Blue Shaman: Stone of Sovereignty

By Hugh Malafry

Who are the Shapers? What is their will of us?

In the First Time, the kingdoms of earth and the realms of light were one. Wise in the ways of the Otherworld, the Na-Akhu-El Sages of the Motherland tended the ongoing creation in the earth: Masters of the Four Forces and the cycles of creation, they shaped the pattern of things to come before they took form, and kept the balance of life in the worlds.
But the Kingdom of the Sun fell, and a catastrophic dark age ensued, obscuring the way of the Makers. In the cataclysmic destruction of the world that was, the way of the Otherworld and of the First Time was lost, and Man forgot the realms of light.
Nevertheless, veiled by the commonplace, a vestige of the Na-Akhu-El Sages survives, and subtly intervenes at crucial moments to keep the way they have shaped to restore Man to the First Time.
In ancient Egypt this remnant is known as the Akhu, the Shining Ones of the First Time, who serve the Lord Osiris. Knowing the secrets of life and death, the making and unmaking of things, and the way of resurrection and ascension into the Otherworld, they are worshiped as deathless gods.
In thirteenth century Egypt, the alchemist Flegetanis of Alexandria confronts an ancient adversary, the shaman Morgon Kara, in a dispute over a fallen Templar who has become the key to the survival of the Na-Akhu-El Sages. A contest unfolds in a subtle weave of intrigue and betrayal, in a quest for the meaning of a lost way, and the resurrection of a man whose awakening holds the key to the fate of the world to come.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 1, 2008
• ISBN: 9781434355232

Hugh Malafry

Hugh Malafry is Fulbright and emeritus  professor of mythology and world literature.  He  lives in Victoria, Canada

Book preview

© 2009 Hugh Malafry. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 8/7/2009

ISBN: 978-1-4343-5523-2 (ebk)

ISBN: 978-1-4343-5522-5 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2008901575

for

Moira,

Sweet Influences

This fire cannot be extinguished:

It is star fire,

The fire that gives birth to suns.

Heavy, wet leaves of human lethargy

Cannot extinguish this flame.

Bitter, acrid burning,

Smoldering insanity,

Smoke-bitter vision,

the dead mass of humanity;

Yet the fire burns beneath,

Within,

At the core of the mass:

It is star fire,

The fire that gives birth to suns.

Spontaneous joy flames forth,

Burning.

Combustion of the mass:

Fire calls unto fire.

The Eagle rises in Flame

Renewing His youth,

Burning.

This is the fire that kindles the stars

It cannot be extinguished.

Book One

Stone of Sovereignty

Contents

1

The Aton

2

Pharos Lighthouse

3

Dragon Weather

4

Templar Emissaries

5

Labyrinth

6

The Shining Ones

7

The Grail King

8

Philosopher’s Stone

9

A Game of Chess

10

Lost Hallows

11

Noblesse Oblige

12

Resurrection

13

Knights Errant

14

The Shaman

15

Weaver of Deceit

16

The Otherworld

17

Love’s Body

18

Slayer of Illusion

19

Whiter Morn

20

Cloaks and Daggers

21

Threshold Guardian

22

The Night Journey

23

Apocalypse of Light

24

Innkeeper

1 

The Aton 

In the dark hour before dawn the Dread One rose before the sun, trailing a wisp of white fire across the southeastern sky. Ani’s heart emptied at the sight of it. He sank to his knees and prayed it was not so, but it was written in the Book of Toth that the Rider of the Storm would return.

When the gods gather in the House of a Million Years, the Dread One shall come also among them.

Why else for more than a thousand years watch for its sign in the night sky? And so when one by one Ani saw the gods begin to gather in the appointed place, he no longer trusted the night watch to the initiates, and the High Priest himself kept vigil for the return of the wandering god.

Prince Setana, Lord of Heliopolis, resisted the knowledge but at last agreed the signs prophetic, and for the week of the dark of the moon ordered the night fires extinguished in the precincts of the temple. At sunset Ani climbed the stone stairs to the high place, and until the night journey of Ra was done, and dawn again flooded with light the land of Egypt, he studied the signs to interpret the Dread One’s return.

Other crossings were veiled in legend. The mind rejects what it cannot bear, but memory lost fear remains. Fear engenders greed, and greed obsession for things of comfort: Rich earth, wealth, loving offspring. And, but for the quiet desperation that haunts their lives, the sleepers dream they are secure, and resist awakening. It is the doom of men that they forget.

