LESSON 22
LOVE

FROM THE TRAVEL JOURNALS OF MRS ASHLEE DEVERE

Eight hours after departing Cairo in the direction of the rising sun, we were travelling across as perfect a desert as if we had moved thousands of miles away from civilisation. The Bedouins referred to the wilderness as the open sea, and loved it better than any landscape the East had to offer.

I had not forgotten Jessenia’s warning in regard to riding a horse in my condition, and I was not ignorant enough to suppose that a camel would be any more favourable. I had been forced to tell Cingar about my pregnancy so that he could make provision for it. Although he now understood my husband’s frustration and was doubly displeased by my decision to pursue my quest, Cingar assured me that with enough money, anything could be arranged.

‘Would jewels or coin be preferable?’ I assured my guide that money was no object.

Thus it was that I found myself travelling in the style of an Arabian princess. Atop my camel was strapped a carriage compartment, with a roof, two solid walls at the front and back, and a flat floor. To my right and left were thick curtains that could be drawn back, or closed and tied to keep out the desert winds and sand. Beneath me the floor of my travelling compartment was lined with rugs and cushions to absorb some of the impact of the jarring motion of my ride.

To act as a guide, Cingar had procured a Bedouin man well known to him, in whom he claimed to have implicit confidence. Our caravan consisted of ten camels, our guide and three young camel drivers, all of whom we were required to make provision for during the journey.

Our camels, at a steady pace, were capable of covering twenty-five miles a day. I was told they could reach speeds of twelve miles per hour, but bearing my condition in mind, Cingar insisted we did not push our luck.

Our Bedouins didn’t know quite what to make of me, a woman dressed like a man, who carried a sword and a pistol, but as Cingar made it clear that I was paying for this little expedition, I was treated with the utmost respect. I imagine the fear that I could dispense with their services as quickly as I had employed them, and thus withhold food, water and shelter, might have had something to do with the Bedouins’ faithful reverence.

Even in the shade of my compartment the desert heat during the day was nearly unbearable and I felt for Cingar enduring the full pelt of the sun. He assured me he’d tolerated the same conditions many times before.

After three days of travel we passed the only landmark to speak of between Cairo and Suez—a large green palm tree. It took three more hours to leave the landmark behind us and I could well understand why the locals preferred the vast sandy nothingness, as there was less to mark the slow progress of the passage. Still, the tree did serve as a preoccupation for the better part of a day.

By high noon the next day we came in sight of Suez, which appeared as a tiny dark city when compared to the mountains that neighboured it on both shores of the Gulf. Not one blade of grass graced the shore of the unsalubrious waters, so Suez relied on supplies from Cairo to keep the residents fed. The purpose of this city was mainly as a place of trade for the great caravans to Mecca, and both Cingar and the Bedouins agreed that we should only water our camels from the well and then move on. As I had been informed that the crossing of the Suez marked the halfway point of our journey, I was just as eager to keep moving and avoid any questions.

On crossing the Suez we entered the Sinai proper and for the first time since commencing my journey, I truly felt myself treading in the footsteps of my dearly departed Lord Hamilton. I could hardly imagine how his wife, Clarissa, had survived this journey wearing the attire of an English lady; with a light cloak over my silk shirt, I was still sweltering, and suffering from heat rash that itched with a vengeance underneath my corset. I did not wear the undergarment as tightly as most ladies would, and had it not held my treasure I would have dispensed with it altogether.

Albray had been greatly enjoying our travel in the desert, but then he did not have to suffer the heat. He did, however, sense my discomfort via the stone I wore, but as we were now so close to our destination he would not condone me removing the charm from my person.

We were one day out from the mount we sought when Albray’s good mood appeared to diminish somewhat. I was feeling rather weak and poorly by this stage and I gathered that my physical ailments might have been disturbing him.

‘Please won’t you let me remove the stone from my person?’ I appealed, feeling guilty. ‘I can’t stand to see you suffer at my expense when you have already suffered so much in your own lifetime.’

I am not suffering, I am worrying. He faced me from his cross-legged perch in my compartment. I’ve been unable to locate Molier’s whereabouts since we banished him in Ostia. I felt sure I would have been able to spot his party in the open desert, but I have been unable to locate them.

‘Perhaps they are not following us, or have taken a different route to the mount?’

No, he said with certainty. They would be close by now, or arrived, and they have not. Molier will not allow his precious vial to be locked in the mount, when he is dependent on its contents…of that much 1 am sure.

‘Then how could he hide from your sight?’ I asked. ‘Can he shield himself from us as we have from him?’

Molier cannot call on your great ancestors to shield him as he is not of your bloodline, Albray informed me.

‘Then maybe he can call on some other protector?’

Yes, Albray said gravely, and that is my worry.

‘Why so?’

There is no point in speculating, Albray answered after a pause. He forced a smile, clearly not wanting to cause me undue alarm.

‘According to metaphysical laws, no entity or spirit more spiritually advanced than he could come to his aid. And from what I have observed of Molier, his light-body is a bog of negative energy.’ That’s when I realised Albray’s worry. ‘You don’t believe in demons, Albray, surely?’ I was almost amused by the premise.

Not in the biblical sense, he said, but there are sub-planes below the physical world that correspond with each progressive plane above this one. These are frequented by tortured souls, thought forms and alien entities that have yet to exceed lowly desires and pleasures. King Solomon, among many other scholars through the ages, wrote volumes on the subject and how they might be put to good use. And I’ll grant that the Arsenal Library in Paris houses many such texts.

‘Let us hope you are wrong about that.’ Now I really was feeling ill.

Mid-morning, on our fifth day of travel from the Suez, our mounts scaled the hard dirt track that led to the top of Mt Serâbit. Excitement and fear gripped my stomach. I was so tense I could barely consume water, let alone eat.

