~*~
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 3
The Med-jai City, somewhere in the Sahara Desert
That night
He is dreaming.
It was not the usual dream, this time. Not the one where he floated in the pitch black nothingness, holding on to someone, or something, that he could not see. Not the one where he knew that if he let go of that someone, or something, there would only ever be this nothingness, and that all that he knew, all he loved, would be lost forever.
In this dream he is standing alone in Hamunaptra, among fallen pillars and half-crumbled walls. The heat of the sun beats mercilessly down on him, its midday glare unnaturally bright, making the colors appear washed out and unreal. Looking around, he sees that he is alone. The dream sifts; the sun gives way to night and the cold twinkling of stars; he is on his faithful mount, he and his fellow Med-jai warriors raining death upon the foolish fortune seekers. Full moon bathes the ruins in its silvery light and the sounds of death fill the air... Again the dream sifts. Now he is on the ground, fighting, wielding his scimitar with leathal skill. His opponent falls down, dead. He turns to face the next one and is surprised to see a woman in diaphanous dress with jet black hair, her gold painted limbs adorned with fine jewellery.
Her malicious gray eyes capture him and he is unable to move as in a soft sing-song voice she says something to him in a language that he does not know. Sounds of fighting, hiss of flames as the tents burn, screams and groans still fill the air but it is as if they come from far away as the woman holds him enthralled. Her hand comes up, touches him on the chest over his heart, and terrible pain seizes him. Unable to stand, he falls to his knees and the woman follows, dropping on her knees in front of him. Around them, in the fight that is going on between his people and the intruders, something changes. Even through the pain he can hear it, he can sense it, even if he cannot see it.
The pain suddenly disappears and then she pulls her hand back; there is something hovering above her palm. A softly glowing sphere of light, pulsating with life. Thin strands of light appear and stretch out into the darkness, he tries to see where they go, but still cannot move. The woman smiles at him, and says something again, and again he cannot understand. Then she begins to chant, and the thin strands stretching out into darkness begin to flactuate, growing alternately brighter and dimmer... then something slams into the woman, and she sprawles to the ground in an undignified heap. The sphere of light starts to flicker.
An ancient power whispers to him in his sleep: DaHak is coming. Protect the chosen one.
That night
He is dreaming.
It was not the usual dream, this time. Not the one where he floated in the pitch black nothingness, holding on to someone, or something, that he could not see. Not the one where he knew that if he let go of that someone, or something, there would only ever be this nothingness, and that all that he knew, all he loved, would be lost forever.
In this dream he is standing alone in Hamunaptra, among fallen pillars and half-crumbled walls. The heat of the sun beats mercilessly down on him, its midday glare unnaturally bright, making the colors appear washed out and unreal. Looking around, he sees that he is alone. The dream sifts; the sun gives way to night and the cold twinkling of stars; he is on his faithful mount, he and his fellow Med-jai warriors raining death upon the foolish fortune seekers. Full moon bathes the ruins in its silvery light and the sounds of death fill the air... Again the dream sifts. Now he is on the ground, fighting, wielding his scimitar with leathal skill. His opponent falls down, dead. He turns to face the next one and is surprised to see a woman in diaphanous dress with jet black hair, her gold painted limbs adorned with fine jewellery.
Her malicious gray eyes capture him and he is unable to move as in a soft sing-song voice she says something to him in a language that he does not know. Sounds of fighting, hiss of flames as the tents burn, screams and groans still fill the air but it is as if they come from far away as the woman holds him enthralled. Her hand comes up, touches him on the chest over his heart, and terrible pain seizes him. Unable to stand, he falls to his knees and the woman follows, dropping on her knees in front of him. Around them, in the fight that is going on between his people and the intruders, something changes. Even through the pain he can hear it, he can sense it, even if he cannot see it.
The pain suddenly disappears and then she pulls her hand back; there is something hovering above her palm. A softly glowing sphere of light, pulsating with life. Thin strands of light appear and stretch out into the darkness, he tries to see where they go, but still cannot move. The woman smiles at him, and says something again, and again he cannot understand. Then she begins to chant, and the thin strands stretching out into darkness begin to flactuate, growing alternately brighter and dimmer... then something slams into the woman, and she sprawles to the ground in an undignified heap. The sphere of light starts to flicker.
