The Six Sacred Stones jw-2

by Matthew Reilly

  Zoe turned. “At what—”

  She cut herself off.

  An incredible structure lay across the lake.

  It was utterly immense, literally carved out of the cone of the extinct volcano that lay on the far side of the ravine.

  It looked like a modern stadium, an enormous circular arena. A series of round walls could be seen inside it—a maze of some sort. And rising up out of the very center of the circular maze like the needle on a sundial was a superthin yet superhigh stone-staircase easily ten stories high.

  Made of hundreds of steps, the thin staircase was wide enough for one person only and had no rail, and it rose precariously to a squat trapezoidal doorway built into the rock face on the far side of the maze.

  The challenge was clear: only if you made it to the center of the maze could you ascend this mysterious staircase.

  There was one other thing that Zoe noticed about the village area: there was a small triangular island located out in the middle of the lake, in the exact center of everything, as if it were the focal point of the entire ravine junction.

  Erected on this little island was a bronze tripod-like device that looked to Zoe like some ancient kind of inclinometer.

  And on a pedestal next to the “inclinometer,” raised for everyone in the village to see, were two very sacred objects:

  A smoked-glass Pillar and a beautiful crystal orb.

  Wizard saw them, too, and he inhaled sharply. “The Second Pillar and the Seeing Stone.”

  They weren’t able to stare at the little sacred island for long, however, for just then their guards brought them to a deep semicircular pit off the main square: in it were two square granite platforms that rose twenty feet above the pit’s muddy base.

  Down in the mud, looking up at Lily and Alby with unblinking eyes, prowled two large crocodiles.

  Two drawbridges thunked into place and the group was shoved at sword point onto the granite slabs: the two girls on one, the two men and Alby on the other. Each towerlike platform was about ten feet from the edge and seven feet from each other, so escape was impossible. Both bore frightening axe marks and bloody scratches on their surfaces.

  The drawbridges were removed.

  A crowd had gathered around the platforms—curious Neetha townsfolk, all of them possessing bony growths on their faces, and all staring at the captives, murmuring animatedly among themselves.

  But then the whispering ceased, and the crowd split as a series of flaming torches cut through their ranks, and an official party emerged.

  Twelve men, led by a great obese fellow whose animal-skin outfit was covered in weapons, skulls, and ornaments. His fleshy face was disgusting, covered in growths. Among the weapons on his belt, Wizard saw a nineteenth-century Winchester rifle.

  The chief of the tribe. Bearing the weapons and skulls of those his line had vanquished over the centuries. Good Lord…

  Seven younger men, all standing tall and proud, escorted the chief.

  Probably his sons,Wizard thought.

  The other four men in the leadership group were different:three were clearly warriors; lean and muscled, with fierce eyes and warpainted faces.

  The fourth and last man, however, was just bizarre.

  He was old and gnarled, hunched, with the worst facial growths of any of them. He too had a warpainted face and he possessed the most terrifying eyes Wizard had ever seen in his life—this hunched old man had diseased yellow irises that stared crazily at both everything and nothing.

  He was the warlock of the Neetha.

  Their belongings were emptied in front of the warlock.

  Watched by the chief, the warlock rummaged through their stuff, before with a cry he held aloft the clear First Pillar.

  “Neehaka!”he yelled.

  “Neehaka…ooh, neehaka…”the crowd murmured.

  “Neehaka bomwacha Nepthys! Hurrah!”

  Wizard didn’t have a clue what was being said.

  But then, from the other slab, he heard Lily say: “He’s speaking the language of Thoth. Speaking it. ‘Neehaka’ is‘nee,’ ‘The First,’ and‘haka,’ ‘Great Pillar.’ The first Great Pillar.‘Bonwacha’ means infused or impregnated. ‘The First Great Pillar has been infused by Nepthys.’”

  “Nepthys is another name for the Dark Star,” Wizard whispered. “Its Greek name.”

  Then the warlock extracted the Philosopher’s Stone and the Firestone from Lily’s pack and his eyes went even wider.

  He shot a look at Wizard and barked a flurry of phrases.

  Lily translated timidly. “He wants to know how you came upon the great tools of cleansing.”

  “Tell him, ‘After much study and many years of searching.’” Wizard said.

  In a frightened voice, Lily conveyed this.

  The warlock inhaled sharply and muttered something, his eyes remaining wide.

  Lily said to Wizard, “He’s surprised that I can speak Thoth. He finds this prophetic. He is a warlock, and he thinks that you must be one also—”

  A shout from the warlock silenced her.

  Then the warlock turned suddenly and called for someone. Again the crowd parted, and now a woman stepped forward from the back of the group.

  When she saw her, Lily gasped.

  So did Wizard.

  It was a white woman, perhaps fifty-five years of age, with gray-blond hair and an elfish face that seemed beaten down, worn. She was dressed like the other Neetha women, in a leather hide and with primitive jewelry.

