‘He’s not coming,’ Salamiel said. ‘We’ve been here half an hour, Daniel.’
‘He will come,’ Daniel snapped. ‘Have a little patience for once, will you!’
Gadreel sat down next to the silent Penemue on one of the pews. ‘Something could have happened to him. How could we know?’ She stroked Penemue’s arm, who looked at her and smiled. ‘We should try to break through the gate to the crypt.’
‘Don’t do anything,’ Daniel said. ‘Just trust me.’
‘Trust you!’ Salamiel laughed. ‘You have no idea where Shem is. All you have is your blind faith and endless hope!’
‘Oh, just shut it for once, will you!’ Daniel snapped. ‘I’m sick of your sarcasm!’
A voice echoed down the church. ‘Bickering, bickering! You are like children in a playground.’
The entire company scrambled to their feet. A tall figure stood silhouetted in the doorway to the church, limned in tawny light.
‘Shem!’ Daniel cried, unable to resist glancing triumphantly at Salamiel.
Shem sauntered down the aisle towards them. ‘Not kept you waiting too long, I hope.’
‘Not at all,’ Salamiel drawled. ‘We’ve been quite the tourists, enjoying the sights.’
Shem walked past them all to Salamiel and draped an arm around his shoulders. ‘We must get to work. Where’s the crypt?’
‘Over here,’ Salamiel said. Together they walked towards the gate.
Daniel felt hurt that Shemyaza had gone to Salamiel rather than himself. Salamiel was the trouble-maker, who asked awkward questions and argued for the sake of it. Why had Shem singled him out for affectionate gestures?
The group assembled around Shemyaza at the gate, Daniel loitering moodily at the rear. Shemyaza examined the lock. ‘We need the key-keeper to open this.’
‘There’s no-one here,’ Daniel said.
‘Of course there is,’ Shemyaza replied. ‘There is always a key-keeper.’ He pushed through the bewildered group and went to stand, hands on hips, before the altar.
Daniel was surprised to see that a bent, old priest was standing in the shadows near the pulpit. Had he been there all along, listening to their arguments? Daniel felt a shock course through his body. For the briefest of moments, he was sure that the old man was Mani. Then, the priest took a step forward from the shadows, and Daniel realised he was mistaken.
‘I am Shemyaza,’ Shem announced.
The old man shuffled forward. He was dressed in a long, faded black cassock, his face as brown and wrinkled as a raisin. ‘I am John,’ he said, ‘and I have prepared the way for your coming, Lord.’ He raised his hands and champed his lips over his toothless gums. When he spoke, his aged voice boomed out with the strength of a fanatic. ‘The true light that enlightens every man has come into the world and the world was made through him. Yet the world knows him not. From him we will all receive grace and truth.’
Shemyaza nodded imperceptibly, faintly smiling. With one giant step, he drew close to the old man and enfolded him in a long-armed embrace. The shabby black figure all but disappeared within Shemyaza’s hold.
Nobody spoke. Daniel knew instinctively that John had been waiting in this place a long time for this moment; all his life, as had his father before him. The line of the generations appeared before Daniel’s mind’s eye: fathers and sons disappearing into infinity. Two thousand years of waiting.
Shem released John from his embrace and stepped back. Daniel thought he could hear a faint sound as of rushing water, accompanied by the beat of hand-drums and ululating cries of tribal women.
‘I say to you,’ Shemyaza murmured, ‘that the hour has come when all the dead and the living will hear the voice of the fire and of the waters, the light and the darkness.’ His voice was low, but rang clearly throughout the old building. ‘For as the father had the light of life, so I, his son, also have light. Do not marvel at this, for the hour of judgement is here.’
The exchange had been like a ceremony, played out with ritual responses. Daniel knew now that they were in the right place, and that the entrance to the Chambers of Light lay very close.
John lifted his chin, and took a key from a chain around his waist. ‘Come, Lord, I will open the gate for you.’
Daniel glanced at the statue of John the Baptist. Was it possible?
The old man went slowly to the gate and here spent some minutes fiddling with the key and the lock, but eventually, he turned to the group with a smile and pushed the iron gate open. Shemyaza nodded respectfully to the priest, then led the way down the steps. As Daniel squeezed past John, he looked at the old man. He was still chewing upon nothing, his red-rimmed, rheumy eyes gazing at the rafters overhead, his fingers clasping and unclasping before his chest. It was almost as if he was totally senile, unaware of what was happening around him, and had played his part through instinct alone.
