Light (25 page)

As they walked through the never ending
vista of grey Jake slowly realised that he had been here before.  It had
something to do with his earlier life on the Earth called Heled.  But that was
impossible.  In that past he had no ability to cross into other worlds.

He tried to concentrate.  The memory was
dark, frightening, shadowy; like a dream.  A dream - of course; a nightmare.

Running.  He had been running; he could
see it so clearly.  He had been running across the same grey landscape but even
the air had become oppressive.  Something was chasing him: the En Sof.  In the
Heled, it could only act by directing itself through the human mind and in the
dream state you were most open to its manipulation.  So it had brought him to a
nightmare version of this place.  That might be useful information.  He would
remember it for the future.

For now he would concentrate upon what he
knew of this dark world.  The Arka contained seven lands.  Each more difficult
than the previous to cross.  Currently they were in the land known as Gehinnom;
the place some call Hell.  It was here that demons lived, as did their infernal
Queen, Lilith.  She had already tried to frustrate his journey.  This was her
home; she would be far more difficult to fight here.

He would be on his guard.

Tightly, he clasped Cherry’s hand.  She
was special; she was very special.  He wondered if she knew just how special
she was.

‘Tell me about your parents.’

‘My parents, why?

‘Where were they born?’

She seemed puzzled, ‘In London, I
suppose.’

‘You suppose?’

‘Yes.  My mother was adopted.’

‘Aha.  That’s it, then.  Now I
understand.  That explains everything.’

‘Does it?  I wish I knew what you were
talking about.’

‘Nothing.  Just nothing.’

‘Come on, Jake.  Don’t be so mysterious.’

‘Oh, Cherry.  Humour me, please.’  And he
turned about to give the girl a huge big kiss.

As he pulled away he clasped both her
hands in his own and looked deep into her eyes with all his emotion.

‘What is it?’

‘Nothing.  Just so you know.  I love you.’

‘I didn’t doubt it for a moment.

‘Where are we going?’

‘There is a crystal nearby.  I can feel
its presence.’

‘But where?’

‘Just let me be the guide.  I’ll find it.’

This place was dead or rather it seemed to
epitomise the absence of life; like a graveyard.

The grey grass under foot was brittle,
like straw…, or fine bones.  The trees were gnarled and withered without a
single leaf.  Their dark bark splitting at the slightest touch like ancient
parchment.

Dry skin, stretched around their trunks.

Skeletal branches swayed and rustled with
a strange rasping sound as if of a surgeon sawing through a skull.

This was a place that conjured
nightmares.  This was not the Hell of modern mythology; the Hell of Dantë’s
Inferno; of fire, brimstone and souls in torment.  At least in Dantë’s vision
there were the damned, their suffering in the devil’s fires.  It was almost
comforting in comparison to this.  Here, there was nothing.  Nothing at all.

And then, ahead, there was a light.

It was not the calming light of daylight,
or even the warmth of flame; no, this light was blue, cold as ice.  The light
that could only be produced by something with no concept of vitality.

Jake shivered.

Cherry, for her part, seemed to be quite
unaware of their position.  He wished that he could view everything with the
same detachment.

‘We’re almost there,’ she whispered.

As if she knew where they were heading.

But then he saw it.

A city, or rather the almost undefined
grey outline of one against the grey background.

A city of shadows.

A city of darkness where dwelt the hideous
things that only the subconscious mind could conjure in its blackest moods.

This was the city wherein dwelt Lilith and
her demon lords and it was from here the cold light emanated.

And deep inside was the crystal he sought.

Jake led the way.

The air appeared to move as if driven be a
chill wind but there was no movement, just the appearance of it, like an
illusion.

They forced their way through the
non-breeze and the city gradually became clear.

Tall spires that drunkenly leaned towards
each other; asymmetrical minarets that had no business staying aloft. 
Stone-cold walls that veered in impossible angles, defying all logic.  A city
of gothic arches, of looming shapes.  The construction of an architect who was
stark, staring mad.

And they reached the great wooden doors
that rose monstrously before them like the two rotting front teeth of some long
dead giant.

The gates opened and they passed into the
dark interior of the forgotten citadel.  Behind them, with a hollow sound, the
gates banged shut.