If you would just partake of a little of the Highward Fire-Stone, your strength and vitality would be restored. Albray had been trying to persuade me to take the substance for days.

‘Am I dying, do you think?’ I asked for his opinion only half in jest; deep down I knew I was fine, although I did feel like death warmed up today. I had already told Albray that, because I was pregnant, I would only take the mysterious substance to save my life.

No, you are not dying, Albray conceded, frustrated, but you are weak and in no state to combat a psychic attack!

‘I fear I left my strength back in Alexandria.’ How I wished I could be back in that bath with Devere. My being literally ached to feel him close, wet and cool against my skin.

Albray rolled his eyes. He is not back in Alexandria. He is less than one day behind us.

‘Really?’ My spirits suddenly soared at the notion that I could be reunited with him within the day. ‘How much less than a day behind us?’

My knight was grinning now, caught up in my elation. That would depend on how early he arose this morning. But, as he is in the company of some gentlemen that we do not entirely trust, it would be preferable to complete our quest before your husband arrives.

Good cheer departed and my fear returned. ‘His brotherhood?’ I ventured to guess, although I desperately wanted the answer to be in the negative.

Albray nodded.

‘The man who threatened my Lord Hereford?’ I almost choked on my words.

The very one.

‘Your personal power will only be realised upon her pleasure…And, with any luck, you’ll have many, many adept offspring.’ The man’s words, from the memory I accessed in Devere’s mind, came back to me forcefully.

What if the secret brotherhood had discovered that I had fled Devere and had now come in pursuit of me personally? What if they knew I was with child? What did they have planned for me and my family? And worst of all, what if the brotherhood sought the vials in my possession for their own purposes?

Questions and doubts cured any homesickness I might have felt for either England or Devere. ‘Do you think my suspicions of Devere’s brotherhood are justified? After all, you belonged to a brotherhood, not so very different.’

Such brotherhoods exist for your protection, he reasoned. But their agenda does not always accord with the individual initiate’s.

‘And what was your brotherhood’s agenda?’ I wondered what my dear friend had ultimately died for.

To preserve the greater mysteries, and the bloodline of Isis, until such time as mankind is ready to dispense with religious doctrine altogether and think for himself…or herself. Then the wisdom of the ancients can be released into safe hands and be used for the higher good of creation.

‘Do you think that time is now, Albray?’

That would be nice. The knight obviously cherished the thought. And that would make my vow pretty much redundant. Still, he did not look too hopeful, do you really think that all those godfearing folk you left behind in England are ready to know all that you have learned?

I winced when I considered the uproar such an account would cause in merry old England. ‘I think they would bring back witch burning, just for me.’

I think you might be right. Albray clearly felt he was in for a wait. However, I am sure that the outcome of today might have a bearing on the advancement of that time that has been hailed as ‘the end of days’.

This comment shed a whole new light on the dogma of the Book of Revelation that had been feared by all of Christendom for so long. It seemed that this time of reckoning was an event to look forward to and not to be dreaded.

Our party came to a stop below the incline that led up to a rocky peak and Lord Hamilton’s excavation site, which had almost entirely been swallowed by the desert sand once more. Ahead lay the large round metal gateway, encircled by a ring of mysterious black stone embossed with ancient hieroglyphs.

I had expected that we would have to excavate the gateway, and we had brought shovels and picks with us for the chore. Considering the amount of time since the gate had been opened, I had thought it would have been buried by the sandy dirt churned up by the sirocco winds. And yet, here it was, glistening in the sun as if it had just been exposed and polished for our use. The entrance was just as Lord Hamilton had described it.

Our entire party stood in awe of our discovery, until the Bedouins spied several wild camels wandering around the ruins further up the mount, and with a mighty cheer, they ran off to round the beasts up.

‘Where the hell did they come from?’ Cingar was immediately suspicious, although the beasts were not saddled. ‘I shall investigate. There are places enough amongst these boulders for bandits to hide.’ The gypsy borrowed my pistol and whistled to the Bedouins to advise them to exercise more caution.

Whilst the rest of my party were preoccupied with searching around the rocky mount and excavation site above me, Albray had me scale the rock face alongside the strange metal gateway until I came to stand on top of it. ‘Well, that was fun.’ I wiped the sweat from my brow and neck. ‘What now?’ I looked to Albray for further instruction.

Take the stopper from the Star vial and pour the contents over the door.

‘But surely, even all the contents won’t be nearly enough to cover the doorway?’ I knew the vial was self-filling, but would that still be the case if every last grain of the substance was spent?

It will be all right, Albray assured me, knowing my fears. I’ve done this myself.

I pulled the vial from its usual resting place in my cleavage—the Fire vial I still kept in its velvet case in a shoulder bag that I wore underneath my cloak. I removed the stopper and, kneeling down to get close to my target, I began to pour the Highward Fire-Stone down over the door. It flowed in a steady stream from the tiny vial and, as there was not a breath of wind, the glittering particles were attracted to the metal. I was amazed at the amount of the substance that gushed down over the gateway, and when I had at last coated the entire barrier, I turned the vial upright to find it still full. ‘That’s incredible,’ I uttered, amazed. An ear-splitting sound of buckling metal urged me to get off the gateway and down to ground level.

I backed away from the gateway, unable to peel my eyes from the sight of the tiny light-filled specks that seemed to be eating through the barrier. Then, in a final burst of blinding light, a void was exposed inside the dark ring of hieroglyphs.

‘Dear goddess.’ I was so stunned by the spectacle that I couldn’t move. The moment of truth had arrived. ‘It looks dark in there.’ I could have used the Star vial to light my way in, but how would I get out?

