by Aiden James
He pointed toward the castle, where it looked like gargantuan eagles or condors were flying around the upper levels. Meanwhile, the familiar clicking noises we had heard earlier resumed in the nearby woods…and unlike earlier, they carried more urgency.
“Holy mother of…” whispered Cedric, reverently, and unable to finish. He pulled the spyglass down and looked over at Roderick and me. I had never seen such child-like wonder on his face before. “You absolutely won’t believe what I’m looking at, ya’ll!”
“Let me see!” said Alistair, who stepped up to the front with Amy in close tow. She seemed more preoccupied by the growing din of clicking chirps that also drew Roderick’s attention.
Tampara seemed pleased by Cedric’s response. But before my son could grab the telescope and see for himself what had excited my former CIA boss, Tampara grabbed the spyglass and returned it to his tunic before Alistair realized what had happened. Only Amy’s urgent tugging on her beau’s sleeve kept him from saying something as ill-advised as Cedric had just moments earlier.
“We need to go now,” Roderick advised, stepping toward Tampara while looking anxiously to where the loudest clicking emanated from, less than one hundred feet behind us. “Let me make the call to bring us back to our plane.”
Tampara nodded, while his smile faded noticeably. It was as if he suddenly became aware of the danger that now stealthily encroached. Without waiting, Roderick jumped out of the hovercraft and ran to the boulders. Unlike the casual approach he had taken earlier, when he caught us off guard with the unsettling shriek from beneath the first archway, this time he immediately threw his head back and offered a hoarse rendition of his earlier performance.
He might’ve waited too long this time, as something massive moved through the brush not far from the boulders. When it crept into the tall grass of a large meadow stretching from the tree line to our vessel, I could tell it was a much bigger reptile than what we encountered before. The tripods from earlier were babies and this thing was the momma.
“We must go!” ordered Tampara, motioning for all of us to run to where Roderick stood, beneath the massive oblong rocks. “If we leave now, your plane will reappear. Trust in what I say!”
The latest monster veered to where Roderick stood, surely spurred on by the druid’s shrill call. Regardless, our best option was to try and beat it. Especially, since what looked like pine trees began to appear behind the archway…pine trees and in the distance above, glacier snow. The world we understood was returning.
“Why can’t we just fly the ship over there?” asked Alistair, when I urged him to get his ass moving. “It seems the most log—”
“Because the energy needed to operate the aircraft cannot follow us out from this realm,” said Tampara, interrupting him. “There is insufficient time to explain—Go NOW!”
There wasn’t time for another single word. I knew this beyond any doubt, and it came to me with the stark fear all parents who love their kids understand. Rather than wait for Cedric or Tampara—since I believed their heightened survival instincts would take care of them—I grabbed Alistair and Amy and pulled them with me as I sprinted to Roderick, praying his magic scream/chant/whatever would be done by the time we joined him beneath the ancient archway.
As often is the case for anyone facing a life or death moment, mortal or immortal, much of the details of our mad dash for survival became blurred and indistinct. I do recall seeing a mouth bigger than my torso coming at us from my left, forcing me to step between it and Amy. I felt the heat of the monster’s breath, as well as the stench of decay from whatever was stuck between its teeth from earlier meals. I prepared to be snatched from the living and thrown into the familiar whirlpool of light that would send me to another place and time—my usual death trip.
But it didn’t happen, although it truly surprised me that it didn’t. All five of us scrambled with Roderick through the archway while the immense lizard snapped at our asses. Not as keenly intelligent as its smaller kin, it wedged itself in the archway, where if it had just gone around the damned thing it might’ve gotten a taste of Cedric or me. Incensed, its thunderous roars shook the ground around us as it disappeared…giving way to a Bolivian mountainside that wasn’t anywhere near as green, and where a cool breeze fed by glacier snow chilled our skin.
