don’t be selfish, Daniel. You must know in your
heart I am right.’ He picked up the sword from the ground and held
it out to Salamiel. ‘Do it, Sal. Be quick. Don’t think about
it.’

‘No!’ Daniel snatched the sword
from Salamiel’s hands. ‘I won’t let you.’

Salamiel put his hands over his
face and turned away. He looked pitiful; defeated. Shemyaza was a
pylon of power before him. ‘After the deed is done, you must put
the crystal key into my hands and cast me into the pit. Then, you
must all go the Sphinx and await the dawn of the new epoch.’

Salamiel lowered his hands and
spoke in a cracked voice. ‘Why me, Shem? Why? Are you trying to
punish me for questioning your actions?’

Shemyaza shook his head and
plucked the sword from Daniel’s hands. ‘No. I have chosen you
because you are the strongest of my companions. You always have
been.’

‘Then find somebody stronger,’
Salamiel snapped.

Shemyaza merely stared at him
in silence, as the seconds ticked by. Salamiel punched the air, and
uttered a choked sob. His face crumpled, his eyes leaked tears. The
sight made Daniel feel nauseous. He sensed that Salamiel had
already accepted that the task would ultimately fall to him.
Argument was futile. Daniel took a few steps backwards towards the
others, shaking his head in disbelief and horror.

Shemyaza allowed Salamiel to
weep for a while, standing before him with folded arms, the sword
drooping from one hand. He seemed utterly at peace, accepting of
what was to come.

The other avatars looked on in
stunned silence. Salamiel, always so strong and flippant, fell to
his knees before them, his shoulders shaking. The sight was
repulsive, shocking.

Shemyaza hunkered down and
placed one hand on his Salamiel’s shoulder. Salamiel visibly
attempted to collect himself, and straightened up, wiping his face
aggressively with the heels of his hands.

‘Salamiel,’ Shem murmured. ‘Why
do you weep? In the beginning, didn’t you swear to kill me if I
strayed one inch from war and revolution?’

Salamiel nodded. ‘Yes.’ His
voice was a croak. ‘But it was a long time ago and has no relevance
now.’

Shemyaza shook his head. ‘It has. I
have strayed. Now you must carry out the duty you swore under oath
to undertake. The time has come.’

‘No, it has not!’ Salamiel
cried. ‘You haven’t strayed, you have led us in strength. You have
led us here!’ His voice became more subdued. ‘And besides that, you
are my brother and I love you.’

Shemyaza’s voice also softened.
‘Then do it with love. It must be done willingly and with the
wisdom of my words in your heart.’ He stood up in the last amber
rays of the setting sun that came in through the narrow window. He
held out the sword to Salamiel, who stared at it as if in terror
for a few moments, but then took the weapon in his hands. His face
was ashen.

Shemyaza opened his shirt to
bare his torso. ‘Daniel, come here.’

‘No!’ Daniel’s denial was a
ragged wail.

‘Daniel, if you love me, come
take my arms,’ Shemyaza said. ‘Hold me firm.’

Daniel did not know what
reserve of strength or obedience enabled him to stagger up to his
beloved master, stand behind him and take hold of his arms. All he
knew was that Shemyaza meant to complete this abominable ritual,
and ultimately none of them could withstand his power or disobey
his word. Daniel felt utterly alone and empty, bereft of gods or
faith. He leaned his forehead against Shemyaza’s back, his eyes
closed tight. He felt that he too must die after this. Now was the
end to all for which they’d struggled. The ultimate sacrifice.

‘Come; love me, Salamiel. Kill
me.’

All was utterly still within
the chamber. The outside world might not exist. Then, Daniel heard
Salamiel utter a cry of rage, pain and blind determination: a cry
from the soul. Shemyaza’s body was pushed heavily backwards in a
sudden jolt and a grunt was expelled from his throat. Daniel held
on, but stumbled, so that both he and Shemyaza fell down
backwards.

Daniel lay on the dirt floor,
dazed, until Penemue came forward and silently lifted the weight
from his body. Daniel curled onto his side, into a foetal ball. His
fists were bunched before his eyes. His limbs trembled.

‘Daniel,’ he heard Gadreel say
in terrible, ragged voice. ‘It is not over. Get up.’ Her hands
curled around his wrists and attempted to straighten his arms.

Daniel whined like an injured
animal and fought her efforts to lift him to his feet. Pharmaros
came to help and through joint effort, the two women managed to
lift him up. Hanging limply between them, Daniel caught sight of
the body at his feet. He expelled a shattering cry that sounded
like the lament of a woman who had seen her only child murdered
before her.

Shemyaza lay with open eyes,
blood pulsing from the horrific wound below his ribs. It was clear
the sacred blade had done its work and that already the life force
had left him. Salamiel stood like a stooped alabaster statue, the
sword hanging from his hands. His eyes were dry, but his face held
an expression of horror so deep Daniel imagined that its gaze could
petrify the world. Salamiel’s shirt and face were spattered with
blood, a hideous parody of the crimson light that had recently
surrounded him.

