Adam of Albion (19 page)

The
door! That was its odd shape—a human heart, not like a Valentine, but a real
one!

But
how could a piece of stone be false?

If
I spoke the truth and it’s still locking me in here to die, that’s false,
she thought wildly.

And
how could a crystal sword pierce stone?

I
don’t know, but this is all insane anyway,
she almost screamed out loud.

She
sucked in as much air as she could amidst the froth and dove back down
headfirst, groping for the sword. Her hands found it and she turned toward the
door, at the same time curling her body so her feet could grip the floor, all
in underwater slow motion.

When
she rammed the sword against the stone heart of the door with all of her body
weight behind it, the thrust was so hard that the crystal point shattered. That
answered the question about how the sword could pierce stone. It couldn’t.

The
ache in her lungs was unbearable. Her vision was blackening, with flashes
shooting across it. Her feet lost touch with the floor and she no longer knew
which way was up, not that it mattered, because the chamber would be filled to
the top by the time she could get there.

Then,
like a bursting dam, the door blew open. The raging torrent of escaping water
hurled her back through it like a chickpea from a slingshot, tossing and
tumbling until her head smacked against something with stunning force.

The
blackness behind her eyes surged like the rush of pent up water, sweeping her
into unconsciousness.

Adam
and Mustafa rode hard through the whole long day, journeying to the mountain
called the Mother of Life, where the Sisters of Isis had their fortress. Even
with the swift, sure-footed Arabian horses, the going was treacherous—the
terrain kept getting rougher and more desolate, far from villages or even goat
trails. The low hills that looked deceptively gentle soon steepened, with the
unmarked trail twisting through gullies, skirting chasms, and crossing
rockslides. There was even the creepy menace of snakes—more than once, they’d
had to tightly rein in their nervous mounts because of vipers sunning
themselves on the stones.

But
with Adam’s back country experience, Mustafa’s sense of the landscape, and
Orpheus gauging distances—while muttering about sending boys to do a man’s
job—they’d managed to find the landmarks and watering holes that Cristof had
pointed out.

Still,
as evening came on, Adam was more and more worried that they’d taken a wrong
turn, or maybe several. By now they were tired and so were the horses. They’d
been navigating mainly by guesswork for the last couple of hours. Even if they
were getting close to the fortress, spotting it wouldn’t be any snap—Cristof had
said it was so well concealed, you’d pass right by it if you didn’t know what
to look for.

But
at last, Zuleika made a particular kind of whinny that Adam had started to
recognize—by instinct or smell, she knew when they were getting close to water.
And the final landmark was supposed to be a spring, only about a mile away from
their goal.

“You
go, girl,” Adam told her excitedly, stroking her neck. “Take us there.”

She
led them down into a brushy ravine, with the scrubby vegetation looking greener
at the far end. Sure enough, water was trickling out of a rock face and down
into a hollow to form a small pool.

The
boys turned their mounts loose to drink and graze, while they hurriedly
clambered up to the top of a crag for a look around, with Orpheus perched on
Adam’s shoulder. The sun was sinking below the horizon, the sky’s last pale
daylight fading fast—in half an hour, it would be full night.

Then
Mustafa let out a whoop. “There—the Mother of Life!” he said, pointing toward a
sheer cliff at the end of a small valley. As Adam stared at it, he could see
that what looked at first like natural gaps along the rocky top were actually
the niches of battlements. And the name rang true—there was something
hauntingly feminine about the mountain’s graceful, curving lines.

“Yes!”
Adam yelled, pumping his fist up and down. The boys high-fived, a maneuver he’d
taught Mustafa the night before, and started back to the horses.

But
then Orpheus said, “Hang on a minute. Adam, put me down—on solid rock.” He was
gazing intently into the distance, toward the direction they’d come from—and he
sounded worried.

Adam
hurried to a good-sized slab of flat rock and set Orpheus down, facing that
same way.

“What
is it, Orph?”

“Seismic
tremors. I can gauge them more accurately when I’m grounded.”

