The War Chamber (8 page)

“Holy cow! What's happening?” David's eyes are big as saucers. Maati stifles a scream and clings to her aunt's arm.

The three of them, stunned speechless, stare in amazement at the sight before them, at the din of eerie noises that make their skin prickle with disbelief. Sounds not heard in years, almost forgotten, are now audible as everything in the office that had lay dormant comes alive in a chorus of inharmonious song.

Movement, long a hopeless possibility, now activates each machine, as if rising from the dead. A phone, dusty from abandonment, rings in a bizarre rhythm of restoration. A typewriter print cartridge moves back and forth, dinging at the end of each pass along the carriage. The drum of a mimeograph machine turns round and round spewing ink repeatedly on a tattered stencil, printing the same page over and over again.

And a breeze, unfelt for far too long, sends paper fluttering in the air as the table-top fan oscillates back and forth in a jerky cadence.

“Oh, wow, Bianca. This is great. Unbelievably great!” David's enthusiasm is quashed by the look on Bianca's face, a mixture of horror and despair. “Isn't it?” David adds uncertainly.

“What does it mean, Bianca?” Maati asks timidly, her voice quavering.

“It means the end is near,” Bianca says quietly, at last finding her voice. At this, Maati begins to cry. Bianca shushes her niece maternally, then draws herself up formidably and heads back to the living room.

“I know this is all crazy, Bianca, but why are you so upset? Doesn't this mean that some energy field has been restored in Coronadus?”

“Why am I so upset?” Bianca nearly yells at him. “Think, David, think. What could have restored this energy field? Only one thing. And God only knows who has it now and what he will do with it.”

“You mean - you mean the Singer?” David slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand. “How stupid of me. Holy cow. It means someone has found the Singer and is going around activating things. And - wait! Why didn't we think of this. Maybe the Singer is in your office. It must be if all the machinery is working.”

“If only that were true. But something tells me that my office machines are not the only things that have suddenly come alive in Coronadus.”

With those insightful words, a car horn begins to blow. The grinding of an engine trying to turn over and the flashing of headlights cause Bianca, Maati and David to rush outside where the blue touring car is parked. The beautiful automobile strains to re-acquire its full power, every piston and spark plug trying valiantly to fire up, ready to drive but with nowhere to go.

Then voices, frantic and fearful, people rushing up and down the street chasing after lawn mowers, dodging automatic garage doors, yelling for each other to come and see what has just happened in their own homes. Lights, refrigerators, stoves, anything that has a cord or a conduit of power; anything that cools, heats, cuts, sews, illuminates, communicates; anything that has a motor or a moving part that hasn't moved in years is now in motion as though it has a mind of its own, like something out of a futuristic horror movie.

Block after block, the pandemonium spreads. Amazingly, the people of Coronadus had never disconnected their utilities and appliances after they lost their power source years ago. Even in Bianca's house, as David has witnessed, there are electrical appliances, a car, an office filled with machinery. Yet she eschewed anything modern or technological. Bianca coveted the natural way of living that Coronadus was relegated to and firmly believed everyone else did, as well. Obviously she was wrong.

Those vital instruments of every day use in home, office, store, restaurant, were left plugged in and at the ready for that fateful day when they would be rejuvenated, resurrected, as a sign that a universal shift had taken place. David's memory flashes back to the Emporium, where no money ever changes hands, but an electronic cash register sits closed and quiet on the counter where he had discovered the Wind Rose compass.

Shivering with the weirdness of it all David thinks to himself,
It's all like something out of the Twilight Zone.

Soon people are rushing to the town square, awestruck as neon and incandescent bulbs flash in a kaleidoscopic dance of life in every storefront and every street lamp, anywhere electric light had been installed before the war on Coronadus. The city is ablaze with light, as though birthing a new universe. The vision is almost more than the eye can bear without dark glasses, but the townspeople don't care. No longer afraid, they are caught up in the frenzy of electrifying excitement, once again realizing the potential for unlimited material rewards that can come from the revitalization of their city.

What they do not as yet comprehend is how and why it happened, and what the consequences will be.

“This is more than just someone using the Singer to activate a few machines and appliances,” Bianca says with foreboding.

