Chalkay got to his feet and cleared his throat. “We have gathered today,” he said in a frail voice, “because we think the time of turmoil we have been preparing for may be close at hand.” He glanced over at Ketzah and extended his hand toward him.
“Our Brother Ketzah recently spoke with us regarding disturbing impressions he has received. The Atlantean Council is planning to use the Crystal’s energy to subdue Waydo by boring with intense heat through our planet. Ketzah senses this may bring on the demise of Atlan.” A murmur arose, and Chalkay waited until the room quieted again.
“Three days ago,” he continued, “we went to the Council to beseech them to reconsider their plans. They would not hear of it. They think we are fanatics.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps we are. Yet, do we not feel compelled to follow the stirrings of our own conscience? In any event, it is hopeless to think we can change their minds. So! We shall continue to preserve our history and lessons for the future of humanity.”
Master Klodl struggled to rise. Atel grasped his elbow to assist. “Beloved Sisters and Brothers, the time has come to make manifest our plans of many years. But, can we at this time? How near are we to the end of these preparations? Let us share what we have done, so we can all know exactly the complete plans.”
Everyone looked around, hesitant to speak first. Falima squeezed Ketzah’s hand, then stood. “Honored Masters,” she said, “my Brothers and Sisters, I think I can be confident in saying the plans for the Temple of Light are nearly complete. Perhaps a fortnight more is all we need.
“Those of you who have helped on this project know and appreciate the years of work we’ve put into this, the most complex of our projects. May I explain in more detail to update those working in other areas?”
“Please, Sister, do so,” said Klodl.
“We have chosen a most perfect spot—stable, free of earthquakes and other planetary disruptions, a place where future generations should know, by its location, that this isn’t a simple monument to a heathen god. Most of you already know that this place is Khemet.”
Most in the room nodded, but a few people seemed surprised.
“Our monument,” she continued, “will have four sides, each side being a triangle. It will be built entirely of granite and limestone, then coated with white marble, and capped with a smaller—but golden—four-sided triangle.
“Though astoundingly huge a structure to build, nevertheless, the real work has been in the planning, for the genius lies in what one does not see from the outside. For every measurement, both outside and within, has been for a precise purpose, an exact mathematical formula. This great Monument of Light will speak of our knowledge of the sciences, of history and of things to come. I marvel at it even now, after all these years!” She glanced around for any questions, then sat back onto the bench.
Ragaatl, a coworker in the project, arose. He brushed back a shock of black hair, exposing a sinewy face. “We’re hoping the good people of Khemet might help us in locating the necessary materials. We know that there are stonemasons in that country. They could be of great assistance. Still, the actual building will be done by our Atlantean priests here, and we Initiates.
“We’ll use our knowledge of reverse gravity to move the stone blocks, for they will be huge. We agreed at the beginning to keep this method highly secret. We all know by events about us that humankind is not evolved yet to a point where it can use these higher laws wisely.
“Perhaps thousands of years from now the people will be ready, but we all see the effects today of much knowledge and little wisdom.”
He paused, and Falima stood again to add, “If we’re able, after the Monument has been built, we’d like to build a stone structure in the shape of a lion. This will be a hint to future discoverers that its builders lived during the zodiacal Age of the Lion. According to impressions we’ve perceived, it’ll be in the Age of the Water Bearer, many thousands of years from now, before anyone outside the temple will even begin to know the significance of the structure.”
A soft murmur arose, for this was a surprise—an astonishing thought—of such a long time span.
“Isn’t this the way it should be?” asked Ragaatl. “It seems only right that the world be cast into thousands of years of darkness, as retribution for thousands of years of misspent Light.
“We shall once again start at the beginning. As you know, if the Monument can be understood and acted upon before the next great cataclysm, might it not be possible to avoid yet another? We can only hope there will be enough reasoning minds, further evolved than those of these contemporary times.”
Falima and Ragaatl sat down and looked over at the priests, then at each other, satisfied that their explanations were understood.
Falima then glanced up at Ketzah. He winked at her. But then her expression turned sad, and she gazed at him. Ketzah understood and his mood changed.
All around them men and women nodded in approval of the presentation. Such foolishness! thought Ketzah. More than that—this was all brought about because of greed and selfishness. Hatred! Self-indulgence! Now, millions may die because of it.
He looked at Falima, who glanced around to see who would speak next. He wanted only to walk with her, to caress her, hold her, dance with her. But this was all a futile dream, wasn’t it? He saw that now. For there were plans being made—awful plans, of animal-like survival in a time of doom.
A nudge from Dregl’s elbow brought him from his thoughts. He looked at Dregl, then at Mot, who both motioned for him to speak. Of course. He had studied the whole Og project most thoroughly; he should be the one best suited to explain it.
He stood, thought for a moment, and cleared his throat. “We’ll be going to the land of Og. There are eight of us, including the priests Atel and Mot. We intend to build stone monuments, much like the Temple of Light, but much smaller and without the inner passageways. We won’t have the large granite resources in our area.
“We hope someday humanity will recognize the similarities of these structures existing on different continents. These formations resembling the Monument in Khemet should suggest a common source. And the largest of our monuments will contain the Records.