I moved to our pack-camel as it carried the long-stemmed torches that the Arabs used to light the camp at night. The top of the torch was wrapped in fabric that had been doused in a flammable substance and with one whiff I immediately recognised it. It was the same foul-smelling stuff contained in the bottle inside the hollow journal Lord Hereford had given me—which I had also left with Devere. The Bedouins held a thick rounded piece of glass some distance from the fabric, allowing the sun to burn into the cloth. Where the ray of light was focused, the cloth soon ignited. I used the same method to achieve my goal.

Albray looked around, unable to believe Molier was nowhere to be seen.

‘You’re being paranoid, the sun is far too bright for Molier.’ Of that much I was sure.

Albray glanced to the horizon and spied something that bothered him.

I looked for the source of his concern to see storm clouds churning. ‘How long until that gets here?’

An hour perhaps?

‘Plenty of time to get in and out,’ I said, moving off toward the gateway, determined to deliver my charge without further delay.

My knight accompanied me into the darkness; we didn’t notice the four camels that descended to the gateway and follow us down the glistening red pathway.

At the entrance to the central chamber I was taken aback by the skeletal remains of a knight, and I realised at once that this was all that remained of my dear Albray.

I’ve seen better days. Albray attempted to make light of the moment, but I realised how disturbing it must be for him, and so I did not stand and dwell on the tragedy.

‘The best of you still lives on,’ I replied, turning my attention to the spectacular chamber that was revealed in the light of my torch. ‘You could have picked worse places to dwell for eternity.’ My heart leapt into my throat at the sight. I felt such excitement at penetrating this ancient, sacred place that was still in immaculate condition. Now I truly understood Lord Hamilton’s obsession with this site and why men had died to prevent its discovery and subsequent desecration.

I walked past the round canals that circled the chamber, down the entrance path that led to the crossroad of red, to approach the pillars that supported a beautiful golden dome. These huge columns depicted goddesses of the Egyptian pantheon. I was truly mystified by the artistry, which appeared to be as pristine and brilliant as the day it had been worked. In the centre of these four amazing pillars was a round platform where the red pathway extended out in the four cardinal directions. To one side of me was a white-pillared annexe; to the other an identical annexe with pillars of red at its entrance. Directly ahead was a large arched gold door. ‘A sacred Ark could lie behind those doors,’ I thought out loud, ‘that could grant passage to another realm of existence.’

And you are one of the few mortals on this Earth who could activate the porthole without fatal results, Albray commented. Are you tempted?

‘With a storm massing in the distance, and Molier’s whereabouts unknown…?’ I brushed off the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, inwardly regretting that circumstances were not in my favour. Only the goddess knew what such exposure would do to my unborn babe. ‘I think not. I am all for getting these vials back where they belong and retreating as fast as possible.’

A wise decision, Albray confirmed, smiling proudly at my restraint.

I moved toward the Fire-Stone’s annexe and had not even cleared the dome when several gusts of a suspect, chilly wind rushed past me and around the chamber. I halted, put on guard by this development.

The vial, Albray urged me. Now! I was so rattled by the sudden negative atmosphere in the chamber that I complied with Albray’s instruction and, in my panic, I consumed rather more of the Star vial substance than I had to date.

My inner being seemed to explode with bright light that was just as inwardly blinding as the dispersal of the gate had been to my external sight. The world beyond my own being vanished, and I felt myself propelled into a timeless, weightless void of pure peace, contentment and love. I struggled to hold on to this vast, all-knowing, all-loving feeling, more exciting than any ancient knowledge, discovery or experience I had witnessed since birth. I felt connected to the answer I had been ceaselessly chasing all my life…What is god? And what in the heavens was the Almighty thinking, placing me in this era? The answer was just as the Bible had always claimed: god is love, the bliss and contentment that is the inspiration of creation. The divine was the birth of every new and constructive contribution in the evolution of life.

You must return to me. I need you now, a male voice instructed. Although the message was clear, the source sounded far away. I felt I should recognise this voice. Was it that of my knight? Albray!

The recollection of him brought me rocketing back to my senses. To my great relief, the situation had not altered. Albray seemed no more alarmed than he had when I’d left him. I could only assume that my little trip to heaven had been momentary.

Thanks for calling me back to reality, Albray, I bethought my knight, as we both warily eyed the spaces beyond the central golden dome.

Did you go somewhere? he replied uneasily.

Now that I thought about it, the voice had not been Albray’s, and yet not entirely unfamiliar. Well, if you did not order my return from my ecstatic state, then who—? My thoughts turned briefly to my son. Could it have been him? I need you now, the voice had said, and it was hardly like Albray to need me consciously present. More the other way around, really.

I gasped when I saw the shoes, attached to legs, attached to the rest of their bodies, floating down to stand in front of all four pathways that led from the dome—there was one man per direction. I recognised Molier, and Mr Jenkins from the Arsenal Library. Mr Jenkins’ light-body had quite a few more dark patches than when last I’d seen him…his undead status was obviously a recent development.

It seems Molier has been initiating others. I drew my sword as Albray backed up toward me, preparing to enter my form.

But we have the vial? Albray didn’t understand.

‘The vial is self-filling.’ Molier answered our unspoken query, exposing the fact that he could perceive Albray’s presence. ‘I have enough barrels of the Fire-Stone stashed away to keep a small army going for a century!’ His eyes turned red, and he drew his sword. I noted that he carried a pistol on his belt also. Clearly his choice of weapon was for Albray’s benefit—a sentimental gesture of challenge. ‘And now that you are going to release both keys into my possession, my days of darkness and dependence on the Fire-Stone substance shall be over.’

‘There is nothing here that can save you from damnation.’ All I had to do was look at him to see how heavily the events of his abnormally long life weighed on his spirit.