An ancient power whispers to him in his sleep: DaHak is coming. Protect the chosen one.
~*~
Covenant safe house, Cairo
Next morning
Christina, Justin Hoffman, Evangeline Langdon and Albert Batali, a Covenant scribe, were gathered in the second floor library, speaking in low tones so that Lady Cordelia Purdy - who was standing across the large room in front of a window - wouldn't hear them.
"Are you sure? That boy got a good clear look last at myself and Mosely as well as the demons last night, there's no way he could've mistaken them for humans... there was enough light on the alley." Christina said, looking at Justin Hoffman. He had just told them that there had been no "incidents" reported to the authorities last night. Apparently the boy hadn't told anyone, or if he had, he hadn't been believed.
"I am sure. My contact would have heard of it... if he hears anything interesting, we will be first to know. How is your sister doing?"
"Surprisingly well... she had another dream last night, but as usual can't remember much of it. She did say something about nothingness... I got her to agree to be hypnotised, we should learn more that way." Christina glanced at her sister who was standing by a window, looking as the sun rose in the morning sky.
"Good, good... Evangeline, will you do it? You are better at it than I." Hoffman looked at Evangeline Langdon, a fellow Circle member for confirmation. The woman noded:
"I'm ready. But first, what of your inquiries about the Med-jai? Any results?"
"Apparently they still exist - not that I ever doubted it: if they did not we would have been necessary here before now. Last week I put out a word that we seek a meeting with them, so far nothing." Hoffman said. He had hoped to contact the Med-jai, the legendary guardians of Hamunaptra, The City Of The Dead, and other magical places of Egypt, in hopes of opening a dialogue with them about Kyriakides and this whole DaHak thing. The last recorded contact between The Covenant and the Med-jai had been nearly seven centuries ago when the two secret societies had combined forces to track down and destroy a conclave of ghosts that had terrorized both Egypt and France. Hoffman continued:
"I am also bringing in more of our people; if Kyriakides succeeds in his efforts to resurrect DaHak and his minions we are going to need them. I dispatched the message last night, the first should start to come in day after tomorrow."
"Where are we at locating the place of Rebirth?" Christina asked. Hoffman sighed, shaking his head.
"We are going through Holy Grounds here in Egypt, the good news is that there are only about a dozen of them."
"And the bad news?" Christina prompted.
"We have lost the four or five exact locations over the centuries and are trying to pinpoint them from the old texts. Frankly, I am hoping your sister has seen the Rebirth place in her dreams and can help us by eliminating possibilities."
Next morning
Christina, Justin Hoffman, Evangeline Langdon and Albert Batali, a Covenant scribe, were gathered in the second floor library, speaking in low tones so that Lady Cordelia Purdy - who was standing across the large room in front of a window - wouldn't hear them.
"Are you sure? That boy got a good clear look last at myself and Mosely as well as the demons last night, there's no way he could've mistaken them for humans... there was enough light on the alley." Christina said, looking at Justin Hoffman. He had just told them that there had been no "incidents" reported to the authorities last night. Apparently the boy hadn't told anyone, or if he had, he hadn't been believed.
"I am sure. My contact would have heard of it... if he hears anything interesting, we will be first to know. How is your sister doing?"
"Surprisingly well... she had another dream last night, but as usual can't remember much of it. She did say something about nothingness... I got her to agree to be hypnotised, we should learn more that way." Christina glanced at her sister who was standing by a window, looking as the sun rose in the morning sky.
"Good, good... Evangeline, will you do it? You are better at it than I." Hoffman looked at Evangeline Langdon, a fellow Circle member for confirmation. The woman noded:
"I'm ready. But first, what of your inquiries about the Med-jai? Any results?"
"Apparently they still exist - not that I ever doubted it: if they did not we would have been necessary here before now. Last week I put out a word that we seek a meeting with them, so far nothing." Hoffman said. He had hoped to contact the Med-jai, the legendary guardians of Hamunaptra, The City Of The Dead, and other magical places of Egypt, in hopes of opening a dialogue with them about Kyriakides and this whole DaHak thing. The last recorded contact between The Covenant and the Med-jai had been nearly seven centuries ago when the two secret societies had combined forces to track down and destroy a conclave of ghosts that had terrorized both Egypt and France. Hoffman continued:
"I am also bringing in more of our people; if Kyriakides succeeds in his efforts to resurrect DaHak and his minions we are going to need them. I dispatched the message last night, the first should start to come in day after tomorrow."
