The group elected to spend the night in the Valley of Stones, and here they erected their tents. Jalal built a fire and together with his grand-mother set about preparing a meal. The other Yarasadi sat around smoking and laughing, but their laughter sounded forced. Everyone felt tense.
Shem sat down on the ground and asked Daniel to massage his shoulders. ‘Invoking ancient entities is bad for the bones!’ he said.
Daniel could not share Shem’s light-heartedness. As he dug his fingers into Shem’s muscles he said, ‘I should have guessed the Elder was offering me the key. Mani virtually said so. What would have happened if I’d had the sense to take it in my vision? Would the key have manifested at Qimir’s camp?’
‘We’ll never know,’ Shem said, reaching up to squeeze one of Daniel’s hands. ‘But we’ve found it now, and the next stage must begin.’
Salamiel sauntered up, his expression tight. ‘It’s at times like that that our beloved Shemyaza shows his true colours,’ he said.
‘His true power,’ Daniel amended.
‘You knew exactly what to say to the guardian, didn’t you,’ Salamiel said. ‘Why did you wait until Daniel got attacked before you said anything?’
‘He didn’t know!’ Daniel said, before Shem could answer. ‘The Elders were working through him, then. He spoke with their voice.’
Salamiel snorted contemptuously. ‘Oh, of course.’ He laughed to lessen the sting of his sarcasm. ‘Why did you refer to yourself as Shaitan, Shem? What’s the significance of that?’
Shem shrugged. ‘Rabisu would not have recognised the name Shemyaza. Shaitan is a local form of my name. It seemed obvious to use it. As for knowing what to say, it wasn’t the Elders speaking through me. Something much more prosaic.’ He turned and glanced over his shoulder at Daniel. ‘Remember when I entered the underworld in Cornwall? I was asked a similar question and by some miracle — or perhaps divine coincidence — got the answer right.’
Daniel frowned. ‘I don’t follow.’
‘I said that I and the serpent of the underworld were one. It’s all the same thing, really. God, king, serpent, light, chamber, keeper and key. All one. They key had to be mine. I’m learning the script. It’s not that original.’
Salamiel laughed again. ‘You are unbelievable at times.’
‘Many people have thought so,’ Shem answered dryly, ‘but despite unbelief, I still exist.’
While they waited for their meal, Gadreel and Salamiel wanted to examine the key. Shem handed Gadreel the crystal. She turned it in her fingers, watching the colours, refracted by firelight spinning over her hands. ‘It holds all the light of the world,’ she said, ‘and it feels so unbelievably cold. Where did it come from, and how?’
‘It’s what we call an apport,’ Daniel said. ‘An artefact that simply manifests out of thin air. The arrival of this one was more spectacular than I’ve ever seen, though. The key itself was never at the cave. We simply had to perform the right actions there, say the right words for it to be summoned.’
‘Then where was it before?’ Gadreel asked. ‘It must have been somewhere. If we knew the answer to that, I feel we would be approaching the answer to everything.’
‘Yes,’ Daniel agreed. ‘Unfortunately, nobody really knows the science behind the appearance of apports.’
Gadreel pulled a wry face. ‘Perhaps it will disappear just as easily.’
Daniel shrugged. ‘It’s possible, but it has been summoned for a purpose. We have to suppose it will remain with Shem until that purpose is realised.’
‘Presumably, there’s a niche somewhere,’ Salamiel said, ‘that the crystal fits into. The gate to the Chambers of Light? All we have to do now is find out where they are.’
‘Are they here?’ Gadreel asked Shem.
He shrugged. ‘I’ll go and investigate in a while, after we’ve eaten.’
‘Shall I come with you?’ Daniel said.
Shem shook his head. ‘No, I want to do this alone.’
‘But it might not be safe,’ Daniel argued. ‘Who knows what’s wandering around these mountains. All it would take is for you to go into trance and anything could jump you — spiritual or human. Let me test the waters, Shem. You were never averse to that before.’