Molier laughed in the face of my confidence, and started to walk toward me. ‘I love the way you can say that, having only just set foot in this temple for the first time. Whereas I spent six hundred years trapped in this place!’ His raised voice conveyed his unhappiness at this fact. ‘And, unlike anyone else who has stepped foot in this temple since it was abandoned by Moses, I have deciphered every hieroglyph and studied every artwork by the red glow of the Fire-Stone. I can assure you that as far as man’s use of this site is concerned, there are a few hidden clauses.’

Albray stepped into my form and I felt his powerful presence take control of my physical body. He raised our weapon to block Molier’s attack.

FROM THE HONEYMOON JOURNAL OF LADY SUSAN DEVERE

I had never been so glad to arrive anywhere as I was to arrive at the plateau atop Mt Serâbit. I knew I had the gruelling journey back through the stifling desert heat to endure, but at least I could be assured that the journey was half over. Even my lightest long-sleeved frock was not appropriate for these conditions, but since other Frankish women in the East managed to maintain their dignity and countenance, so could I. I did not feel comfortable dressing as the Arab women did, and could not dress as a man; I just didn’t have Ashlee’s daring or social abandon.

Our party arrived to find ten or so heavily laden camels, and the round gateway leading to the Star-Fire Temple open.

As Mr Devere jumped from his mount, Cingar ran to meet him. ‘Praise the Great Mother you have arrived. I thought you’d never catch up!’ The gypsy confessed to keeping the pace of his journey as slow as possible in the hope that Devere might be able to make up the distance between them. ‘I delayed the opening of the gate long enough—’ Cingar glanced to the gateway and was surprised to find it open. ‘Perhaps not,’ he was forced to concede, as he scratched his head. ‘Well, I guess that might explain where the missing camels disappeared to, at least.’

‘What missing camels?’ Lord Malory came to stand beside Devere.

Cingar told us of the four strays they’d encountered upon arrival and of how he had feared they might belong to bandits. This also explained why he was not aware that Ashlee had already managed to open and enter the temple.

Something our party had failed to fathom was how Molier, intolerant to sunlight, could possibly travel into the middle of the desert. The only solution to his problem, we imagined, was that he would have to travel by night. We could not guess where he might seek shelter by day, but we had assumed that he was no threat during the daylight hours.

‘Of course.’ Lord Malory had to restrain himself from cursing in my presence. ‘It has been suggested that vampires, if they drink the blood of an animal, can then assume its form! Perhaps the camel’s form has protected Molier during his journey through the desert.’

‘But there are four missing camels, you said?’ Mr Devere directed the query at Cingar, and when the gypsy nodded his head, the concern of all increased.

‘The creature has increased its number.’ Malory was clearly horrified by the prospect. ‘We must destroy them all.’

Lord Devere, Mr Devere, Lord Malory and Cingar drew their weapons. They were all armed with swords in addition to their pistols, as no bullet could kill our adversaries.

‘If what you say about these creatures is true, then they all possess the strength of ten men!’ I objected.

‘She’s right,’ Lord Malory conceded. ‘We need the Fire vial, for at least three of us could drink from it and even up the odds a little.’

‘I couldn’t possibly.’ Lord Devere was repulsed by the notion.

‘It’s amazing what you’ll do when your life is at stake,’ Malory challenged.

‘We have backup.’ Mr Devere gestured to Malory’s men. ‘They can surround the entrance and ensure nothing escapes.’

‘Torches.’ Cingar ordered the Bedouins to oblige his request with the greatest haste.

‘Not for us,’ Mr Devere decreed. ‘We need the cover of darkness if we hope to surprise them. I know the layout of the temple. It was detailed in Hereford’s journal.’ At another thought, Mr Devere added: ‘Have torches lit for Lord Malory’s men.’

‘So I am just expected to wait here, I suppose?’ I folded my arms, annoyed that I could not wield a sword. ‘I’ll have you know I’m not a bad shot with a hunting rifle.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ Devere handed me his pistol. ‘I need you to operate the lever.’

‘No.’ My lord flatly rejected the idea. ‘Get one of Malory’s men to do it.’

Mr Devere’s expression was dark—he was obviously not keen on the suggestion nor was he eager to state why, openly.

‘My dear pupil does not entirely trust his brothers any more,’ Malory explained.

‘But I do trust your wife,’ my brother-in-law told his brother.

Lord Devere did not have to ponder for long to realise he had to agree with his brother. ‘The lever is right by the door,’ he supposed. ‘So, as soon as you execute your part, you are to return out here in the greatest of haste.’

‘Of course,’ I assured him. Anything to get a look inside this great temple of mystique.

FROM THE TRAVEL JOURNALS OF MRS ASHLEE DEVERE

Molier was better with a sword than anyone Albray and I had challenged to date, but then he’d had centuries to perfect his skill. He was cautious of the torch in my hand, until he managed to nick the hand that held it and the torch dropped to the floor. He was also exceedingly strong and when we locked swords, Molier thrust me clear off my feet, then willed my sword into his possession. The extent of Molier’s psychic aptitude took both Albray and myself off guard.

‘Give me the keys,’ our antagonist requested, the tone of his voice smug with victory. ‘I’ve killed you once, Devere. Would you have me sacrifice this woman due to your stubbornness?’

I felt Albray’s resolve weaken and yet I was truly fuming, insulted not to be considered a threat. How dare this man be so arrogant in a temple of the goddess! Obviously, this pathetic creature was not aware that I’d had a bit of experience with psychophysics myself. I dispelled Albray from my form as I rose to stand and confront Molier’s extended sword.

Molier smiled, believing that I was submitting.

I smiled too, noting the other three members of Molier’s party closing in on me, swords drawn.

