Night fell quickly in the land near the equator. It was ironic that 25% of Ethiopia was forest, given the dearth of vegetation around them. They were roughly seventy miles from the straits that linked the Red Sea with the Gulf of Aden.
In this ancient land, legend and history danced together, a waltz of truth and half-truth and unknown that challenged any scientist. Sorting out the fact from fiction was compounded by religious fervor. The city of Aksum, at the northern tip of the country, claimed to house the long-missing Ark of the Covenant. Religious overflow seeped through most of the country, coloring most of everyday life. Most scientists agreed with the Judeo-Christian claims that life - or at least the ancestry of modern man - originated in the region.
Even more complex were the literal and historic references built into the places and names in northern Africa. Even the name of the Gulf of Aden hinted at the Biblical creation site.
Work ceased promptly at sundown. Mike Van Loo ruled his workers with an iron hand; but superstition was more powerful, acting like a lock to insure that every man was inside a tent before the darkness was complete.
Sydney was assigned to sleep inside Mike's jeep, with Nigel unhappily sharing a tent with their dubious host. There was nothing to fear, after all, Syd reminded her partner. They were trying to help return the sword home. Nigel's enthusiasm was notably absent at her rejoinder.
"It's not the sword I'm worried about, though I'm worried about that. Aren't you the least bit worried about Mike Van Loo?" he asked. They were standing alone in the darkness, whispering urgently, after Nigel tiptoed out to express his concerns about the sleeping arrangements.
"Well what am I supposed to do? You can't sleep here. There isn't enough room!"
"Then I'll sleep in the front seat. I won't stay with him, Sydney. I can't. There's something fundamentally wrong about him, something sinister. He scares the hell out of me."
His heart was threatening to beat a hole in his chest. How could he explain to Sydney what he'd experienced in Van Loo's tent? There was no logical explanation, no scientific theory to clarify it, no physical evidence of the metaphysical horror.
Nigel Bailey had lived through some terrifying experiences in his adventures with Sydney Fox. He considered her to be more than his boss. She was mentor and friend, and occasional protector. Her official teaching position was for ancient studies, but she also enlightened students in the martial arts. She was at least equally qualified in that department as for the academic venue.
More than once, though, they'd encountered opposition which wasn't entirely physical in its nature. This was one of those times. Shuddering at the memory, he repeated, "You don't know what it's like, Syd. I can't stay there. I won't."
Her silhouette rose from the back seat and she whispered back, "What happened?"
"I don't know what to tell you. I'm not sure I can put it into words."
"Try."
"He's evil, corrupted."
Sydney tilted her head to one side as Nigel climbed into the passenger seat. "You mean he sold out? To whom?"
Nigel sighed, and his speech slipped back into the Liverpool accent which only showed up in times of extreme stress. "No, I mean evil as in, evil incarnate. It's almost like he's some sort of demon, Sydney. I didn't see anything, didn't hear anything, but I could feel a sort of presence when he came in. I think maybe he's possessed."
He'd never have offered such a bizarre explanation to anyone else, but he simply didn't know how else to express himself.
"Maybe he is."
Sydney's answer might have been the only thing that surprised him more than the fact that the Angel Sword had been tucked beneath his cot.
They woke just as the first slice of sunlight escaped the horizon, its brilliance pouring across the arid fields. If Van Loo noticed that his tent-mate had departed in the middle of the night, he didn't let on.
The trio of experts huddled around the mystical sword. "Have you touched it?" she asked both Nigel and Van Loo. She noticed that their odd host carried the ancient weapon wrapped tightly in a homespun blanket. He's afraid of it, no matter what he says, she decided.
Maybe with good reason.
No one discussed how the sword had been transported to the lab that tested it, or how it was returned. Something told Sydney that she didn't want to know.
"Bare handed? No. It's a remarkable piece of ancient history. You know the cardinal rules of archaeology. For any truly valuable object you use gloves to avoid contaminating the piece."
Contaminating the object was a legitimate concern, particularly with anything of this presumed age. Then again... "Did carbon testing give you a date?" she asked absently as she studied the artistry.