‘We have to complete his
instructions,’ Gadreel said, swallowing thickly. ‘Will you help us,
Daniel?’

Daniel could neither move nor
speak, but only stare at the body on the floor. It didn’t seem like
Shem any more. It wasn’t.

The women left Daniel standing
there. Penemue and Kashday assisted them to drag Shemyaza’s body to
the mouth of the well. Gadreel leaned down and kissed Shemyaza’s
forehead, then placed the crystal in his hands, curling his fingers
around it. ‘Safe journey, my love,’ she whispered, and between
them, the four pushed the lifeless form over the edge into
darkness.

Daniel heard the soft thumps as
the body hit the sides of the well on its fall. He thought he was
about to pass out, and fell to his knees, but then his stomach
turned over and he was vomiting in great spasms onto the floor.
Gadreel came back to him and crouched down beside him. She took him
in her arms, and rocked him like a child. He could feel her tears
raining down onto his face like a deluge.

At the Sphinx, Tiy raised her
face and sniffed the air. She and Melandra were pushed up against
the left paw of the Sphinx, hemmed in by milling bodies. The
atmosphere was that of suppressed hysteria. Discordant, repetitive
music filled the night and the acid swathe of laser light. Out on
the plain, a solid mass of dancers gyrated in a tribal simplicity
to the electronic throb.

‘What is it, Tiy?’ Melandra
asked, glaring at yet another young body that pushed past her.
‘What can you sense?’

‘The seven sorrows,’ Tiy
whispered, her dry fingers curling around Melandra’s hands, which
were still crusted with the dried blood of her healed wound. ‘The
last is imminent.’ She looked her age; weak and frail.

‘Tiy, can you see Shem?’
Melandra cried. ‘Has he entered the Chambers yet?’

Tiy did not answer, but
stiffened abruptly and fell against the younger woman. Melandra
eased Tiy to her knees. Had she had a heart attack or a stroke? It
seemed that even her milky, blind eyes were full of pain and
shock.

‘Tiy? Are you all right? What’s
happened? What is it?’

Tiy felt it so clearly in the
wide landscape of her mind and heart. The chaotic sounds and
movement around her in reality faded away. All that existed was the
agonising thrust of cold, black steel. It pierced her heart. In the
terrible numbness that followed, she remembered other times when
this had happened: times throughout her life when her beloved son
had suffered, felt pain, or had committed the foulest acts of
cruelty and hatred. She had felt it then: a sword through her
heart. This was the last. The seventh sword.

Melandra watched helplessly, as
Tiy threw back her head. The tuneless, constant rhythm of the music
around them seemed at once obscene and intrusive. The jostling
bodies were mindless, soulless and shallow. Melandra despised them
all.

Then, without warning of any
kind, the sound system cut out and the great spot-lights and
sweeping laser beams popped into darkness. Silence and stillness
descended like a white blanket of fog. The pyramids alone remained
illuminated, with their own stellar light. The crowd froze, looked
around themselves, nervous and scared.

Tiy’s fragile body arched in
Melandra’s hold, and then expelled an unearthly screech, so loud it
could be heard across the whole of Giza. The cry seemed endless;
the soul-sound of grief and pain. It entered like a dart into the
heart of every member of the crowd; young girls in ribbons and
lycra; old stalwarts of the festival scene in denim and leather;
flamboyant ravers daubed in neon body-paint. Silence and stillness
were absolute in the echoing wake of the lament. Not even a child
whined in the star-lit darkness. Then Tiy drew in a great breath
and screamed, ‘Pan Medes! Pan Medes! The Great King is dead!’

It was a cry that echoed across
Egypt and the Mediterranean. It spiralled around the lofty masts of
passing ships and came to rest in the heart of Arcadia itself. The
earth shuddered.

The
Chambers of Light

The journey of the soul was not a fall.
To Shemyaza, it was like waking up from a dream, for what
surrounded him now seemed more real than memory.

He stood on the shores of a
vast lake between two cyclopean columns of black basalt, and
silhouetted against the evening sky, Shemyaza could see an island.
Reaching out to either side, he ran his hands up and down the cold
stone of the pillars, feeling for any encoded message. The smooth
surfaces were adorned with pictograms, more ancient than the
earliest Egyptian motifs, incorporating circles, lines and dots.
The columns felt real to Shemyaza’s touch, even though he was in
the astral realm. They delivered a message to him, but not through
any carved glyph. A soundless duet boomed through his mind:

‘Here in Zep-tepi, the first
place: we are the Pillars of Life, of Adam and Eve, Joachim and
Boaz. Duality in stone; the foundation. For does not your name,
Shemyaza, mean the Pillar?’