But Ani was awake, and knew the truth of it. If the Book of Toth was precise in naming the time and place in the house of heaven, it was precise in all matters touching the Dread One. The certainty of it turned his bones to water. The Rider of the Storm returned, and his passage through the House of a Million Years meant war in heaven and destruction in the earth. Some would awaken; others would descend into deeper darkness; but for all everything would change.

This time, perhaps, a new beginning, Ani whispered.

It needed more than hope, for soon there would be time no more. Prince Setana must order the Benben taken from its obelisk at Heliopolis and brought to Jeezeh, where the priests would mount it for the capstone to the Great Pyramid. It was solemn moment, for it was known the Benben turned to ashes those unworthy to touch it, and each generation of priests feared the responsibility to set it in place on the Mountain of the World would fall to them.

And Ani must send into the desert for the Akhu, the Shining Ones of the First Time. It was written in the Book of Toth that the Akhu were a remnant of the Na-Akhu-El sages, who journeyed with the Lord Osiris to establish a kingdom in Egypt. Wise in the ways of the heavens they would already know of the coming of the Dread One, but would not draw close until hallowed, for they were wise also in the ways of men. If they came, for Ani had a doubt, they would bring the Aton, a stone of sun substance shaped in the First Time. Only the Shining Ones knew the way of the Aton, and how to bear it into the King’s Chamber of the Sun to focus its essence at the apex of the Great Pyramid. And only the Akhu knew how to open the window of heaven to loose the power of the Otherworld in the Ark of Salvation. Ani knew that without them the Mountain of the World was little more than a tomb, but with them it was a womb of life.

It was also written in the Book of Toth that the living Akhu are the same who served the Lord Osiris in the Motherland. Of that Ani had no certain knowledge, only that he revered them, and lamented they dwelled no more in the land of Egypt, but preferred to live in the desert among the wandering tribes of the Neberu, who called them Malachim.

The Aton is powerful and hedged with spells, Ani said. I must seek the wisdom of the Book of Toth in this.

Of the Aton he had certain knowledge: The sunstone destroyed those who abused its power. Once, obsessed with possessing the stone, Prince Setana had, by threats against the Neberu, taken it from the Akhu. Wise in the ways of the Aton they did not resist him, but let the transgression take its course.

First, to reveal its power, the Aton filled Setana with holy dread. Then it withdrew its power, took from him all that he was, and left him desolate. The empty places filled with night terrors, and by day phantoms pursued him, taking shape on every hand, until he could not tell night from day or illusion from truth. Finally, he begged the Akhu to take the Aton again from him, and to forgive his transgression. They lifted the curse, but the Akhu never more came to Heliopolis. Even so, called upon in respect, it was believed they would come again to loose the power of the Makers in the Ark of Salvation. Ani prayed it would be so, and sent reverent priests into the desert for them.

Two weeks passed and the Na-Akhu-El did not come. But the Dread One came, trailing a plume of fiery cloud as visible in the southeast sky by day as the full moon at night, so that even the sleepers began to awaken and prophesy doom. More readily than the shrewd, the simple poor remembered the legends, and having nothing to lose took their meager belongings and walked off into the wilderness in search of the tents of the Neberu. The wealthy followed after them. With slow migration of herds and flocks and anxious servants, they ventured out of the fertile valleys and delta lands into the desert and mountain places they abhorred; far from the sea legend warned would rise and follow in the wake of the Rider of the Storm. Bearing gifts of silver, gold, and spice they, too, sought the Neberu and the Akhu who dwelled among them, for it was written that in the time of the crossing salvation came from the desert. And, as the jackal seeks carrion and follows wounded prey, the devotees and priests of prosperity, jealous for their livelihood, followed poor and wealthy alike to exploit whatever advantage could be had of them.

Ani gathered the priests of Heliopolis to Jeezeh to await the coming of the Akhu. Four days the magicians drummed and chanted and trumpeted and waited. The comet swelled until the Dread One dominated the heavens, filling a sixth part of the sky. Its trail was a shredded rainbow by day; by night when Ra journeyed through the starry Duat the horizon glowed, as if the Otherworld burned with dark fire. And still the Akhu did not come.

There arose contention among the priests as to what should be done. Prince Setana resisted, for he was reluctant to be again at cross-purposes with the Akhu, but on the fifth day their fear was so great that he was persuaded to concede to setting the Benben in place upon the pyramid. Ani agreed for it had to be done before the Akhu could set in place the Aton.

So ordered Ani cautiously approached the Benben. His priests feared for his life, but Ani felt the glow of nascent flame within the Benben welcome him. With reverent hands he touched its smooth surface, and felt a tingle of vibration spread through his body and response like a fountain rise up in him. Ani asked to seek its Ren, and feeling no resistance tapped the great stone with tuning prongs. Master in the art of sound, he listened for its reply and found its vibrating soul.