I cast my mind back to my darkest hour—a memory I had always done my best to repress. I realised in this moment that my reluctance to return to the asylum tower of the Black Rose was not fear of reliving my abandonment to the devices of such an evil man. What I feared was my own destructive potential, which I had not dared to unleash since that day. I knew that the child victims of Dr Rosen had achieved their revenge thanks to my underdeveloped and untrained psychic talent; the ability to control physical matter I had only temporarily lent to those dispossessed souls so that the murders might be stopped.

Trembling, I gathered my will unto me, drawing on the mastery of my mighty foremothers. My arms were crossed at my chest, and I abruptly thrust them, palm out, away from my body, whereupon all four of my attackers were sent rocketing backwards.

Molier, who was directly before me, was impaled on a sword, and as he dropped to his knees, I saw my dear Mr Devere at the handle of the debilitating stroke. As I turned full circle I saw that the same fate had befallen Molier’s three accomplices, for all had been struck dead-centre in the chest and their spinal cords severed. It was only Molier who was still moving, for his injury was just right of centre.

‘The lever,’ Mr Devere cued Susan, who was standing by the control at the door.

Molier released a strange unearthly sound and, raising himself to standing, he walked forward to relieve himself of the sword through his chest. Then he turned to Susan, who seemed mesmerised. ‘Back away from that lever, Lady Devere…there’s a good woman.’

When Susan did as instructed, Mr Devere protested. ‘Don’t listen to him, do it!’

Although Susan appeared regretful, she shook her head and backed up to the entrance.

‘She cannot disobey me,’ Molier informed us. ‘Lady Devere and I have an understanding.’

Susan raised her pistol and aimed it at my husband.

‘Hypnosis,’ guessed the man who had threatened Lord Hamilton, who I later learned went by the name of Lord Malory.

Molier gave a chuckle of confirmation. He must have hypnotised Susan during her kidnapping.

‘Release my wife, demon!’ Lord Devere withdrew his sword from the dead man at his feet, of a mind to finish the creature himself.

‘Ah. We wouldn’t want your wife held responsible for killing your brother now, would we?’

Lord Devere halted, frustrated by the threat, when a hand clamped around his foot and pulled him to the ground. He turned to find his adversary clawing his way toward his throat; the creature may no longer have had use of its legs, but it still harnessed great strength in its upper body. Cingar and Lord Malory found they had the same problem on their hands.

‘Now,’ Molier turned back to face me, ‘give me the keys or your best friend will kill your husband.’

My eyes narrowed in challenge, as I saw how my response would unfold. With a thought, I flipped the lever, unleashing a river of liquid into each of the canals; I recognised the smell of the substance at once. The sound of the lever being activated distracted Susan and provided my dear Devere the opportunity to overpower her. With a satisfied grin in Molier’s direction, I casually kicked the idle torch into the closest canal and the liquid immediately ignited into flame. ‘This woman will be the end of you, Molier.’ I focused on his form and levitated him into the air.

The creature was panicked as he witnessed his fellow vampires being cast to the flames by my allies, where they perished beyond salvation, changing into several animals before they burned to cinders.

‘The goddess can go to hell, the like of which she condemned me to!’ Molier spat, shattering into a white mist, which, although I cast it to the flame, would not burn.

My body was crumpling under the duress of the concentration it took to contain the evil being and I fell to my knees for more stability. Albray could feel the vitality being sucked from my life force and he rushed to kneel at my side. Let him go, before he kills you. There will be other days.

But your freedom and Lillet’s? I strained, feeling my internal organs were going to burst.

Think about your son.

The pressure on his poor little being must have been enormous! With a deep exhalation of defeat, I let Molier go and the mist whipped out the exit and was gone.

Exhausted, I gasped for air to fill my pressured lungs. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I uttered aside to my knight. ‘I failed you.’

On the contrary, you can now accomplish exactly what we came here to do, Albray assured me.

‘Ashlee!’ My husband fell on his knees before me and embraced me for dear life. ‘I’ll never make you compromise your purpose again,’ he swore.

‘You won’t ever have to.’ I hugged him back. ‘My adventuring days are over.’

‘The storm is upon us!’ one of Malory’s men yelled down from the entrance.

I dragged myself from Devere’s kiss and stood. ‘Get out! Quickly!’ I urged everyone, as I ran between the flaming canals toward the pillars of red.

All my companions raced for the entrance, but when I returned from replacing the Fire vial in its annexe, Devere was still present.

‘Leave.’ I gave him a shove in the right direction as I raced past him on my way to the white-pillared annexe.

‘I am never leaving you again,’ he called after me defiantly. ‘That is a fate worse than death.’

His words tore at my heart, for I knew the pain he spoke of all too well.

Hurry, woman! Albray urged me on.

With no time to be sentimental about it, I placed the Star vial in its shrine, did an about-face and sprinted back to Devere, who awaited me beneath the golden dome.

His hand in mine, we raced toward the entrance passage, the deafening sound of buckling metal spurring us faster up the polished red incline. My body wanted to collapse so badly, and yet fear for my life ensured that I kept up my pace. Only a few paces short of escape the entrance shrouded in darkness and, with a mighty metal clap, Devere and I encountered a solid barrier. We were trapped!

‘No,’ I cried, bashing both my fists against the super-strong obstruction. The Star vial was now trapped inside with us, where its contents could not open the door. ‘Dear goddess, don’t let this be how it ends!’ I looked in Devere’s direction. I could not see him in the dim light, but I could hear him panting, as weary as I was. ‘You should have fled.’

‘My place is with you.’ His hand searched through the darkness until it found mine and squeezed it tight. ‘Come on.’ He urged me to follow him back down into the chamber. ‘If we don’t drain those canals below, we will suffocate all the faster.’