“I'll say. It looks like the Las Vegas Strip. The people here sure are energy hogs,” David says critically, yet seeming to enjoy the spectacle. “Where in the world did all this come from? There can't be that many electrical outlets in Coronadus.”

“This is power of a different kind, David. Only a fraction of it comes from the receptacles of energy installed here. This light is magnified and multiplied by the cross currents of the Moon Singer's masts. Centuries of illumination stored there now flow unfettered and free. It means someone has found the Moon Singer and discovered that the ship works in concert with the Singer crystal. Once they also discover how vast their unified power is, it will destroy us all.”

“It sounds a lot like Atlantis,” David had said as he and Bianca once discussed the metamorphosis of Coronadus from a culture of advanced knowledge and achievement, to a wrecked and ravaged primitive way of life.

“Yes, knowledge is what set Atlantis apart, unprecedented technology. It's also what destroyed it. Abuse and misuse of that knowledge. Atlantis was a great experiment that was doomed to fail.”

“I've read about it. I'm not sure I understand why it happened.”

“Whatever man, with his great ingenuity, creates or deems as law, there are universal laws that are paramount and must be followed. There is nothing wrong with material gain or intellectual superiority. But when this knowledge is used for personal aggrandizement or as a weapon against others, the law of the universe becomes imbalanced and chaos results.”

“That's what Ishtar said happened on the Island of Darkness. I guess he lives on an Atlantis of sorts. Or he did until the island transformed back into the Kingdom of Light.” David's eyes pop wide at his own deduction. “Holy Cow! Is the Island really the lost continent of Atlantis?” The possibility thrilled him.

But Bianca assured him that Atlantis and the Island of Darkness were two separate but parallel universes. “Every civilization has its Atlantis,” Bianca had replied. “They needn't look far to find it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I suspect that Port Avalon is your Atlantis.”

“No way,” David says defensively. “Nothing like this could ever happen in my home town.” He wistfully longs for his home and his family.

“Perhaps not. Or perhaps, not yet.”

David snaps out of his reverie as Bianca tugs on his arm. “Quickly. We must go to the ship and find out who is behind all of this.”

The mood is weirdly quiet down by the harbor. Reflections from the light-filled twilight sky sparkle on the surface of the inlet waters. Citizens are still reveling in the town square, planning, rejoicing, some of them praying in gratitude for the deliverance of their city. But as dusk merges into evening, it seems that no one as yet has turned their attention to the boats at anchor in the sheds.

When David and Bianca approach the waterfront, all seems undisturbed. The doors are shut, the windows closed, with no sign of anyone inside the sheds. Still, Bianca urges caution. David remembers the window he had found slightly ajar the day he and Sokar encountered each other inside the building. Bianca follows David to the side of the shed and, sure enough, the same window is partly open. They force it up on its hinges to give them enough room to crawl through, then quietly lower it.

Moonlight shines through the skylight onto the marina, but David and Bianca are careful to walk in the shadows. All that is heard is the gentle lapping of the water on the pilings below. David and Bianca tread so lightly that their shoes barely make a sound as they touch the wood beneath their feet. They walk the entire length of the shed, counting each boat that is moored to a slip. Ten, eleven, twelve. The thirteenth boat is gone, her mooring ropes hanging idly from the bollard.

“Someone has taken off in one of the boats,” Bianca surmises. “Whoever it is used the Singer to start the motor and pilot the boat out of the channel.”

“Where is he going?”

“To the Moon Singer, no doubt.”

“To do what? Sail her away?” Apprehension mounts in David as he envisions his beautiful clipper ship sailing away without him.
How will I get home now?
He has yet to fully comprehend that no one is captain of the Moon Singer but he, himself; and no one can sail her but him.

“Sail away? No, I don't think so. I doubt that a plan has been devised just yet,” Bianca says. David sighs with relief. “Unless…” Bianca hesitates, clearly thinking the worst.

Fear wells up in David again, like the swell of a wave. “Unless what?”

“Unless it's not just one person who has control of the Singer. If a conspiracy is taking place, with men who are well-versed in the Moon Singer's powers, it could be worse than even I imagined.”

