design. The bodies of the invaders litter courtyards and lie in arrow-pierced piles on the steps.
The captain surveys the fortifications, then eyes the wounded forces retreating into the descending twilight. “They will return,” he says to his men, then points ahead to the smoking holes blown through sections of the walls by the enemy cannon.
“ We must thicken the walls facing the mainland. Take a team in the morning. Gather more stones from the Mausoleum.”
Another flash, and Orlando reeled, reaching out and scraping the flesh of his palm against a greenish-hued stone. . . .
A different commander, with a Fleur-de-lis on his tunic, stands atop the tallest tower. He speaks in French, but the words are understood through some other means. “Suleiman will try again, and the walls are weakening. Gather more blocks from the ancient site and put them to use.”
“ There are not many stones left, Grand Master,” says a wide-eyed youth, a knight with blood spatters on his face. “But what of the statues and the reliefs? There are still more that have not been smashed or crushed for lime.”
The Grand Master considers the sprawling layout of the Castle’s interior, the blank walls, empty alcoves. “Take them as well. They deserve a place of honor.”
Orlando half-emerged from the vision, clinging to it just barely, straddling this world and the other, as he reached for the iPad.
#
Phoebe moved closer, crawling on her good leg, moving around his side to watch. She put a finger to her lips, stifled a gasp, and stared as he drew a chaotic battle scene—what looked like half-men, half-horse creatures savagely attacking townspeople, and getting more than a little amorous with the women.
Just then, her cell phone rang. She flipped it open.
Caleb’s voice. “Phoebe. I’m no good up here. Nothing. I’m not seeing anything.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered.” She studied the rendition. “Hey, is there some kind of wall carving there? Mythological? With centaurs?”
“Yeah, on a wall in the French section. Hang on, just walked by it.”
“I saw something, and it looks like Orlando’s drawing the same thing right now. He’s still in a trance.”
“Okay, I’m looking at it now, but I don’t see anything obvious. Tried touching it, hoped for a vision, but got nothing. Not even a daydream.”
“What I don’t know is what it means. Why the centaur?”
Caleb took a moment to respond. “The battle symbolized nature versus civilization. Lapithe and Centaures were twin sons of the god Apollo. Centaures was born deformed and later mated with mares, creating half-human, half-horse hybrids. This scene shows a legendary battle between the brothers’ descendents, all started over some alcohol abuse at a wedding.”
“Why would that have anything to do with the Books of Thoth, and those keys?”
“I don’t know, but it might fit—in the sense of reconciling man’s nature, both sides of what we’re seeking here: the raw physicality of what we’ve become versus our psychic potential. This scene represents the conflict and the overthrow of one by the other.”
“Whatever, but we still need to know where the key is. Maybe Orlando can figure it out.”
“He’d better draw fast.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think I’m alone in here.”
#
Caleb had been kneeling in front of the marble carving of the classic Greek scene, the battle of the Centaurs and the Lapiths, when he heard something. Two heavy scansions and a thick rope set off the ancient artwork from the walkway, but Caleb had stepped over it to scrutinize the carvings more intently. Pulling his fingers away from the most prominent centaur, he snapped the phone shut and backed away toward the northeast corner of the room.
He had heard a step, a scuff, someone trying to be stealthy. He ducked around a corner, into another room with a red coat of arms hanging on the wall and a glass case full of spearheads, axes and maces discovered in a
The captain surveys the fortifications, then eyes the wounded forces retreating into the descending twilight. “They will return,” he says to his men, then points ahead to the smoking holes blown through sections of the walls by the enemy cannon.
“ We must thicken the walls facing the mainland. Take a team in the morning. Gather more stones from the Mausoleum.”
Another flash, and Orlando reeled, reaching out and scraping the flesh of his palm against a greenish-hued stone. . . .
A different commander, with a Fleur-de-lis on his tunic, stands atop the tallest tower. He speaks in French, but the words are understood through some other means. “Suleiman will try again, and the walls are weakening. Gather more blocks from the ancient site and put them to use.”
“ There are not many stones left, Grand Master,” says a wide-eyed youth, a knight with blood spatters on his face. “But what of the statues and the reliefs? There are still more that have not been smashed or crushed for lime.”
The Grand Master considers the sprawling layout of the Castle’s interior, the blank walls, empty alcoves. “Take them as well. They deserve a place of honor.”
Orlando half-emerged from the vision, clinging to it just barely, straddling this world and the other, as he reached for the iPad.
#
Phoebe moved closer, crawling on her good leg, moving around his side to watch. She put a finger to her lips, stifled a gasp, and stared as he drew a chaotic battle scene—what looked like half-men, half-horse creatures savagely attacking townspeople, and getting more than a little amorous with the women.
Just then, her cell phone rang. She flipped it open.
Caleb’s voice. “Phoebe. I’m no good up here. Nothing. I’m not seeing anything.”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered.” She studied the rendition. “Hey, is there some kind of wall carving there? Mythological? With centaurs?”
“Yeah, on a wall in the French section. Hang on, just walked by it.”
“I saw something, and it looks like Orlando’s drawing the same thing right now. He’s still in a trance.”
“Okay, I’m looking at it now, but I don’t see anything obvious. Tried touching it, hoped for a vision, but got nothing. Not even a daydream.”
“What I don’t know is what it means. Why the centaur?”
Caleb took a moment to respond. “The battle symbolized nature versus civilization. Lapithe and Centaures were twin sons of the god Apollo. Centaures was born deformed and later mated with mares, creating half-human, half-horse hybrids. This scene shows a legendary battle between the brothers’ descendents, all started over some alcohol abuse at a wedding.”
“Why would that have anything to do with the Books of Thoth, and those keys?”
“I don’t know, but it might fit—in the sense of reconciling man’s nature, both sides of what we’re seeking here: the raw physicality of what we’ve become versus our psychic potential. This scene represents the conflict and the overthrow of one by the other.”
“Whatever, but we still need to know where the key is. Maybe Orlando can figure it out.”
“He’d better draw fast.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think I’m alone in here.”
#
Caleb had been kneeling in front of the marble carving of the classic Greek scene, the battle of the Centaurs and the Lapiths, when he heard something. Two heavy scansions and a thick rope set off the ancient artwork from the walkway, but Caleb had stepped over it to scrutinize the carvings more intently. Pulling his fingers away from the most prominent centaur, he snapped the phone shut and backed away toward the northeast corner of the room.
He had heard a step, a scuff, someone trying to be stealthy. He ducked around a corner, into another room with a red coat of arms hanging on the wall and a glass case full of spearheads, axes and maces discovered in a
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