Again Ani asked and again the Benben responded with its essence, rousing its Benu soul in a flare of white light that enveloped Ani, and made the host fell back in awe. Ani seemed not to notice but waited patiently. A half an hour passed and the host grew restless, but still Ani listened until the attunement he sought was fulfilled. Cautiously, Ani found his way into the current that flowed between him and the Benu soul of the capstone, until they vibrated together. He gave it voice, chanting softly in resonance with the Benben, until he and the great capstone were enveloped in a cloud of shimmering substance mingled with blue fire.

Ani nodded his readiness. Without faltering three trusted priests took up the Benu’s song; to each of these an order of the priesthood gathered to amplify the tone.

In resonant chant, the first order circled the pyramid to scribe an arc of influence.

The second order beat out the mass of the stone with drums, until the Benben glowed like fire fed by bellows.

With lively trumpets, the third order set the tone, vibrating the soul of the rock.

The Benben responded with sound of its own: First, a piercing cry of release, and then the sound of a rushing wind like the flapping of sails or beating of great wings. And as effortlessly as the feathery, white Benu bird rises on a surge of wind off the Nile, the Benben rose from the earth and lighted atop the Great Pyramid, where Ani bade it rest.

The host shouted their pleasure in the magic act, eager for what would come next. The Benben, poised like a heron over glassy water, glowed white with light, but without the Aton it was incomplete, and it seemed nothing more would happen. Without the sunstone there was no union of the worlds: There was no binding of the sweet influences into a fine focus; no loosing of the power of the First Time in the Ark of Salvation.

The hopes of the mass, lifted by the witness of magic arts, gave way to fear. The drummers returned to drumming; the priests to their vigil; the people to their sorrows, and Ani, who had always known it was not enough to position the capstone, watched and waited for the coming of the Akhu.

On the sixth day the Rider of the Storm stood in judgment over the earth. The Mother of All Living creaked in her bones, her valleys boomed with thunder, and whorls of curdled light spiraled from mountaintops into the heavens. The Dread One loomed over them, dark with storm and flickering with fire, and the desert grew uncannily still. Ani felt himself go light, hung between heaven and earth, as if he might with a nudge float off in air.

Masters of the crossing, the Na-Aku-El, in their voyaging from the Motherland wrought stone works the world around for such a time. Many stood in ruin, but shaped in essence still served in pattern. Resonant with the Mountain of the World, these intensified the arc of radiance, drawing fire from the center of the earth, to hedge the Mother of all Living. So it was the pyramids of Rosetau begun to glow with almost tender light, and the host gathered to them, thinking themselves last in the world to survive the crossing. Ani felt his weight return, even as the sky blackened with oily rain, and smoldering clumps of bitumen began to fall in the desert. And still the Na-Akhu-El did not come.

But the priests of the Necropolis came, bringing out the dead for the end of the world. They came with bearers, and the mummified remains of a thousand true believers who lay in the necropolis waiting the raising of the dead. Ani watched and wondered at the dark priests, embalmed and interred in the death rites of their own minds, as void of life as any corpse.

In the First Time, Ani whispered, there is no death.

Toth had written it: "In the consummation of life the body shall not perish but ascend."

Toth had written that sealed within the forehead of each one is a grain of sun substance, to keep the tone of life from straying too far from the divine design. And, when the cycle of life is come to its full, and the need for life in the flesh is no more, the substance of the Soul comes forth transmuting the flesh in ascension.

Ani knew that from the time of the great transgression, when the heavens and the earth were changed and death came into the world, a limit was set to the span of a human life. And though it was given that soul substance might yet ascend into sun substance, the transmutation of the body as a whole was rare.

The priests knew that Osiris had walked in the way of the First Time, and they made a livelihood of the promise of the return of his power for the resurrection of the dead. To this end, the true believers gave their wealth and their bodies to the priests, willing to wait a thousand, ten thousand years if need be, to rise again from the grave in the flesh, and walk the way of the Lord of Resurrection. No matter that in death the silver cord was loosed, and so the way of ascension closed to them. There was no understanding of the way of life, only the desire not to die.

In truth, the priests of the Necropolis came not for the dead but to defend the power of their Order. They had heard the capstone to the Great Pyramid was set in place and glowed with light, and should this crisis pass they would suffer loss of authority for not having been on hand. Circling the mummified corpses, the priests of the dead beat drums, clashed cymbals, blew trumpets of human bone, chanted funeral hymns, and sacrificed the terror of animals to the gods, but nothing changed. Mummified remains of congealed dust lay in the desert sand awaiting a resurrection that would never come, except the corpses be broken, scattered to the wind and the rain, and so enter again into the tree of life.