“Who do you think it is? Sechmet and his friends?”

“Before the debate he would have been the obvious choice. But after his distress at the sight of the War Chamber? No. But his cronies? Quite possibly.”

“Then we'd better get going. Can we use one of these boats?”

“Yes. With luck this boat next in line was in the energy field of the Singer when the first boat was powered up. We'll know as soon as we try to fire the engine.”

* * *

Sokar's only experience on the water has been with his small rowboat to do some fishing, or to find a place of solitude to contemplate his life. His favorite time of day to do this was at sunset, when the heat was less intense and the sky was a swirling ribbon of orange, pink and blue. The city of Coronadus, seen from the vantage point of the open sea, allowed Sokar's memories and imagination to converge into exciting scenarios of what life was once like in his beautiful homeland.

After a time, he couldn't tell truth from fantasy, or sort facts from fiction. He had heard one story from his Aunt Bianca, other versions from various friends whose parents had lived through the tumult; and still different versions as men and women gossiped and reminisced. But he knew with certainty what he felt, what never changed no matter how many fantasies he conjured or anecdotes he heard: the constant heartache of separation from his mother.

Sokar had been young when she died, but not so young he didn't remember her arms wrapped lovingly and securely around him, or the brush of her lips on his cheek in a kiss hello or goodnight. So painful are the memories still that he envies Maati for having been too young to remember the circumstances surrounding their mother's death.

But he would not trade his memories for anything. For, intermingled with the bitter are those sweet reveries, which make his heart ache even more, but are worth the pain. Sokar wept openly many times in his little boat at sunset, often letting out a primal scream of anguish that only the sea birds could hear.

On this night, inept as a sailor but miraculously aided by the Singer, he is able to start the boat's engine and steer her cautiously out of the warehouse slip and into the inlet, then finally out to the ocean and away from Coronadus. It is as though the little crystal has a mind of its own, a built-in intelligence to navigate and guide the sleek, 40-foot gaff-rigged ketch with little help, if any, from Sokar.

Thank heaven there is still no wind in Coronadus, Sokar muses. He hasn't the slightest idea how to hoist the sails of the fore-and-aft rigged, two-masted vessel, or what to do after that. His primary task now is to remember his mission: to find the Moon Singer, board her, and gather ammunition to exact vengeance for the murder of his mother.

The engine grinds and halts, grinds and halts, as Bianca and David try to power up the idle yawl so they can catch up to whoever may have gone before them in pursuit of the Moon Singer. With both of them moving their lips in a silent mantra, the vessel seems to get the message and soon the engine turns over with full power.

“I never thought I would be so happy to hear that sound again,” Bianca says.

David gives a slight whoop of pleasure himself, as Bianca steers the boat out of the slip and into the channel towards the open sea. The boat moves slowly due to lack of use, but soon is making a steady 10 knots. Not knowing where the Moon Singer has anchored herself to keep from being detected, Bianca speculates that their predecessor has a few hours head start and may have already found the clipper ship.

David, meanwhile, busies himself looking over the cockpit of the boat. He is amazed at the sophistication of the control panel. As modern as anything he has ever seen on any boat designed and constructed by Cole Shipping in Port Avalon.

* * *

As Sokar approaches the great ship Moon Singer, all 200 feet of her from bow to stern looms large in surrealistic splendor. Her three masts are so high that Sokar almost falls backward trying to see the tops of them. So many billowing silk sails he loses count. Rings of gold around each mast gleam like the finest jewelry ever made. Sokar cuts the engine of the ketch a few yards from the Moon Singer. He stands spellbound at the magnificent beauty of the clipper ship and completely awed by the radiance she emanates in the black of night. He is mindful enough, however, to drop anchor and throw a rubber raft over the side of the ketch so he can paddle to the ship and climb the rope ladder up to the deck.

Once aboard, Sokar moves about the ship with a mixture of quiet reverence and youthful exuberance. He has never seen anything like this majestic clipper even in books. But nothing can compare to the experience of walking on her gleaming white decks or touching the polished rails.

