Author: Kirk Straughen

Synopsis: Joseph Reynolds leads a quiet academic existence. But the staid normalcy of his life is unexpectedly and dramatically turned upside down by a series of astonishing events that plunges him into a world of wild adventure. Will our hero find the mettle to overcome the frightful perils he must face, or will he prove to be an ivory tower milksop? Only by reading the story will you find the answer to this dire question.

Edit history: Minor changes were made to this story on 15 August 2021.

Chapter 1: Kidnapped

Joseph Reynolds fidgeted as he sat between the two towering soldiers whose muscular physiques and height made the young scholar, although not a ninety pound weakling by any means, look like a midget by comparison. They were tough looking hard faced men, heavily armed and intimidating in every conceivable way. Opposite the scholar was a slim man of middle age, all whipcord with an aura of ruthless authority. His bleak eyes regarded Reynolds with the unblinking stare of a serpent, and although he wasn’t armed or possessed of bulging muscles there was a deadliness about him, and Reynolds sensed that he was just as dangerous, perhaps more so than his heavily armed subordinates.

For the umpteenth time Reynolds wondered what the hell this was all about. An hour ago he’d been in his office at the Museum of Middle Eastern Antiquities, working at translating an ancient Sumerian text – a prayer to Nanna, God of the Moon. He’d been in the process of scrutinizing the ancient clay tablet on which the inscription had been impressed some four thousand years ago when his office door was violently and unexpectedly thrust open.

Reynolds jerked his head up from the powerful binocular microscope to see the three men march into his office uninvited and unannounced. The hot words on his lips died at the sight of the intimidating trio, and any further objections he might have uttered were cut short as the middle aged man, dressed in a severe grey business suit, thrust his identification card under the scholar’s nose.

“Agent Jason Black, Ministry of National Security,” announced the man in clipped tones. “Mr. Reynolds, your government needs you, and under the powers of the new Emergency Laws, your full cooperation is required. You will accompany us immediately.”

“But,” stammered Reynolds, who was quite shocked by the unexpected turn of events, which were a sharp contrast to the staid normalcy of his quiet academic existence, “my … my work … I specialize in ancient languages, Sumerian specifically. How on earth does this relate to national security?”

Black signaled impatiently to his men who moved behind Reynolds and grasped him firmly by the arms.

“I’m not authorized to tell you more than what I have,” he replied sharply. “What you need to know will be explained further at a secure location.” Then, to the soldiers: “Let’s away.”

Reynolds was hustled from his office in a daze and out the building under the gaze of surprised and nervous staff. No one came to his aid or objected. They knew better than to interfere with what was obviously government business. Strong-arm tactics by the authorities had become alarmingly common. It was a symptom of the social malaise affecting many nations. Authoritarianism had been on the rise in the early 21^st century and now towards the end it was in full swing. Many people back then had lost faith in the democratic system. Sociologists were fairly confident as to the causes:

· Increasing inequality as the middle class was squeezed into poverty by the skewed benefits of globalization and the loss of jobs due to increasing automation of the workforce

· The rise of the super-rich as a result of the above coupled with the fact that power corrupts, and the more power a group has the greater the corruption as they come to see themselves above the law

· Uncontrolled population growth that led to overcrowded cities resulting in an impoverished urban environment with soaring crime and the accompanying diminishment in the quality of public services

· Failures on the part of corrupt and incompetent governments more interested in clinging to power and pandering to the super-rich (in whose pockets they firmly resided) than serving the people

· Increasing unrest, civil disobedience and the terrorism of domestic political extremists seeking to overthrow the corrupt system had led to law enforcement brutality, and the erosion of civil liberties as desperate and frightened people sought security over freedom and thus played into the hands of the demagogues.

Such was the sad state of this dystopian world in this year of 2099, a situation that Reynolds had reflected on considerably.

The young man and his escort emerged from the museum and onto the park-like grounds at its rear, and although it was winter the day was sweltering due to unmitigated climate change. An aerial troop carrier of the latest kind had landed in the middle of the parched lawn, and towards this military vehicle – a slightly flattened armor plated ovoid - he was swiftly marched. They entered the craft. Its door clanged shut. Propulsion systems whined to life. The troop carrier lifted, its hull shimmering with repulsive force. The pilot oriented the machine. It accelerated, cutting through the air like a loosed arrow and in but moments had vanished from sight…

The scholar brought his mind back to the present. He hadn’t a clue as to where he was being taken – there were no windows in the alloy hull of the vehicle. Perhaps it was best - if there had been he had the unsettling feeling that he would have been hooded. The thought made him sick. Reynolds, like many of his generation didn’t trust the government and trusted the military even less. The thought that he was in their power was extremely unsettling. He felt both frightened and angry at what was happening to him.