The steps were damp and worn, and led down to an ante-chamber that issued onto two low-ceilinged rooms. The air was moist and foul-smelling. On the right, the group discovered a musty vault that housed a single, unadorned tomb. The floor was submerged beneath half an inch of oily water. They could see an iron gate in the far wall, which appeared to lead to some kind of gully from which water was leaking into the crypt. Gadreel suggested that at some point the gully must have led to the holy Nile, before its course had deviated away from Old Babylon.
Shemyaza looked around this chamber briefly, then ducked back into the ante-chamber. He entered the second room which lay directly ahead of the steps. Daniel was the first to follow. His eyes were drawn immediately to a slit in the opposite wall, where the rays of the evening sun shone through in dim, gilded beams. They illumined a small room that had a flagged floor covered in a layer of gritty dust. But at least the room was dry. Overhead, the ceiling was comprised of enormous, oblong slabs of stone. In the centre of the chamber lay what appeared to be a well-head, surrounded by a low wall of rough stones and covered by a black iron grille. Shemyaza walked to the well and beckoned for the others to draw near.
‘This is what we’ve been looking for,’ Shemyaza said.
Daniel peered at the well. He could see that it was filled with dry earth, nearly to the rim of the surrounding wall. A strong musty smell rose out of it that reminded Daniel of a long-abandoned house.
Salamiel laughed. ‘At last: the ceremonial gateway to the Chambers of Light.’ He clearly intended it to be a joke.
‘That’s right,’ Shemyaza said.
‘But…’
Shemyaza silenced Salamiel with a wave of his hand. ‘Look at the floor around the well-head. Do you see those rough slots? There are six of them, and that’s where Qimir’s swords will be inserted. I trust you have them with you, Gadreel.’
Gadreel nodded. ‘Yes. But there are seven swords…’
Shemyaza ignored her observation. ‘I want you all to sit around the well in a circle, each of you behind one of the slots.’ No-one moved. ‘What are you waiting for?’ He glanced at the window behind him. ‘We don’t have much time.’
The group assembled hesitantly around the well and sat down as directed.
‘Where are you going to sit?’ Daniel asked.
Shemyaza did not answer, but gestured for Gadreel to distribute the swords. She took them carefully from her back-pack and handed them around the circle to the others. Shemyaza took the largest sword from her and positioned himself, standing, behind Salamiel.
An air of urgency had come to fill the room, a tense expectation. No-one spoke.
‘Place your swords into the ground,’ Shemyaza said.
Silently, the group obeyed. A couple of the insertion points were blocked by ancient dirt and it required some effort to pierce them with the swords, but eventually, all six blades rose firmly from the ground.
Shemyaza nodded approvingly. ‘Now, place both your hands upon the pommel of your sword.’
Once this was done, he withdrew the key crystal from his pocket and leaned forward to place it upon the centre of the grille covering the well. Then he straightened his spine, staring straight ahead, the seventh sword held upright before his face. Conjuring a halo of golden fire from his hair, the last of the sunlight poured around him and struck the crystal.
The light entered and empowered the stone. Seven laser-like radials, of different colours, spat out from the crystal and struck each of the swords, so that every one of the bearers became bathed in a specific, pure hue of the spectrum. Shemyaza’s ray passed right over Salamiel’s head. He was enveloped in golden light, while beneath him, Salamiel was wreathed in a brilliant crimson glare. Daniel was enwrapped in green light, Gadreel in violet, Penemue in orange, Pharmaros in indigo and Kashday in blue.
‘Whatever happens,’ Shemyaza said, ‘do not let go of the swords.’
Now, the crystal began to emit seven distinct tones that, in turn, were absorbed by the swords. The blades vibrated in the hands that encircled them.
‘Keep your hold firm,’ Shemyaza said, ‘and concentrate on directing the energy you are receiving into the ground through the swords. The light around you is your colour. The crystal has chosen the sphere of your soul. Flow with it. Use it. Let the light draw substance from your spirit. The guardians of the upper gateway will see only the colours of the heavens.’
The resonance of the tones grew louder, until they became a dissonance. The highest note was a shrieking stridency, which was almost ultra-sonic, while the lowest rumbled inaudibly in the chests of the avatars. The effect was extreme, but oddly harmonious.
