The inhuman wailing began again. Louder-if possible than before, and
McAuliff found himself bringing his hands up to his ears; the vibrations
in his head and throughout his body were causing pain-actual pain.
Daniel touched him on the shoulder; Alex whipped around as if he had
been struck violently. For an instant he thought he had been, so severe
were the agonizing sensations brought on by the deafening sound of the
horrible lament.
“Come,” said Daniel gently. “The hollydawn can injure you.”
McAuliff heard him accurately; he knew that. Daniel had pronounced the
word: not “halidon” but “hollydawn.” As though the echoing, deafening
sound had caused him to revert to a more primitive tongue.
Daniel walked rapidly ahead of Alex into what McAuliff thought was a
wall of underbrush. Then the Halidonite suddenly began to descend into
what appeared to be a trench dug out of the jungle. Alex ran to catch
up, and nearly plummeted down a long, steep corridor of steps carved out
of rock.
The strange staircase widened, flaring out more on both sides the deeper
it went, until McAuliff could see that they had descended into a
primitive amphitheater, the walls rising thirty or forty feet to the
surface of the earth.
What was the staircase became an aisle, the curving rock on both sides
forming rows of descending seats.
And suddenly the deafening, agonizing sound from above was no more. It
had stopped. Everything was silent.
The amphitheater, carved out of some kind of quarry, blocked out all
other sound.
. McAuliff stood where he was and looked down at the single source of
light: a low flame that illuminated the wall of rock at the center rear
of the amphitheater. In that wall was embedded a slab of dull yellow
metal. And on the slab of metal was a withered corpse. In front of the
corpse was a latticework of thin reeds made of the same yellow
substance.
McAuliff needed to go no closer to realize what the substance was: gold.
And the withered, ancient body-once huge-was that of the mystic
descendant of the Coromanteen chieftains.
Acquaba.
The preserved remains of the progenitor … spanning the centuries. The
true cross of the Tribe of Acquaba. For the believers to see. And
sense.
“Down here.” Daniel’s words were whispered, but Alex heard them clearly.
“You will sit with me. Please, hurry.”
McAuliff walked down the remaining staircase to the floor of the quarry
shell and over to the Halidonite on the right side of the primitive
stage. Jutting out from the wall were two stone blocks; Daniel pointed
to one: the seat nearest the corpse of Acquaba, less than eight feet
away.
McAuliff lowered himself on to the hard stone, his eyes drawn to the
open catafalque of solid and webbed gold.
The leathered corpse was dressed in robes of reddish black; the feet and
hands were bare . . . and huge, as the head was huge. Allowing for
the contraction of two centuries, the man must have been enormous-nearer
seven feet than six.
The single torch below the coffin of gold shot flickering shadows
against the wall; the thin reeds crisscrossing the front of the
carved-out casket picked up the light in dozens of tiny reflections. The
longer one stared, thought Alex, the easier it would be to convince
oneself this was the shell of a god lying in state. A god who had
walked the earth and worked the earth-two hundred years could not erase
the signs on the enormous hands and feet. But this god, this man did
not toil as other men….
He heard the sounds of muted steps and looked up into the small
amphitheater. Through the entrance, hidden in darkness, and down the
staircase they came, a procession of men and women separating and
spreading throughout the later stone aisles, taking their seats.
In silence.
Those with torches stood equidistant from each other on graduating
levels against opposite walls.
All eyes were on the withered body beyond the latticework of gold. Their
concentration was absolute; it was is if they drew sustenance from it.
In silence.
Suddenly, without warning, the sound of the hollydawn shattered the
stillness with the impact of an explosion. The thunderous, wailing
lament seemed to burst from the bowels of rock-covered earth, crashing
upward against the stone, thrusting out of the huge pit that was the
grave of Acquaba.
McAuliff felt the breath leaving his lungs, the blood rushing to his
head. He buried his face between his knees, his hands clamped over his
ears, his whole body shaking.
The cry reached a crescendo, a terrible screaming rush of air that
swelled to a pitch of frenzy. No human ears could stand it! thought
Alex as he trembled … as he had never before trembled in his life.
And then it was over and the silence returned.
McAuliff slowly sat up, lowering his hands, gripping the stone beneath
him in an effort to control the violent spasms he felt shooting through
his flesh. His eyes were blurred from the blood which had raced to his
temples; they cleared slowly, in stages, and he looked out at the rows
of Hahdonites, at these chosen members of the Tribe of Acquaba.
They were-each one all-still staring, eyes fixed on the ancient,
withered body behind the golden reeds.
Alex knew they had remained exactly as they were throughout the
shattering madness that had nearly driven him out of his mind.
He turned to Daniel; involuntarily he gasped. The Minister of Council,
too, was transfixed, his black eyes wide, his jaw set, his face
immobile. But he was different from all the others; there were tears
streaming down Daniel’s cheeks.
“You’re mad … all of you,” said Alex quietly. “You’re insane.”
Daniel did not respond. Daniel could not hear him. He was in a
hypnotic state.
They all were. Everyone in that carved-out shell beneath the earth.
Nearly a hundred men and women inextricably held by some force beyond
his comprehension.
Autosuggestion. Self-somnipathy. Group hypnosis. Whatever the
catalyst, each individual in that primitive amphitheater was mesmerized
beyond reach. On another plane …
time and space unfamiliar.
Alexander felt himself an intruder; he was observing a ritual too
private for his eyes.
Yet he had not asked to be here. He had been forced inripped out of
place-and made to bear witness.
Still, the witnessing filled him with sorrow. And he could not
understand. So he looked over at the body that was once the giant,
Acquaba.
He stared at the shriveled flesh of the once-black face. At the closed
eyes, so peaceful in death. At the huge hands folded so strongly across
the reddish black robe.
Then back at the face … the eyes… the eyes …
Oh my God! Oh, Christ!
The shadows were playing tricks… terrible, horrible tricks.
The body of Acquaba moved.
The eyes opened,- the fingers of the immense hands spread, the wrists
turned, the arms raised … inches above the ancient cloth.
In supplication.
And then there was nothing.
Only a shriveled corpse behind a latticework of gold.
McAuliff pressed himself back against the wall of stone, trying
desperately to find his sanity. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply,
gripping the rock beneath him. It could not have happened! It was some
sort of mass hallucination by way of theatrical trickery accompanied by
group expectation and that damned unearthly ear-shattering sound! Yet
he had seen it! And it was horrifyingly effective. He did not know how
long it was-a minute, an hour, a decade of terror-until he heard
Daniel’s words.
“You saw it.” A statement made gently. “Do not be afraid. We shall
never speak of it again. There is no harm.
Only good.”
Alexander could not talk. The perspiration rolled down his face. And
the carved-out council ground was cool.
Daniel stood up and walked to the center of the platform of rock.
Instead of addressing the Tribe of Acquaba, he turned to McAuliff. His
words were whispered, but, as before, they were clear and precise,
echoing off the walls.
“The lessons of Acquaba touch all men, as the lessons of all prophets
touch all men. But few listen. Still, the work must go on. For those
who can do it. It is really as simple as that. Acquaba was granted the
gift of great riches …
beyond the imaginations of those who will never listen; who will only
steal and corrupt. So we go out into the world without the world’s
knowledge. And we do what we can. It must ever be so, for if the world
knew, the world would impose itself and the Halidon, the Tribe of
Acquaba, and the lessons of Acquaba would be destroyed…. We are not
fools, Dr. McAuliff. We know with whom we speak, with whom we share
our secrets. And our love. But do not mistake us. We can kill; we
will kill to protect the vaults of Acquaba. In that we are dangerous.