None of his escort (perhaps abductors might have been a better description) had uttered a single word since boarding the troop carrier. They had remained as still as statues, but their eyes were watchful, alert as a hawk ready to plunge upon its prey. Reynolds didn’t bother to try and make polite conversation, or ask further questions. The severe demeanor of his companions made it clear that he was simply baggage they had to transport from point A to point B, and so he sat in glum silence, all manner of futile speculations chasing themselves around inside his head.

Another half hour passed. The vehicle began its descent, much to Reynolds relief. His journey was coming to an end and hopefully someone would give him answers that would enable him to make sense of the crazy nightmare he felt he was trapped in.

The craft landed smoothly. Its generators whined down. Black unbuckled his safety harness and motioned Reynolds to do likewise.

“We’ve arrived,” he announced somewhat unnecessarily. “Follow me.”

They exited the machine and Reynolds looked curiously about. To his right he saw huge hanger doors slowly closing. Above him arched the vaulted curve of an enormous geodesic dome of translucent white material that must have been at least three hundred yards in diameter. But it was not this sight, impressive though it was, that took his breath away when he turned around.

Before him, floating in the air in the middle of the dome was a ghostly sphere, at least one hundred feet across, which wavered like heat haze. Reynolds gazed at it in utter bewilderment. The sight confused his senses, confounded his mind. He knew he was looking at something, but it felt like he was looking at nothing. It was there and yet it wasn’t there.

It seemed to swallow him, to suck him into its weird depths. He felt he was falling into it, tumbling into a bottomless well of utter strangeness. He reeled. Panic gripped him. A hand grasped his shoulder, spun him round. He stared into Black’s hard unsympathetic eyes.

“Don’t look at it,” warned the agent harshly as he grabbed Reynolds’ arm and hauled him along with the two soldiers bringing up the rear.

“What,” gasped the young man, “what is that thing?”

“Professor Elliott Morrison will explain,” replied Black brusquely as they walked towards a group of graceless prefabricated buildings about fifty yards away, and as they closed the distance Reynolds saw that the facility had a strong military presence. There were a dozen aerial troop carriers identical to the one he had arrived in. These were parked at the far end of the dome where a large barracks had been constructed, and in front of this was a parade ground where troops were exercising.

Reynolds’s disquiet and puzzlement deepened. He had no idea why the military needed a man with his academic background. He felt as out of place as a nudist on Main Street at high noon. The prefabricated buildings loomed. Hopefully Professor Morrison, whoever he was for he’d never heard of the man, would clear this mystery up.

Black presented his ID to the two guards stationed at the entrance of the largest building. They saluted smartly and the party entered. The interior of the prefab was divided by a central corridor and on either side were walls of lightly tinted glass through which Reynolds saw men and women dressed in lab coats working at various items of equipment, most of which he didn’t recognize.

They proceeded down the passageway and soon arrived at the door of a room whose glass walls were heavily tinted. Black knocked. A voice said “enter,” and so they did.

As Reynolds stepped across the threshold he saw an elderly man standing at an e-board whose surface was covered in esoteric mathematical equations. Professor Morrison turned at the sound of their approach. He was a tall thin man in his late sixties, slightly stooped. He was completely bald and his chin sprouted a scraggly goatee. Pale blue eyes gazed at them from beneath bushy eyebrows.

His face brightened as he saw the young man. “Ah you must be Reynolds. I’ve heard a lot about you. Come in, come in. Do sit down,” he said warmly as he pointed to a chair before a large desk strewn with papers. “I’m Professor Morrison, chief scientist of Project Z,” he concluded with a gesture that encompassed the whole installation. “Colonel Rawson is in charge of the entire operation. He’s in a meeting now. You’ll meet him later.”

“What’s this all about?” queried Reynolds irritably as he took the proffered seat. “I’ve been dragged away from my work without any real explanation - virtually kidnapped if you’ll pardon my bluntness, and what the devil is that thing you’ve got out there?” he continued, jerking a thumb in the direction of the enigmatic sphere.

“The matter is of the greatest importance to our nation and therefore requires extreme secrecy. Not even the redoubtable agent Black has full knowledge of what we are doing,” replied the savant, “so don’t be too harsh on him for his reticence.” Then, to Black and his men: “I’ll take things from here, gentlemen.”

Black nodded, turned on his heel and departed with the soldiers. Reynolds looked at the professor expectantly as the door closed.

“First,” began Morrison “as to why you’re here. You were recommended to us by Professor Ian Jamison whom you studied under. He spoke highly of your proficiency in the Sumerian language - both its written and spoken form.”

“I’m not quite as good as Professor Jamison.” Replied Reynolds modestly. “If you need a translator you should have sought his expertise. There are none better.”