On the seventh day there again arose contention among the priests of Heliopolis what was to be done, and again they petitioned Prince Setana to force his hand. Without consulting Ani, it was decided among them that Prince Setana should enter the Great Pyramid to walk the path of Osiris. It was a thing to be feared, for all knew it was death to enter and fail the passage. Setana demurred, knowing he would not survive and cautioned patience. But the priests were not patient, and so again it was decided among them that Ani should do what Prince Setana was unwilling to do. But Ani would not transgress the way of the Akhu to force the passage, though he knew at last it might fall to him to attempt it if the Shining Ones did not come.

In the rising sun of the eighth day the pyramid began to vibrate with a sound of rushing waters, and the air freshened like a morning of clear shining after rain. The White Mountain glowed, enveloped in a blue white cloud of light, and the Benben shone like the disc of the sun breaking through billows of cloud, so that the priests believed Ra was come to manifest himself, and stood off in awe and whispered among themselves.

Eye of Ra.

But neither voice nor any god was manifest, and again the priests insisted it was time for Ani to enter and walk the pattern of the Shining Ones. If, they reasoned, the Akhu still existed, or existing cared, they would have come by now, and even Ani began to wonder what it might mean to enter the pyramid and walk the paths of Osiris. So it was his thoughts turned to his sole meeting with one of the Na-Akhu-El.

There were numerous encounters with the Neberu when they came into the cities to trade, but the Akhu, who could appear as ordinary men, seldom revealed themselves. Long ago, when still initiate, Ani had gone into the desert in search of himself. After many days of wandering, he came to an oasis, and upon one of the Shining Ones, uncloaked and transfigured. He understood then why they dwelled apart, for he could scarce look upon the man for the light that shone from him, and stood off blinded by his radiance.

If you would see me as I am, he said. Let go of shadow.

Ani wanted to run but the voice was kindly, so instead he sat silently for half an hour; eyes closed, letting go until the melancholy darkness that troubled the seeker and drew him into the desert, dissolved. When he looked again the Akhu had assumed familiar form, and appeared as other men. Three days they remained together by the well within the comfort of trees. They talked about the Book of Toth, which was revealed to Ani, and the sage whose name was Tanis, knew all that was in it, able to interpret for him, and speak of other things besides concerning Toth and Osiris unknown to Ani. When they parted Tanis touched Ani on the forehead and his mind blazed with light.

Live in the Light, he said gently. Dwell, Ani, in the First Time.

They never met again, but remembering filled him with assurance.

We met in the First Time, Ani said. And it was meant for now. I will walk the path of the Shining Ones.

No sooner had he overcome his fear than Ani’s heart filled with joy, for out of the cacophony of beating drums, trumpets sounding, the bleating of sacrificial sheep, and human cries that turned to wailing, a man in desert cloak strode toward him. Two veiled women followed after, scurrying to keep up. To others the man seemed ordinary, wanderer who had come in out of the desert, and the priesthood set to bar his way. But the desert father raised his staff as he came and they scattered like a flock of birds in a sudden gust of wind. In the moment of his coming the earth shook, the heavens pooled like blood, and the Dread One stood still in the way of the earth filling the heavens. The mass parted, the women stood off, and the Akhu came to Ani.

We met at the well of sweet waters, he said. Then as now, Ani, you seek the way to go. Stand still and see the way that opens for you.

Desert father, Ani whispered.

It is the Lord Tanis.

Setana proclaimed it to the host, as if having special knowledge of what was to come. Ani did not then know, but Tanis it was who had taken the Aton and freed Prince Setana from his phantoms. Setana both regarded and resented Tanis for it, and still sought redemption in his eyes.

You took your time in coming.

Setana could not help the reproach, and was immediately shamed for it, but Tanis, seeing him overwrought, was gentle in his reply.

I am Lord of Time.

What would you have me do? Setana asked.

He was half afraid of the answer. Tanis swept his hand over the host. The din of musicians ceased, and even the priests fell silent as the whisper of his name swept through the multitude like the rush of wind through dry leaves, and the host fell to its knees.

Tanis, Tanis, Tanis, they whispered.

Hold these to focus in truth, Tanis said. No matter what you shall see, no matter how long it takes, keep your purpose single, O Prince. Bear the light; do not falter, and all will be well.

Shall I not enter in with you?

That is for Ani.

Ani fell to his knees, and again the power he touched in the wilderness flowed forth from the Shining One. Everyone felt it, but the Lord Tanis bade Ani rise.

