Through Glass Darkly: Episode Two

by Peter Knyte

  Reviews are the single most important thing to any authors writing career, without them we can languish in obscurity forever. With them we have a chance of living the dream and getting to write another day.

  Thank you for reading this book.

  Peter Knyte

  SAMPLE

  And finally:

  In the next few pages you’ll find a taster of one of my other stories also set in the 1930s ‘The Flames of Time’.

  Here’s the back page blurb, followed by a sample chapter.

  ‘Africa keeps its secrets well,

  and its ancient secrets best of all.

  Untouched by the crash of ‘29 Kenya is the glamourous and exotic retreat for many seeking to escape the privations of the western world.

  But when a group of friends get drawn into a strange shamanic ritual that reveals tentative clues to the existence of an ages old secret. A secret which threatens to re-write the history of the known world as well as the future destiny of mankind, they find themselves on a path they cannot help but follow.

  But to re-discover this long buried truth, they must search some of the world’s most ancient sites and seek clues contained within some of the oldest writings known to man.

  But there are those for whom keeping such secrets buried is not only a responsibility, but also a solemn duty. Powerful individuals who will apparently stop at nothing to protect the world as we know it from such things being found.’

  CHAPTER 7 – STEPPING STONES

  Mkize was scrambling out, helped by some of the others, but there was no sight or sound of Harry from the abyss as I called out his name.

  The others had obviously seen that something was up, and had raced up to join me. I briefly explained what had happened. The earth around the hole we’d dug, and the gap that had now opened up into the cave, forming a steep sloping funnel.

  We sent Peter and the severely shaken Mkize to retrieve a rope and some torches from the camp, while the rest of us waited and continued to call after Harry.

  ‘I’m going to try and get down to the mouth of the hole, and see if I can see anything more from there,’ said Marlow.

  It was a good fifteen feet down, surrounded by loose and crumbling earth, and with very little at the mouth to hold on to or stop yourself from sliding straight down into the darkness below. But by using one of the shovels as a makeshift tether, we managed to lower him most of the way, and he was just able to slide the last few feet and brace himself across the opening to see down into the hole.

  ‘Harry! Harry are you all right?’ Marlow was shouting into the cave. ‘I think I can just make him out. Yes he’s waving.’

  A moment later and Peter had arrived with the ropes and torches and we were inside and had found Harry, before the danger of what we were doing had even occurred to us. He’d obviously been winded, and was holding his head as though that was a problem also. It made for a worrying minute or two not knowing how badly he was hurt, but after Jean offered him his dampened handkerchief and some fresh water he recovered enough to explain.

  Apparently in a graceful attempt to stop himself from sliding into the hole, he’d grabbed at his shovel, the handle of which had unfortunately swung round and hit him squarely between the eyes.

  Much relieved that it was only his ego which was seriously hurt, we helped him to his feet and started to look around the cave. It was a good fifty feet tall in places and at least half that again wide. As we lit more torches and were able to see further into the darkness, we began to realise just how much rock and earth was blocking the entrance. We could’ve spent weeks trying to dig our way in, even with the proper equipment, and still not managed it. The rock fall blocking the entrance was colossal.

  Realising how lucky we’d been, we turned back to the cave, which was fairly clear of debris, but at the same time was quite plain. The floor seemed to have a slight incline, down which a small stream of water flowed in a purpose built channel, before swelling to form a sizeable pool behind the natural damn of the rock fall. On closer inspection, both the dome of the chamber and the walls appeared to have been worked, to give them a smooth and regular finish, whilst the floor seemed to have not only been smoothed, but also laid with expertly carved paving seamlessly incorporated into the bedrock of the walls.

  Checking that Harry was fit to walk, we moved up the incline toward a rectangular tunnel, which we could just make out at the back.

  ‘This is amazing workmanship, for an ancient structure,’ commented Harry, still holding Jean’s damp handkerchief to his brow. ‘I don’t know of another pre-mediaeval structure outside Egypt that displays such geo-metric regularity.’

  The stream was partially paved-over in the tunnel, creating an almost stepping stone like effect, with glimpses of water between each step. But as the tunnel broadened out into a second cave, the channel once more became exposed, leading initially to a curious nine-sided pool in the middle of the room, lined in plain white stone. This pool was in turn fed by an identical channel on its opposite side, coming into the room through another tunnel.

  We must’ve been the first people to see these chambers in who knew how many hundreds or even thousands of years, yet the place seemed pristine. This second cave was slightly larger than the first, but seemed to show the same signs of human craftsmanship on the floor and ceiling. But as we moved further into the room and spread out around the central pool, our torches illuminated the walls, which were not only shaped and smoothed, but also carved into exquisite relief’s of figures, scenes and even writing. More striking still were the colours and ornamentation of these relief’s, rich ochre’s, reds and yellows intermixed with the brightest cobalt blue, black, and in places even gold leaf, as well as what may have been either precious stones or coloured glass.

  ‘That cannot be,’ said Harry walking over to the nearest wall, his aching head and handkerchief forgotten, ‘this is… Cuneiform lettering, in southern Africa. It can’t be, it just isn’t possible.’