A shadowy figure approached.  A man in
tattered robes.

His feet did not touch the ground and,
when he spoke through grey parched lips, his voice rasped with the sound of the
grave.

‘You will follow me.’

It was a voice that left no options.

They followed.

Smoothly, their guide led the way down
grey stone corridors lit by a malevolent luminescence without any obvious
origin.  There was nothing to mark the way; no decoration, no tapestries,
nothing.  Just a maze of endless passages that seemed to lead downwards into
the bowels of the Earth.

Jake just prayed that he would not need to
leave this place in a hurry.  He would never remember the route.

For an eternity they continued downwards
until they reached a stout door of dark-wood boards through which their ghostly
guide passed as if it was not there.  The door, however, was firmly locked
against their entry.

Jake looked at Cherry helplessly, ‘And now
we wait.’

Time passed…, slowly.

Nothing happened.

They sat on the cold floor.

They waited.

Jake could feel his eyes closing.  He was
feeling tired but he could not give in to the urge to sleep.

A bolt was pulled and the door swung
inwards.  No-one stood to greet them.

‘Come on; I guess we’re being invited in.’

He helped Cherry to her feet and they
entered the gloomy room.  Even as he did so the door clanged shut and Jake saw
that they were trapped.  Lilith was playing games with him.  He did not
appreciate it in the slightest.

‘I think it’s time for me to demonstrate
what I can do.

‘Stand behind me and watch.’

Jake raised his right arm and stretched
out the index finger upon which he wore the ring.  It was so simple for him to
tap into its energy, now.  He was so experienced he did not even need to use
words of power.

‘Lilith, I command you.  Come here.’

The air grew perceptibly colder and was
filled with mocking laughter.

‘Jake!’

‘Ssh, it’s all right.  I know what I’m
doing.

‘Lilith, do not fight me.  I am a High
Priest of the House of Israel.  In me flows the blood of Pinchas the zealot and
Elijah the prophet.  You must obey me.’

An icy wind blew through the room; wending
and winding its way across the floor, up the walls, around the man and the
woman from Heled, around and about them swirling, gyrating; an angry tornado of
force and Jake held on to the woman he loved.

‘Appear to me.  Stop playing games.’

Snow filled the bitingly cold air, whipped
into insane designs by the power of the howling gale, but gradually a pattern
emerged.  The snow was coalescing into one place and the whirlwind was
dropping.

A shape was emerging, a crystalline shape
of frozen water.

The form solidified.  A perfect ice
sculpture of a statuesque and voluptuous woman that changed bit by bit.  It
grew darker, gained texture: it was becoming alive.  She was dressed in a fine
black and transparent gown that left nothing to the imagination.  Her hair was
long and black.  Her lips bright red.  Her eyes flashed with fire and Jake felt
a stirring in his loins.

Lilith laughed.

‘Foolish mortal.  Did you really think
that you could dominate me?  Me, whom legend calls the seducer of men.  Me, the
epitome of all you desire.’

And she peeled back the fabric of her
dress and stepped naked before the man.

‘Do you not desire me?’

And, of course he did.  It was as if his
thoughts were flooded by her being; her scent, her image filled his senses.

He had to fight back.

‘No.’

But he was already walking forward into
those open arms to be crushed against those magnificent breasts.

‘No!’

The crystal on his finger glowed and lit
up the apparition of loveliness.  At once her countenance changed.  Her body
seemed to sag and the skin to stretch and he saw Lilith as she really was.

An ancient hag, a crone, as old as the
creation.

And, in revulsion, he stepped back.

At once, the illusion returned; but he had
seen reality.  He was immune from its power.

‘I think, Screech-Owl,’ he said using the
prophet Isaiah’s metaphor for the hag before him, ‘I have succeeded in
resisting your power.  Now, let us talk.’

‘Never.’

‘Then, dress yourself and be gone.  I will
leave this place.’

‘No, fool.  You will not.  Here you will
remain.  You may have avoided becoming one of my servants but your quest is at
an end.  I will leave you.

‘Come, my daughter.’

And she reached out to Cherry who meekly
took her mistress’s hand.