We must do this on our feet, Tanis said. Are you afraid to die, Ani?

A man is not as god, Ani said.

I will show you what a man is, Ani.

Tanis took the scribe by the hand and led him through the prostrate multitude to the north face of the glowing pyramid. The sound that rushed from it was like surf on the seashore, or wind in the trees come down from high mountain silences that fill the heart with longing.

Lord, do we cross to the Otherworld?

Lord Tanis nodded.

And as you are High Priest of Toth, Ani, when you return you will make record of what you have seen.

I am afraid.

Open your hand.

Lord Tanis put a small white stone in Ani’s palm. It was cool and firm and filled Ani with assurance.

Sekhem, Tanis said. It is your Ren.

My Name?

Essence, of all that is birthless, deathless, and changeless in you.

Ani closed his hand about the white stone.

I give you only what you are, what is already within you. If you cannot find it there, the stone is a mere pebble.

My Name, Ani said. Who I am in the First Time.

Tanis nodded his approval.

Now will I show you the way of the crossing.

Into?

The Wonderful One.

Head bowed, shoulders stooped, Ani followed meekly, led by the hand to the portal gate of the Great Pyramid. There Lord Tanis raised his staff with both hands over his head.

I stand for the Shining Ones who witness the First Time.

The White Mountain glowed like the dawn, and so also the Akhu through whom the light of transfiguration intensified. Ani, the scribe of Toth, mastered his fear and drew closer to the Na-Akhu-El.

I stand for those who witness the resurrection of Osiris.

Ani clung to the sage’s cloak.

I stand for the Shining Ones who come forth from death, white with fire.

Lord Tanis placed his staff flat upon the earth in the ark of light, and reached beneath his cloak to his heart. Ani blinked and saw a jewel like a blue sun in the palm of the sage’s hand.

The sun within the Aton, Ani whispered.

Lord Tanis touched the crown of his head.

The sun within each one of us illumines the world. Without it the body of flesh could not come to consciousness. In it we are bound together in the bundle of life.

And can it be both without and within? Ani asked.

"Above and below, within and without, each is within the other. The worlds are one. Is it not written in the Book of Toth, Ani?"

Ani bowed his head. He felt the humor in Tanis’ question, and was amazed at such a moment that it should be there.

Lord Tanis raised the Aton in the palm of his outstretched hands, and the Great Gate of the pyramid opened. Tanis led. Ani, shoulders stooped, head still bowed, followed after, holding his hand, the other closed tightly about the cool, white stone the sage had given to remind him who he was. Full of ire that the Lord Tanis had not chosen him but Ani, Prince Setana looked on.

The earth stood still. Half a world away there was no night, and in the land of Egypt the night did not turn to day. The Dread One crossed her path and the Mother of All Living heaved in her bones. Fire surged from the center of the earth. Here the seas withdrew; there they swept across the land, and mountains rose and fell. But at the center of the world, in the land of Egypt, it was dark and still, but for the light of the Ark of Salvation. The length of a day then another passed, and a smoky light returned to the skies, but there was no sun. Oily black clouds smeared the heavens and the air was rank with burning, but the pyramid continued to glow from within and the host gathered in its circle of light.

On the evening of the fourth day after the High Priest Ani and the Lord Tanis entered the pyramid, the Benben kindled into a blue-white star. Shining at the crossing of the worlds, its rays enveloped the Ark of Life. Around the earth the stone works the Na-Akhu-El had made vibrated in response, and within the ark of influence there was a smell of spring. It began to rain and sweet water fell. The earth turned, the clouds parted, and day returned in the desert. And still the pyramid shone by day and night as a sun upon the earth. On the sixth day after they entered by the Great Gate, the Lord Tanis and the holy scribe Ani came forth from the Mountain of the World anew, stripped of their years, their faces shining white with heat like the sun.

True to the word of Lord Tanis, that he should make record of what is in the First Time, Ani wrote upon papyrus what he had seen. And instructed by the Lord Tanis in the art of the Ancients to work vibration into the substance of precious stones, he made also enduring record therein. The writings of the Na-Akhu-El which testify to these things, and to which Ani humbly added his own testimony, are sealed in the vibratory records of the heavens and the earth; and for remembrance in the Hall of Records in the pyramid within the pyramid, which is the Mountain of the World.

The Dread One moved on, passing through the realms of the Lord of the Sun through the door at the end of time, and on into the darkness of the Deep. There he journeys until the time appointed for his return, for it is given that after those things which are needful are fulfilled, he will dwell at last at peace among his brethren in the Kingdom of the Sun.

