clearly hadn’t been baked all the way through.
Only a few minutes later, Annja removed a thick, rectangular slab of blue glass with a picture on it. She set the husk of the brick aside to dry.
“I’ve found something.” Annja turned the glass over in her hands, growing more excited as she realized what it was.
“Well, tell me.”
“A piece of blue leaded glass.”
“Leaded glass?” Cybele sounded hesitant. “That means the brick isn’t as old as we thought it was.”
“Mesopotamia was the first area to start making glass, and they were making leaded glass as far back as 1400 BC. A fragment of blue glass was tracked back to Nippur, more commonly known as Enlil City, though only ruins remain now. It isn’t far from here.”
“Why put the glass in the brick?”
“Because it’s the map.” Annja held the glass up to the sky and studied the inscription that suddenly showed so much clearer. “It shows two rivers that have to be the Tigris and Euphrates, and it shows a location marked in a mountain range that is farther south and east of where I am now.” She couldn’t stop grinning as she gently wrapped the leaded glass in a spare shirt. “Wish me luck.”
“Always.”
Annja hung up, repacked the brick in a paper bag so it would safely dry, refilled her Jeep’s gas tank from the jerry cans she carried in the back and dropped into the driver’s seat. She started the engine, got a fresh bottle of water and a couple of energy bars and headed southeast toward the low mountains.
Chapter Nineteen
The glass map was cleverer than Annja had at first thought. It was actually three maps in one, all of them intertwined to the point it took real effort to sort through them. She made sketches of them in her journal to keep from getting confused.
Not more than an hour from where she’d had her epiphany, she recognized the section of the mountain range replicated in glass. She held the glass map up to match against the horizon and, when she got onto the proper approach, she spotted the sweeping wings of the falcon that had been written about in the inscription on the model tower.
She had to look at the mountainside just right to see the falcon, and she knew that if she hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed it completely. The falcon actually stood out against three different jutting edges that had to be seen from the side to be seen at all. Erosion and time had softened the edges, but it was there.
However, sometime in the past, the falcon had been decapitated. Only a jagged stump remained. The heavy artillery scars on the mountainside were testament that the head had probably been taken off during artillery practice. There was no other reason for the range to have been shot up so many times.
She drove the Jeep up into the mountains until the incline became too dangerous to navigate even with four-wheel drive. Then she hid the Jeep behind a stand of juniper trees, got out, slung her backpack and filled an extra pack with water and energy bars. She started up into the foothills as the sun sank in the west, turning the horizon red and ochre.
Three hundred feet up, where the falcon’s right wingtip faded into the mountainside, a miniature cuneiform symbol for God, which looked like a standing golf tee cross by two other golf tees, stood out on the mountainside. The cuneiform was ancient by the time the Tower of Babel was believed to have been built, but Annja thought the mapmaker had wanted something written that most of his peers couldn’t translate.
That meant he was a scholar, which made her even more hopeful.
Annja wasn’t sure if the marking meant the mapmaker thought God was in this holy place. She just hoped she found a cave that corresponded with the location.
Unfortunately, even locating the wingtip left her with an immense area to explore.
Look with the eye of the falcon.
The line resonated in Annja’s mind. She turned and climbed thirty feet to the ridgeline where the head was
Only a few minutes later, Annja removed a thick, rectangular slab of blue glass with a picture on it. She set the husk of the brick aside to dry.
“I’ve found something.” Annja turned the glass over in her hands, growing more excited as she realized what it was.
“Well, tell me.”
“A piece of blue leaded glass.”
“Leaded glass?” Cybele sounded hesitant. “That means the brick isn’t as old as we thought it was.”
“Mesopotamia was the first area to start making glass, and they were making leaded glass as far back as 1400 BC. A fragment of blue glass was tracked back to Nippur, more commonly known as Enlil City, though only ruins remain now. It isn’t far from here.”
“Why put the glass in the brick?”
“Because it’s the map.” Annja held the glass up to the sky and studied the inscription that suddenly showed so much clearer. “It shows two rivers that have to be the Tigris and Euphrates, and it shows a location marked in a mountain range that is farther south and east of where I am now.” She couldn’t stop grinning as she gently wrapped the leaded glass in a spare shirt. “Wish me luck.”
“Always.”
Annja hung up, repacked the brick in a paper bag so it would safely dry, refilled her Jeep’s gas tank from the jerry cans she carried in the back and dropped into the driver’s seat. She started the engine, got a fresh bottle of water and a couple of energy bars and headed southeast toward the low mountains.
Chapter Nineteen
The glass map was cleverer than Annja had at first thought. It was actually three maps in one, all of them intertwined to the point it took real effort to sort through them. She made sketches of them in her journal to keep from getting confused.
Not more than an hour from where she’d had her epiphany, she recognized the section of the mountain range replicated in glass. She held the glass map up to match against the horizon and, when she got onto the proper approach, she spotted the sweeping wings of the falcon that had been written about in the inscription on the model tower.
She had to look at the mountainside just right to see the falcon, and she knew that if she hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed it completely. The falcon actually stood out against three different jutting edges that had to be seen from the side to be seen at all. Erosion and time had softened the edges, but it was there.
However, sometime in the past, the falcon had been decapitated. Only a jagged stump remained. The heavy artillery scars on the mountainside were testament that the head had probably been taken off during artillery practice. There was no other reason for the range to have been shot up so many times.
She drove the Jeep up into the mountains until the incline became too dangerous to navigate even with four-wheel drive. Then she hid the Jeep behind a stand of juniper trees, got out, slung her backpack and filled an extra pack with water and energy bars. She started up into the foothills as the sun sank in the west, turning the horizon red and ochre.
Three hundred feet up, where the falcon’s right wingtip faded into the mountainside, a miniature cuneiform symbol for God, which looked like a standing golf tee cross by two other golf tees, stood out on the mountainside. The cuneiform was ancient by the time the Tower of Babel was believed to have been built, but Annja thought the mapmaker had wanted something written that most of his peers couldn’t translate.
That meant he was a scholar, which made her even more hopeful.
Annja wasn’t sure if the marking meant the mapmaker thought God was in this holy place. She just hoped she found a cave that corresponded with the location.
Unfortunately, even locating the wingtip left her with an immense area to explore.
Look with the eye of the falcon.
The line resonated in Annja’s mind. She turned and climbed thirty feet to the ridgeline where the head was
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