He walked back to the bench and saw Falima’s sorrow. His chest tightened. The seriousness of this meeting weighed on him heavier and heavier as he realized his days with Falima were nearly over.
He only half-listened now as other groups told of their missions. Some would be going north, others west, southwest, east, and so on to every part of the globe that they had determined would be stable. Each had similar missions—they must tell far future civilizations of their glory, their failure and their warnings.
“It is best,” said Chalkay, “that the exodus begin soon. Within a fortnight, if possible. We cannot postpone this, hoping for better days. For each political day looks darker than the previous, and we delude ourselves hoping for a fresh dawn.”
He looked around the room at the men and women; all of them wore modest robes, their hair styled neatly yet not gaudily, adorned with the simplest of headbands. These students, so much more educated than those of the secular world—how rich they could be if they so chose! How renowned their names, had they wanted to rule. Dear precious people, now willingly giving up all they hold dear for this thankless mission.
“Precious students,” he said, “you are like children to me. Where have the years gone? Was it so long ago we first sensed this coming end? It is difficult to believe the time of upheaval is upon us.”
He looked around the room again. “As you probably know, I will be among those going to Waydo. There will be twelve of us. We all are aware that we may not fare well, for Waydo is soon to be under attack by our motherland.”
He sighed. “But, the work must be done and we have agreed to do it. We, of course, are taking the Records to hide.
“We will build earthworks according to the magnetic lines of the planet. Magnetic
ally aligned earthworks will also be erected in Mayra by our people. Again, we hope someone will note the similarity.”
He raised a finger. “It is vital that these several copies of the Records be hidden securely all over the planet. It is probable that some—perhaps most—will be lost forever. So consider carefully where you secrete them. The more copies to be hidden, the greater the possibility of one or more being found in the future. Choose your locations with great care.”
He said nothing for a long while, so long that some shifted in their seats while he looked each young Initiate carefully in the eye. Then he said, “I wish you all well. Do your best. Remember who you are, and know that we are bonded as one, throughout eternity, through our common experiences and our common goals. Find strength in that bond, for the future days will be difficult.”
He sat down.
Atel slowly got up, assisted by Wotum reaching over with his hand. “I believe this is the last time we will all meet together,” Atel said. “Let us take hands and remember our good years together. As Brother Chalkay said, let us gather strength from our common bond and feel our love for each other.”
The room was heavy and still. With a scuffling of feet and benches scraping, everyone reached out and clasped hands, and a large ring was formed. It was hard to look around at these old friends, for this was perhaps the last time to see them.
Ketzah gripped Falima’s hand and gently caressed her thumb with his. This is madness! he silently screamed. I cannot leave all that I love! Divinities! Let this not be so!
Atel sensed the agonies tormenting his friends, for he felt them too. After long moments, he uttered, “Now let us go to finish our preparations. In our most difficult times, remember that we will all meet again in a different time, on a different plane.”
A different plane! What are you saying?! Ketzah raged silently. I can’t wait for such a day to be with Falima!
In stunned silence, people shuffled out from the room, some weeping softly. Ketzah looked around, then grabbed Falima’s hand and quickly led her out the door.
Outside, at the steps, Falima halted and pulled Ketzah back. “Ketzah, where are you taking me? Are you angry?”
“Angry? At you, no, but yes—angry at the world, for throwing us into this madness. We must be alone to talk, to sort out our lives.”
She followed him down the steps into the midday noise of the city. They found a bench in a grassy area. He pulled her down on the seat with him and their eyes locked.
“What are we going to do, Falima? We’ll lose each other.”
“My heart cries out for you,” said Falima, “and for me. But we can’t go against all we’ve been trained to do. Our time together grows short.”
“Bah!” snorted Ketzah. “What were we trained to do? To hide Records? For what? So someone countless years from now can look at them, laugh, then make the same stupid blunders of our time? This is insane, Falima! Insane!”
Falima withdrew her hand, unsure of how to respond. She looked at him timidly for a time, then quietly said, “We’ve known for a long while that his would happen. This isn’t a surprise to you.”
Ketzah shook his head and sighed, sorry for his outburst. “We knew. But did we believe?”
“Would it have helped if we had?”
“Yes. When the masters chose us for different destinations, we should have balked. I should have learned of Khemet’s botany. We could have prepared!”
He rubbed his forehead. “If I had only thought of it.”
Falima’s eyes were moist. “We were children. How could we have foreseen this day? It’s too late now; we can’t turn our backs on duty.” She tried to say more, but choked up.
Ketzah saw her pain. He took her up into his arms and held her while she sobbed. “Damn this great nation of Atlan!” he growled. “And damn our duty!”
* * * *
Chapter 20
“Over here,” Nenus pointed, his black eyes flashing intently. “Poseidl should look out over his sea.” He motioned for his sons to move the marble garden statue, nearly as big as they, to the far end of the yard, near the cliff that hung over crashing waves below.
Ketzah and Vadi looked doubtfully at their still-robust father, who obviously thought they were at least twice as strong as he. Silver hair haloed his chiseled face, but Nenus had slowed only a little with age.