  ‘Perhaps it was some remote colony or settlement, of which the archaeological world has yet to learn,’ suggested Jean helpfully.

  ‘No, no, you don’t understand Jean, this isn’t just slightly out of place, this is wholly out of place,’ responded Harry, never removing his eyes from the walls of the cave. ‘To find… Egyptian remains in such a place would rock the foundation of our understanding. Norse or even Dynastic Chinese, would all be outrageous, but all would somehow be more expected than this. This… not that I’m an expert, but… and the detail, such carving. It cannot be.’

  I could see Harry was completely overwhelmed, his gaze and out-stretched hands throwing fantastic shadows in the flickering torchlight as they moved back and forth across the wall as though not knowing where to start.

  We’d all been so distracted by the discovery of the wall and Harry’s response that I’d forgotten to keep track of how Marlow was reacting. I turned now to see if I could discern anything in his expression or manner which might give some insight into his thoughts, but he was no longer there.

  ‘Where’s Rob?’ I found myself asking before I realised.

  This returned everyone to the present, even Harry turned away from the carvings to look around.

  ‘I’m sure he was standing right beside me,’ said Peter.

  Jean dashed back through into the first cave to see if he was still in there, but returned a moment later without finding him.

  Realising he must have gone on, we tore ourselves away, and followed the stream into the next passage. Though identical in construction, this tunnel seemed much longer than the first, but eventually it opened out into a third chamber. It was also highly ornamented, the walls carved again into exquisite relief, and another central pool. But now with three tunnels leading off, further into the earth, each guarded as it were by a pair of intricately carved black obelisks the height of a man and covered from tip to base in more cuneiform lettering.

  He could have gone down any of these tunnels, but there was only
one which carried the channel and stream, and almost without hesitation we crossed the room and followed its stepping stone path, and calling out Marlow’s name. Again this tunnel seemed long, but as we neared its end, we could at last see the glow of Marlow’s torch.

  As the tunnel opened out, we stepped into a much larger cavern of warm shimmering light reflected from the surface of a large, clear and apparently completely natural pool, which sat in the middle of the cave. This cave was quite different to the earlier chambers we’d seen, and aside from the floor, which was still made up of that seamless paving, the dome and walls appeared to be simple un-worked rock.

  With relief I saw that Marlow was stood on the far side of the pool by an elegantly carved stone altar-block, which seemed to be the focal point of a ring of more black obelisks surrounding the pool. He looked up as we entered, and as though oblivious to our search, simply gestured us over to him.

  As we made our way around the pool and the obelisks, the reflected light from the water gave the entire cavern an almost naturally lit air. We’d noticed sconces to hold oil lamps, or some other means of illumination as we’d progressed through the caves and passages, and now as he passed another beside the pool, Jean stopped and managed to wedge his torch into it, to free his hands. Following his lead we each did the same at various other points around the cave.

  ‘It’s here, in this alter,’ continued Marlow, walking around the large carved piece of stone, ‘I’m sure of it. As soon as I set foot in this room I recognised it from my vision. And the map, I’m sure it lies here somewhere.’

  ‘Can we not break into it?’ enquired Peter, ‘Perhaps bring down one of the picks from outside.’

  ‘That may damage the map in some way,’ responded Marlow. ‘While I know it’s in here, I have no idea what it could be made of or how fragile it may be. It could even comprise part of the fabric of the alter itself for all I know.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Harry, taking control of the situation. ‘We need to find out how to open it, as it was intended to be opened. I suggest we start by washing it down. This is an ornate object and secret joins could easily be hidden amongst the multitude of detail, which might just be shown up by a little water.’

  ‘Might there not be some clue in the writings or carvings upon the walls in the other chambers?’ asked Jean.

  ‘Yes, that’s a good point,’ conceded Harry. ‘Perhaps you and George could take a look while we start with the alter.’

  It suddenly struck me, as I was retracing my steps with Jean, back through the earlier chambers, that this was all getting very real. We were moving beyond the possibility that this could be a simple co-incidence, or lucky find, and rapidly toward the confirmation of Marlow’s vision as a very tangible and objectively verified reality.

  We’d gone back to the original ante-chamber which Harry had literally fallen into, and stopping briefly to let Mkize and the others know we were going to be some time, before starting to search each room methodically.

  As we were finishing in the second chamber having found no sign of altars or maps amongst the various carvings, I turned to Jean to voice my misgivings.

  ‘I also share your growing confusion in this matter George,’ he responded with a degree of resignation in his voice. ‘Robert is amongst my closest of friends, but I tell you openly and without hesitation, that I considered this vision and our journey to be no more than a fanciful dream, invented by an unconscious mind whilst under the influence of a powerful narcotic.

  ‘Granted, a narcotic which we all took, though with differing results. But I look upon this ancient structure,’ he said, reaching out and touching one of the exquisitely carved relief figures. ‘And I think of the boulders and debris, which blocked its entrance for centuries, and I cannot explain how this could enter into a man’s dreams through the medium of a drug.

  ‘As a modern man, I cannot accept there is a mystical influence at work here, but as a philosopher and lover of wisdom, I can no longer deny the possibility that this is exactly what is going on.’

