Lucifer in Paradise - Qabalah of 32 Paths

Lucifer in Paradise - Sample Pages
Steven Ashe

Ragnarock had made fast his escape and the Wizard walked alone through the half light. Kif froze. The darkness of the walls of the underground labyrinth was illuminated by the faint glow from phosphorescent slime growing over crystal streaked rock. Some sensitivity within his breast was suddenly aflame, sending a warning signal that inspired an overwhelming paralysis and giving cause to the wizard to back carefully against the cold, damp rock of the tunnel wall. Kif had by now ventured far into the underground system of tunnels and was now in the border area between Avalon and its grim counterpart.

The underground palace of Tartarus lay only a little way ahead according to the detail of the maps he had studied in the Library of Avalon. However, he could sense some strange power at work here behind the walls of the labyrinth. There was no foreboding that he was anything other than alone here. No subtle noises or vibrations stirred the air.

Kif continued to remain still for a few moments, concentrating upon his breathing and fought to calm the beating of his heart so that he could focus more readily upon his surroundings. As he had entered this part of the tunnel, the temperature had seemingly dropped by yet another two or three degrees. There was magic at work here, of that he was certain. However, there was no feeling of malevolence which he knew to be an essential ingredient in the recipe of the sorcery of Dark Avalon. Nor was there any sense of the enchantment he associated with the Fey folk.

Kif was puzzled. This was surely a matter which Dreamstealer might be suited to investigate. The wizard carefully fingered the stone phial which hung around his neck and removed the cork which sealed the genie within. There was a hissing sound accompanied by the release of a faint musty aroma as Dreamstealer materialised from the phial and stood before Kif with an enquiring look upon his face. Kif raised a finger to his lips and spoke to the genie in a quiet whisper: “I have need of your wit, Dreamstealer. There is a magic operating here that is too subtle for my perception.”

The genie nodded his head in understanding and raised a finger before floating further along the tunnel to investigate. Only a few yards forward, Dreamstealer halted and began to stroke the face of the rock with his palm.

After a few moments he returned to the wizard’s side and spoke in normal tones: “We are safe. There is no threat from others and your presence here is undetected.” Kif breathed a sigh of relief but remained silent, waiting for the genie to continue.

A smile played upon Dreamstealer’s lips. “There is some cause for excitement though.” The genie continued. “Only a few steps ahead there is a portal which has long remained sealed. The doorway has been crafted with great subtlety so that no human eye can detect its outline. Certainly, no power of Dark Avalon would be sensitive enough to perceive its presence. It seems not to have been opened since the time of its construction, for the seals which protect it remain unbroken. Come and see.” The genie beckoned before floating back to the place he had been examining.

Kif emerged from the protective shadows into the centre of the tunnel and followed Dreamstealer. The genie sent a charge of energy through his palms, causing his fingertips to glow with ultraviolet light. Against the background of the rock face, Kif could now discern the faint outline of an arched doorway faintly shimmering with a blue radiance. Dreamstealer pointed to each side of the doorway where the imprint of two hands glowed in a complimentary shade of orange. “Put your hands there and here.” The genie instructed. Then, looking into Kif’s eyes he smiled and added: “Trust me.” Kif did as bidden. As his palms made contact with the orange markers a wave of energy surged through him.

The doorway seemed to come alive with light and in a moment the whole tunnel was illuminated with a bright radiance that shifted in multivalent tones of colourful light. A distant hum arose, its volume rising with swift urgency, and then the doorway cracked open with a thunderous report causing the very walls of the tunnel to shudder for a few seconds. “Don’t let go.” Dreamstealer hissed urgently as the two halves of the arched portal slid either side into the rock. When the doorway was fully open there was a reassuring click. Kif glanced questioningly at the genie who nodded and raised both hands towards him with palms pointed outwards.

After a moment, Dreamstealer flicked his fingertips outwards to signify that the wizard should step away. The genie then stood beside Kif and both stared into the chamber. It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the light within. The opulent glow of the blue light that had arisen to accompany the opening of the entrance had now faded but still gave off enough luminescence to allow limited vision. “Shall we?” Dreamstealer enquired, stealing a sidewise glance at Kif. The wizard nodded and together they stepped through the doorway.

As they entered, the chamber came alive with ambient light and the pair froze simultaneously as they beheld the spectacle before them. Behind, the portal closed silently: but of this they were unaware. Their entire concentration was focused upon the vision before their eyes. The chamber was huge: so large that the far walls and ceiling could not be detected in the gentle light that emanated from the corridor of standing stones that led into the heart of the vast cavern. At the point at which the avenue of giant stones seemed to merge in the distance, a giant transparent sphere seemed to hover in the air, glowing with an eerie blue light.

“That thing must be enormous.” Kif whispered to his companion. Dreamstealer nodded. “It would seem that we are headed that way.” He replied. Kif sighed. Together they began to walk the pathway between the standing stones, each suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable.