‘You see.  Even the woman you love is
mine.  She has brought you to me as I commanded.’

‘No.’

He jumped forward.  He grabbed at Cherry
but, even as he did so, he knew that he was too late.  There was nothing to
her, she had no substance.

Before Jake’s eyes the two women vanished.

He was alone.

Fiona had a most provocative smile.  Ben
almost had to avert his eyes if he was not to be seduced by it.  It was clear
that she had news to impart and that the news was good.

‘Well?

‘Professor Rudolph will contact you,
here.  I’ve explained to him that he should ask for me on the phone and make
the arrangements with me.’

‘Good.  Thank you.  Did he say anything
about
Bet
Hatfutsot
?’

‘Pardon?’

‘The Diaspora Museum in Tel Aviv.’

‘Only that he hopes to have an answer
today.  This is about Cherry Linford, isn’t it?’

‘How do you know that?’

But he could guess.

‘You read the letter, didn’t you?  I told
you not to read it.’

‘But, Professor…?’

‘No, Fiona.  You listen to me.  You
expressly disobeyed my instructions.  The less you know about things the
better.’

She looked appealingly sheepish.  Which,
at least had the effect of quelling his temper.

‘I should be annoyed with you but it’s too
late for that.  You must understand.  There is a creature out there that can
enter your mind, can subvert your thoughts to its own to make you believe what
it likes.  If it learns what I suspect, it may use that knowledge against us. 
For the moment it is one of the few cards I have.  I don’t want to lose it.’

As Fiona departed Ben shook his head
sadly.  Foolish girl.  The letter contained hints of his suspicions and now
that information was in Fiona’s head.  It would be so easy for the En Sof to
unlock her mind.  She had no protection against the monster’s powers.  Damn.

Cherry Linford was one of the keys to
defeating the creature and so was Shmueli Isaacson.  He was certain of it.  Shmueli,
however, was already the En Sof’s slave and it was essential that the En Sof
had no knowledge of the boy’s true role in things.

For the moment he would have to wait for
his old friend, Harvey Rudolph to do the research for him.  Rudolph knew what
it was he wanted to learn and then he would know the answer.

The only problem was Fiona.

As they used to say in the movies: she
knew too much.

…………………………………

As Fiona walked up the stairs to the
bedroom she considered what little she had learnt and ‘little’ was the right
word.  She knew nothing.  Come on, she was a nobody in all of this.  All she
was was a pawn.  Used by everyone; even Mitch.  But Mitch really loved her, he
was not pretending.  How could he have been?  But now, look at him.  He was a
tool of that creature.  The En Sof, as they called it.  He was as much a victim
of Lapski’s machinations as was she.

Oh, if only she understood.  Her life was
turning into a nightmare; all she wanted was to get out.  If only she had not
become involved.  But she knew that it was too late for that.

She was not a bad person.  It wasn’t her
fault that she had entered a loveless marriage.  True, she had been swayed by
Jake’s good looks and his prowess and she had not really considered that their
different backgrounds would lead to incompatibility; but the real problem went
deeper.  The question of children.

Jake had been adamant from the first.  He
did not want a child.  Fiona had accepted that when they had become engaged but
gradually she had become aware that her wishes did not accord with his.  Then
she had become pregnant.  Had she deliberately forgotten to take the pill?  She
did not know but, however it happened; she did not know how to tell Jake.  That
was why she had the abortion.

She was no psychologist but she had become
quite convinced that something had happened to Jake in his childhood that made
him so against the idea of having a family.  He would never say what.  It was
probably the same thing that caused the rift between him and his father but it
was something she would never learn.

And then she walked through the bedroom
door...

...and screamed in terror as she tumbled
through a black void where the floor should have been.

Falling.

Plunging downwards through an eternal
maelstrom, just as if she was a rag-doll.  In the spiralling tornado she found
herself being tossed and buffeted by torrential currents that flowed through
time’s vast ocean.

Way below; darkness; impenetrable
blackness of night in a diabolical pit that demanded her presence; but there
was nothing whatever that Fiona could do.  She had not heeded Ben’s warning and
now she would pay the price.  Oh, if only…?

But even thoughts became drowned out in
the violence of her descent.  There was only one thing left...and again she
screamed.