Shem shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Whatever…’
After they had eaten, the group sat around their horses in a circle, and passed round a flagon of rough wine. Conversation was easy, to the point where Daniel almost forgot why they were there. He listened to the musical language of the Yarasadi, watching Tahira and Gadreel placing brass bowls of water around them in a wide ring, in which floated crushed flower petals. This was their protection against whatever stalked the night. Once the ritual was complete, Tahira sat down among the men and began to regale the company with colourful tales of her youth, most of which sounded like fantasy, but perhaps were not. Daniel lay on his side, his head supported by one hand, staring at the fire, while Tahira’s lilting voice washed over him. The fire held them in a capsule of radiance. Beyond it was utter blackness, and the sigh of the wind against loose stones. The horses munched their fodder, snorting and blowing into the food, striking the ground with their hooves. Daniel almost fell asleep; his mind wandered, until in a hypnogogic state, he became aware of slow-moving, stooping forms hovering beyond the sanctuary of firelight. Drowsily, he acknowledged that these ancient mountains would be full of spiritual entities, who would be drawn by the fire and the brighter lights of living beings.
Then Gadreel snapped, ‘What was that?’ She sat upright, her nostrils flexing like a cat’s.
Daniel felt as if a cold wave had crashed over him. Reality came surging back and the sound of the flames suddenly crackled wildly in his ears. The horses had become nervous, flinging up their heads and whinnying to one another. Daniel sensed that there was something more solid than spirit forms beyond the fire, but they were not entirely human either.
Tahira sucked in her breath through her teeth, and hissed, ‘Djinn!’
Gadreel stood up and peered into the darkness.
‘You placed the usual protections,’ Salamiel said, standing up slowly. ‘We should be safe… surely.’ The wind played with his hair so that it appeared uncannily like shifting flames. He could have been a djinn himself.
‘I hope so,’ Gadreel murmured, ‘but this is strong, very strong.’
Daniel said, ‘Where’s Shem? I can’t see him.’
Everyone looked around. ‘Gone!’ Salamiel said. ‘The fool!’
‘He’s slipped the leash, Daniel,’ Gadreel said. ‘He has gone looking for Kharsag’
Daniel groaned. ‘I can’t believe he’s done this! He called out. ‘Shem! Where are you?’
‘Sssh!’ Gadreel hissed, grabbing hold of Daniel’s arm. ‘Be quiet. Don’t alert whatever is out there.’
‘I think it’s already alert,’ Salamiel said softly.
‘Just be quiet!’ Gadreel said, raking her hair back from her face. Her eyes looked wild in the fire-light. Tahira stood gaunt beside her, muttering at the darkness, her shawl pulled tight against her lean body.
‘Jalal,’ Gadreel whispered. ‘Calm the horses. If they take flight, we will be stranded in this place.’
Jalal and the other Yarasadi guards obeyed her word, although Daniel suspected that if the animals panicked, there would be little anyone could do to restrain them.
For a few moments, everyone held their breath and listened, but the only sound was the crackle of the fire and the susurration of the wind. Even the horses had gone quiet, their postures rigid and alert.
Daniel’s flesh crawled. Whatever stalked them had come looking for Shemyaza; he was sure of it. Perhaps it was fortunate the hunter had found only the fire. Now, he could hear a soft, crunching sound as of light feet pacing over the stones of the valley floor. It sounded as if it wasn’t far from where they were all sitting, but he could see nothing. ‘Can you hear that?’ he asked Gadreel.
She narrowed her eyes, concentrating, holding her hair back from her ears with both hands. ‘Yes.’
‘Children of the fire,’ Tahira hissed, ‘the evil ones.’
Her words seemed to act as an invocation. Some yards away from the group, half a dozen new fires popped into life, glowing at ground level, before leaping towards the sky. Purple-blue flames danced in the dirt. ‘Ai,’ breathed Tahira. ‘They come. They smell us.’