Captain Calvert paced his cabin with a growing impatience as he awaited the embarkation of the unexpected visitor. The finely tuned Night Clocks upon the bridge of the phantom galleon had provided ample warning of the approach of the Mist-Bat from 20,000 leagues away. These devices of ancient sorcery were finely calibrated to respond to an environment of temporal flux as the ship passed through varying dimensional coordinates. The constants of Space Time around both Avalon and its dark counterpart were well mapped. However, many variables needed constant monitoring: rogue strings and waves of super-symmetry often seasoned with the spice of the hyper-tides which raged around the vortex of the Tor: each flux having to be monitored, calculated against, for the galleon to maintain its own constancy amidst these matrices of shifting time streams.

The wake of the Mist Bat was perceived as an anomaly upon the instrument scale by the helmsman long before its source was identified as being artificial to the quantum-space environment. Calling upon Mr. Powell, it took the two of them nearly an hour to figure the fractal coordinates as the anomaly fluttered almost beyond detection; its origin indeterminate and ghostly. As the signal grew stronger, the realisation dawned upon the two experienced temporal mariners that something was approaching their craft with great speed and stealth. The ships bell was sounded to summon all hands to their stations and a hailing signal was sent to the approaching craft, broadcast on all local sub-ether wavelengths.

The response surprised everyone upon the Bridge, including the captain who had been interrupted from his daily examination of the ships navigational charts by the alarm. Glancing sharply at Mr. Powell, Calvert demanded attention: “What does the incoming signal read, Master Powell?”

Keeping his eyes averted, Powell replied: “Signal reads: ‘Bearing charts for Calvert. Time of Times now upon us. This last chance for Angharad.’ Sir!”

Calvert was almost white now. Angharad was the name of his long lost wife who had been stolen from him long ago. She had eaten the flesh of the apple of Dark Avalon, having been tricked into this by one of the minions of Ragnarock. Somewhere, deep within the palace of Tartarus she now dwelled in the harem of the Wolf’s-Head: a vague reflection of her former self. Because of his other-worldly origins, Calvert was forbidden access to Tartarus.

This was no manufactured rule which could be broken with impunity, but a law of Nature. For, although Calvert often steered his ship between the Tor and the Isle of Frogs, he could not personally disembark at either location. Even during the brief spell of married bliss he had shared with his Elven bride, they could only dwell together upon his ship or else in lands beyond the boundaries of Avalonic enchantment.

The signal from the carefully shielded approaching craft had been received in shocked silence by all upon the bridge and no one present could bear to look directly at their leader. All had felt his pain and confusion. Deep in the mists of the nether-sea, Jay sat within the cramped cockpit of the Mist Bat negotiating the folds of Space-Time. Before him the crystal instrument panel flashed strobe-like with colours; reds, greens, purples, oranges and blue. The intensity of each colour signified the depth to which the ship was penetrating any of the planes through which the crystal craft traveled.

The lights emanated from a diagram of the Tree of Life: each of its spheres pulsating alternately or in combination. Occasionally one of the twenty two pathways interconnecting the ten spheres remained alight for a few moments. It was at these moments that the skills of the pilot were called upon.

The Mist Bat’s function relied upon selecting discrete wavelengths of fractal emanation from the grid of greater lights, whose combination lay behind the manifestation of all things, and slipping nimbly between them. The ships silicon-mind randomly selected these combinations from their infinite variation so that it continually flitted from one dimension to another, dependent upon the intensity of the alternating spheres of reality it chose to alchemise.

Occasionally, the random balances the computer chose to strike would fall within the arena of the obvious and the instrument panel would illuminate one of the twenty two paths between the spheres of the Tree of Life. At such moments the pilot’s responsibility lay in manually selecting fresh randomisations to provide cloaking for the craft’s maneuverings. Jay could easily have demanded a higher level of stealth from the Mist Bat, but his intention was to allow his quarry some indication of his approach. He knew that if his approach was too obvious, the phantom ship would simply engage its own quantum drive to avoid confrontation. The trick he was now playing relied upon gaining the curiosity of the navigators of the galleon whilst remaining tenuously outside of the fields of probability where his position could be triangulated.

The ruse had worked and Jay had sent the pre-recorded response to the galleons hailing signal, knowing that Calvert would have little choice other than to allow his close approach. The merest mention of Angharad would pique his curiosity to levels of self torment. Now, having brought the Mist Bat close to against Calvert’s ship, Jay found himself being escorted through the stairwells and corridors of the galleon’s lower deck by two burly crew members. Calvert’s response to the brief rap at his door was immediate and the pilot of the mystery craft was escorted into the captain’s presence. The crew members saluted and were dismissed by Calvert with a grunt and a nod of his head so that Jay found himself alone with the commander who motioned to a seat before retreating behind his oa desk.