Shivering from both fear and the chillier climate, we followed Tampara along a stone path leading to a rock shelf. A small fleet of black Jeeps was parked beneath it. Several men of Spanish descent stood waiting near the edge of the shelf. Each one carried an automatic rifle, and they wore somber expressions…except for one who was pudgier and slightly shorter than the others. Also older, this one bore the telltale graying sideburns of middle age. The man smiled.
“Rafael…how good of you to be here for us!” said Tampara, extending a hand to him. He took it and shook it warmly. The thought of Tampara looking like the Hulk compared to this much smaller man made me chuckle. “You remember Roderick, correct?”
“Yes, I certainly do. It’s been a very long time, Roderick. So good to see you both, amigos!”
The man named Rafael allowed his smile to widen as he regarded the rest of us. He absently exchanged handshakes with Tampara and Roderick, but never let his eyes leave me. I could tell he knew something about me…whether factual or instinctive at this point hardly mattered. I found it unsettling.
“It has indeed been a long time, Rafael,” said Roderick. “My, how time flies…you were just a kid, wet behind the ears, when we last saw each other. Almost seventeen at the time.” He smiled warmly.
“I still remember that summer clearly, as if it was only yesterday,” said Rafael, who blushed uncomfortably and then returned his attention to me.
“Oh, and these are our friends who have journeyed with us to this magical place,” said Roderick, motioning to the rest of us. “This is Rafael Diegas, assistant to the Essenes’ Superior, Francisco de Luciano…. And, this is Cedric Tomlinson, my esteemed associate with the United States government. Along with Dr. Alistair Barrow, Amy Golden Eagle, and William Barrow, the man Tampara told you was coming.”
“Judas,” said Rafael quietly. “Even before Tampara told us that you were bringing him here, we knew of his impending arrival.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, feeling even more uncomfortable under this diminutive man’s penetrating gaze.
“Francisco is expecting you,” he said. “You all must be famished from your journey, no?”
“We are,” said Alistair. My boy’s stomach had just rumbled loud enough for the rest of us to notice.
I took the opportunity to survey the immediate area—my second scan in the past few minutes. No sign of Viktor Kaslow…but I could hear my blood coin’s call to me, stronger than before. It was definitely here, hidden somewhere inside the castle.
“Follow me, please,” said Rafael, still looking at me knowingly. “After Francisco speaks with Judas and Roderick, we shall dine together this evening.”
Rafael returned to the other four men, speaking to them in a form of Spanish I hadn’t heard used in more than two centuries. It contained Aymara and some other influence. The men chuckled and looked at me again. Rarely have I felt like I had a third eye in the middle of my forehead. Rafael and his compadres led us into a well-lit cave with intricate angelic carvings along both walls. When we emerged, the kids, me, and Cedric gasped once more. I think we all knew the castle was coming up soon. But to step out into the fading sunlight from a dark cave and find this soaring edifice waiting for us was truly an inspiring moment.
An ancient cathedral-styled structure fashioned from enormous blocks of red granite. Fitted tightly together, the seams were almost undetectable. I now had something other than Kaslow’s planned exploits to talk about with our Essene hosts—especially after allowing my gaze to follow the castle’s incredible height—several hundred feet at least, and the upper spires could be even higher. Truly, an ornate fortress, and one built into the mountainside to our right.
A swollen stream from melting glacial ice flowed in front of the structure. Amy was especially delighted we would have to cross a drawbridge to get to the main entrance—one with a pair of gorgeous stained-glass angels on either side of a medieval-styled entryway.
“How in the hell did these guys know you were coming before Roderick confirmed we were on our way to South America?” asked Alistair, as we prepared to enter the castle. He inadvertently interrupted Cedric, who had been trying to get my attention to discuss something fairly urgent. He had said something to me inside the cavern…something about how lifelike the angel depictions on the walls looked, and how what he saw through Tampara’s spyglass related to it. “Who else could’ve possibly known?”