2 

Pharos Lighthouse 

Four old warhorses worked the windlass. They stood desperately still in the Egyptian sun while the Pharos slaves loaded the lift with fuel for the lighthouse. They looked past caring, but showed interest when old Jakob arrived. Always, on his weekly climb of the lighthouse tower, he spent time with them, stroked and fed them apples, and confessed lovingly in their flicking ears that he was sorry for their fate.

The chargers were captured crusader mounts, and he imagined by their response to his words, he knew their homes and the masters who had cherished them. He loved them as a force of nature; prevailing when all was lost, and knew their spirit was unbroken. They endured, but their fate was sure; if they did not die in the treadmill of the windlass, they would be slaughtered for skin and bone and hoof. Man the slaver had a world of suffering to answer for, and not alone his own kind.

The human slaves were little better off, bowed to sullen labor loading the tower lift with fuel. If they took pride in serving the light that was the wonder of the world, they didn’t show it. Only the overseer was happy at his work imposing burdens, except when the likes of Jakob distracted his slaves. Nevertheless, he smiled and nodded obsequiously as Jakob passed by on his way to the tower. Etched with regret, fifty sweat and dirt stained faces followed his every step, imagining the old man who passed by was the source of all their ills. Jakob hid his heart. He would have slain the overseer in a moment, but he moved on. After him the whip cracked, the slaves returned to work, and Jakob began his accustomed climb up the inner spiral stair of the great Pharos tower to the light that had burned for more than a thousand years, to guide commerce through all weathers to Alexander’s treasure city.

He climbed two-thirds the height of the tower before the lift caught up with him. It rose in a squeal of iron, groaning timbers and grinding chains, cranked up out of the pit by the old warhorses. Desperate eyes stared at him through the iron lattice of the creaking cage as it passed. Jakob, alone on the dark stairs, was unexpected, an apparition in the flickering torchlight.

Mother of God, one said.

Another crossed himself in fear, and spit at the shadow man. Jakob stared back into the tortured eyes of the Pharos slave, more beast than man, its face mutilated by fire. Jakob made sign of the cross, but they were already gone in a red wash of torchlight, and he was alone in the dark.

Be at peace, Jakob shouted after, over the squeal of chains

A voice cried out in the shade and reverberated through the lighthouse tower We are in hell!

Flegetanis is right, Jakob. With old age Jakob had taken to talking to himself. He is always right. Some are Christian.

The cage passed the upper portal, ground to a halt, and docked, blocking the half-light that filtered down from above, and for a moment Jakob lost his bearings. He pressed anxiously to the wall clutching the papyrus scroll that all day preoccupied him. The cool stone grounded him, and breathing deeply he mastered himself. His eyes adjusted and a little light returned filtering down from above. Jakob fixed on it, found his balance, and climbed the winding stair.

I can still do this. I was a knight in my youth,

He had no certain memory of it. What he knew for sure was that he had grown old in Egypt, watched his ruddy hair turn silver, his skin cure like leather, and his muscle turned to gristle, but even in old age his body remembered its warrior’s discipline.

There are limits to the will, Jakob. You cannot make yourself young again.

Was it not enough to have led a prosperous life? The sage Flegetanis had been good to him. True, women no longer cared for him, but then he no longer cared for women, especially the ones you could buy. Lust was over rated and Jakob preferred companionship to the feeling of conquest. What heat remained was anger in his groin for a life that came to nothing and ended in meaningless death.

What is the point?

It was useless. He had been over this ground before and there were no answers. There was no point. He bit his lip, disciplined himself and pushed toward the portal.

Not bad for a man of eighty.

Again he was guessing, for he remembered nothing before slavery in Egypt. One morning he awoke and this was his world. Being born was hardly less strange.

I was nowhere, and I am now here, he muttered, and when I’m done, nowhere again. What is the sense of it?

For fifty years he served Flegetanis, and though the sage was his friend he seemed to know little or nothing of Jakob’s beginnings, other than to confirm he was European, had been a knight, and was bought from Berber slavers.

It’s not your aging that bothers you, is it Jakob, he said aloud, but that Flegetanis isn’t. That’s it Jakob, isn’t it? Flegetanis isn’t aging.

He climbed harder as if pursuing his fleeing youth up the spiral stair. It must be some trick of the mind. Others seemed not to notice but Jakob knew. He was young, and Flegetanis in late middle years when they had met and the sage had changed hardly at all, though all the world grew old around him. Jakob’s fist tightened about the scroll he had found tucked away in a cedar chest in the scriptorium.

I have the answer. I have you now, you old fox.