‘I’ve sealed the fate of our entire family…you, me, our son!’ I mumbled.

‘You know it’s a boy?’ my husband asked, still managing to maintain some cheer and pride.

‘Albray told me. Where is Albray?’ I wondered if he might have some bright idea for our release. I called for him, and for the first time ever, he did not respond to my summons. ‘Maybe he feels guilty?’ I couldn’t explain it. ‘Don’t abandon me now, old friend,’ I appealed, to no avail.

Devere flipped the lever and immediately the flames began to die down, as the fluid drained from the canals. ‘There are a few ways we might avoid ending our days in this place,’ he said confidently. ‘Firstly, you could try moving through the gateway, just as you did with the door in Molier’s office. If you take the Star vial with you, then you can dispense with the door and let me out.’

‘But without the sun to warm the particles we might have to wait days! Ah, but if you consume the Fire-Stone, you would survive!’ I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Or better still, you may be able to pass through the gateway with me.’

‘We’ll cross that bridge when, and if, we come to it,’ Devere suggested. ‘If you are unable to penetrate the gateway, I doubt very much that I shall be able to. The Fire-Stone should be revered, and I shall only take it if my life depends on it.’

I was a little surprised that someone of the brotherhood would not be jumping at the chance to take the immortality-boosting substance, and this must have reflected in my expression.

‘I am not a pharaoh or a king,’ my husband explained. ‘I would not assume to abuse the treasure of the goddess as Molier has done…it certainly hasn’t done him any favours.’

‘But you are of the blood.’ I pointed out the obvious difference in their circumstances.

‘All the more reason for me to show respect and restraint,’ he argued winningly, before turning back to plan A. ‘However, if we remove the Star vial to attempt this, we are going to have to flood these pits again and set them ablaze, which is going to drain the oxygen supply. We’ll have to move quickly.’

‘By why must we set them alight?’ I queried, curious.

‘You obviously never read about this chamber in Lord Hereford’s journal,’ he teased. ‘I have. And trust me, we need to light the canals.’

With the Star vial in my hand and the chamber again ablaze, I stood before the gate and focused my will upon it. I called upon my foremothers to assist my intent, but after what seemed like an eternity, the cold barrier remained firm beneath my fingers. ‘Perhaps my battle with Molier has drained my psychic reserves?’

I had suspected that our escape would not be so easy. The material from which this temple was constructed seemed to be no ordinary metal compound. It was atomically linked to the Highward Fire-Stone, and clearly it would not be as easily penetrated as other substances known to mankind. Molier, in hundreds of years, had not managed to penetrate the barrier. I had hoped that being of the blood would make all the difference, but obviously not. I had already taken an excessive amount of the Highward Fire-Stone today, more than sufficient to achieve this task, so there seemed little point in taking any more. I also feared being so drawn to the celestial joys the substance induced that I might abandon my body altogether—Devere and our child needed me here right now.

‘Do you think this is the stuff that the prison cells for gods are made of?’ Devere attempted to make light of my failure, then descended the pathway to slip the lever to drain the canals once more.

I considered his jest not entirely unlikely. ‘I guess the gods needed to create some manner of containment for any renegades of their own kind—’

‘And the like of Molier,’ Devere coughed, as he tripped the lever.

‘And us, by the look of it.’ I wandered back down to the chamber. It reeked strongly of burnt chemicals that were abrasive on the throat when breathed in with the stale air.

The Highward Fire-Stone in my system didn’t prevent me feeling like I was going to choke, nor did it spare me from the need to breathe. I was not immortal; just more resilient than most mortals. I had an awful suspicion that once the air ran out, we would endure a constant state of suffocation—taking the contents of the vials would only keep death at bay. To accompany this agony I would endure a constant state of hunger and thirst. Molier must have a will stronger than these walls to have survived six hundred years of such misery and torture. This was not how I planned to raise my child.

‘There is one hope left.’ Devere took my hands in his, as the light in the chamber faded to the illumination provided by one torch, which was stuck in a wall mount by the entrance. ‘Lord Hereford speaks of a stash of the Star substance that he found inside the ruins of Hathor above us…with any luck my brother or Lord Malory will read the journal and find the key to getting us out of here.’

I was dubious of Lord Malory. ‘Did you tell your Grand Master about my pregnancy?’

‘I did not,’ he replied, pretending to be insulted. ‘I actually thought that your father should be the first to know.’

‘Oh.’ The thought of my father’s joy made me gasp and then cough. ‘How happy he will be at the news of a male heir to his estate!’

‘Lord Granville is not well, or so Malory informs me…that was part of the reason he sought you out.’ Devere knew the news was ill timed.

‘No! Father cannot die before he knows,’ I protested, knowing that a grandson was his dearest wish. I walked away from Devere to scold myself. ‘I should have returned to England when you asked me to.’ I turned back to Devere. ‘I was wrong, Earnest, and I’m sorry I did not figure that out before everyone had to suffer.’

My husband shook his head. ‘It’s not like you to give up so easily…I feel sure that in the end, your decision will be vindicated.’ He held his arms wide.

I obliged the invitation and as I embraced my husband for his love and my regret, I gripped tightly to the stone in the palm of my hand. Where are you, Albray?

FROM THE HONEYMOON JOURNAL OF LADY SUSAN DEVERE

Outside the gateway of the temple we were confronted by an ambush. Lord Malory’s knights had been surrounded by Arabs clothed entirely in black, right down to their fine mounts—even with our guides and camel herders we were outnumbered four to one.

Our shock of capture was quickly overcome when, with the sound of crashing metal behind us, we realised that Mr Devere and Ashlee had not made it out of the temple, but had been trapped inside.