  ‘But surely you cannot think that block of stone could hold the secret of eternal life, or even a map that would lead us to it?’ I asked, almost desperate.

  ‘No George I do not,’ responded Jean. ‘To me the idea of such a thing is both terrible and wonderful at the same time. A ridiculous fantasy for children or perhaps a myth for simpler times. For such a thing to be a reality would change our world too much.’

  We continued to search through the rest of the chambers, including the ones we’d not previously visited. They turned out to be quite extensive, with some suggesting they may have been used for accommodation as well as ceremonial purposes. But there was nothing anywhere to indicate how to open the altar.

  We returned to find that Harry, Peter and Marlow had had similar luck with the altar itself.

  ‘The only possibility I can think of is that some part of this can be lifted off by brute force,’ suggested Harry, obviously defeated.

  With no better ideas, we gathered round and agreed to focus our efforts on the uppermost rim just a few inches below the top of the altar. There was ample space for us all to get a good grip, and we could even have got a couple of the guides to help us, but decided to give it a go by ourselves to begin with.

  We took the strain and all tried to lift. There was nothing at first, but a second later the top moved just a fraction before seeming to get jammed. A small gap had appeared at one end of the alter a few inches further down the rim on which we’d been focusing our efforts, and Peter just managed to get a pencil into the gap before we had to let go, and the top slid back down.

  As we recovered our breath we had a look at the gap that had been exposed. If the pencil hadn’t been there then we still might never have found it, so well was the join crafted. It hadn’t been hidden by the detail at all, but right in the middle of one of the plain areas of stone running right around the altar.

  We decided to focus our efforts on the opposite end of the altar top, in the hope of lifting it and then jamming something into gap, hopefully if we could gradually raise each end we’d eventually be able to remove the lid altogether.

  It was still heavy going, and required the sacrifice of both Jean’s pen knife and Harry’s petrol lighter, but we managed to raise the lid high enough to be able to twist it round across the top of the alter and expose the space within.

  It seemed the lid had been a solid piece of stone, which had been fitted snugly onto the base via the thick rim. Once this was out of the way it revealed a small interior cavity and a box wrapped in some now ragged cloth.

  Peter and Marlow very gingerly removed this object laying it on the floor next to the altar. After a moment’s hesitation Marlow knelt down and carefully removed the cloth, which itself seemed to carry the faintest of colours and markings. Within was a simple hardwood box dark with age, about eighteen inches long by about six inches square. The lid seemed to be carved into a relief similar to some of those we’d seen on the walls of the other chambers.

  It was sealed with some form of gum or resin, but after carefully breaking this seal with Jean’s now dented pen-knife, Marlow slowly lifted the top of the box to expose the contents. Inside was a large scroll rolled around two delicately carved ebony rods. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I caught the scent of sandalwood or some other light scent as the box was opened.

  ‘It seems fairly robust,’ said Marlow, carefully removing the scroll, standing and then slowly unrolling it on top of the cross-wise lid of the altar.

  Miraculously the parchment of the scroll was still flexible enough to be unrolled without cracking. And as it was unrolled the contents were revealed, but it wasn’t a map. The scroll just contained more writing.

  ‘I thought it was supposed to be a map,’ commented Peter echoing the confusion of the rest of us.

  ‘It was’, responded Marlow, a thoroughly confused expression upon his face. ‘I was sure this was it. Even the scroll and box seem familiar to me now.’
/>
  ‘Do not despair my friends,’ interjected Harry, ‘You may in fact be looking at a map without realising. I know it seems strange, but to the peoples of the ancient world the idea of cartography as we know it today was almost unknown. More useful to them was a description of the landmarks, distances and directions. Often passed by oral tradition, but occasionally, carved, or as we may have here, penned.’

  ‘But how can we find out what this says if none of us read this language, and there is no map to guide us.’

  ‘This is certainly beyond my level of skill,’ answered Harry, ‘we would need to get this translated by a scholar far more familiar with the language than myself. Cairo is possibly the closest, but I have a friend who works within the Armenian library of Jerusalem, who may not only be able to help us with the translation, but who could also be relied upon to be discrete.’

  The air inside the cavern was beginning to get a little smoky from the torches, so we decided to retire back to the surface to discuss the matter further.

  The afternoon sun and heat was in stark contrast to the cool and shade of the underground temple, and following our return to the surface, we decided to withdraw back to our main camp in order to more comfortably discuss what we’d discovered and weigh our options.

  Jean started us off.

  ‘This is an interesting situation my friends, one which, I hope you will forgive me for saying Robert, I did not think we were likely to find ourselves in, and which I am not sure I yet fully comprehend.’

  Everyone seemed in agreement, and even Marlow managed a wry smile before Jean continued.

  ‘We have followed your vision Robert, given to you it would seem by that strange potion brewed beneath the Singing Stones, and that has lead us unerringly here, to this temple. Which, if I understand Harrison correctly is a significant archaeological find. Not only that, but we have now also discovered this scroll, which again, if I understand correctly, may lead us to yet more remarkable things.