Stealing Sacred Fire

by Constantine, Storm

  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 exis
t. 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.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Return to the Source

  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?’

  Shemyaza gazed out over the lush, fertile landscape, which had once been the land of Khem: a paradise. He stood upon the Giza plateau as it had appeared six aeons ago. Shemyaza stepped between the pillars, initiating the process of returning.

  Red rays reflected off the domed roof of a columned temple on the island. He could see it clearly now. History unfolded. The island was the primal mound of creation, and the temple upon it was the first ever to have been built upon the virgin body of Mother Earth. It was the original omphalos of the world. All subsequent sacred omphali had been constructed in its memory: it was the House of the Human Soul. Shemyaza knew that in the time he left behind, the great Sphinx stood in the temple’s place, and had done so for six epochs, gazing watchfully upon the changing constellations of each new aeon. Soon, it would gaze upon the stars of Mankind, the House of Aquarius. The consensual soul of humanity that rested in this house would be reborn under the light of those stars. But not yet. First, there would have to be the conception.

  Shemyaza stood upon a narrow wooden jetty, to which a small boat was moored. He climbed into the boat and it began to drift swiftly towards the island. Shemyaza gazed into the water. This was the lake where all the spirits that inhabited the earth and sky were forged: the waters of life, the rivers of belief. He was reminded of the silent boat-man of all the underworld myths, who carried the souls of the dead across the waters to judgement.

  The boat reached the steps to the temple. Glowing marble disappeared beneath the water, as if made of light. The boat turned itself sideways. Shemyaza climbed out without touching the sacred water; no spirits could reach out for him and suck him down into their dreaming realm.

  Shemyaza looked back to the shore he had left. The black columns se
emed incongruous, severe against the soft fluttering of foliage. There was nothing between them but a colourless void, for the world beyond had yet to come into being.

  Inside, the temple was bare and unadorned, comprised of immense blocks of granite. It was quite dark, because the building faced east, and now the sun set behind it. Shemyaza walked towards the back of the temple, where there was a wide hole in the floor. His feet made no sound and he could not smell or hear anything. He felt calm, already resigned to the fate of possible oblivion. He had been resigned to it for a long time. There was no guarantee that his soul and spirit body would survive the experience ahead of him. The Elders would have left traps and obstacles to prevent intruders from entering the Chambers.

  At the edge of the hole, he looked down and saw a flight of wide steps. After a short way, they veered abruptly to the right. Cautiously, Shemyaza began to descend, projecting an astral radiance to light his way. The walls of the stair-well were devoid of paintings or bas-reliefs. This was a functional building, laid bare like his soul and the souls of those who had built it.

  The steps swooped down endlessly. Shemyaza had left time behind him, so there was no way of judging how far or how long he descended. His astral radiance lit only the step immediately below him, and even though his limbs moved to his commands, he felt like he was falling. Silence was absolute; his sense of hearing ached with it. He was unsure whether his spirit body would not fragment and diffuse before he reached the bottom of the steps.

  The descent ended without him realising it, for now he walked along a horizontal surface. Sparks of coloured light flickered in the air ahead, and he became aware of space around him. He was in a passage-way, constructed of enormous blocks of stone. Again, there was no decoration upon the walls, and by his astral light he saw the passage disappearing into darkness far ahead. Behind him was a blank wall, and overhead, the entrance to a shaft. There was no sign of the steps he had descended. At his feet, lay the crystal key he had found in the Cave of Treasures, shining more brilliantly than it had in the living world. When he picked it up, the crystal’s hard surface felt warm and alive in his hands. His astral light intensified, dancing with flecks of crystal colour.