“You
mean, like, an earthquake?” Adam said anxiously.

“No—horses,
a lot of them. Sixty-three, to be precise, carrying the additional weight of
men in armor. And they’re headed this way, fast.”

They
all exchanged quick, tense glances as they realized what this meant: The
Templars were coming to attack the fortress.

“How
far are they?” Adam  asked.

“4.8036
miles. Given the rough terrain, I’d estimate that they’ll be here in
fifty-eight minutes and eleven seconds, with an error margin of plus or minus
.07 percent.”

They
had to warn the Sisters! But what if the Templars had sent scouts ahead? The
boys would be sitting ducks as they crossed the open valley of the main
entrance. Adam felt the familiar touch of panic—but then, that cool sense of
command stepped in and took over.

“We’ll
have to use the back way Cristof showed me,” he said. “And we can’t leave the
horses here.” The Templars knew he’d been riding Zuleika, and if they saw her,
they’d put two and two together fast.

The
boys scrambled back down the crag and knotted up the horses’ reins so they
wouldn’t get caught in brush. Adam hugged the mare’s neck, with his voice
choking up.

“Go
home, Zuleika,” he said. “Find your master—and stay away from those Templars!”
He led her a few steps, in a direction toward Jerusalem but angling away from
the oncoming riders, and gave her a gentle swat on the rump. She whinnied and
craned her head around to butt his chest with her muzzle, as if she understood,
then took off at a trot with the other horse following.

“Time
to run for it, guys,” Orpheus said. “Go ahead, bag me, Adam—for once, I’m
volunteering.”

Adam
quickly settled him in the hemp sack and slung it securely on his shoulder.
Then he followed Mustafa, who ran like a mountain goat, picking their way
through the rocks toward the hidden entrance of the Sisters’ fortress.

His
adrenaline was pumping, but his eyes still went damp. Turning Zuleika loose to
fend for herself was tough. Knowing that the Templars were on their way was
outright terrifying.

But
on top of all that—Cristof hadn’t managed to stop them or even slow them down.

Which
just about had to mean that they’d killed him.

When
Artemis opened her eyes, she was lying on the wooden couch, with its thin
mattress and coarse blanket, in the same firelit chamber where she’d tossed and
turned earlier. She was wearing the same clothes—her own, with the black burqa
over them—although now they were warm and dry.

The
memories of her test came back suddenly and vividly—all except for the very
end, when the wall of water had thrown her against something that knocked her
silly. The Sisters must have found her and brought her back here.

Unless—she’d
never actually even left this cot. Could that be the real truth—that it was all
a dream, maybe caused by a drug Theodora had given her in the bitter chocolate
drink?

But
her head ached, and so did her banged up body—
that
certainly felt real.
She slipped an exploratory hand up under the robe to her T-shirt. The bottom
half, which she’d torn off for fire fuel, was gone.

So
it all must have happened. Either that, or the Sisters had roughed her up in
her sleep and torn away the tee, and she’d incorporated that into her dream,
the way that people often did.

How
long she’d been lying here, she didn’t have a clue—her sense of time was
completely shot. She felt as loopy as if she’d slept for a week, but then, it
all might have happened in a few hours. She sat up cautiously, leery of getting
dizzy or feeling the sharp stab of a broken bone, but everything seemed more or
less all right.

Then,
just as before, Theodora stepped into view, holding the same cup filled with
the same chocolaty brew.

“That’s
not going to send me on another—experience—is it?” Artemis said, eying it
warily.

Theodora
smiled. “Nothing sent you on that experience but you.”

Artemis
finally made up her mind that Theodora hadn’t lied to her and wasn’t going to
start now. In fact, she realized that in spite of the ordeal—or maybe because
of it—she admired Theodora more than ever, and even felt really close to her.

Besides,
she wanted that drink. She accepted the cup with both hands and sipped
greedily. It was heavenly, even better than the first time.

“So
it all really happened?” she asked anxiously. “And I passed?”

