Journey Into the Flame: Book One of the Rising World Trilogy

by T. R. Williams

  “It doesn’t appear that any children were killed,” Chetan observed.

  “Looks like that’s all we can be thankful for,” Sylvia said. “But how and why they were spared, I don’t know.”

  Confronted by the scenes of devastation and chaos, Logan, Sylvia, and Chetan, along with the others in the SCC, who had saved most of the world from a similar fate, felt no jubilation. They were left to ponder what they might have done differently to reprogram satellite fourteen in time.

  Logan turned from the screens and looked down at Valerie’s face. “Where are those medics?” he called out. Valerie was getting colder by the minute, and her breathing was weakening.

  Suddenly, all three sets of doors to the SCC opened. Logan looked around anxiously for any sign of the medics, but only WSA agents filed into the room. They were led by Salid Khan, the man Chetan held in low regard. He was a short but confident-looking man with brown skin and a goatee. His shiny bald head seemed too large for his diminutive physique.

  “Secure this area!” Khan shouted as he walked over to Logan and the others. “None of you is authorized to be in here. You will have a lot of explaining to do to Director Ramplet about why members of the WCF have illegally entered a WSA-secured facility.”

  As Agent Khan spoke with Chetan and the other two SCC staff members trying to assess the situation, Sylvia quietly picked up Andrea’s and Lucius’s PCDs and put them in her pocket. Taking Sylvia’s cue, Logan stood and casually walked over to the frequency device, which still lay near Lucius’s body. He stepped on it, breaking it into several pieces. Then he grabbed one of the fragments and put it into his backpack. Sylvia gave him an approving look. They were not about to let the device fall into the hands of the WSA intact.

  Just as Logan knelt back down next to Valerie, a WSA medical team burst through the doors. Khan directed them to Valerie, and Logan moved aside as they rolled their gurney over. They took Valerie’s vitals and lifted her onto the gurney. They started to roll it away.

  Logan grabbed the gurney, stopping the medics. “Where are you taking her?”

  Khan walked over, bristling with anger. “First she will be treated at the local hospital. Then she will go to one of our facilities. She has a great deal to explain to Mr. Ramplet.”

  “We’ll explain our actions to the senior staff of the WCF,” Sylvia said, joining the conversation. “Meanwhile, why don’t you call your senior staff and explain to them how you let these terrorists walk right into your facility and deploy a weapon that has likely killed hundreds of thousands of people?” Khan’s eyes narrowed. “Even after we warned you what was going on!”

  Just then, Logan’s PCD vibrated, indicating an incoming message. It had been sent an hour ago, but strangely, he was only receiving it now. He looked at the messenger ID. It was from Mr. Perrot. “Give us a moment,” Logan said to Khan, taking Sylvia by the arm and leading her to the other side of the room. He gestured to Chetan to join them, then played the message that had come in. It was very garbled. “Tra . . . ed. Jogi de . . . d. Plea . . . H . . . p.” Logan played the message a few more times. “The first word could be ‘trapped,’ ” he said.

  “The next part sounds like ‘Jogi is dead,’ ” Sylvia said softly.

  Logan nodded. “ ‘Please help’ seems to be the last part.”

  “Would you like us to help your lady friend or not?” Khan asked impatiently from across the room. “Make up your minds.”

  Logan and Sylvia turned back and looked at Khan. Logan didn’t want to leave Valerie, but he knew she would want him to help her father. “Go with her,” he said to Sylvia. “You need to make sure she’s all right. I’ll deal with things here.”

  With a nod, Sylvia ran after Valerie and the medical team, who were leaving the SCC.

  “Is there some way we can track Mr. Perrot’s PCD?” Logan asked Chetan.

  “We should be able to, provided it is still active,” Chetan said. “Wherever he is, there seems to be interference of some kind.”

  Logan followed Chetan to a control console, where he connected Logan’s PCD to an interface and began analyzing the information.

  “Logan!” Alex interrupted, his image suddenly appearing on one of the video monitors. “We just received word that Director Ramplet is on the run. Turns out that Gretchen woman worked directly for him.”