"Where are we at locating the place of Rebirth?" Christina asked. Hoffman sighed, shaking his head.
"We are going through Holy Grounds here in Egypt, the good news is that there are only about a dozen of them."
"And the bad news?" Christina prompted.
"We have lost the four or five exact locations over the centuries and are trying to pinpoint them from the old texts. Frankly, I am hoping your sister has seen the Rebirth place in her dreams and can help us by eliminating possibilities."
~*~
Cordelia was looking out of the window, watching as the fiery red ball of the sun rose over the horizon, painting a breathtaking caleidoscope of colors across the sky and the rooftops of Cairo. If she stood on her toes and looked just at the right angle, she could see glimpses of the desert between the buildings, whispering to some unwanted and long buried part deep inside her. A calling she would not, could not, absolutely refused to, acknowledge. And yet, in her bones, she felt that the desert was where she would end up going.
The thought caused the small hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end and she shivered. Unconsciously touching the good luck charm she always wore around her neck beneath clothing, she felt reassuared by its familiar shape and weight. Turning her back to the window and the magnificent sunrise, Cordelia watched Christina converse quietly with another woman and two men. Apart from Christina glancing at her every now and then, as if to make sure she was alright, they didn't pay attention to her. Cordelia was grateful for that; she needed a little more time to prepare for what she had agreed to: to let herself be hypnotised.
Cordelia still couldn't believe that she had actually agreed to it. Last night, when Christina had first brought it up she had said no. But then, when she had awaken from another dream screaming, and still couldn't remember details of what had happened in it, she had finally agreed. Anything had to be better than this, and if hypnotising would help her, then that was what she would try.
Last night, after introducing the man Christina had come with as Douglas Mosely, a friend and a colleague, it had been decided that Christina would stay with Cordelia in the hotel that night, and in the morning Cordelia would move to the safe house Christina and Mr Mosely were staying at. And so, after having breakfast at the crack of dawn and then the drive over here, she had learned that the safe house was actually a grand two story manor situated on the outskirts of the city, complete with stables and a lush garden. It was protected from outside world with high walls and a wrought iron gate where a guard challenged those who sought entrance. Wooden moving boxes and chests sitting in the hallways and empty rooms as well as the scarseness of furniture testified to the fact that the occupants of the manor were still in the process of moving in. According to Christina, most of them had yet to arrive in the country.
This large second floor library where they were now, however, was fully furnished: a big oak conference table topped with books and papers stood in the middle of the room, a comfortable looking couch and four chairs with a smaller table between them on one wall and the cealing high bookcases on the other three walls were filled with books and manuscripts of various size and bindings, written in numerous different languages, some of which she couldn't even begin to regognize. Hundreds of books, catalogued by topic; some of them seemed positively ancient to her unpractised eye while others were clearly more of a contemporary nature. She had also noticed while walking the rows a while ago, that many of the books looked like they should be old - lettering, the language used, the overall look of them - but even she could see that they were anything but old, and that while they all were more or less used, they were in good condition.
Ever since she had realised what topics held the greatest number of volumes - astrology, religion, demonology, alchemy, geology, mathemathics, mystisism and paranormal - Cordelia had been wondering just what had she gotten into. Who were these people, what was The Covenant, and why was Christina involved with them? And how did all of this concern her dreams? To her surprise, she didn't wonder about the sanity of these people, or that of her sister for getting involved with them; it was as if a part of her knew that they weren't insane.
Cordelia studied her sister across the room. Christina was only an inch or two shorter than she was, and had curly chestnut brown hair as she did, but Christina let her hair retain its natural curliness and put it in a simple braid that hung down her back while Cordelia preferred to straighten hers and put it up in a neat do. Her clear brown eyes were a few shades darker than Cordelia's, but the merry twinkle in them that Cordelia remembered from their childhood was nowhere to be found - she coudln't remember when was the last time she had seen it. When had Christina changed? She was so serious, unlike in their childhood. Cordelia couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before. But then, they hadn't spent much time together during the past several years; Christina's visits were always short, lasting only a few days, a week at the most, and she very rarely spoke of herself and her life, answering any questions about her chosen lifestyle with a funny story and laugh, and steered the discussion to other topics. Cordelia was just beginning to realize how little she actually knew about Christina and the life she led.