“Jamison is old, crippled. You are young and keep yourself fit through gymnastics and wrestling, and just by looking at your physique I can see Jamison spoke the truth in this regard. Also, you’re a member of the Metropolitan Pistol Club and a better than average marksman by all accounts. These qualities are just as essential to the success of our project as are your language skills.”

“I don’t understand what my fitness has to do with it,” replied Reynolds, puzzled and annoyed at what he felt was the denigration of his mentor. “Professor Jamison isn’t that decrepit that he can’t do field work. You make it sound as if you were setting out on a risky expedition. Are you planning an archaeological dig in Iraq?”

“Something like that,” replied the professor enigmatically as he dimmed the room’s lights. “The film I’m about to show you will help with the explanation. Please be patient and watch that screen over there.”

The screen came to life as Reynolds fixed his eyes upon it, and an aerial view of a city was suddenly disclosed to the man who gasped in wonder at its sight. The metropolis, surrounded by its agricultural district of lush fields crisscrossed by irrigation ditches, was enclosed by massive shining walls of lime washed mud brick. The sprawling city of 30,000 people was built adjacent to a broad river that glittered like a jewel in the bright sunshine. A wide canal fed by the river swept about the city’s towering walls to form a moat, and within the metropolis proper was a spacious harbor enclosed by high ramparts, and from this anchorage another waterway thrust through the conurbation dividing it in two.

The houses of the inhabitance were mostly cubical in form with a central courtyard, and like much of the city were built of whitewashed mud brick. Their roofs were flat and encircled by waist high parapets. Internal ladders gave access through square manholes to the roofs, upon which were erected large awnings of woven reeds where the occupants could sleep on sultry nights, or enjoy the rooftop gardens of potted plants during the cool hours of the day.

A maze of narrow streets ran twistingly between the buildings, and here and there within the city groves of date palms could be seen. The camera zoomed in on a broad avenue. People came into view – dark of skin and black of hair. The men were bare-chested and clad in wrap around skirts of linen tied at the waist and falling to the knees. Most had long hair and beards, but some were clean shaven. They wore jewelry consisting of necklaces of beads, hoop earrings and heavy bracelets with the wealthier citizens having ornaments of gold, lapis lazuli and carnelian.

The women, both rich and poor, were attired in long clinging gowns from neck to ankle that left the right shoulder bare. Their hair was also much longer than the men, and many wore it braided with the braid wrapped around the head and held in place with long pins of carved bone or gold if wealthy.

The view shifted sharply to the center of the city and showed a walled enclosure in which stood a giant temple that dominated the metropolis and the smaller adjacent buildings standing in its shadow. The temple, 335 square feet at its base and 150 feet in height, was a pyramidal stepped tower of three levels. Its exterior was clad in fired bricks, some of which had been glazed in blue, yellow and red, and formed patterns of diamonds, triangles and waves that stood out sharply against the whitewash of the others. Each level was landscaped with trees and shrubs and accessed by three enormous staircases – one central and two flanking the main way. At the summit of the towering structure was a spacious temple whose entire exterior had been covered in gold leaf which shone with dazzling splendor.

Reynolds leaned forward at the sight of its breathtaking architecture, immediately recognizing it for what it was.

“Why, it’s a ziggurat,” he exclaimed. “And if I remember rightly, based on the reconstructions I’ve seen, the adjacent building is the royal palace of Ur, one of the major city-states in ancient Mesopotamia. But I still don’t understand why I’m here,” continued Reynolds turning to the savant with a puzzled expression. “It’s a wonderful example of computer generated imagery, the best I’ve ever seen. I do know something about archaeology, but if you require someone to verify the film’s accuracy wouldn’t an expert be the person that you need?”

Morrison smiled as he switched off the screen and increased the room’s illumination. “What if I told you that what you just saw isn’t CGI but real life footage?

Reynolds looked at him, mouth open and incredulity written large upon his face. He was so shocked by the fantastic claim that he was stunned into utter silence.

“We plan an expedition into the past,” continued the professor nonchalantly, as if he was discussing nothing more than a trip to the beach. “We need someone who is fluent in Sumerian and you, young man, have been chosen to join our undertaking. We depart at 08:00 tomorrow, sharp.”

Chapter 2: Not all is as it Seems

“I … I hardly know what to say … what to think,” gasped Reynolds as at last he found his voice. “This is all so sudden, so unexpected.”

“I’m sorry to spring this on you,” replied Morrison sympathetically. “But the man we’d chosen as translator fell seriously ill very suddenly, and our mission cannot be delayed. Now, as to the details of how we journey to the past: The strange sphere you saw is the key. About twelve months ago the military were conducting tests of the new antimatter bomb. When the dust settled after the explosion there it was. We think the blast somehow punched a hole in the space-time continuum. The mathematics of how it happened is still being worked out, and so I can’t give you a better explanation.