Vadi stared at the statue. “Father thinks we have the strength of wrestlers,” he said. As an adult now, Vadi no longer had the adolescent scrawniness. Although his wavy hair was brown and his complexion swarthy, he otherwise resembled Ketzah quite a bit and, in dim light, they sometimes were mistaken for the twins, rather than Vadi and his sister Medra.
The two struggled with the statue, rocking and walking it toward the chosen site. Ketzah breathed hard, all the while savoring the clean, sweet air of Amaki, this tiny town on the far side of the island of Poseidl. It lay far from any large city and had none of the ills of urban life. The air was good with a clean blue sky, and the people were friendly. It was here that Nenus and Finah had chosen to retire, and Vadi had followed. After all, a young carpenter could find work anywhere.
When Ketzah wrote and told of his plans to visit, Finah was so elated, she immediately made plans for a holiday with her children. Medra and her husband Pelak sailed in the night before from the city of Achai on the island of Aryaz.
“How is this, Father?” asked Ketzah. Poseidl now rested at his new position near the cliff.
Nenus studied the god for a moment. “Hmm. I think if he were turned a bit, as if he were looking both at the water and at us...”
Ketzah and Vadi groaned, then obeyed, shaking their heads while they strained.
“There!” said Nenus. “Perfect!” The brothers brushed their hands and robes clean, then found a bench to sit on while they wiped the sweat off their faces and looked out at the waves.
“This is such a beautiful place,” mused Ketzah. “How lucky that you found it.”
“It’s what we always wanted,” said Nenus. He sat down beside his sons. “I have the sea air to breathe, I can go down and fish whenever I want, and we are only a short walk from town and all the conveniences for your mother. But I regret we are so far from you,” he said, patting Ketzah’s knee. “And now Medra, too.”
Ketzah nodded in agreement and looked over the estate—its extensive yard, the arbors of wisteria and grapes, the flower-bordered paths, marble benches, columns and statuary, all leading down to the shady portico attached to the house. Inside, he knew Finah was busy fussing over the food, the tableware, the bedding and anything else she could find to polish or clean or prepare. Her children were all together again, and her singing reflected her happiness.
Ketzah heard her songs and for a short while he felt like a child again. Then a sadness came over him and he longed for those innocent times.
He looked over at Medra and Pelak as they walked together beneath the wisteria. Having married less than a year ago, their love was still wonderful and passionate. He thought of Falima. As he had done again and again—and yet again—since the meeting at the temple, he raged silently at the Divinities for this fate that hung over them like an oncoming storm.
“Dear family,” called Finah from the doorway. “Come and get ready so we can eat.” She wore a light blue robe which accentuated her figure, blond curls and light blue eyes. Even now in late middle age, she was beautiful, though her walk was a little slower and less agile.
As the men set up a table and chairs in the yard, Medra and Finah brought out wine, bread, roast fowl and fresh fruit. They sat and soon they all were lost in good food and conversation.
Ketzah didn’t talk much, trying to hide his feelings, but drank in each face carefully. He must remember every line, every hair, every sound of their voices, for he wouldn’t see them again if he couldn’t convince them today that they must leave. The thought of their almost certain fate was more than he could bear. H
e must not think about that.
So many times before he had urged them to leave Atlan, to live in another country. They had laughed at his preposterous idea. Perhaps, then, if they didn’t want to move, would they take a vacation to a far-off place? Ketzah would pay for it.
But of course, they refused. They were too happy, they insisted, too comfortable in their retirement home. And, of course, to leave the homeland they loved? How absurd!
And now he held a cluster of grapes, absentmindedly plucking them off, one by one, and dropping them onto his plate, uneaten.
Finah noticed and said, “You’re so quiet today, son. Is something the matter?”
He looked at her gently. “I’ll be leaving Atlan soon, to go to Og for a while.”
“Og? Whatever for?”
He looked around at his family. Couldn’t he tell them—explain to them—beg them to come with him? Yet, who would believe such a wild story as the destruction of Atlan? They’d think him mad and worry about him. “We’ll be doing studies on the plants there,” he said lightly. He took a sip from his goblet. “It should be interesting.”
Nenus’s eyebrow arched slightly at the idea of plant study being interesting. “How long will you be gone?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” lied Ketzah. “Two or three moons, perhaps. Maybe a year.”
A spark of hope touched him and he looked hard at them. “I’ll miss you all so much. Wouldn’t it be nice if you went with me?”
Finah laughed aloud. “Me? In Og?! Whatever would I do in such a wild land?”
Nenus was a bit more contemplative. “The fishing and hunting might be nice.” He eyed his wife, who flashed a warning with her eyes. “But we’re satisfied with the comforts of Atlan. We are no longer young, you know.”
Vadi’s face showed a slight annoyance. “You know, Ketzah, I can’t leave my job to tramp through the woods. Nor can Pelak.”
“I’ve heard talk about our government,” Ketzah ventured. “These aren’t good times. There may be dark days ahead for Atlan. Terrible days. The rumors say disaster may strike soon—very soon. Please, come with me now, even for a short while. I...”