The horses began to shuffle again, although it seemed they were too petrified to try and escape. Gradually, tall, motionless shapes could be seen forming within the spectral flames. They illumined the small brass bowls of water and petals, and then the water began to bubble and steam, the flowers to curl up into crisps.
‘Yai!’ Gadreel yelled. ‘Tahira! The swords! Quickly!’
She and the old woman ran to Gadreel’s baggage, which had been taken off her horse for the night. Frantically, they tore at the wrappings and the swords spilled out in a clatter onto the stony ground. Gadreel took the largest blade and began to run around the camp in a circle, dragging the sword’s point in the dirt to create a shallow channel. Tahira scuttled along behind her with the six other swords, which she plunged at intervals into the ground. Each time she struck the earth, silver sparks shot out from the blades.
Gasping and breathless, Gadreel and Tahira ran back to the others who had now all gathered in a huddle in the middle of the circle, the shivering horses in their midst.
‘Will it be enough protection?’ Salamiel asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Gadreel snapped back. ‘Pray!’
The Yarasadi had all begun to mutter a chant, their bodies stooped into postures of alertness, ready to defend themselves if necessary.
Tall figures stepped forth from the blue flames. Daniel watched them examine the swords from a distance, as if considering whether the defences could be breached. The figures were robed in black, faces and heads covered but for the eyes, which glinted wetly. Then one of the creatures elected to test the power of the swords. It loped towards the nearest one, somehow transforming into a thick, twisting skein of red-shot black smoke before it touched the blade. Upon contact, the sword emitted a sound like a gigantic tuning fork and vibrated in the ground. The creature was hurled backwards. Daniel saw it regain a more humanoid shape. Its robes had fallen from its head, and what he saw resembled a man who had been hideously burned. The flesh was black and smoking, only the piercing amber eyes uncharred.
For what seemed like an eternity, the djinn assaulted the protective swords, but on each occasion were repelled by their power. Those within the circle sat close together, holding hands and uttering the same charm of protection. Daniel was sure he had never experienced such terror. The djinn were so persistent; they never tired. And he could feel their passionless determination. They were hunters, but he had a suspicion they were seeking live captives. Being captured alive by the djinn might be worse than death at their hands. Daniel hoped that Shem was safe. It was impossible for him to try and concentrate on picking up Shem’s presence psychically. Perhaps he was meant to leave them. Perhaps, if Shem was here, the djinn would be stronger somehow. Daniel knew that Shem’s power had two sides to it; the dark side was the lord of djinn.
Long before dawn, the group’s firewood supply ran out, and they had to watch in dread as the flames sank lower, until only a crawling smoulder was left in their midst. The tall purple-blue flames outside the circle gave off no heat and gradually a numbing chill paralysed flesh and bone. Daniel could no longer feel his fingers or toes. Would they die of cold before their attackers gave up?
When the first pale rays of dawn came to the stony valley, the djinn transformed themselves into smoky vapours and purled upwards into the sky. For nearly half an hour afterwards, everyone was too frightened to move and sat shivering in the circle. Nobody spoke. The horses were covered in a cold foam of sweat, their eyes rolling in their sockets.
Eventually, Gadreel got up and went to the edge of the circle where she stood, hands on hips, staring out beyond the swords. After a few moments, she turned to the others. ‘It’s safe now. Some of you go and find some more fire wood. It’s too cold. We need warmth. Jalal, get someone to help you rub down the horses. We must walk them, warm them up.’
While a couple of the Yarasadi ventured warily out of the circle, Tahira went to gather up the swords.
‘Are they spent?’ Gadreel asked.
Tahira shrugged and held out the largest sword to her, which Gadreel took in her hand, hefting it like a familiar, well-loved weapon. She turned it this way and that, staring at the blade.
‘Well?’ Salamiel asked. ‘Will they be of use to us again?’