“The film you saw, which is an edited version of extensive footage, was taken by a drone we sent into the Sphere to gather data. Needless to say what it found was as astounding to us as it is to you. We’ve also got recordings of conversations subsequent drones picked up whilst hovering over people’s houses at night. We want to get insights into these people’s lives before making contact, and when we do make contact we will, of course, need an interpreter. Also, the man who fell ill was translating the recordings, and left unfinished work.”

The professor stood. “If you’ll follow me I’ll escort you to his office where you can start work immediately. Time is of the essence. I can’t go into any further details as they’re classified. When you’re in the past Colonel Rawson will tell you more of what you need to know.”

Reynolds got to his feet. He felt he was in a situation beyond his control. Clearly, he’d been press ganged, and knew he had little choice but to cooperate. As they left Morrison’s office the young man consoled himself with the knowledge that this was an opportunity that every academic he knew would gladly give his right arm for. He’d be a fool to turn it down even if he could. But even so the heavy handedness of Authority left a bitter aftertaste.

They entered a room adjacent to that of the professor’s. A small desk with its ultra-modern computer was in the middle of the office. On the left was a binocular microscope under which was a clay tablet inscribed with cuneiform – the system of writing invented by the Sumerians. To the right was a stack of papers and behind the desk was a large e-board covered in symbols comprised of wedge shaped marks that were the Sumerian’s written language.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it to sort things out,” said Morrison. “The computer has no password so you can access all the files. The room has been left untouched. Lunch is at 12:00 hours. I’ll escort you to the mess hall. If you need anything I’ll be in my office.”

“Just a moment,” said Reynolds as the professor turned to leave. “Who is this fellow whose shoes I’m suppose to fill?”

“No one you’d know,” replied Morrison sharply. Then, with a forced smile: “I’m sorry, but that’s classified information – he was a military man.”

A deep frown creased Reynolds’s brow as Morrison closed the door. Something wasn’t right. The field of Sumerian linguistics was very narrow – a specialty subject. The military would want an expert for the job, and there were only five recognized authorities they could choose from. To say he wouldn’t have known the man was ridiculous and to claim he was in the military left Reynolds feeling incredulous.

Morrison was a physicist. He obviously didn’t know very much about Reynolds’s field just as the young man didn’t know very much about his. The professor had slipped up with that clumsy lie. But why had he lied?

There might be a clue in this room as to the sick man’s identity. After all this was his office. Reynolds moved to the e-board. This was probably the unknown man’s most recent activity – perhaps the preparatory work for a translation yet to go into a report. He scanned the lines of cuneiform and found it was a bill of sale for jars of oil, but below this text, also in cuneiform, was something else entirely, and Reynolds eyes widened as he read.

“Reveal nothing of what you read here,” the message began. “That you will be journeying into the past is true, but believe nothing else. The purpose of this mission is sinister, of that I’m sure. It can’t be an altruistic expedition – there are too many military types and their demeanor is of a brutish nature that you don’t find in the common soldier. I fear they’re the kind who’ll obey orders unquestioningly, even to the point of committing atrocities. I’ve been doing some snooping to confirm my suspicions. Joseph, if you’re reading this, and I pray to God you’re not, then it probably means I’ve been caught or worse. Stop them if you can.”

The message was signed in cuneiform by Joseph Reynolds’s former mentor - Ian Jamison.

**********

It was 08:00 hours of the following morning. Reynolds sat strapped into his seat in the troop carrier along with other specialists whose skills were deemed necessary. These men and women chatted excitedly among themselves about the grand adventure they were embarking on – a considerable contrast to Reynolds who sat quietly, lost in brooding thought.

Professor Jamison’s message had been quite a shock. Was the savant incarcerated in some secret prison, or had he been done away with? It was impossible to tell, but his disappearance clearly indicated he had discovered something he wasn’t meant to, and that the government saw him as a threat to the success of their nefarious machinations.

Reynolds glanced sideways at his companions with unsettling suspicion. Were they dupes, blissfully ignorant of what had happened, or complicit participants in some dreadful scheme whose threat was very real, but at the moment quite nebulous? It was one of many questions he couldn’t answer. The young man felt quite isolated despite the fact he was surrounded by people. His suspicions were a burden he couldn’t share, for he had no way of knowing whom it was safe to share them with.

“You’re rather quite, Reynolds,” observed Jan Klaus, the expedition’s medico. “Anything wrong?”

“Oh, I’m just a little tired,” replied Reynolds smoothly to the blond haired giant sitting next to him. “I was up late translating the drones’ recordings.”