My husband wasted no time in recruiting Cingar to speak with the Arabs. ‘Ask them what they want from us.’

Cingar shouted the question over the blustery winds of the sandstorm and the leader of the band furnished the gypsy with an answer. ‘They want us to leave with them,’ he conveyed.

‘Tell them we cannot leave. Two of our party have been trapped in the mount,’ Lord Devere instructed. ‘Do they know how we might get them out?’

Cingar obliged and then translated the reply. ‘He said he cannot help those whom the mountain has chosen to claim.’

We tried to debate the matter further, but the Arabs would not discuss it. Our party and camels were rounded up and escorted down the mount, where we were shown into some caves to wait out the storm. The caves were not natural formations, but the remains of mining operations undertaken by the ancients.

I had hours to sit there and ponder how my failure to pull the lever on cue had delayed the proceedings in the temple. If not for me, we would all have made it out of the temple before the storm arrived.

‘We are going to get them out.’ Lord Devere urged me not to blame myself.

I had already suggested that Lord Hamilton’s journal might hold some answers, but our captors were not letting us anywhere near our possessions, not even when we had Cingar tell them that we were only wanting to retrieve a book.

‘I’m surprised we are still alive.’ Cingar noted that the Arab band were all hardened warriors.

‘I suspect that these men are not your average desert bandits,’ Malory advised us all in a whisper. ‘I believe these men are warrior-priests, belonging to the ancient brotherhood of the Melchi.’

‘The Melchi,’ Cingar echoed in disbelief. ‘Surely that order couldn’t have survived since the time of the Crusades?’

‘Why not?’ Lord Malory shrugged. ‘Ours has.’

‘And just how does this help us?’ Lord Devere wondered, more concerned about freeing his kin than receiving a history lesson.

‘Have you forgotten that you are related to the brave knight who originally trapped Molier?’ Malory said, and Lord Devere’s frown only deepened.

‘Yes, but he was one of Sion’s great knights, I doubt—’

‘No…’ Malory said, with a good serve of intrigue in his voice. ‘That was only Albray Devere’s alias. He was really one of theirs.’ Malory rolled his eyes toward the black warriors. ‘To them he was Albe-Ra, the Shining One.’

We feared some of our captors understood our conversation when several of them approached to pull us to our feet.

‘What is happening?’ Lord Devere looked at Cingar, unable to fathom the foreign chatter.

‘The storm has passed and they are eager to escort us back to the Suez.’ The gypsy was hoisted to his feet by two large Arabs.

‘No! I refuse to leave!’ I tore myself away from my captor and, to my horror, I also wrested from him his large curved sword, which was extremely heavy.

‘Susan, no!’ my husband appealed, fearing that the Arab men would not tolerate a woman’s defiance as well as an Englishman might.

The Arabs reacted to my protest rather more favourably than expected—they all fell about laughing as they watched me struggle with two hands to keep the sword in the air. ‘I’ve been stampeded, lied to, hypnotised and kidnapped…twice!’ I was forced to lower the tip of the weighty sword to the floor, so I changed my grip to hold it as one would a cricket bat. ‘I am not giving up on Ashlee now!’

The Arab leader motioned to his men to retrieve the weapon from me, and with all my male companions firmly restrained, several of the dark warriors closed in on me.

I began to feel a little woozy; I hadn’t had much to eat recently. Then, my lightheaded and hauntingly sensual giddiness turned to strength and confidence. I raised the Saracen sword with the greatest of ease and wielded it around myself with complete familiarity. Then words began to gush forth from my mouth in the Arab dialect, and even more astounding was the fact that I understood every word. ‘I am Albe-Ra, guardian of this mount and servant to the great goddesses of the Elohim. It is by their command that you will release those trapped in the temple of the Star-Fire or perish on this sword.’

‘Oh, my goodness.’ Cingar was stunned.

‘What?’ My Lord Devere was totally out of his depth, unable to believe his wife’s show with the sword, nor the foreign dialect that I was suddenly sprouting. ‘What did she say?’

‘She claims to be Albe-Ra,’ the gypsy informed him, as bemused as the Arabs were by the idea.

‘What!’ My husband nearly had a fit! ‘First, my Lady Devere is hypnotised by a vampire, and now she is possessed by a six-hundred-year-old ghost! Could it be Molier again? He could be trying to get us all killed!’

‘I doubt very much Molier would claim to be Albray Devere,’ Malory said. ‘They were arch-enemies. ’

‘Kill her,’ decided the Arab leader. ‘For abusing the name of the great one.’

My husband struggled to free himself as I stepped up to fight several of our captors. ‘For god’s sake, Susan, please!’

In all likelihood I would have refrained, had I had any control over my limbs. I could scarcely believe the precision and ease with which I fended off my attackers and I felt not the slightest fear for my safety. I even managed to disable my opponents with superficial limb injuries.

‘Albe-Ra was said to be one of the greatest swordsmen to have ever lived,’ Malory commented to my stupefied husband.

‘Praise god for small mercies,’ Lord Devere mumbled in reply. ‘Or should I say, praise the goddess?’ His eyes remained glued to me, and he suddenly couldn’t help but grin with pride.

Having witnessed ten of his finest warriors vested of their weapons, the Arab leader called for his men to fall back. Removing his cloak, he drew his sword. ‘Only if you can defeat me, shall I concede you are Albe-Ra.’

‘And you will see to my request?’ I demanded.

‘I will permit you to carry out your wishes,’ he allowed.

‘What I wouldn’t give for a pistol right now.’ Lord Devere again tried to pry himself free, which only served to gain him a punch in the stomach.

‘Have a little faith in divine intervention,’ Malory advised, his eyes fixed on the duel.

‘That is easy for you to say. She’s not your wife!’ my lord gasped, winded by the blow.