  Wizard breathed, “Dr. Cassidy? Dr. Diane Cassidy?”

  The woman looked up sharply at his words, as if she hadn’t heard English in a long, long time.

  The warlock barked at Cassidy, and instantly she bowed her head.

  So this was what had become of Dr. Diane Cassidy, expert on the Neetha. She had found the lost tribe and in return they had enslaved her.

  The warlock spoke curtly with Cassidy.

  Lily listened to their exchange. “He’s calling her ‘the Great Chief’s Eighth Wife.’ He mustn’t trust me. He wants her to translate.”

  The warlock spun and gazed angrily at Wizard, speaking harshly and quickly.

  Diane Cassidy translated slowly and softly in English:“The great warlock, Yanis, desires to know if you have come here to steal the Pillar of the Neetha?”

  “Oh no,” Wizard said. “Not at all. We have come here to beseech you for the use of your Pillar, to borrow it in our quest to save the world from the Dark Star, the one your warlock calls Nepthys.”

  Dr. Cassidy translated.

  The warlock reeled at the response, shocked beyond measure. When he spoke, he spat.

  Cassidy translated:“Yanis says that Nepthys rules as he pleases. Such is his divine right. Who are you to deny Nepthys his will?”

  Wizard said, “I am one of a small few who wish to save our world.”

  The warlock spat again.

  “Yanis says if Nepthys wishes to destroy this world, then that is what Nepthys will do. It is our privilege to be alive when he unleashes his godly power. Yanis will speak with you no more.”

  And with that the warlock swirled on the spot and stormed off, taking all of their belongings—including the Firestone, the Philosopher’s Stone, and the First Pillar—with him.

  LILY AND THE OTHERS were left to sit on their bare stone platforms for the rest of the evening: waiting, helpless, fearful.

  The warlock had retreated to a large fortress-like building to the north of the platforms which backed onto the central lake.

  Fitted with dozens of outward-pointing elephant tusks, this temple-fortress was guarded by four white-painted priests bearing spears. A few also wore guns on their hips.

  Wizard said, “Warrior-monks. The finest Neetha warriors join the holy class. There they receive special training in fighting and the art of stealth. Hieronymus once said that by the time you discovered a Neetha priest had hunted you down, your throat would already have been cut.”

  Throughout the even
ing, the townsfolk gathered to gawk at the mysterious prisoners, gazing curiously at them as if they were animals in a zoo.

  The children eyed Alby with particular curiosity.

  “What are they saying?” Alby said, unnerved.

  “They’re wondering about your glasses,” Lily said.

  The women pointed at Zoe, whispering among themselves. “Because of your cargo pants and short hair, they’re not sure if you’re a woman or a man,” Lily said.

  But then some men came and the Neetha women and children scattered, and the atmosphere around the platforms changed.

  The men were clearly persons of standing in the tribe and they gathered before Lily and Zoe’s platform, pointing and gesticulating at them like horse traders. Clearly the biggest fellow among them was the leader of the group and the rest his entourage.

  “What are they saying?” Wizard asked, concerned.

  Lily frowned. “They’re talking about Zoe and me. The big one is saying that he doesn’t want Zoe, since she has most likely already been touched, whatever that means—”

  Without warning, the biggest Neetha man shouted at Lily and spoke quickly.

  Lily was taken aback. She shook her head and said, “Ew, no.Niha. ”

  The cluster of Neetha men instantly fell into a huddle of intense muttering and whispering.

  “Lily,” Wizard said. “What did he just ask you?”

  “He asked if I had a husband. I said no, of course not.”

  “Oh, dear,” Wizard breathed. “I should have anticipated this—”

  He was cut off as the big fellow laughed loudly and marched back to the largest house in the village, followed by his entourage.

  “What was that about?” Lily asked Zoe.

  “I don’t think you want to know,” Zoe said.

  Late in the night, sometime long after midnight when all the villagers were sleeping, Lily awoke to see a procession of warrior-monks led by the warlock cross the lake via the drawbridges and, holding flaming torches aloft, head for the large circular maze on the other side.

  One of them, Lily saw, carried the Firestone reverently, with outstretched arms. Another carried the Philosopher’s Stone with equal veneration. Behind him, a third warrior-monk carried the First Pillar.

  Lily noticed that Zoe was already awake—she’d been keeping watch. They hissed to Wizard and the others on the other platform, waking them.

  They all observed the warlock break away the larger group and stride out onto the sacred triangular island in the center of the lake, via a stone bridge that rose from beneath the rippling surface. There the Delphic Orb and the Second Pillar sat proudly on their stone pedestal.

  With great reverence, the warlock lifted the Delphic Orb from its pedestal and handed it to one of his monks, who dashed off to rejoin the procession.

  The warlock stayed on the island, where he was joined by the two monks bearing the Philosopher’s Stone and the Firestone.