“Find anything important?”

“Yes,” replied Reynolds. “These people are not all that different from us. They grumble about taxes, worry about their children and gossip about the neighbors. Human nature remains pretty much the same regardless of the age.”

“They’re also savages,” declared Dr Klaus, firmly. “I’m glad we have a strong military presence. The age we’re going to is quite violent. There is almost constant warfare between the city states of the region.”

“As I said,” replied Reynolds, blandly, “they’re not all that different from us.”

The doctor gave him a sharp look, turned away and began chatting to one of the nurses, Ann Stevens, a pretty brunette.

Reynolds mentally crossed Klaus’s name of his list of potential confidants. His bleak thoughts were interrupted by the pilot’s announcement over the carrier’s intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen please ensure your safety harnesses are secure. Take off is in ten seconds.”

The countdown began, ended. The carrier lifted along with the other craft. The squadron took formation and slowly flew towards the Sphere. “Brace for temporal transition,” sharply warned the pilot.

Disorientation struck Reynolds with all the force of a physical blow as the carrier he was in entered the distorted zone of space-time. He felt weightless. His senses were knocked askew. Nausea attacked him savagely as reality swirled in mad confusion. Someone screamed. Another was violently ill.

A tingling sensation akin to spiders crawling all over naked skin assailed Reynolds. Everything began to glow with a strange greenish nimbus. His fellow passengers looked eerie, phantasmal, cloaked in the outlandish radiance. Weight suddenly returned. Their craft plummeted alarmingly, rolled wildly. People screamed madly as the carrier whirled. Reynolds thought it the end, composed himself for death as in his mind’s eye he saw the ground rushing up with dreadful speed.

Then the plunging craft steadied as the desperate pilot got her under control. The carrier made one more roll to achieve proper orientation and an even keel. Reynolds looked about. His companions looked terrible, but fortunately none were seriously injured. They’d all been briefed on what to expect during the transition, of course, but nothing could really prepare you for the actual experience.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced the pilot, deadpan. “I hope you enjoyed our latest attraction – the space-time roller coaster. We land in fifteen minutes. Sit back, relax and enjoy the remainder of your trip.”

Of all present only Reynolds could appreciate the man’s sense of humor in the face of near disaster.

**********

Reynolds walked along the perimeter of the fortified encampment that had been constructed several weeks before his arrival. It was an acre square enclosed by a high wall of military gabions – huge Kevlar lined mesh cages filled with soil. The induction given by Colonel Rawson – a stocky veteran with a gruff demeanor and an ugly scar marring his face - had afflicted the young man with a sense of deep disquiet and anger, for now he knew what this was all about.

The Earth was dying. The various measures instituted to mitigate climate change had been too little too late, and it was estimated that within a decade the biosphere would degrade to a point where human life was unsustainable.

The manifestation of the Sphere was a godsend. It was an escape route from the coming cataclysm. Naturally, a cloak of utter secrecy surrounded Project Z. If the population became aware of the true situation and the Sphere’s existence then there would be mass panic and a mad rush. Chaos would ensue, which would make a bad situation even worse. Other antimatter bombs had been detonated in an attempt to produce more doorways, but so far none had succeeded. The Sphere was a freak event – a one off with no guarantee of replication.

Colonel Rawson had made it clear that not everyone could be saved. The Sphere was stable for the moment, but there was a very real possibility that the doorway might collapse, and with no certainty that another could be produced speed was of the essence. So, who would be saved? According to the colonel it would be the families of those involved in the project as well as other handpicked individuals and their families, but as to exactly who these individuals were remained classified.

Reynolds wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly who these people were – not by name of course but by category. They would be high ranking politicians and their families, as well as cronies of the government - the very people who were responsible for the looming environmental disaster through greed, shortsightedness and stupidity. That they would survive while the rest of humanity perished was an affront to Reynolds’s sense of fairness and justice.

And then there was the fate of the people of this age. What would happen to the Sumerians? Reynolds had no doubt about what would happen. History showed that when a technologically advanced culture comes into contact with a pre-scientific culture the people of the pre-scientific culture end up being exploited and abused. The young man saw no reason why things should be different in this instance, especially considering the types of people from his time that would be saved.

The thought rankled, but what could he do? Reynolds sighed and looked up as if seeking Heaven’s guidance. It was then that he saw the strange bird. It was perched on a gabion staring at him intently. The hawk-like avian, whose coloration was black and grey, was alarmingly huge - far larger than any raptor he was familiar with. It must have had a wingspan of at least fifteen feet. Perhaps it was an extinct species in his time, but with its noteworthy size it should have been mentioned in the ancient texts of the period, yet he couldn’t recall any description of it in Sumerian literature.