Gadreel pulled a puzzled face. ‘I’m not sure. It’s almost as if their power has retreated into them in some way. They don’t feel empty, but neither do they feel… alive.’
‘So what do we do now?’ Salamiel asked. ‘Look for Shem or wait here for him? Do you suppose he was attacked by djinn himself?’
‘I don’t know,’ Gadreel answered. ‘What do you think, Daniel?’
Daniel screwed up his face in vexation. ‘I don’t think he was, but it’s difficult to tell. I don’t sense he’s in danger, but neither can I trace him. The light of him has become invisible to me.’
‘Well, that’s convenient!’ Salamiel said. ‘We need to get out of here quickly, and Shem’s disappeared!’
‘Perhaps I should go and look for him,’ Daniel said.
‘No,’ Gadreel snapped. ‘We mustn’t split up.’
‘Then we’ll all go!’
Gadreel shook her head. ‘No. We’ll wait for him here. He knows where we are.’
Salamiel sighed. ‘Well I, for one, am starving. Perhaps we should eat, then discuss what to do. Hopefully, Shem will have turned up again before we have to make any decisions.’
Shemyaza knew he had to go into the mountains alone. He was not afraid of pursuit or attack. He was so close now. The terrain had changed dramatically, but he felt sure in his heart that over the next ridge, round the next corner, he would find evidence of his lost home. He trudged an uphill path towards the sky, towards the vulture-girdled peaks. He felt confident that once he reached the site of the valley of Kharsag, which he knew lay so close, the answers concerning the Chambers of Light would be given to him. He could not bring Daniel with him on this journey.
Close, so very close. He could not believe there wouldn’t be some sign left of the garden, some impression left in the rocks of all that had taken place there, if only the channels cut by waterfalls.
In the distance, it seemed a faint voice called out to him. He could not pay it heed. The dawn was beginning to bloom around him, and already the land was held in that surreal stillness that heralds the transition between night and day. The light was still grey on the mountain path. Shem did not recognise the terrain, but felt that it was familiar.
Father, the prodigal has returned.
In his mind, he saw again the fertile terraces of Kharsag, and screened by cedars, the great Mountain House of Anu. He saw the orchards, their trees heavy with fruit, and the serene, robed Anannage working among them, attended by their human labourers. He saw the tall, domed glass houses of obsidian, the coruscating waterfalls and the forests of cedar that hugged the mountainsides around the valley. So beautiful. He could almost drink in the memory of tranquillity as if it was borne on the air like the perfume of a woman walking some yards ahead of him.
It could not be the same now, he knew, for the Anannage were millennia gone, but he hoped to find the ruins, ghostly outlines of habitation in the valley of the vanished settlement.
He felt swamped by an inconsolable homesickness. I want it all back! And yet, the last time he had been here, his people had burned his body and imprisoned his soul. Should he not also think of that?
Echoes of his own torment rang from crag to crag, thin as a baby’s scream. A dancing figure, cloaked in ragged feathers, seemed to shimmer just ahead of him, leading him on, a vague shadow flickering rapidly on the edge of his perception. If he blinked to clear his sight, it became more indistinct.
He took the key crystal out of his pocket and held it up before his eyes. ‘What am I doing here?’ he asked it, as if the stone would speak back to him. ‘Lead me to Kharsag.’
No voice came from the stone, but a cold whisper echoed in Shem’s mind. The crystal became warm in his hands, and a pinprick of light glowed at its heart. ‘Heaven has gone, Shemyaza.’
‘I must see where it once lay.’
The crystal glowed red, as if a heart beat deep within it. ‘Your father, Anu, brought me to this place. He was the keeper of the key, as you are now. Through my power he created Kharsag in this land of Eden. I was taken from my place by the first keeper and carried to safety when the Chambers were sealed.’
‘Was Anu the first keeper of the key?’ Shem asked.