“You
wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.” Theodora reached up into the sleeve of her
robe—and took out a crimson red sash, exactly the same as the Sisters of Isis wore.
She leaned over Artemis, slipped it around her waist, and knotted it precisely.

“Welcome,
little Sister,” she said, stepping back.

Artemis
stared at it, entranced, hardly daring to touch it. It was beautiful,
exquisitely made of fine heavy silk. But far more than the sash itself was what
it meant.

“But—I
refused to become that—that she, or me,” she stammered. “I—I killed her.”

“You
refused to let yourself be tricked by appearances and fantasy. You can still
choose to stay here, Artemis, although I sense that your path will take you in
other directions. But you’ll always be one of us, even though it may never show
in ways that anyone else sees.”

Artemis
sank back against the couch frame, shaking her head in amazement.

 “I
was awfully, awfully lucky.”

“I won’t
deny that there’s such a thing as luck. But do you remember the last words I
said to you?”

“The
Goddess smiles on the brave. But there wasn’t any sign of Her.”

“Really?
Or is it just that you have another romantic idea about that, and it’s gotten
in the way so you can’t see the truth?”

Artemis
hadn’t given much thought to what a visitation from the Goddess would be like.
A vision, she’d vaguely supposed—some fantastically beautiful woman who’d
appear in shimmering radiance and make lofty pronouncements. Or, if she was
angry, do something like change you into a spider.

But
what if it happened in a much less glitzy way—like those thoughts that had come
into her head from nowhere at critical moments, prompting her to do this or
remember that? Theodora seemed to be saying that you helped make that kind of
luck. Suddenly, thinking about all this—thinking about
thinking
—seemed
to be an adventure in itself, and in a way, the same adventure.

“Now,
Artemis—you’ve won the right to what you asked for,” Theodora said.

“You
mean you’ll take me to see Eurydice?” she said excitedly.

Theodora
nodded. But she seemed worried now—even distressed.

“What
is it, Theodora? Are you afraid I’ll do something wrong?”

“It’s
not that, my dear. On the contrary, I’m afraid that
I
may have done
something wrong.” Then she touched Artemis’s cheek. “And I know I was wrong to
treat you so brusquely before. I’m hoping you can help.”

“I
only know what Orpheus has told me,” Artemis said, feeling a new set of worries
herself. “But I’ll try, of course.”

“Come,
then.”

Theodora
led her again through the labyrinth of echoing, torchlit stone hallways.
Artemis had the sense that this time they were circling inward, toward the
center of the fortress. Her grogginess had vanished, with her mind fired up.

But
she was torn in different directions. Part of her was thinking that this might
conceivably be a chance to grab Eurydice and run for it. Another part pointed
out that it was insane to even dream that she could escape these powerful
women. And still another reminded her that she was a Sister now—how could she
contemplate the treachery of stealing their most sacred possession?

Eventually,
Theodora stopped at what looked like an ordinary section of wall. Her hands
quickly touched it in a few places—and the stones parted, rumbling aside to
open a narrow doorway.

“This
is our inmost sanctuary,” Theodora said quietly. “None but the Sisters even
know it exists. If we’re ever overpowered by invaders, at least they won’t find
our treasures.”

When
Artemis stepped inside, she went wide-eyed. The chamber walls were honeycombed
with niches filled with splendor that looked straight out of the Arabian
Nights—chests of jewels, sculptures and ornaments, gem-encrusted chalices and
bowls, and hundreds of other delights to the eye. It seemed a reliquary for all
that people valued most, a holy place.

At
the far end stood a marble altar, with a raised, delicately etched column of
burnished gold at its center.

On
top of that rested a small, emerald green ankh.

Theodora
walked toward it and Artemis followed, trembling with excitement. Theodora’s
steps slowed as she approached, out of reverence—or uncertainty.

“Is
this how Orpheus described her?” she asked quietly.

Yes,
exactly, Artemis started to say, with her gaze riveted on the ankh. But she
paused. It—she—was exquisitely carved, with subtle hints of breasts, hips and a
face framed by flowing hair, and made of some metal or stone—it didn’t quite
look like either—that must have been very precious.