When he comes upon the magnificent masts of pure crystal, solid, strong and translucent, Sokar's mouth hangs open wide with awe and astonishment. The ship's splendor is incomprehensible and Sokar, especially, has no conception of just how vast and omniscient her power is.

Below deck, Sokar moves carefully from cabin to cabin, taking mental note of everything he sees. There are those who would help him with his mission. In turn, Sokar will supply his allies with valuable information about the Moon Singer so they may define and refine their own plans for the takeover of Coronadus.

* * *

It has taken three hours for Bianca and David to find the Moon Singer. There had been no need to navigate a course, for the yawl seemed to know exactly the route to take. With minimal need to steer or control the boat, Bianca and David each kept silent vigil watching for the Moon Singer to appear.

At last, she does. The clipper first shows her presence as a beacon of light, an essence of grandeur. She then takes form, her towering masts gleaming, her sails billowing softly with an invitation to come aboard.

Bianca is overwhelmed by the magnificence of the mystical sailing ship. All the legends of the Moon Singer told to her by her father and Ishtar pale in comparison to being in the presence of the real thing. Although she has retold the stories countless times herself, and so admires the prophetic men who devised such an ingenious plan to protect the knowledge contained in the Moon Singer's masts, Bianca is struck dumb by this experience. Her eyes cloud over with tears and her lips move in what seems to be a silent benediction.

“I think I know how you feel,” David says, finally breaking the silence.

As Bianca and David drift closer to the ship, David notices something moving towards the stern.

“What is it, David? What do you see?”

“It looks like a boat.”

“Could be our mysterious crystal thief. As much as I want to know who it is, I'm not sure I want us to be detected.”

Before Bianca can decide on either option, the ketch with Sokar aboard, maneuvers around the stern of the clipper and out of sight.

After hours of being on the water, and having no real nautical duties to perform, Sokar curls up on a bench and goes to sleep. As he sails back to Coronadus, he is oblivious to the fact that his aunt and David are only a short distance away from him in a boat similar to his headed toward the Moon Singer.

David and Bianca manage to find their way aboard the Moon Singer, climbing a rope ladder just as Sokar had done. Her wits about her once again, Bianca asks David how he was able to power up the ship to leave from the Island of Darkness.

“It was Ishtar who made it possible. I'm still amazed at how he did it. He used a special cutting tool to cut the rings apart on each mast, then connected them to make one long chain. Then he climbed to the crow's nest, with one end of the chain in his hand, and hooked an end link to the top of the mizzenmast.”

Bianca throws her head back and laughs with pride and astonishment. “My Ishtar? The Ishtar afraid of heights? Who loses his lunch on a fishing boat in motion?”

“Well he did admit he said a lot of prayers going up and down the crows nest ladder. But that's not all. He then hooked the bottom end of the chain around the railing at the ship's bow. I had to do the rest.”

“What did you do then?”

“Well, when Saliana and I were being chased by the Glass Snake, I thought we were goners. But then, some force that I can't explain took over.”

“You mean an instinct that guided you to act?”

“Yes, exactly,” David replies, nodding. “Somehow I just knew to stand on the pedestal in front of the Glass Volcano, and hold the Singer high into the air. It felt like a sacred cross in my hand, the power of good against evil.

“Suddenly, the Singer was ignited by the energy of the Volcano and emblazoned the crystals in the Star of David gridwork on my tunic. I pointed the Singer toward the Glass Snake's tail and it exploded into a million pieces.”There was a huge trajectory of light - like a meteor shooting across the sky. Ishtar said it hit the Moon Singer's railing, which sent a stream of fiery light up the gold chain all the way up to the mizzenmast. That's when the ship regained her full power again.”

David shakes his head in disbelief. Even though he lived it, memories of that inconceivable experience fill him with conflicting emotions all over again.

Bianca ponders David's recollections carefully. “So,” she finally says, making a deduction, “the rings are the conduits for her power. The Singer crystal is a catalyst, as I suspected. Since we do not have the Singer, we have to make sure that whoever does have it is not able to use the little crystal to power up the Moon Singer.”

“How can we do that?”

“Come with me. We will check out the gold rings. If I know Ishtar, he fully expected that something like this might occur and he created a way out for us.”