The Flames of Time (Flames of Time Series Book 1) (6 page)

‘And then, I don’t know why. I stepped forward, the pain overwhelming, toward that inferno of light and heat, until I touched it, the flaming essence of reality. For the briefest moments I saw and understood everything, before I was overcome.’

‘The rest you know, I woke up early this morning on my sleeping mat, with my memories of the dream fading with each passing second.’

CHAPTER 4 – BEGINNINGS

The following morning as we began our journey back to the lodge it was with a mixture of emotions. Following Marlow’s account of the previous night Sylvio had become increasingly agitated, until finally after many a false start he’d told us his account of how he’d encountered his grandfather, who’d been a suicide and was therefore damned in Silvio’s eyes. So even though the encounter had no overtly malevolent elements, it clearly distressed the Italian more than he wanted to admit.

Added to this we were awoken early the next morning my Mkize who was concerned that the rains were coming. The combination of the two was enough to dampen even Harry’s enthusiasm to pursue the subject further.

By the time there was enough light to see, we were well on our way, but the rain clouds could already be seen over the distant horizon, and all of us who’d been caught in the rains before knew that meant we were in for a soaking. It was just a question of how far we’d get before it started.

The Savannah and brush are strange places just before a storm, the animals and even the plants seem to know that an abundance of water will soon be available, and with it the end, albeit temporarily, to harsh adversity and the struggle for life. Suddenly the dust and dryness is transformed into a verdant playground and every living thing seems to have a spring in its step and foolishness at heart.

Whether because of this or not, I don’t know, but with the clouds racing across the heavens toward us we were making a desperate attempt to quicken our speed, only to have seemingly every impediment possible stand in our way. On the first day we travelled late into the night and set off again early the next morning whilst it was still very much dark. Even giving our horses the minimum amount of rest we could by walking alongside them for part of the way rather than stopping, we’d still travelled no more than half the distance to the lodge before the first big, fat drops of water started to land around us.

Within minutes the rain was an opaque sheet on every side, and we were reduced to blindly following the grey shape of the person in front, nose to tail, trusting our guides to somehow find their way through the downpour.

After an hour in the saddle, making no noticeable headway, I began to lose track of where we were and what we were doing. Even the rain became less a downpour and more a series of tiny rivers and streams flowing over my cloth-plastered skin.

By early afternoon we were surely the most wretched individuals on the planet. But just as it seemed there was no end in sight, the rains stopped and we were released. It often happens like this right at the start of the rains, for although they can go on for a week or even two in exceptional years, they frequently include a prelude as though to warn unwary travelers of what’s to come. Needless to say we didn’t need to be told twice, and within moments had picked up our pace. It was difficult going now with the earth sticking in thick wet lumps to the horse’s feet, but we pushed on and miraculously managed to get within sight of the lodge before those heavy raindrops once again started to fall.

I’ve rarely been so happy to see a place in my life, as I was that evening, entering the lodge with Marlow, Harry and the others, tired and worn from the journey, straight into the welcoming arms of a stiff drink and some hot food.

We’d arrived slightly late for dinner, but the lodge manager, somehow anticipating our return that evening, had not only prepared an abundance of hot water for bathing, but had also arranged a simple yet hearty meal.

We were all washed and changed in double-quick time, the luxury of being dry and the hot filling food ameliorating our frayed nerves and tired frames. Thoughts of the drums and Nelion’s dreams put aside, if not forgotten, for a short time. Despite our tiredness though, there was still work to be done resurrecting our equipment from the day’s watery onslaught. The lodge-staff were a wonder, and did a sterling job with everything. But the rifles and much of the personal or delicate equipment merited our own personal attention. As such, following on almost straight after the meal, we retired as a group to the bar with a drink and a rifle or other piece of equipment, rags, brushes, tools and oil for an industrious and good-natured end to the day.

I awoke the following morning to the same sound of distant thunder and drumming rain that I’d fallen asleep to the previous night. A comfortable bed and fresh bedding had worked wonders on my mood and general feeling of well-being, and I stretched out of bed in the most slovenly fashion before glancing out of the window at a grey and very waterlogged Africa. A leisurely wash and shave later and I was ready to stroll downstairs for some breakfast and a day of housebound idleness.

Amazingly I was the first one to rise, so decided to wait until one of the others came down before going in to breakfast. I didn’t have long to wait before Jean meandered down to join me, followed intermittently by the others.

Following breakfast I wandered out to the sturdy shelter of the western veranda to watch the rain as it continued fall. At times it seemed to lighten, almost as though it might stop again, only to come down heavier than before a few minutes later. From time to time as the downpour eased off, a figure or two could be seen to dart from one building to another on some errand or other. But on the whole everyone was quite comfortably confined to the lodge and stables. A new batch of newspapers had been delivered while we were away, so the morning slipped by in easy distraction as we each reacquainted ourselves with the goings-on of our respective homelands.

In the afternoon, following a light lunch, the group began to fragment along the lines of our individual interests. And after a few minutes casting around for something to do, I was just beginning to think I’d have to entertain myself editing my journal, when Harry came over and suggested a little sabre fencing in one of the stable barns near to the lodge.

As we made our way, stopping off to pick up the gear, we also picked up Jean and Marlow, who were just in the act of resetting their chessboard.

‘It is no good,’ said Jean, ‘he is not even trying to beat me. Maybe you will concentrate more with a sword back in your hand my friend.’

A few minutes later, this time with us being the ones darting through the rain, we were installed in a clear corner of one of the barns. Harry and I started and then following Harry’s undeniable victory, Marlow took a turn against him. Theirs was a much closer match, but again Harry prevailed, albeit by a narrow margin.

‘Rob, while it’s enjoyable to beat you for once, it would be considerably more gratifying if you’d at least pretend to be paying attention.’ said Harry with a palpable tone of irritation in his voice.