Reynolds’s train of thought was rudely shattered by a rifle shot. The bird tumbled and struck the earth. It fluttered weakly for a moment and then lay still. The young man turned angry eyes upon the thuggish guard who had killed it.

**********

Ninshubur, High Sorceress of Ur, gasped, cried out. Her body convulsed as the bird’s death was transmitted to her through the mind-link. Her apprentices rushed to her side. A babble of concerned female voices broke upon her disorientated senses. With an effort she managed to order her mind, her training overcoming the shock of the sudden severing of the psychic connection. She raised her hand for silence.

“I am not harmed,” she reassured the circle of anxious faces as she slowly rose from the mat. “But Anzu, my mu-in is sadly dead. Strangers have come through the Hole in the Sky, and the menace I most feared is now upon us all.”

Chapter 3: Daring Infiltration

Ninshubur stood, smoothed her dress and again spoke to her worried apprentices. “Return to your studies, except for you Semiramis,” she continued. “I must speak to King Shulgi and you will accompany me as this grave matter concerns you as well.”

A young and attractive woman of nineteen stepped forward from her fellow students. She was slim and quite small, slightly over five feet in height. Her face was oval, and her eyes large and expressive. Her waist length hair was braded in multiple strands and pinned in an elaborate coiffure. She bore a striking resemblance to the older woman, which was only natural as the two were mother and daughter.

Both left the room, traversed a frescoed hallway, and stepped out from the Academy of Sorcery into the courtyard of the royal precinct of Ur – a huge open space fringed with tall palms which abutted the palace and its complex of administrative buildings, whose whitewashed walls gleamed brightly in the midday sun.

Mother and daughter draped shawls upon their heads as protection from the harshness of the day and quickly made their way across the square to the palace of the king - a building distinguished by its mosaic friezes of lapis lazuli and carnelian. The guards at its entrance let them pass unchallenged and they stepped within the cool and dim interior, which was illuminated by light spilling in through the colonnade of the palace’s central courtyard.

Swiftly, they traversed the colonnade whose floor, like that of all the palace’s rooms, was earthen and sealed with linseed oil which, after many decades had resulted in a rich brown patina that was pleasing to the eye and harmonized well with the whiteness of the lime washed, frescoed walls.

Functionaries stepped from their path and bowed low as they went on by, and with the way unimpeded they soon arrived at the private chambers of King Shulgi who at this hour was resting from the burdensome affairs of state.

“Please inform the king that the High Sorceress and her daughter must speak to him at once,” said Ninshubur to the guards at the entrance. “I apologize for disturbing his majesty's rest, but the matter is of great importance and cannot wait.”

One guard turned and whispered into an alloy grill set in the huge bronze bound cedar door. A short wait ensued then the portal swung inwards and the women were ushered through and to the presence of the king by another functionary.

King Shulgi, a stocky and heavily bearded man in his early forties, rose from his chair and greeted them warmly and as equals.

“Please be seated,” he said as the functionary departed. “Here is beer and dates,” he continued, pointing to a low table laden with this food and other viands. “Eat and drink as you tell me of this grave matter.”

The women took their seats and Ninshubur began at once to inform the king of the events that had transpired. Upon completion of her account Shulgi frowned deeply and stroked his beard – a habit he was wont to do when worried.

“This is indeed disturbing,” said the king. “Ninshubur, as my chief councilor and master of magic I look to you for advice. How dangerous are these strangers, and how can we protect our people from them?

“Certainly, they have very powerful magic of an unknown type,” replied Ninshubur, “and that is always a danger. Their exact intentions though, are unclear. Through my mind-link with Anzu I was able to observe a young man. I sensed that he was extremely worried about the actions of his people. But more than this I cannot say for the strength of the mind-link attenuates with distance, and I was at the very limits of my power. Even if Anzu hadn’t been killed I doubt if I could have gained further insight into the stranger’s plans. What we need is to get a spy close to their encampment – someone proficient in magic that I can establish a stronger mind-link with. I propose that Semiramis undertake the mission as she is the most puissant of my students.”

The king gasped in shock. “You’d send our daughter into danger?” he blurted out. “There’s a very real chance she could be killed. No, I forbid it. Choose another!”

“Father,” interjected Semiramis before her mother could reply, “I’m not a child. I know the danger, and it would be cowardly of me to let another face such perils when I am the most suited for the mission. Besides,” she continued mischievously, “the Sisterhood is independent of your authority. The last king who tried to dominate us regretted it. You are not in a position to order us about.”

Shulgi muttered in his beard and looked darkly at both women. Ninshubur had taken him as her lover in younger days, for sorceresses were not constrained by celibacy. She was a passionate woman and not one to be bound for long to any man, much to the king’s disappointment. It had been a brief but exciting interlude before his ascension to the throne.