Rafael suddenly stopped ahead of us, motioning for everyone else to keep moving down the ornate corridor to the reception area where apparently the Essene Superior, Francisco de Luciano, awaited our arrival. I thought for a moment he would let us pass as he had everyone else, since my son and I pulled up the rear of the line. But he stopped us, and this time instead of on me, his attention was focused on Alistair.
“The answer to both of your questions is the same,” he said. “It is a simple answer that perhaps you will not appreciate. Not until you have spent time with us.”
“Well, you certainly behave like genuine Essenes,” I said. “You speak in mysteries and half-truths. Doubtless, we shall be treated to a parable or two from your leader.”
It was all in good fun. Although, I was just as curious as Alistair to find the source for their knowledge about me, and how they predicted a visit I had not even considered before yesterday afternoon.
“Parables and clues…and the clues for our ultimate source of information are all around you, Judas,” said Rafael. As he stepped away from us, he regarded me over his shoulder. “That which dominates our art is the very thing in reality we rely on for our insights, inspiration, and when the Internet is down, our news about events in the outside world that affect us.”
“What…the frigging angels?” Alistair could scarcely hide his skepticism, snickering as he said this.
“Why, of course,” confirmed Rafael.
He smiled before running to catch up with the others, leaving Alistair with his mouth hanging half-open in surprise, and me with the dread that the Almighty’s most trusted servants were far more involved with my earthly business than I cared for them to be.
I now hoped for good, solid answers from Francisco de Luciano.
Chapter 9
“Welcome, our American brothers and sister!”
The announcement reverberated against the colonnades that surrounded the large reception area in the center of the castle. Furnished tastefully, if this had been 1950, a handsome bearded man with intensely warm brown eyes stood in the middle of the room. He was much taller than his Spanish brethren, and unlike their militia apparel, this man wore a long colorful robe not unlike what his distant ancestors from Judea once preferred. In fact, for a brief moment I felt a tingling sensation along my spine at the realization this man’s facial features favored those of Jesus’ more comely brothers, Josef and James. Prominent cheekbones with softer brow-lines were the genetic traits from Mary’s side, whereas the less appealing heavier brow and plain facial features were what their more famous brother and most of their sisters inherited from Joseph.
The charisma of Jesus was all the more remarkable since, as the Gospels did get right, it wasn’t aided by the regal comeliness so often depicted by artisans down through the centuries. I found myself thinking of Josef, especially, as I regarded this man…this slightly eccentric individual who must certainly be the current Superior for this band of Qumran descendants. He was a near dead-ringer for the man who long ago snatched my coin from the dirt near the stone walkway outside the courtyard where my Lord was betrayed.
“As you have heard by now, I am Francisco de Luciano. Please, come sit with me while we await the preparation of our supper with you.” He motioned for us to step over to an arc of seven black leather chairs that faced a single high-backed chair resembling a papal throne with a red crushed velvet seat. Ostentatiously tacky. “I would love to hear the details about your journey to reach us. Would any of you like something to drink? We have our own special blend of herbal tea…or perhaps you would prefer water?””
“After the rigors of our journey, we might all do well to accept your offer of tea,” said Tampara, getting affirmative nods from the rest of us. “Perhaps it would be best to introduce our guests to you before you get started.”
While the rest of us sat down, he elected to stand, choosing the left side of the arc. It appeared that none of the chairs would comfortably contain his large, powerful frame. Tampara’s gaze was momentarily drawn to the subdued flames in an immense black marble fireplace behind Francisco.
“Si, I believe it’s a good idea,” agreed Rafael, offering a slight bow to the robed man who prepared to sit upon the garish throne. He clapped his hands and a pair of young servants—a girl and a boy—soon appeared from an alcove near the fireplace. Each carried a silver pitcher, along with several clear crystal goblets. While the pair attended to us, Rafael moved one of the chairs away from the arc and sat down.
“Very good,” said Francisco, studying us, while we sipped tea surprisingly quite delicious. I detected a hint of coca leaves beneath the citrus blend. Francisco’s infectiously warm smile widened when his gaze settled on me. “As the Fifty-seventh Superior of the South American Essenes, I am delighted you all will be staying with us while we seek to stop the Russian, who has yet to arrive.”