"Carbon dating was imprecise," Van Loo replied, and for the first time since their arrival, his voice was genuinely reverent. "Aside from the fact that it's forged of metal and stone, carbon dating has other limits. Tests showed that it is truly ancient, on the magnitude of millions of years, perhaps more. As further proof of its age, look at the map etched into the crystal."
Nigel swore under his breath. "That's impossible. It's got to be a fake. Man didn't exist that long ago, certainly not civilized man."
"Maybe not, but if the name, the Angel Sword, is a reflection of reality, then we can safely say that angels existed that long ago. There is one continent, its outlines unmistakable. The very fact that such an ancient artifact portrays the world as a globe is telling. One continent."
"Pangea," breathed Sydney in awe. "This has to be a hoax. There's no way. The super continent theory didn't exist more than maybe twenty or thirty years ago, at most fifty or sixty."
"It's genuine, without a doubt. But it's not gold, like the legends said. Truth is, we don't know what it is."
Nigel interjected, "Maybe some kind of alloy. The color certainly looks like pure gold." The Englishman eased his hands beneath the blanket and lifted the sword - with difficulty. "The weight is right for it to be gold. It's not aluminum, that's for sure. And I'm betting that the gems embedded in the hilt are the real McCoy. Flawless, of course."
It was certainly was an impressive-looking artifact. The hilt formed a braid of vines, its tinted green-gold twists studded with brilliant gemstones. The vines swirled up to cage the free-turning crystal globe, the setting designed so that the globe both acted as divider between hilt and blade and so that every detail of the crystal map could be viewed easily. One breath was enough to set the fist-sized globe turning on its axis.
Sydney resisted the urge to reach out and grasp its hilt. It called to her like a siren song, the never-ending need for her to make a tangible connection with ancient history. This was more, though. There was a power contained in it, magnetic, frightening, awe-inspiring. She swore if she looked at it in the dark, it would glow from within. Further enhancing its stunning surface, delicate runes covered the surface of the blade.
Apparently Nigel noticed the writing at the same time. His finger hovered just above the words as he struggled with the translation. "It's a variation of ancient Hebrew, I think. If I'm right, then this says..." He raised hazel eyes to meet Sydney's. "In the beginning was God."
Examining the sword was one thing. Using it to plan a course of action was another altogether.
Nigel and Sydney understood the enormity of their challenge. If in fact the globe represented Pangea, and it was accurate for its time, it made the weapon over 180 million years old. There were challenges involved in finding objects mere hundreds of years old. Digs in the Middle East sometimes uncovered worlds thousands of years old. The occasional fossil showed up from the Mesozoic era, the last estimated date when the super continent was a reality.
And yet... Who was to say, if the sword was indeed genuine, how much older it was? It might as well have provided them with a map of Mars. There was not one square inch of the planet unchanged in that amount of time.
Nigel sighed, rubbing his eyes. He'd been studying the sword for hours, scribbling notes, taking photos, speculating, translating, consulting. He eyed Sydney, noting the fact that she flinched away from Mike Van Loo. That small detail disturbed Nigel more than it frightened him. It wasn't like his boss couldn't take care of herself, but there were moments when he found himself wanting to protect her, as illogical as it was.
He reached for her, pulling her next to him. "Here's where the character states Eden resides. As nearly as I can tell, that's in this general region, but there are no landmarks we can use for reference, other than the presumed alignment of the continents." He was relieved to see that Van Loo backed off at the subtle hint, though the older man's blue eyes had narrowed to slits.
The blond giant moved away, leaving the partners to themselves.
Sydney's shoulders slumped in relief. "Thanks, Nigel," she said. "He gives me the creeps, too, if it makes you feel any better."
"It doesn't, though it raises another question. Why does he want entry into Eden?"
"What do you mean?"
Nigel tapped a finger on the rough-hewn table. "Sydney, you know what I said about him being evil incarnate? You didn't argue with me. What if he truly is evil? If he's possessed? What if he doesn't want to find Eden to return the sword? Maybe he has another reason, a darker one."
Sydney swallowed. "If I remember my Sunday School lessons, the devil started out as an angel, until he was cast out of heaven when he tried to overthrow God. Maybe he's decided to give it another go."