Daniel’s teeth were set on edge by the resonance. He wanted to let go of his sword, but forced himself to keep a grip. Presently, he noticed that the vibration now seemed to have extended beyond the sword, because the ground beneath him had begun to shake. He looked around himself and met the surprised glances of the other avatars. Only Shem seemed unmoved. Plaster flakes sifted down from the walls while, overhead, the massive blocks of stone in the ceiling shook ominously. If even one of them should shake loose, the entire group would be crushed to death. Daniel found that his lips were stretched into a rictus grin. His hands seemed welded to the sword.
The intensity of the crystal lights grew brighter and the hum of the tones reach a painful crescendo that passed beyond the range of sound audible to living ears. Daniel felt as if he was being electrified, as if every atom within his body oscillated to the clamorous frequency.
I can’t hold on, he thought. I’m going to burn alive, spontaneously combust.
His muscles were spasming throughout his entire body: it felt like the pulsing tides of a thousand synchronous orgasms. Daniel soared on the overwhelming extremes of terror and ecstasy. When he opened his eyes, his vision was completely obscured by a vibrant green veil of light. Around him, the eyes of his companions had become burning orbs of coloured fire: gold, orange, crimson, violet, indigo, blue. Their mouths, like his, were stretched unnaturally wide to emit soundless cries. Streams of ether poured from their lips, filling the air with a boiling, multi-coloured mist. The sight was terrifying, but peculiarly beautiful. Now, Daniel knew what it was to be truly Grigori. He closed his eyes again and forced himself to flow with the energy, conduct it into the ground.
Gradually, the trembling ground began to settle and the tones started to die down. The tremor lasted only for another minute. After the rumbling had fallen silent, a sound like that of shifting sand hissed out from the well-head. The group opened their eyes. The coloured lights had vanished; the chamber was barely illumined by the dying sunlight.
Shemyaza rubbed his face; he looked exhausted. ‘You may let go of your swords now.’
Daniel tried to release his grip on the pommel but found that his hands were rigid and immobile. Everyone else appeared to be experiencing the same problem.
Shemyaza reached over Salamiel’s shoulder and removed the crystal from the well-head. The hold upon the avatars was released, and a powerful last discharge of energy threw them all backwards onto the floor.
Daniel was the first to stand up and nearly fell down again immediately. He felt so dizzy that whenever he tried to walk in one direction he found he was staggering in another.
‘Don’t worry,’ Shemyaza said, smiling at Daniel’s reeling attempts to walk. ‘The disorientation will be short-lived.’ He put his arm around Daniel’s shoulders and supported him to the well-head. ‘Look, our work has been successful.’
The soil which had filled the shaft was fast disappearing downwards, as if a plug far below had been removed. Daniel shook his head in wonder. ‘The vibrations have cleared the shaft.’
The other avatars were rising slowly to their feet, brushing dust from their clothes. Like Daniel, they seemed dazed.
Daniel’s dizziness had abated now. He pulled away from Shemyaza’s arm and leaned on the low wall to peer down into the lightless vertical tunnel. ‘We haven’t got to go down there, have we? There are no hand-holds. How could we manage it?’
‘You don’t have to go down there,’ Shemyaza replied. ‘But I do.’
Daniel glanced up in surprise. He had envisaged that their journey into the Chambers of Light would involve visualisation. ‘This is absurd! You can’t go down there alone. Surely the journey through the gateway must be astral rather than physical?’
Shemyaza shook his head. ‘No, the chambers are physical and so is their entrance, although some astral travel is involved. I shall go into them alone.’
Salamiel looked over Shemyaza’s shoulder. ‘So, are you just going to jump down there, or should we have brought a rope?’
Shemyaza turned round slowly and stared unblinkingly into Salamiel’s eyes. ‘Neither of those things.’
Salamiel pulled a quizzical face. ‘What, then?’
Shemyaza closed his eyes for a moment, then swallowed. ‘In order for me to enter the Chambers, all physical life must leave my body.’
Salamiel stared at him mutely, while Daniel cried in a shrill voice, ‘What?’
Salamiel spoke harshly. ‘More to the point, why?’
‘Remember the time of Solomon, when he called upon the knowledge of our race to build his temple.’
Salamiel nodded. ‘You might say I was instrumental in shaping that noble edifice. What of it?’
‘At the temple’s heart, lay the shrine to the holiest of holies. It contained the altar to the creator, the grand architect. You must remember that any initiates who wished to enter the shrine were required to go completely naked. They were purified in the sacred baths and all hair removed from their bodies. To be in the presence of such power, they had to return to a symbolic natural state. Their souls were laid bare before the source of all. The ritual was about purity.’
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.