Christina was still wearing the same outfit that she had had on last night: black trousers, well worn black lether boots, a wide lether belt and a black tunika that reached to the top of her thighs. At some point between now and their arrival here she had shed the black cloak and numerous weapons that had been revealed to be under it last night when she had taken it off in Cordelia's suite in the hotel. She wasn't as slim as Cordelia, instead her body was trim and strong with clearly defined but unobtrusive sleek muscles, results of years of training and fighting as she had told Cordelia last night. Christina had said that physical strenght and weapons were necessary in her work. When she had asked what was Christina's job, the answer had been "I serve The Covenant", whatever that meant. She hadn't elaborated on what was "The Covenant", had just said that for the moment Cordelia knew all she needed to know.
Presently, Christina came to Cordelia. The others gathered in front of the big conference table, spreading open and studying something that looked like a map, leaving the sisters to each others company.
"Are you alright?" Christina asked, worried. She had seen the other woman shiver earlier, before she had turned away from the window.
"No," Cordelia shook her head, her eyes holding those of her sister's. Then she turned once more to look out of the window; the golden sun was now well over the horizon. The fingers of her left hand touched again the charm around her neck. "I won't be, not until these dreams stop," she paused, then continued, voice low so that the others wouldn't hear: "Are you sure these people are, well, not crazy?" she indicated the books on the shelves.
"They aren't crazy, at least not more than most people. They can help you... they have experience in this sort of thing."
"'In decyphering strange dreams?" Cordelia asked sarcastically, but on the inside she was alarmed. If these people regularly dealt with the sort of dreams she'd been having, and these dreams somehow connected to reality, as these people seemed to think - and more importantly, Christina seemed to think so - then didn't that mean that the things she remembered from her dreams might already be, or become, reality... that was something she didn't want to contemplate; it would change the world from what she knew - or thought - it to be.
"Among other things." Christina hesitated, unsure of how much she should say. "There are certain... things ...happening, and we believe your dreams might be part of them... that's why it's so important that you do this. If anyone can figure the dreams out, it's them."
There had been something strange in Christina's voice and expression when she said 'things', and Cordelia knew she didn't really want to know... but against her better judgement, she heard herself ask: "Things? What sort of things?"
...and then she nearly audibly sighed with relief when Justin Hoffman walked to them, preventing Christina from answering the question. He said:
"If you are ready, Lady Purdy, we should begin..."
The thought caused the small hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end and she shivered. Unconsciously touching the good luck charm she always wore around her neck beneath clothing, she felt reassuared by its familiar shape and weight. Turning her back to the window and the magnificent sunrise, Cordelia watched Christina converse quietly with another woman and two men. Apart from Christina glancing at her every now and then, as if to make sure she was alright, they didn't pay attention to her. Cordelia was grateful for that; she needed a little more time to prepare for what she had agreed to: to let herself be hypnotised.
Cordelia still couldn't believe that she had actually agreed to it. Last night, when Christina had first brought it up she had said no. But then, when she had awaken from another dream screaming, and still couldn't remember details of what had happened in it, she had finally agreed. Anything had to be better than this, and if hypnotising would help her, then that was what she would try.
Last night, after introducing the man Christina had come with as Douglas Mosely, a friend and a colleague, it had been decided that Christina would stay with Cordelia in the hotel that night, and in the morning Cordelia would move to the safe house Christina and Mr Mosely were staying at. And so, after having breakfast at the crack of dawn and then the drive over here, she had learned that the safe house was actually a grand two story manor situated on the outskirts of the city, complete with stables and a lush garden. It was protected from outside world with high walls and a wrought iron gate where a guard challenged those who sought entrance. Wooden moving boxes and chests sitting in the hallways and empty rooms as well as the scarseness of furniture testified to the fact that the occupants of the manor were still in the process of moving in. According to Christina, most of them had yet to arrive in the country.