The king had two wives and six children. He adored them all, but secretly Semiramis was his favorite. Shulgi sighed. There was no point in arguing with these determined and formidable women. All he could do was pray to the gods for his daughter’s safe return and hope that his piety would be rewarded.

“I don’t like it,” he said gruffly to both of them. “But, as you say, I cannot command you.” Then to Semiramis: “Please be careful. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”

Semiramis moved to her father’s side. She grasped his beard and tugged it playfully. “Come on you old goat, let’s see you smile,” she said with mock severity.

The king tried to scowl at her, but found he couldn’t. All three burst out laughing.

**********

It was cloudy night. The moon lay hidden behind veils of cumulus, and the quite was broken only by the croaking of frogs and the chirr of insects. In the concealing darkness Semiramis lay fat upon her belly one hundred feet from the high wall surrounding the invader’s camp, which lay several miles from the river on higher drier ground. It had taken her two days journey by boat up the Euphrates River to reach her destination, and she had spent the last hour stealthily making her way across the marshy earth that separated the stranger’s base from the river where her small reed boat was moored.

The young woman, clad in an extremely short dress to allow freedom of action for the mission, sent forth her mind to probe the night, and as her spirit left its corporeal shell she felt Ninshubur’s presence touch her own like merging ripples upon a pond. Semiramis also sensed the insects and small animals in the reeds. They were pinpricks of light in her consciousness – mindless bundles of instincts that ate and were eaten; that lived and died without thought, without even knowledge of their own existence. Her mind passed over them and onwards, soaring above the defensive gabions of the camp’s rampart. Semiramis sensed the patterns of force that permeate reality as well as bright glows of prismatic color that were the minds of human beings. Some were within strange buildings; others patrolled the inner perimeter of the base; none were near her.

She extended her senses further, cautiously searching for a Mind of Power – an enemy sorceress. But no aura impinged on her questing spirit. It was strange – there was magic here: her mother, Ninshubur, had shared images with her of metal flying things that soared like falcons, and yet there was no sign of any practitioner of the occult. Perhaps the woman was absent from the camp.

Emboldened with excitement spiced with danger, she crawled closer, determined to get as near as possible so her otherworldly senses could probe deep into the invader’s lair and establish a mind-link with one of the enemy, thus enabling her to spy through his eyes. As she stealthily drew near it became obvious that the strangers were rather lax concerning military matters, for the high walls were free of patrolling sentries whose keen eyes could have have spotted the furtive approach of enemies.

It was a sensible conclusion based on what she knew of Sumerian warfare, but proved her swift undoing when faced with the unfamiliar – as Semiramis crawled closer she tripped the perimeter’s automatic alarm system. Sirens suddenly wailed. Automated searchlights stabbed the darkness with blinding light. The lancing beams zeroed in on the young woman’s body heat. Guards pounded furiously up the rampart’s stairway.

The young woman started in fright, was dazzled by the glare. Somehow she’d been spotted and now the enemy’s camp was in an uproar like a nest of wasps that had been incautiously disturbed. Half blinded by the searchlights she turned to flee. A guard spotted her, shouted, fired. The electroshock dart struck her in the back. The voltage hit like a body blow. Semiramis screamed. Her muscles violently convulsed. She collapsed having fainted from the pain.

**********

Reynolds, who’d been woken by the wailing sirens, rubbed the sleep from his eyes as a guard led him to one of the prefabricated buildings. Floodlights blazed throughout the compound. The walls were lined with heavily armed men. The whole camp was on high alert and the young man wondered what was up. Were they under attack? The taciturn guard who had pounded on his door only a few moments ago refused to elaborate, merely saying that he was needed urgently.

Shortly, they arrived at the small windowless building and passed through its guarded entrance. Reynolds halted with a gasp at the confronting sight before him. A very frightened and muddy young woman lay on a steel table, strapped down by tough nylon belts around her wrists and ankles. She had been bound indecently spread eagle, and her extremely short dress had ridden up to expose her naked loins adding to her humiliation. Colonel Rawson and the unpleasant agent Black were the only other occupants of the room.

“We caught this woman near the walls,” began the colonel after he dismissed the guard. “We need you to help with the interrogation – to translate our questions and her answers. Renyolds,” barked Rawson, “are you paying attention?”

“I… Colonel… is this really necessary?” stammered the young man, appalled at what he saw.

Rawson’s nostrils flared. His eyes glittered dangerously. The colonel had no time and much contempt for liberal minded ivory tower academics, especially when they objected to his pragmatic methods. He grabbed Reynolds by his shirt, slammed him hard against the wall, determined to put him in his place.