  Logan was no longer surprised. He stood silent for a moment, gathering his composure. “This isn’t over yet, Alex,” he said in a determined voice. “Looks like you’re in charge for now, and I’m going to need a few things. Are you ready to take all of this down?”

  Alex nodded.

  A few minutes later, Logan ended his call and took a deep breath. Most of the world had been spared an inconceivable tragedy. Most of the world. Not everyone. Charlie, Jogi, and Burke had given their lives, along with tens of thousands of people on the east coast of the NAF. Mr. Perrot and Valerie, what if they don’t . . . Logan did not finish his thought. He couldn’t allow himself to be beset by regrets, fears, and worries. He had to push through, just as the Satraya Flame had taught him. He had to find Mr. Perrot, and if that involved confronting Simon, so be it. He welcomed the opportunity. A face-off that had begun with their fathers was now destined to end with them.

  “Banaras,” Chetan suddenly said. “The message came from Banaras, India.”

  61

  Knowing how to start something must be balanced with knowing when to stop.

  Be wary of habits that can turn into addictions.

  —THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

  BANARAS, INDIA, 10:30 A.M. LOCAL TIME, FREEDOM DAY

  The WCF transport plane that Alex had arranged brought Logan to the city of Banaras, the place from which they had received Mr. Perrot’s last transmission. Chetan had connected Logan’s PCD to the Vault satellites so that he could track Mr. Perrot’s faint and intermittent signals. The signals led Logan to the Ganges, where he hired a boat to continue his search. He sat at the front of the ten-foot-long rustic watercraft as its helmsman, whose name was Sinjee, maneuvered through the river traffic past the many ghats along the banks. With the wind blowing through his hair, Logan took a drink from his water bottle and watched the people still celebrating Freedom Day, unaware of the catastrophic events on the other side of the world.

  “Slow down!” Logan yelled over the roar of the motors. He’d just received another trace signal. “Pull the boat into that part of the shore, to that building over there.”

  He swung his backpack over his shoulder and disembarked onto the steps of Manikarnika Ghat. He recalibrated his PCD, finding the direction in which he needed to head. After navigating through the crowds around the burning pyres, he went up the steps and past the clock tower. He paused from time to time, waiting for the random trace signal to appear again. Before long, he was standing at the Manikarnika kund. Logan looked at his PCD for more details, but none was forthcoming.

  “Mr. Perrot!” he called out a few times. There was no answer.

  After surveying the area, he started to climb down the steps of the kund to have a look around. At the bottom, he saw fresh footsteps that led to some kind of tunnel. He entered, holding his illuminated PCD. Almost immediately, he noticed the newly restored wall.

  “Mr. Perrot!” Logan shouted, as he picked up a rock and slammed it against the wall. “Are you in there? It’s me, Logan!”

  “Yes,” a muffled voice answered. “I’ve gotten into a bit of trouble, I’m afraid.”

  Logan took the small beveled-edge chisel from his backpack and used it to loosen the freshly grouted stone blocks in the wall. Twenty minutes later, he squeezed through an opening he’d made in the wall and saw Mr. Perrot sitting slumped over in a small tomblike room with the corpse of Agent Jogindra Bassi next to him.

  “I thought that was it for me,” Mr. Perrot struggled to say, his mouth parched. “The PCD I hid under Jogi’s body was my only chance.”

  “Don’t talk right now.” Logan handed Mr. Perrot his water bott
le and took a seat beside him.

  He looked at the dead WCF agent, the sand around his head red from blood. While Mr. Perrot refreshed himself and regained some of his strength, Logan brought him up to speed on all that had occurred at the Vault, the devastation along the east coast, and the heroic actions of Director Burke. He then had to tell Mr. Perrot about what had happened to Valerie.

  “My greatest fear has manifested,” Mr. Perrot said, with a grave look on his face. He handed the water bottle back to Logan. “I didn’t want to put my daughter in harm’s way. Not only did I do that, but I might have also brought about her death.”