‘I’m sorry Harry, and to you too Jean for the chess,’ said Marlow, ‘You’re both right, I haven’t been giving you my full attention… There is in fact something preying on my mind… from our meeting with Nelion at the Singing Stones.’

‘I thought you might be holding out on us,’ chipped in Harry, with unrestrained zeal. ‘What else did you see Rob?’

Hanging his sword and mask on one of the tack hooks along the wall, Marlow turned back toward us with a troubled look on his face.

‘I’ve been trying to make sense of it myself, though in some ways the message is clear enough. The account I gave you of my dream was honest, but it’s what I saw when I touched that blinding flame at the centre of the gathering that I didn’t explain as fully as I might.

‘The pain, as I’ve said, was overwhelming, but as I plunged my hand into the blaze, there was more besides the pain that was washing over me. At first it seemed like it was just a flickering image or two, but then I began to see groups of images. Moments of time that began to slow down to a speed I could comprehend. I can hardly describe the sensation. You see, whatever I thought about suddenly appeared in greater detail, places I knew, times and events I recognised. It was still blurred and confused at the edges, but slowly I began to exercise a deliberate influence the things I saw.

‘It was amazing. I remember thinking this kind of knowledge could be both wonderful and terrible. But as I thought it, I started to lose control of the flame, and had to struggle to understand what I was seeing. Dark futures of things that humanity may or will experience, the growth and decay of our societies, and those great societies that have come before us, all flashed before my eyes. It seemed so hopeless, but just as I could feel myself falling away from the flame, the conversation we had back at the lodge, about our lack of purpose, came back to me. And again as I thought about it, it was as though the flame understood what I sought. The images were coming too fast to begin with. It seemed like the entire history of humanity passing before my eyes in moments. But it slowed and I recognised that this sentient fire was showing me birth, death and survival throughout the ages. Yet there was nothing more, for just as we began to develop, to show potential, we began to decay, both as individuals and as societies. We simply didn’t exist long enough to reach beyond the petty achievements of our short lives.’

‘Robert, I am not sure I like where you are going with this … vision of yours.’ added Jean in a concerned voice. But Marlow hardly seemed to hear him as he continued.

‘What we could achieve if only we had more life, while I touched that flame everything was a question, and every question was answered. And I saw wonders you would not believe, slow at first, but my strength was fading, and the images started to slip though my fingers, back to a blinding, burning light. Still I hadn’t seen enough, and I couldn’t let go until I’d asked one final question.

‘In my minds eye I stepped further forward into the flame, pain coursing through every fibre of my being, and I grasped the bright centre of that inferno with both hands before shouting my question into its heart.

‘Where can humanity find more life?

‘The response was as dispassionate as the rest. I saw everything, but couldn’t control it, there was just too much. I grabbed fragments as they passed and tried to force them into my memory, but couldn’t stem the flow for long enough.

‘I don’t know at what point I passed out,’ finished Marlow, but I know my memory contains only a fragment of what it should. The part that remains though, it speaks to me of something I barely dare mention . . . Immortality!’

For a moment Marlow was like stone, motionless after his tale, he was sat on the edge of one of the water troughs, looking distractedly at the ground lying between us.

It was Harry who spoke, finally breaking the silence. ‘Surely an impossible dream Rob, do you remember nothing more?’

‘I can recall pieces Harry, fragments of a whole so large I simply couldn’t grasp it. But I know the answer is out there, humanity has held immortality in its hands before, but has lost it or buried it or forgotten it. There may even be those amongst us who still know the secret and walk this earth untouched by the ages. But what I do know is that this secret can be found, and brought forth once more into the light.’

As he said these last words, he seemed to regain some of his focus, and standing up, he looked straight at us, ‘… and, I think I know where to start looking.’

It was Harry’s turn to sit down, though I suspect we’d all have accepted a seat right then if there’d been anything around.

‘I’ve been trying to decide,’ continued Marlow as we all gathered our wits, ‘whether or not it would be fair to tell you all this. And I’m still not entirely decided as far as the rest of the group are concerned, but I think it would have been unfair of me not to tell some of you the truth before I go.’

‘Go? What do you mean before you go?’ said Jean. ‘Robert, we are your friends, you cannot be thinking of just disappearing in the night without first telling us of your plans or asking us if we would accompany you.’

We talked for another two hours in that barn. At times it felt like I must have been dreaming, but eventually we all walked out together, dashing back to the lodge through the mud and rain. Marlow at least agreed that this was something he had to share with the group before deciding what to do next.

After we returned to the lodge, Marlow took himself off to his room to prepare. Luke had spotted us returning and it took just one look at us for him to notice that something had transpired. Jean was at the fore and as we’d agreed in the barn, he prepared the way by telling Luke and then others that we had been discussing Nelion’s dreams again and that Marlow now had something he’d like to share with us.

It was almost an hour before Marlow re-appeared, bringing with him several large rolled up maps and assorted other paperwork.

We’d taken over a small dining room, which had yet to be set for the evening, and whilst there was a certain anticipation in the air, everyone was cordial and mostly happy to have the distraction, though Sylvio was still notably quiet about the entire matter.

Marlow began by apologising for not telling them the whole story at the start, and then recounted what he had told us in the barn. With the second telling he’d obviously made more sense of what he’d seen and now it was a more forceful structured account leading straight to the conclusion that he intended to search for the places and things he’d seen.

That it was shocking we all knew and accepted. That it would not be accepted well by Sylvio and Luke was something that none of us had really considered.

‘This is wrong.’ insisted Luke.’ It is against the law of God to seek such things. I do not understand what poison we drank to give us such dreams, but it is the work of the devil my friend and it will drive you to your destruction.’