Ground.  She has reached solid ground but
there is nothing.  Just a vast, infinite, void.

And all is quiet; as noiseless as space.

Walking forward through the emptiness of a
place that seems as a dream, timeless and without end, Fiona is able to think
again. 

Where is she?

In answer to her unspoken words comes
colour.  First white, then in a rapid mélange of tints and shades, are all the
colours of the rainbow and she stands in a hazy clearing within a long dead
forest.

Loneliness, all is loneliness.  A great
desire for company, but there is none.  She passes through trees that are
neither familiar nor friendly; trees that belong to a primeval forest of thick
trunks, ancient and proud.  Their great gnarled boughs, so crooked, like the
twisted skeletons of unimaginable monsters of a time that is long past.

A light; so poor, so weak; providing no
comfort from whatever may lurk in the unknown darkness.

Living creatures; beasts of Hell, ravenous
to devour the unwary; waiting for her.

The girl shudders.  She knows the enemy is
at large.

The En Sof.

So evil.  Like the Lord of the Pit.  Its
name conjures up images of fear that cannot be defined.  It is here, now; Fiona
knows it.

She knows it waits for her; hungry to
learn what she knows.

But, no.  She will fight.  These are her
secrets.  She will not share them.

Shivering with the sinister dankness of
this place Fiona continues through the decreasing twilight gloom between
branches that seem to grab and snatch with an almost intelligent malevolence. 
Beneath her feet is a thick, brittle, bracken; snapping at the slightest touch.

But, what is that?  A sound like a faint
rustling, some way distant.  The creeping of a dead thing, moving in the scrub,
as if of a body slowly raising itself from the forest floor.

She peers into the gloom but sees nothing.

Except for that sound of something
slithering.

The dead thing, crawling in the mud,
waiting to grab hold of her feet and yank her into the murk.

‘Stop it,’ she shouts to no-one but
herself, knowing that something dead is waiting for her in ambush.

Ahead.

Is that it?

A soft, low, keening.  The sound of
something in torment.  There it is, unmistakable.  In swirling mists, something
is coalescing from the very darkness.

The En Sof.  It has to be.

It has no shape to it.  Just an enormous
amorphous mass of fog that seems alive with a furious buzzing as if it is the
creation of a million angry wasps fighting an intruder to their territory. 
Black and yellow winged messengers of painful death that threaten to swamp her
in a cloud of stinging fury; darting every which way; repeatedly jabbing their
venom into her unprotected flesh.  The thing she has always feared.

‘No!’

Closing her eyes; waving her hands around
in a frenzied and futile dance, ‘Go away, please...’

And, as suddenly as it starts, so the sound
vanishes until there is complete and absolute silence.

Fiona opens her eyes and is alone again.

It is the beginning of understanding.

A clue to the riddle’s solution.

‘Fiona.’

It comes from a good way off.  A whisper
from the distance.  A companion.  But a welcome one?  Who?

‘Fiona.’

It seems urgent; an anxious calling from
the world of spirits.

‘Fiona.’

A voice such as would emanate from the
trees, were they to talk.

What can it be?  Who else is here in this
place of dreams?  Please let it not be the En Sof.

And then the caller appears.

It is a man or, at least, something
manlike.  The spirit of the woodland, emerging from its hiding place in the
forest to greet the interloper.  He stands there beautiful and naked; asexual,
covered in bark like the trees in which he dwells.  Exquisite in the way of all
things natural.

Even as she stares Fiona sees that the
creature changes.  His mottled brown and mossy covering becoming paler, losing
its texture until there stands a bronzed young man of such a statuesque beauty
that comparisons with a Greek god are unavoidable.

‘Welcome,’ he cries in his rustling voice,
‘Come to me.  Let me show you my world.’

Captivated, Fiona approaches the arboreal
and marvels at the magnificence of his firm, muscular physique.  This is the
man of whom she has always dreamed.  This is the fantasy lover who can satisfy
her every desire and she feels a warm tingling as forgotten visions resurface. 
At last, this is someone she can befriend and she rushes towards his open
arms...and stops as she realises the change in him.