Calvert sat first and threw his feet up, scrutinising the newcomer whilst playing with a sextant which he cradled within his hands. “Please explain yourself, Sir.” He commanded. “Your purpose and your expectations here demand clarification.” Jay seated himself and reached into breast pocket of his jacket, pulling forth a crystal and tossing it upon the leather which lined the desk surface.

“My name is Jay. Ambassador of the Fey, for the purposes of this occasion. This unit contains the coordinates of an area within Avalon where you may safely disembark from your ship for a short while.” The pilot stated his composure serene with self-confidence. “I believe that leaving your ship whilst it remains moored within the sacred realm is normally impossible for you.”

Calvert said nothing for a moment, considering the crystal which lay before him. It was a standard silicate of the type normally employed by couriers for purposes of data transport. “What you say is true.” He confirmed. Placing his sextant upon the surface of the desk, he picked up the crystal and examined it casually before continuing: “Your signal indicated that your brethren clearly consider that the Time of Times is nigh upon us. And you dare to invoke Angharad against me.” Calvert’s face flushed momentarily with passion. Whether it was anger or excitement, Jay could not tell. Calvert remained otherwise still, his eyes penetrating into Jay’s own. “What plans are being hatched by the Fey that concern my private history?”

Jay had been briefed by the Mist Bat’s onboard silicate mind with instructions planted there by Vivienne and her cohorts within the Council of Elders. He had been specially selected for this task due to his own grounding in the ancient histories. But there was also another reason why he had been selected. “I am half Elven.” Jay stated evenly. “The half of me which is not human is of the House of Kells.” Waiting for a moment for this to sink in, he added: “I am kin to your wife Angharad, removed only by one generation.”

The statement struck home and Calvert’s anger visibly subsided. “Forgive my poor manners.” He said, leaning forward. Taking two pewter tankards from a shelf out of sight behind the desk he uncorked a decanter and poured two measures of clear liquid from it. Jay accepted a tankard and joined Calvert in the traditional toast of the House of Kells. “Hail Eris!” Both exclaimed as they brought the tankards heartily together.

“You honour me!” Calvert said gently. “It has been long ages since I have joined in the toast of our house with kin.”

Jay knew that Calvert’s marriage to Angharad had not been accepted lightly by many members of the House of Kells. It was not completely unusual for the Fey to choose marriage outside of the bloodline, but Calvert’s otherworldly origins had caused some controversy in the old days. “The doorway of the House of Kells will remain forever open to you, despite the tragedy that has unfolded since the time of your union with Angharad.”

Calvert sat back, sipping from his tankard. “I have been looking forward to the coming the Time of Times for many an age.” He said. “Your presence here heralds the commencement of that which I have awaited, but you have the advantage of me.” Pointing to the crystal which he had replaced upon the desk top, he enquired. “What is the purpose of this?”

Jay’s features assumed a sudden seriousness. “As you mention, the Time of Times is foretold by the Seers amongst the Fey. There is to be a changing of the Universal Mind. Special rules will apply.”

“You know that the hollows and meadows of Avalon are forbidden to me.” Calvert interjected.

“Upon that issue, I have been informed that during the Time of Times a wormhole in the continuum is likely to assist in placing you firmly within that realm.” Jay said quietly. “For a short while at least.”

“A short while …?” Calvert mused.

“Long enough to accomplish what needs to be done!”

Calvert raised an eyebrow.

Jay continued, his voice becoming more passionate: “Calvert! Think, man! There are many amongst the Fey who have mourned Angharad. You have many allies. Even though you have turned your back upon us for many ages, we still remember and eagerly await such a time as is coming in order to seize back what has been stolen from us.”

“I suspected times of great portent were upon us when instructed to carry the Deva known as Fortuna as a passenger.” Calvert mused. “My crew are ready for anything.”

“Good.” Jay said, rubbing his hands together. “Then you should have your navigators study the coordinates I have delivered and have the ship prepared to sail. When the Time of Times comes upon us, a window of opportunity will open. The Fey need you on the ground and in position when that moment comes upon us. Angharad will be delivered to you by warriors who have sworn fearful oaths to accomplish this task.” “And all of this will be simple and easy?” Calvert enquired sardonically.

“That is why we need you upon the ground.” Jay replied. “None of this is likely to be simple or easy. The ground which you must occupy may well be somewhere in the midst of a battlefield. Certainly, there will be opposition from the legions of darkness.”

“And I will be reunited with my beloved.” Calvert said, his voice a whisper.

Jay’s voice was gentle as he replied: “We will ensure her safe return, although we cannot be confident of her state of mind, or the state of her soul. You must be compassionate and give her healing: take her away from the maelstrom; use your ship to make safe her escape.” Calvert nodded and drained his tankard. “I will make the necessary preparations. But first, let us dine and talk further. We have much to discuss.”