‘There have been many keepers, many fathers. The cycles of time repeat themselves.’
‘Are the Chambers of Light here in Eden?’
‘No. Kharsag was but a replica of the Chambers in stone, leaf and life-giving water.’
‘Then where are the original Chambers? I must take you back there, open them…’ He rounded a corner, one hand against the cold rock, and there the path seemed to rise up and end. Shem’s heart beat faster. Here it was; the lip of the valley. For a moment, he stood still, fighting a maelstrom of nausea, dizziness and excitement. He put the crystal back into his pocket and made himself walk forward, pushing through the air.
He could see that a wide pathway led around the perimeter of the valley, lined with sentinel stones that did not look naturally-formed. Just a few more steps and the site of his old home would be revealed.
He faltered on the path. What had they done?
The valley lay below him; it had once been a bowl of fertility. Now, spreading wide, the land was thorned with a chaotic mass of metallic structures that looked like the tortured skeletons of monsters, their flesh long stripped away by the acid blue flames that burned like neon in the pre-dawn twilight.
What had once been Paradise was now a desolate vista of gas fields. Miles and miles of them, the land abused and gouged to surrender the sacred flame. Heaven had been destroyed.
Shem squatted down in horror, his hands pressed against the dirt. What had he expected to find: a mirage of the past, ghosts enacting bygone rituals? Not this. Certainly not this. He took the crystal from his pocket once more to ask questions, seek answers, drowning in despair.
A series of metallic clicks sounded around him. Shem stiffened. The crystal lay cold and dead in his hand, mere stone. He recognised the sound behind him. Too late… Slowly, Shemyaza looked over his shoulder.
Around the perimeter of the valley, the rising sun, which was just lifting through a valley in the peaks, reflected off a host of guns. Still forms surrounded him, their weapons all pointed right at him.
Shem felt confused. What was this? It did not form part of what he’d expected to find in this place.
A tall figure stepped forward from the shadow of a rock. It was robed in black, the head covered but for the eyes. Shem sensed the presence of corrupt power. He saw no point in rising or speaking; if this person wanted to communicate with him, they would have to initiate the contact.
For what seemed like minutes, the figure appraised him. Then spoke. ‘What is your name?’
Shem knew that these people had been looking for him. They’d known where to find him. ‘You know who I am,’ he said, sneering, ‘but who, might I ask, are you?’ He expected a blow, but the man before him made no aggressive move.
‘I represent King Nimnezzar of Babylon.’
‘Good!’ Shem stood up, and the soldiers around him moved their weapons nervously. He raised his arms. ‘There is no need for this. I have long wanted to meet the man who claims to be of sacred blood.’ He put his hands on his hips and fixed the tall robed figure with steady eyes. ‘Is your king responsible for the depredations we see in this sacred place?’ He indicated the valley behind him.
‘These are the gas fields of the king,’ answered the man.
‘I am curious as to why a man who claims to be the descendent of angels should rape their holy ground.’
The robed figure narrowed his eyes, but would not respond to the accusation. ‘You are to come with us,’ he said. ‘Shemyaza.’
‘I know that,’ Shem answered.
The robed man reached out and with a deft hand, plucked the crystal from Shem’s hold. ‘This I will look after for you.’
‘Take it,’ Shem said. ‘If Nimnezzar is what he claims to be, he should be the first to fathom its secrets.’
There was no time to think of Daniel and the others. What had happened above the ruins of Kharsag had been preordained. Shem could tell that some of the Babylonians were Magians, and that they were not afraid of him; quite the opposite. As they escorted him down the mountain path towards a waiting army truck, Shem considered that King Nimnezzar might see him as a threat and want to dispose of him or incarcerate him. How must he behave in Babylon — as a king or a captive? Shem wasn’t sure. Destiny unfurled his path before him; he could only follow it, whether in faith or not. If the Chambers of Light had once existed in Eden, they were no more. He could only hope the end of his task lay in Babylon.