Now he is truly a lover.  For he is no
longer asexual.  Quite the reverse.  Now he sports the most enormous phallus
imaginable; an unbelievably giant tool that is terrifying but, at the same
time, it generates an intense sensual lust that Fiona has never before
experienced.  With a perversity that she does not know that she possesses she
anticipates with moist eagerness the thrill of the penetration of her body by
that incredible shaft...and reaches for it.

Without effort she is as naked as the wood
spirit.  She takes his massive tool in hands that barely cover it.  She can
hardly wait for that wondrous moment and she feels herself taken by those
strong, stout, arms.  His gentle fingers caressing every inch of her body, massaging
her full pale nipples, reaching down between her legs and arousing her in ways
that she can hardly imagine.  And then, she is lifted high into the air and
pulled down over that gigantic pole; feeling its length rubbing against the
walls of her moist vagina; bringing her to a climax that sends her to degrees
of heaven that she barely knows exist.

But there is no end to the powerful
thrusting and intense pleasure turns to a pain so unbearable that it is
orgasmic in its viciousness as she becomes impaled on that javelin of death
between the satyr’s legs.

‘No!’ she shouts as her sanity returns and
she looks askance at her demon lover and she is free of him.

She is full of both joy and fear at the
incredible experience.  She suffers but she desires more and all she hears from
the creature is laughter with that dry sound that appears to emanate from the
trees themselves.

Oh yes, she wants it.  How she wants it.

‘No!’ she has to fight these visions. 
Somehow.

Slowly, (her legs almost refusing to obey
her commands) she backs away and runs; knowing that the creature is behind her,
wanting her with a hunger that is not to be denied.  But, even as she runs, a
realisation dawns and Fiona suddenly understands the riddle of this place.

It is she.  Yes, it is she, Fiona Tranton,
who is controlling this world.  The En Sof is utilising her desires to create
its images.  Everything that she has experienced emanates from her own
subconscious mind.  And, armed with this knowledge, she turns to face her
pursuer.

‘Stop!’

And, she sees that he obeys.

She uses her imagination and envisions the
creature relaxing, losing his maleness, and returning to the woody form of his
first appearance.  And, as she looks, she can see that her vision is true.

‘Approach me,’ she calls to the woodland
spirit, ‘Do you have a name?’

‘No name,’ it speaks simply as it
approaches now that it is reduced to its basic form.

‘All right, No-name.  You shall be my
guide.  Show me through the forest.  Find me where I may rest.’

And the creature whom Fiona now calls
No-name silently leads the way through the lushness of foliage that no longer
seems menacing in the slightest.  Yes, Fiona is in control, and she knows that
she can make of this world exactly what she desires.

There is still one thing that she cannot
do, and that lies heavy upon her heart.  She is quite unable to escape back to
the Earth from which she comes.

‘No-name?  Is there a way out from this
place?’

But the tree-man just looks at her
blankly.  Obviously, he cannot help.  How can he?  After all, he is nothing
more than a figment of her imagination.

At last, they reach a pleasant green
clearing and Fiona lies down in the warm grass, basking in the last rays of a
dying sun.  This is the way every perfect summer’s day should end.  An orange
sky turning to a glorious crimson.  Shepherd’s delight.  Exactly the sort of
evening of which she can only dream.

No-name, like an obedient puppy, kneels
down next to her and Fiona, eyes closed, instinctively reaches across to stroke
his coarse, wood-like flesh.  Strangely enough it does not feel at all like
bark.  Instead it has taken on the consistency of fur and Fiona turns to look
at the creature.

Already his form is changed.  There is
nothing in the slightest that is tree-like about him nor is his form in any way
similar to that of a man.  Now there sits, panting happily, a large golden
dog.  The retriever that Fiona has wanted as a girl.

There can be no doubt at all.  Here, all
her dreams can be true, save for one.  Escape.

In answer to her thoughts the golden
retriever, with careless abandon, leaps up and bounds away.  Fiona merely hopes
that she is able to keep pace with him but she need not have worried.  The dog
stops and barks and waits for her to catch up and then he continues.  Through
the verdant scenery they charge until, at last, they reach the end.  It is a
huge grassy expanse.  The forest has finally ended.