  “It’s not your fault, Mr. Perrot. You know better than anyone, Valerie’s not one to back down. She never did when we were young, and she never would now. Besides, she was only wounded, sir.” Logan had to fight back the memory of Valerie’s funeral in his candle vision. “I’ve left a few messages for Sylvia,” he went on. “She’ll let us know as soon as she hears something.”

  Mr. Perrot looked at Jogi’s body, trying to find comfort in Logan’s words. “Jogi told me that this place was a very auspicious place to die—but he need not have died now.” He shook his head. “We have to find Deya’s books before Simon does. Otherwise, Jogi’s life, and the lives of all those others, including your parents, will have been lost in vain.”

  Logan nodded. “Agreed. Simon needs to pay for his actions.” He slipped his hand under Mr. Perrot’s elbow to help him up. “We’ll have to deal with Jogi’s body later. Right now, we need to focus on finding Simon. And so, sir, where to?”

  “We do as the message instructs us,” Mr. Perrot said, pointing to the message that was etched on the wall. “We go across the river to the old fort.”

  62

  You cannot fake sincerity.

  Is it any wonder that it is the key to prayer?

  – THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA—

  BANARAS, INDIA, 12:30 P.M. LOCAL TIME, FREEDOM DAY

  Sinjee killed the engines of the watercraft as it pulled up to the bank of Ramnagar Fort, a few kilometers south along the west bank of the Ganges River. Built in the eighteenth century, it had been the home of many of the kings of Banaras. A wide set of stone stairs led up to the massive Mughal-style fortress with open balconies and hand-carved sandstone. Mr. Perrot read from the piece of paper on which he had written Deya’s latest message:

  It will be yours

  For those who follow these understandings

  Cross the great river, to the fort of old

  Turn and seek the canopy protecting the jewel

  Along the river to Shiva’s last stand

  This is the path for you

  If you seek what I possess

  “So, based on the message,” Logan postulated, “we are to turn in the direction we just came from and look for some kind of canopy.”

  Mr. Perrot nodded. He and Logan looked back across the river. It was hard to make anything out from such a distance.

  “What does ‘Shiva’s last stand’ mean?” Logan asked.

  “I think it is referring to the last ghat along the shore,” Mr. Perrot said. “At least, that is what Jogi supposed. He told me it was called Assi Ghat and was dedicated to the Hindu god Shiva.”

  “Why send us all the way across the river only to look backward? It doesn’t make sense.”

  They continued to scan the distant shoreline without success. Then someone tapped Logan on the shoulder. He turned and saw Sinjee handing him a draw tube spotting scope which looked to be a hundred years old. Logan accepted it and nodded in appreciation.

  “Is there anything that looks like a canopy?” Mr. Perrot asked.

  Logan adjusted the focus on the scope. “What about a really big tree?” he said. “Could that be the canopy Deya was referring to?” He handed the scope to Mr. Perrot.

  Mr. Perrot scanned the tree that Logan was referring to. There was some kind of shrine under it, where a great many people had gathered. “Nothing else there matches the description of a canopy. But let’s take a look!”

  The pilot fired up the engines and swung the boat around toward the southernmost ghat.

  “It still doesn’t make sense,” Logan said. “Why send us to the fort in the first place? Why not send us directly to Assi Ghat?”

  Mr. Perrot remained silent; he had no answer to Logan’s question.

  When they arrived at the banks of the ghat, Logan and Mr. Perrot rushed up a short stairway leading to Shiva’s altar under the canopy of the large tree. There was no time to waste. Having heard nothing about Valerie’s condition only added impetus to their efforts. They made their way through the crowd that Mr. Perrot had seen from the other side of the river. They finally emerged next to an altar, which had been smashed to pieces. While Mr. Perrot spoke to a worshipper who was standing nearby, Logan walked around the shrine and the tree to survey the extent of the damage.