This large second floor library where they were now, however, was fully furnished: a big oak conference table topped with books and papers stood in the middle of the room, a comfortable looking couch and four chairs with a smaller table between them on one wall and the cealing high bookcases on the other three walls were filled with books and manuscripts of various size and bindings, written in numerous different languages, some of which she couldn't even begin to regognize. Hundreds of books, catalogued by topic; some of them seemed positively ancient to her unpractised eye while others were clearly more of a contemporary nature. She had also noticed while walking the rows a while ago, that many of the books looked like they should be old - lettering, the language used, the overall look of them - but even she could see that they were anything but old, and that while they all were more or less used, they were in good condition.
Ever since she had realised what topics held the greatest number of volumes - astrology, religion, demonology, alchemy, geology, mathemathics, mystisism and paranormal - Cordelia had been wondering just what had she gotten into. Who were these people, what was The Covenant, and why was Christina involved with them? And how did all of this concern her dreams? To her surprise, she didn't wonder about the sanity of these people, or that of her sister for getting involved with them; it was as if a part of her knew that they weren't insane.
Cordelia studied her sister across the room. Christina was only an inch or two shorter than she was, and had curly chestnut brown hair as she did, but Christina let her hair retain its natural curliness and put it in a simple braid that hung down her back while Cordelia preferred to straighten hers and put it up in a neat do. Her clear brown eyes were a few shades darker than Cordelia's, but the merry twinkle in them that Cordelia remembered from their childhood was nowhere to be found - she coudln't remember when was the last time she had seen it. When had Christina changed? She was so serious, unlike in their childhood. Cordelia couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before. But then, they hadn't spent much time together during the past several years; Christina's visits were always short, lasting only a few days, a week at the most, and she very rarely spoke of herself and her life, answering any questions about her chosen lifestyle with a funny story and laugh, and steered the discussion to other topics. Cordelia was just beginning to realize how little she actually knew about Christina and the life she led.
Christina was still wearing the same outfit that she had had on last night: black trousers, well worn black lether boots, a wide lether belt and a black tunika that reached to the top of her thighs. At some point between now and their arrival here she had shed the black cloak and numerous weapons that had been revealed to be under it last night when she had taken it off in Cordelia's suite in the hotel. She wasn't as slim as Cordelia, instead her body was trim and strong with clearly defined but unobtrusive sleek muscles, results of years of training and fighting as she had told Cordelia last night. Christina had said that physical strenght and weapons were necessary in her work. When she had asked what was Christina's job, the answer had been "I serve The Covenant", whatever that meant. She hadn't elaborated on what was "The Covenant", had just said that for the moment Cordelia knew all she needed to know.
Presently, Christina came to Cordelia. The others gathered in front of the big conference table, spreading open and studying something that looked like a map, leaving the sisters to each others company.
"Are you alright?" Christina asked, worried. She had seen the other woman shiver earlier, before she had turned away from the window.
"No," Cordelia shook her head, her eyes holding those of her sister's. Then she turned once more to look out of the window; the golden sun was now well over the horizon. The fingers of her left hand touched again the charm around her neck. "I won't be, not until these dreams stop," she paused, then continued, voice low so that the others wouldn't hear: "Are you sure these people are, well, not crazy?" she indicated the books on the shelves.
"They aren't crazy, at least not more than most people. They can help you... they have experience in this sort of thing."
"'In decyphering strange dreams?" Cordelia asked sarcastically, but on the inside she was alarmed. If these people regularly dealt with the sort of dreams she'd been having, and these dreams somehow connected to reality, as these people seemed to think - and more importantly, Christina seemed to think so - then didn't that mean that the things she remembered from her dreams might already be, or become, reality... that was something she didn't want to contemplate; it would change the world from what she knew - or thought - it to be.
"Among other things." Christina hesitated, unsure of how much she should say. "There are certain... things ...happening, and we believe your dreams might be part of them... that's why it's so important that you do this. If anyone can figure the dreams out, it's them."
There had been something strange in Christina's voice and expression when she said 'things', and Cordelia knew she didn't really want to know... but against her better judgement, she heard herself ask: "Things? What sort of things?"
...and then she nearly audibly sighed with relief when Justin Hoffman walked to them, preventing Christina from answering the question. He said:
"If you are ready, Lady Purdy, we should begin..."
~*~
To be continued.