But—Artemis
hated this thought, hated her mind for even allowing it—

Eurydice
really looked rather ordinary. A beautiful art object, yes—but otherwise, she
wasn’t all that different from the inexpensive earring Artemis had been wearing
back home in England, when Orpheus had noticed it.

The
harsh truth was that there wasn’t anything magical or otherworldly about the
little ankh—certainly nothing to suggest the presence of the Goddess.

“Orpheus
did describe her as glowing,” Artemis whispered. “She’s lovely, but somehow, I
thought she’d seem more—special.”

“That’s
precisely what I’m worried about,” Theodora murmured. “The Sisters are burning
with impatience to gaze upon her splendor—they risked their lives for her. I
can’t keep putting them off—but if they see her like this, they’ll be crushed.”

Then
Artemis’s conflicting thoughts clicked into a plan.

“The
only one who can tell us is Orpheus,” she said, boldly meeting Theodora’s eyes.
“We have to get him here.”

“No!
This treasure stays within the Sisterhood. She’s ours and ours alone, and no man
will ever touch her again.”

“Orpheus
isn’t a man, he’s a miniature head!”

“He’s
still a man’s head. And you
will
obey me, Artemis. You may be a Sister
now, but I’m your superior.”

They
glared at each other, with Artemis’s gaze declaring that she wasn’t having any
part of that obeying thing, and Theodora’s promising that oh, yes, she would.

Then
the sound of running footsteps came from the hallway outside the chamber.
Theodora strode to the entrance and met one of the Sisters, who spoke to her
urgently. Her eyes narrowed as she listened, and she answered with her face
taking on the same grim look as when she’d held the knife to Artemis’s throat
in the desert. The other Sister turned and hurried back the way she’d come.

Artemis
stared at them, stunned—first, because she’d understood clearly what they said,
even though they’d spoken in Arabic. And second, because of
what
they’d
said: Someone was breaching the fortress through a secret entrance—two boys.
The Sisters were poised to intercept them.

Then
immediately put them to death.

“Theodora,
stop her!” Artemis cried out. “Those boys are my friends that I told you about,
Adam and Mustafa.”

Theodora
swung around to stare at her. “How did you know what we said?”

“That’s
it exactly! Orpheus acts as a translator when he’s close by—he must be here
with Adam!”

Theodora
shook her head firmly. “The more likely explanation is that you know more
Arabic than you’ve let on. As for them being your friends, it’s beyond
farfetched to think that two young boys could have found their way here from
Jerusalem, all alone—and then found the hidden entrance. They’re probably
shepherds who were wandering around looking for a lost animal and stumbled upon
it. We hate to harm the innocent, but we have no choice. That passage is our
secret lifeline in times of danger. If we allow them to go free, they’re sure
to tell about it, and enemies would use it to trap us.”

“Farfetched?”
Artemis said heatedly. “What’s farfetched is to think this is all just
coincidence. It
has
to be my friends, and someone told them how to get
here and where the entrance is.”

“Only
a very, very few outsiders have ever known about it, and only those who earned
the Sisters’ highest trust.”

“Then
it
is
possible that someone told them,” Artemis insisted. “Who could it
have been?”

Theodora’s
eyes suddenly widened, and she half-turned away with her hand going to her
face, as if something startling had occurred to her.

“It
seems more farfetched yet,” she murmured. “But if it’s true, he’d only do it in
a matter of life or death.”

Then
she swiveled back around, with her gaze hardening again.

“But
you proclaim that your friends want to take the image of the Goddess—Eurydice,
as you call her—away from us,” she said. “And I sense that’s still where your
own loyalties lie.”

“But
Orpheus can give you the answers you need. And yes, I’m here to help him. But
once we’re all in the same room, surely we can reason together—come to an
agreement. Please, can’t we at least try?”

“Reason
is well and good—but this land abounds in treachery,” Theodora said, now with
the air of a judge ready to pronounce a sentence. “We shall find out. Go back
to your chamber and wait—I want to question them alone.”