  “They say a group of men came to the altar last night,” Mr. Perrot said, rejoining Logan. “The men started to ransack the place, smashing the two-hundred-year-old statue of Shiva, the altar it sat on, and even the holy Lingam stone. They were looking for something.”

  “Sounds like Simon beat us here,” Logan said. “Did they say if the men found what they were looking for?”

  “The person I talked to said they did not,” Mr. Perrot said. “When the crowd saw what the men were doing, they ran them off. That’s why so many people remained here. In case the marauders returned.”

  “From everything that you’ve told me about Deya, I can’t believe that she would hide the books in such a way that you would have to destroy a holy shrine to find them.”

  “No, Deya would certainly not do that,” Mr. Perrot agreed. They started to walk away from the tree and the crowd. Mr. Perrot once again pulled out his handwritten copy of Deya’s message. “Perhaps we’ve missed something . . .”

  Logan, standing across from Mr. Perrot, tried to read the message upside down. As soon as he did, he saw something surprising. “Wait!” he exclaimed. “The message can be read in either direction, first line to last or last line to first.” He dropped his backpack to the ground and pulled out his sketchpad. He began to write furiously. When he was done, he turned the pad and showed Mr. Perrot the new message.

  If you seek what I possess

  This is the path for you

  Along the river to Shiva’s last stand

  Turn and seek the canopy protecting the jewel

  Cross the great river, to the fort of old

  For those who follow these understandings

  It will be yours

  A smile came to Mr. Perrot’s face as he read the newly formed message.

  “We need to look from here toward the old fort,” Logan said, “for something that looks like a canopy.”

  “Brilliant!” Mr. Perrot proclaimed.

  The two of them immediately made their way back to the boat. Onboard, Sinjee moved them out into the middle of the river, where Mr. Perrot could use the scope to inspect the fort across the way.

  “There it is!” he said, inviting Logan to take a look.

  Once again Logan was gazing at the large Mughal-style fortress. In front of it was a small red building with a white dome. “The canopy hiding the jewel . . .”

  The motor fired up, and the boat headed back to Ramnagar Fort. The small, red, square-shaped structure sat on a stone landing. Each side was approximately ten meters wide and eight meters tall. Double wooden doors occupied the center of each side, and a lattice window was above each door. The red structure supported four small watchtowers at each corner. Between these towers was the large white dome.

  As soon as they disembarked, Logan and Mr. Perrot made their way up the thirty-three steps on the riverside entrance of the fort, which had been closed to the public ever since substantial damage had been caused to it by the Great Disruption. Old-style bamboo scaffolding covered the façade of the aging fortress, and the lower part had been overrun with vines and foliage, where birds and other
creatures had been making their nests for many years. Logan and Mr. Perrot climbed up a short section of the scaffolding to the large landing that supported the white-domed building.

  Logan looked out over the river below and at the ghats on the western shore.

  “I suppose that we’re going to have to figure out how to get inside,” Mr. Perrot said. He pushed on a set of wooden doors, but they didn’t budge.

  “I can help with that.” Logan handed his backpack to Mr. Perrot and started kicking the decaying doors hard. Pieces of wood scattered across the interior floor, and he tore away larger parts with his hands. Then he and Mr. Perrot entered cautiously, startling birds, mice, and other rodents, which scurried away, frightened by the noise.

  The floor was dusty and spotted with crumbling pieces of painted plaster, which had fallen from the decaying dome high above. The paintings on the walls were faded, and statues of Hindu gods sat on a dilapidated free-standing altar.

  “The stories this place could tell,” Logan said as he took his backpack from Mr. Perrot and looked around the room. He bent down and picked up a piece of plaster from the floor.

  “I fear that what it has to tell us now is another riddle.” Mr. Perrot was kneeling in front of something carved into the wall directly across from the door through which they had entered. “It seems that Deya is still not ready to give up her secret.”

  the Conception that supports the god of men

  must be Withdrawn in order to Announce

  The Great Truth

  Logan walked over, squatted down next to Mr. Perrot, and read the message. “Deya was just full of riddles, wasn’t she?” he said. “Another one to read backward, perhaps?”