He made it sound like Kaslow was an old friend. I bristled, drawing a soft chuckle from Alistair.
“If I may, I would like to handle our introductions, my dear friend,” Roderick said to Tampara, who nodded for him to go on. Roderick turned his attention to Francisco. “I once knew your father, Frederico de Luciano, when he was not much older than yourself. You favor him well.”
“Why, thank you.”
“Roderick Cooley is my name. I actually met you when you were a very young lad.”
“Sorry that I don’t remember so much from my early youth, but I am quite pleased to officially meet you now, Roderick,” said Francisco. “You must be the ‘pale warrior’ Father would sometimes mention. And, who are your companions?”
Roderick introduced us all, based on our proximity to him. Since I had purposely taken the chair furthest from the Essene Superior, I was last in the roll call.
“William Barrow….” Francisco’s voice trailed off, and for a moment, his eyes bore a far-away look. “Moroni has spoken of you, most recently this past Monday evening, when it became clear your enemy intends to pay us a visit. You are thought of fondly by the angels as the ‘Man of Twelve’.”
I honestly didn’t know what to say to such a comment, but nodded with a slight smile to be polite.
“Yes, I’m sure it sounds confusing…unless you know why they call you this name, Judas.” He laughed, pulling the loose flaps from his robe across his lap. “They say you have a dozen aliases, and now that you have selected the last of the twelve, you are finding it nearly impossible to let go of this one. It is a fixation with the specific number, whether it be Judean tribes, twelve disciples for your Messiah, or twelve names to define your persona as you carry out your earthly stay. But the name ‘William Barrow’ fits you well, and the inspiration for it is as noble as your quest to find your coins. I doubt you will ever want to go back to being called ‘Emmanuel’ ever again. If Moroni’s latest prophecy to me comes true, your quest for redemption will reach its resolution before this decade ends.”
His words rendered me speechless, and for so many reasons. I could muster neither a smile nor a nod.
“Surely you’re not referring to the Archangel Moroni that is a key character to Mormon lore,” said Alistair, who had been whispering covertly to Amy and pointing subtly toward the ceiling several hundred feet above where we sat. Several floors of open verandas surrounde
d the reception area, and I took this brief opportunity to raise my eyes to the room’s apex. Perhaps the most amazing fresco I had ever seen covered the ceiling, aptly depicting a confrontation between the Almighty and Satan. “Or, are you?”
“Do you subscribe to Mormon tenets?” he asked, turning his attention entirely to my son.
“No…not at all,” said Alistair, sitting up straight in his chair. I could tell Francisco’s intense scrutiny unsettled him. “But the Book of Mormon is the only mention in modern literature I’m aware of that contains the name ‘Moroni’ in the context of angels.”
“Alistair…you are truly a man after my own heart,” he said. “Surely, this name would never have come up in the many years you studied Middle Eastern history—unless your students at Georgetown brought this mighty archangel into a class discussion, no?”
“How did you know about my professorship?”
“The same way I know of your beautiful fiancée’s wish that she had pursued the same anthropological career as her brother, instead of the more lucrative career she enjoys as a freelance corporate lawyer,” he said, nodding knowingly. “Or, the fact the black gentleman with you prefers the mischief your father gets him into over his usual field routine working for the CIA. I could go on…but you already know quite a bit about the three immortals in your midst.”
“Well, since you know so much about us, why did you let us introduce ourselves as if we were complete strangers?”
Careful, Ali…. In the bigger scheme of things, withholding one’s prior knowledge is a fairly common practice throughout many cultures—especially those rooted in ancient traditions.
“Surely this is to make a point that will tie it all together. Isn’t that so?” I said, stepping in before Alistair could possibly offend our Essene hosts. I drew an admiring glance from Roderick. “You mentioned you have spoken to Moroni—one of the Almighty’s powerful archangels.”