‘At present, I don’t believe she is your wife.’ Malory’s attention was riveted to the swordfight. ‘But the Lady Devere is, in all likelihood, the most psychically adept among us, which is why the guardian spirit has chosen to work through her.’

‘Just wonderful,’ my lord grumbled. ‘The last thing our family needs is another Ashlee Granville.’

‘On the contrary, the world needs all the Ashlee Granvilles it can get.’ Malory winced as I nearly tripped on my skirt.

Damn dresses! I heard a male voice in my mind. What is wrong with women wearing trousers anyway? My heart was thumping nineteen to the dozen as I regained my footing.

‘Come, my lady,’ the Arab said. ‘You are very skilled, but you shall only get yourself killed if you persist.’

‘Better to risk death than to allow a daughter of Isis to perish, and fail in my sworn duty.’ My retort struck a chord with my adversary.

‘You are lying.’ The Arab backed off, just to be sure. ‘The woman in the mount is no daughter of Isis.’

‘I assure you that she is,’ I said. ‘Both the woman, and her husband who is trapped with her, bear the mark to prove it.’

Every Arab in the room gasped, and Cingar too.

‘What?’ Lord Devere was going insane with not being able to understand the proceedings.

The Arab leader lowered his sword to stare deep into my eyes. ‘If you lie, I shall trap all of your people in the mount and release the scarabs to ensure that no trace of you survives.’

‘I thank you.’ I bowed to honour his judgement.

My companions were hauled out of the cave ahead of me. Their anxiey was not eased when Cingar explained the arrangement that had been reached.

‘You know the whereabouts of the secret deposit of Thummim-Schethiya buried in the Temple of Hathor?’ I asked the Arab leader, and he appeared truly flabbergasted.

‘I am one of a handful who do.’ He came to a standstill. ‘How do you know of it?’

I smiled and shrugged, as if that was elementary. ‘I am Albe-Ra.’

FROM THE TRAVEL JOURNALS OF MRS ASHLEE DEVERE

The torch on the wall was dimming in the thinning air and I was feeling decidedly lightheaded. My husband and I sat at the base of the pathway and were refraining from speech and movement to conserve what air remained.

I still clutched the Star vial in my hand. The substance had restored life to the son of Gasgon de Guise, and I had suggested consuming this substance as an alternative to abusing the Fire-Stone of his forefathers. Devere had agreed that this was more appropriate. The Star had a history of being fed to men by the priestesses of the Great Mother to enhance their bravery in the face of death, he had said.

My husband cited an incident written of by a priestess, Lillet du Lac, the day before the fall of Montségur in 1244AD. The name of the priestess was all too familiar to me, and I asked how the Sangreal knighthood had come by the journals of such a woman. Apparently, those of her order had been closely allied to many of the secret brotherhoods that were thriving at that time—the Sangrèal included. The priestess, one of the few of her faith who had escaped the siege, had lived out her days at Chateau Blancheford in France, chronicling the events of the time. Most of her writings had been duplicated and distributed to the Grail brotherhoods for their future reference and safekeeping.

My mind dwelt on the priestess’ current spiritual plight, and Albray’s, and if I accomplished nothing else in my lifetime, I still had enough of my sensibilities to appeal their cause.

‘Where are you going?’ Devere whispered as I rose.

‘I’ll be back,’ I assured him. ‘But there is something I have to do.’

I knelt underneath the centre of the large chamber’s golden dome, surrounded by the four pillars depicting the key goddesses of the Elohim, and bowed my head to pray for the first time in my life.

In the name of the Mother, I held both hands to my forehead; the daughters, I covered my heart and then my womb; and the holy ghost, I held my hands together in front of the light centre of my solar plexus …It has always been difficult for me to place my trust in any being apart from myself, but during this quest I have developed a glimmer of understanding of the source of my rare gifts. Ladies of the Elohim, I thank you for choosing me to continue your tradition and purpose here on earth, and I am indebted to you for your aid and support. However, I have one more request to ask of you and that is that you release the knight Albray from your service and allow him to move on to a better stage of existence, where he might finally find a happy and prosperous life.

It is not a curse of our design that keeps Albe-Ra in our service.

I raised my eyes to perceive a ghostly apparition: an Eastern woman attired in a long, flowing black robe. Lillet, I wondered, although the comely woman’s attire and free-flowing black ringlets reflected a warmer climate and less prudish eras than the Middle Ages.

The glowing apparition shook her head. I am one of her kin, as I am one of yours.

She spoke to me in perfect English, and yet echoing below this I also heard another dialect whispered—my mind was translating her discourse.

And I can assure you that all your foremothers together could not release our knight from what he feels is his duty, for he has a score to settle. I’m afraid there is no dismissing him before certain matters are laid to rest.

Molier. My heart sank. I’d come so close to destroying Molier today. Albray must have been devastated to discover that even a daughter of the blood as psychically adept as I could not vanquish the creature that was stifling his future existence. Was my failing him the reason he would not come to my aid now?

I believe you know our knight better than to entertain such a notion… the lady of spirit sought to put my mind at rest. It was not your destiny to free Albray, but to return our treasures to their resting place. You aided Albray to complete half his chosen mission.

I was finding it difficult to focus on the lady. Her presence was becoming blurred. But when will the other half be fulfilled?

One of our future daughters will aid our favourite son to final victory, she assured me with a smile. Pass on all the knowledge you have gained during your quest and rest assured that Albe-Ra will discover, just as you have, that love always finds a way.

But—I lost my balance and crashed to the ground, feeling unconsciousness taking hold.

‘Ashlee!’ I heard my husband cry. ‘The gateway is opening! We’re saved!’

A gust of fresh air washed over me, but it was not enough to keep me from my slumber.