  Lily and the others then watched in awe as, with great solemnity, the warlock placed his people’s Pillar—the Second Pillar—inside the Philosopher’s Stone.

  When the Firestone was set atop it, a familiar white flash flared from within the Philosopher’s Stone, and when the warlock removed the Neetha’s Pillar from it, the Pillar was no longer hazy and cloudy. Its rectangular glass body was perfectly clear.

  Cleansed.

  The warlock looked like a man who had seen his god.

  The ceremony complete, he replaced the Second Pillar on its pedestal. As for the Firestone and the Philosopher’s Stone, he handed them to his monks and while he remained on the sacred island, they took them—along with the First Pillar—into the maze.

  About twenty minutes later, the warrior-monks with the Firestone, the Philosopher’s Stone, and the First Pillar emerged on the narrow flight of stone steps that rose out of the center of the maze.

  “They know how to get through…?” Lily said, confused.

  “Mazes like this were common in the ancient world,” Wizard said. “The labyrinth of Egypt; the palace at Knossos. But such mazes are not designed to be impenetrable. Each possesses a secret solution and so long as you know the solution, you can pass through a given maze quite quickly.”

  Zoe said, “Most often, only royalty or royal priests knew the solution. It’s a cunning way to keep your treasures safely hidden from the commoners.”

  The monks climbed the great staircase and then disappeared inside the trapezoidal doorway at its summit, entering some kind of inner sanctum where the two stones—the Firestone and the Philosopher’s Stone—and the First Pillar would be kept safe and secure.

  Low chanting followed. The fires of their torches danced.

  Then, a few minutes later, a speck of firelight appeared in the sky through a carefully cut gap in the tree canopy that covered the ravine—it appeared at a spot directly above the inner sanctum. One of the monks must have climbed up an internal shaft and emerged at the very summit of the volcano 650 feet aloft.

  Suddenly—whap!—the speck of firelight was replaced by a completely otherworldy purple glow.

  “It’s the Orb,” Wizard whispered. “They must have taken the Firestone up to the summit, too. They’ve placed the Orb atop the Firestone and unleashed its special power.”

  “And what is that?” Solomon asked.

  “The ability to see the Dark Star,” Alby answered solemnly. “Look.”

  He pointed over at the warlock, still standing on the triangular island—only now the gnarled old man was bent over the inclinometer there, peering through an eyepiece on it, an eyepiece that was angled straight up at…the purple glow of the Delphic Orb high up on the volcano’s summit.

  “It’s a telescope ,” Alby said. “A tubeless telescope like the kind Hooke built in the 1600s. A telescope doesn’t necessarily need a tube, only two lenses, one at the bottom and another at the top, set at the right focal length. Only this tubeless telescope is huge, the size of that volcano.”

  “A telescope designed for one purpose,” Wizard said. “To see the Dark Star.”

  As if on cue, the warlock howled with delight, his eye locked to the eyepiece.

  “Nepthys!”he cried. “Nepthys! Nepthys!”

  Then he intoned something in his own language.

  Lily listened, then translated.“‘Great Nepthys. Your loyal servants are ready for your arrival. Come, bathe us in your deadly light. Rescue us from this earthly existence.’”

  “This is bad…” Zoe said.

  “Why?”

  “Because this warlock has no intention of saving the world from the Dark Star. He wants it to come. He wants it to unleash its zero-point field on the Earth. More than anything, this man wants to die at the hands of his god.”

  LILY AGAIN fell asleep, but just before dawn, something else happened.

  It was many hours after the warlock and his monks had concluded their nocturnal activities by returning their people’s sacred objects to their usual places: the Delphic Orb and the (now cleansed) Second Pillar were returned to the pedestal on the triangular island, alongside the ancient inclinometer. After that, the priests had retired to their temple-fortress and the village was still—a stillness that had prevailed until Lily was woken by a series of small objects pelting her body.

  “Huh?” she looked up with bleary eyes……to see a young Neetha man tossing pebbles at her.

  She sat up.

  He was perhaps twenty years old and short, and if you could have removed the growth on his left temple, he would have qualified as a fresh-faced youth.

  “Hello?” he said tentatively.

  “You speak our language?” Lily asked, stunned.

  He nodded. “Some. I am student of Chief’s Eighth Wife,” he said slowly, articulating each word carefully. “She and I both oppressed in tribe, so speak much. I have many asks for you. Many asks.”

  “Such as?”

  “What is your world like?”

  Lily cocked her head, looking at this Neeth
a youth more closely, and she softened. Amid all the fierce trappings of this ancient warrior tribe was the most universal kind of individual, a gentle and curious young man.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  “I am Ono, seventh son of High Chief Rano.”

  “My name is Lily. You speak my language very well.”

  Ono beamed with pride. “I am keen student. I enjoy to learn.”