Chapter Five
India, The land of the Five Rivers, 326 BC
The Friend's Search
Hephaestion was a very tall man. The black panthers had no difficulties to crawl through the tunnel, but he had to bend his back to follow them. It was dark inside the path nature had made. The abundant foliage hung over him. Most of it was soft, sweet smelling and friendly. Some of the trees and bushes had very sharp and prickly thorns, barbs and nettles, and they stung him badly. The panthers had thick black fur, and they were not the least affected.
Hephaestion shrug it off, feeling no concern over the pains and aches. He could take any discomfort during the process to find his Golden One.
The green leaves and branches started to clear up. Hephaestion and his feline friends came forward into a big clearing in the jungle. Before him appeared a big city. It was so big that he found it unbelievable that it could exist in this far away place. It looked almost as enormous as the splendid Babylon.
This was no Babylon, though.
Where the Persian city was bright, flourishing, inviting and luxurious, this jungle city was dark, depressing, hostile and terrifying.
Its walls were looming coal black, its turrets looked like barbs and fangs and its palaces looked like prisons, probably filled with desolate dungeons.
It was guarded by an army of big, dark skinned Indian warriors. They were helped by tigers, formidable orange red and black striped specimens. There was something slithering at their feet.
A whole carpet of venomous cobras which helped to protect the city and its sinister inhabitants.
Hephaestion knew that his Golden One was inside this dreaded city. He also knew that it was an impregnable fort. The rock of Chorienes or Aornos were nothing in comparison to this jungle city. Even the stubborn walls and people of Tyre had been easy to scale and defeat in comparison to this den of horrors.
They were mere human adversaries.
This was something else. Hephaestion felt an age old Evil seep from the darkened walls of the ancient jungle city.
Khalisahr!
The word suddenly appeared in his mind as if written with dark, burning capitals. He had heard about it, but thought that it was a dreaded legend, just a tale of nightmares and delusions, spun to frighten children and weak minded people. In the dead of night, the Indian people told about a city built a long time ago to honour the Goddess of Death, Khali. It was her very own city. She ruled inside, together with the strong and Evil war lord Ahriman. He had lived there for a very long time. No one dared to challenge him. There was no escape from his dreaded dungeons.
Hephaestion knew that he had to find a way into this dreadful city. He felt in his heart of hearts that Alexander was kept prisoner behind its dark and foreboding walls.
Once more the necklace was burning and coiling at his neck and chest. The heavy stone drop sizzled like a hot coal and he had to lift it away from his skin. Suddenly, there was a flash emanating from the stone, pointing towards a hidden crevice in the walls. It was far away from the fanged gates and the guards with their tigers and cobras. No one knew that it was there, and no one would dare to enter even if they knew.
Hephaestion trembled and shuddered from fear and remorse. He knew that Death itself awaited him inside the Forbidden city of Khalisahr.
He had to enter all the same. He could not leave his Golden One inside this den of horrors.
Alexander needed him. Alexander had to be rescued, whatever the prize.
The Friend's Failure
Hephaestion approached the dark and foreboding walls of Khalisahr. His black panthers Nychta and Mavra were at his side, bravely padding along. They crept together through the dense grass, bushes and brambles, careful that the vigilant watchers of the city should not detect them.
Suddenly, there was a forceful barrier. The grass and brambles changed into a mass of slithering roots and tentacles. They grasped at Hephaestion and his feline friends, trying to strangle them and drag them down permanently into the deep jungle.
They fought with all their might. Hephaestion cut and hacked with his sharp, long knife and the panthers tore at the oppressive roots and tendrils with their fangs and claws.
They fought forever and ever against the hostile vegetation. At long last they were free from the sharp and slithering mass of roots, branches and tendrils. Exhausted they sat at the ground, comforting themselves with some sweet smelling flowers that grew in the grass and on the bushes.
When they were sufficiently recovered from their fight they looked up.
The city of Khalisahr was nowhere to be seen. It had once more disappeared behind a thick wall of jungle trees, green moisture and poisonous mists.
Alexander was there, behind this impregnable forest, in that city filled with horrors beyond imagination.