Jakob reached the last portal in the great lighthouse tower that gave what little light there was in the ascent, and stopped to catch his breath. He stared out through the narrow casement into the blue haze of sky and sea. A falcon circled lazily on the warm, rising air. On the horizon an inky blot rose from the sea, and crooked like a hand pointing a finger toward him, as if to say it intended to unleash its fury right where Jakob stood. The light and the sea and the north wind roused an old longing to sail away. Knight he may have been, but one who knew like instinct the sea.

Beautiful bird, he whispered, fly from here. There will be such a storm as the world has never seen.

The wind freshened and pounded the tower. The falcon rose upon it and was gone into the sun.

Wise bird, Jakob whispered.

What he used to do in ten minutes now took him half an hour, but finally the lighthouse dome lay before him. He held back a moment as he always did on the landing, took a deep breath, and holding it opened the door.

Lord of light, live.

Earth, sea and sky dissolved in an apocalypse of light. Blinded with ecstasy Jakob walked into the sun, longing as he always did when he crossed this threshold to see the voice that always spoke to him.

It was the woman’s voice. And there were other voices, too. They spoke over and whispered around him, but he could never see more than vague shapes moving in the blinding light. But always he heard the woman’s voice clearly, and always she urged within him.

Lord of light, live.

I will, he answered. I will live.

And so he did. A mystery to himself, for fifty years Jakob climbed the spiral stair of Alexander’s lighthouse, and always for this moment of light. The agony of the climb, the danger in darkness, and the bittersweet longing that drove him, all paled before the sudden ecstasy of light piercing the dark waters of his mind. For a moment he could almost remember who he was, then darkness returned, the voices ceased, and he was alone again in the incandescent dome of the Pharos lighthouse, high above the shining sea.

Jakob’s eyes adjusted slowly to the reality: The familiar, white dome, charcoal dark fire pit, storage vaults for wood, keepers’ quarters, and the complex of curved mirrors, whose shining could be seen a hundred miles at sea: The lighthouse was the wonder of the world, and here it all came into focus. Nowhere else on earth was there anything like it.

Jakob steadied himself, gripping the railings with one hand, and with the same intensity the scroll. The Vizier Rasheed saw him enter clutching what he took to be a bill of lading. Prince Rasheed was the Caliph’s master of the Pharos lighthouse and the profitable port of Alexandria, but in matters of trade Jakob and Flegetanis were known to be fabulously wealthy, and he was deferential to men of means.

A cargo he fears will be lost: The Minos with jewels from India, perhaps, or the Ariadne out of Crete, laden with forbidden wines.

Rasheed understood but overlooked what he took to be Flegetanis’ wiles, for in time the knowledge might be useful to him. Rasheed believed only in himself, but found humanity in his willingness to cater to the wealthy, and he could be generous where there was advantage. There was also the matter of Flegetanis’ young daughter Siduri, whom Rasheed coveted, and in good time intended to have.

You should have taken the lift, old friend. Rasheed steadied the old man. Ride up with the wood next time. Let the slaves work for you.

Jakob’s chest tightened and bristled with sudden heat, not from the climb but from being near Rasheed. The man was suffocating, but he dared not show it, and instead loosed his cloak. Across the dome the slaves unloaded the wood. The one who spat on him from the cage eyed Jakob nervously, realizing he had insulted a man of importance.

Ariadne is a day late, Rasheed said.

She is a rider of the wind.

Rasheed raised his hands toward the storm, gathering on the distant rim of the sea.

She will need to be; we will pray Allah for her safe return.

Allah is merciful, Jakob said ritually, and Dimitrius, a master seaman.

Rasheed turned to instruct the overseers and Jakob to the inky blot smearing the horizon. In the heights it was still all sun and warm sea air pressed before the storm. It was electric. Here he was exalted, high above the world, at one with sea, sky and the sun and at peace.

You are old Jakob.

He turned, but there was no one there. It was the other voice, the one that troubled him at most inopportune times, and when he heard it almost always someone died. Rasheed looked about, as if he heard what Jakob heard, and apparently thinking it no more than the wind, returned to his work.

What more is there for you?

First it seemed to come from without; now the voice was in his head. Tempt me not, Jakob said.

Let it end here, now, in this exaltation of light and air and sea.

Be gone, Jakob whispered

Do it now before the evil days come. Do it before you suffer.

Jakob was distracted by the voice when the mutilated slave made up his mind to die. It was a simple decision; his alone. He said nothing. It was his moment; and he was determined to take one of his persecutors with him. The old man was a demon; he would take him. The slave lunged across the dome into Jakob, and grasping hold of the old man’s cloak flung himself from the tower into the void of sunlight and air. Jakob spun with the hit, his cloak coming free, and for a moment man and cloak soared into the single blue of sky and sea, and then fell like a wounded bird.

Jakob gripped the railing firmly, stepped back calmly into the dome and turning to the slaves put his hand for a moment over his heart. These were the sweating faces in the torchlight filled now with awe, for the man who made a creature, was again a man. Rasheed was stunned; it was over and he had not reacted. He feared what it might mean to him, and the slaves feeling his fear knew he would take it out on them. Rasheed came delicately toward Jakob, and all eyes followed after him wondering whom the old man might be, that one should give his life to kill him, and a prince of Egypt fear the consequences of his death.

I am desolate, Rasheed said. Allah is with you, my friend. This was a mad man and a Jew.

I think a Christian.

It is difficult to say.

Jakob shook it off. And these others?

Christians.

Are they sane?

How can they be? They do not worship Allah.

Jakob shrugged. He knew just how it worked. There was brisk trade in slaves in Egypt. Tamed by hard labor and sold to the Mamluk overlords, the skilled rose in status to serve in the slave armies. The rest were doomed to menial tasks. His earliest memory was as kitchen slave in Pharos tavern, where he might have died but for Flegetanis.

Where did you get them?

Would you buy these slaves, Jakob?

There was something more here than Jakob understood, and he saw Rasheed was grown cautious.

You are too shrewd a dealer, Jakob said.

These were taken on the Berber coast. Broken in, they’ll bring a good price from the army.

They are sickly.

They are Templars; their quality is clear.

Jakob turned away indifferent.

Perhaps Flegetanis would be interested?

Jakob shook his head. Who knows?

Rasheed knew Flegetanis freed the slaves he purchased, but Flegetanis paid well and it mattered little to him what he did with them, but he kept meticulous records should ever there be advantage to it.

Why do they do it Jakob? Ten years no stronghold in Palestine, no crusade, but still they come back. Why?

It was a new century in Christendom, and in 1301, ten years after the fall of Acre and the Holy Land to the Mamluk overlords, Egypt was no place for a European.

They are spies.

Rasheed shook his head. I think a hajj, he said solemnly.

Pilgrimage? Jakob looked the Europeans over carefully. They did have a monkish look about them. They might be Templars. Why am I sure you are about to tell me something extraordinary? he asked.

No ordinary pilgrimage Rasheed replied. These seek the treasure of the prophet Isa.

What treasure?

A stone, a chalice, they argue over what it is but agree they will know when they find it.

I have heard this story at sea, Jakob said. The poets say when the Romans crucified Isa three treasure ships fled the Holy Land for Europe. As you say they argue over what the treasure is: Britons believe Isa’s treasure is a magic chalice of inexhaustible life; the Teutons that it is a precious stone fallen from Heaven; and the Franks are sure it was a woman dear to Isa.

Each after their nature, Rasheed said.

Yes and there are others who think the treasure is the lost ark of the Jews, or a book by the prophet Isa in his own hand, but all agree those who seek Isa’s treasure are rendered useless for anything else.

If it is a woman she is dead, Rasheed said. I think it is a precious stone they seek.

It may be.

So, Jakob, will you buy these slaves to tell tales and amuse sailors?

Jakob shook his head and returned to the rail of the dome and gazed out over the lapis blue water. The mirrors gleamed out over a sea still simmering in the sunlight, but the black finger of storm had turned to a smear that darkened the horizon. Jakob counted now more than twenty vessels, specks on the horizon, driven ahead of the storm, making for the gleaming Pharos light. Others beyond the horizon would ride the wind, until by art they mastered the storm or it overwhelmed them. Jakob pointed to the vessels still far at sea.

Tonight will be terrible for them, he said.

Are you concerned for the Ariadne?

I wonder if she is among them.

Cunning and whimsy mingled in Rasheed’s eyes. Shall we see these riders of the storm?

If you possess Aladdin’s lamp, Jakob said.

Has Flegetanis not told you how Sostrates, when he built the lighthouse, contrived special mirrors to shape light and space to his will?

This was a new thing. Jakob knew there was talk, of mirrors that could see into the cities of the infidel, spying out those who gathered to councils of war in their gardens, but Rasheed had not offered this before. He wanted something.

Doubtless Sostrates was a genius, but I think this is an old tale the Caliph approves to worry his foes.

Not at all; we have learned how it can be done. Rasheed was pleased with the intrigue.

I would make it worth your while to see Ariadne.

Then we shall do it. Rasheed ordered the mirrors be set in place, and while they were being brought he pointed to empty frames in the great astrolabe structure that supported them.

Jakob had never seen it this way before; there was something