“Whatever I do is necessary,” he snapped. “Our world is dying, you idiot. My mission is to save what I can of our nation and I’ll do anything, and I repeat anything to achieve that goal. This woman is obviously a spy – a threat to us. Get that through your thick head you mewling fool.”

The colonel flung the young man violently against the steel table. “Now ask her who she is and what she is doing here,” he yelled.

Reynolds felt physically ill as he leaned heavily against the table. He wasn’t a weakling or a coward but, apart from dealing with schoolyard bullies in his younger days, he’d never encountered extreme violence before. It was shocking. The situation was a nightmare. Clearly, the colonel was unrestrained in what he could do, and possibly unhinged as well. His eyes darted to Black. The agent stood impassive, unconcerned; as if nothing untoward was happening. No doubt he’d seen it all before.

The young man pulled himself together with an effort. There was nothing he could do. Both men were armed with automatics and there were guards with assault rifles at the door. He turned worried eyes to the woman.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked in Sumerian.

Semiramis met his frightened eyes with her own terror tinged gaze. The electric shock had nullified her occult abilities leaving her utterly vulnerable, completely at the mercy of her ruthless captors. The only person who could help her was the young man whom she recognized from the imagery her mother had shared. But would he help her? He seemed cowered by the violence of the other men. Was he a slave? If so then there was no hope of succor from his direction.

“I’m Semiramis - a simple farmer’s daughter,” she replied tearfully. “I lost my way in the dark. Please let me go,” she sobbed without acting.

Reynolds translated. Black grabbed her hand. “Farm girl my arse. Look at her palm,” he said derisively. “The skin is smooth and soft. This chit has never done a hard day’s work in her life.”

Rawson’s face hardened further. “All right,” he said. “If that’s the game she wants to play, then so be it.” Then, turning to Black: “Soften up the bitch.”

Black contemptuously shoved Reynolds out of the way, and so violent was the act that the young man fell heavily to the floor. The ruthless agent grabbed the neckline of his victim’s dress. Semiramis cried in fear as he tore the linen with a single brutal wrench. The agent drew a pair of long nose pliers from a pocket. He gazed at her small pert breasts which trembled with her sobs of terror. A sadistic smile curved his thin lips as he clamped the jaws of the instrument upon sensitive flesh, twisted savagely.

Semiramis screamed – a shrill cry of utter agony. Her back arched. Her body trembled from the pain. Reynolds looked on in utter horror as she lost control of her bladder and a jet of urine spurted from between her well spread thighs.

Chapter 4: The Pricking Spur

In an instant Reynolds knew he could no longer be party to this monstrous atrocity. The pricking spur of ethics stabbed him. He was compelled to act despite the danger to himself. He leapt at Rawson like a pouncing tiger, slammed a fist against his nape rendering him instantly unconscious. Then, in one fluid motion he wrenched the colonel’s sidearm from its holster, flipped the safety and pressed the gun to the temple of the senseless man.

“Drop the pliers and release the girl,” he savagely snarled.

Black hesitated for a second. Reynolds cocked the automatic. “Do it,” he warned.

The agent saw he really meant it. Black was astonished. He didn’t think the milksop had had it in him. The agent, like the colonel, had been taken completely by surprise. It was a mistake he’d not repeat again. He dropped the pliers and began to release the woman.

By the time the last strap was undone Semiramis had managed to pull herself together. She looked at Black, her face a wild mask of hate. The young man’s voice broke through her thoughts of dark revenge.

“Semiramis,” he said, “come to me and bind this man while I watch the other. We’re getting out of here.”

The woman approached, a little unsteadily. She wanted to kill Black, to destroy by slow degrees the man who’d degraded her, but realized this was not the time or place. Semiramis tore strips of cloth from her ruined and soiled dress. Now practically nude, she securely bound and gagged the still unconscious colonel.

Reynolds, his mind racing with hasty plans, addressed the fuming agent. “Order a troop carrier to land close by this building and everyone to keep well clear. The colonel is now our hostage. Do exactly as I say and he won’t be harmed. Remember, I’m a desperate man with nothing to lose.”

Black gritted his teeth in suppressed rage. In his eyes the young man was a base born traitor. He felt like telling Reynolds exactly what he could go and do, but was sensible enough not to provoke him. Slowly, he pulled out his communicator and gave the order.

In less than ten minutes a troop carrier had touched down within a few yards of the entrance. By now Rawson had regained consciousness. Reynolds hauled the glaring colonel to his feet, and then with the gun motioned Black to go ahead them.

They exited the building and walked right into a hail of electroshock darts from guards stationed on the compound’s rampart. Black went down. The colonel was hit. By a miracle neither Reynolds nor the girl was struck. The young man grabbed her hand. Both raced for the open door of the troop carrier. The vehicle swiftly lifted to stymie their escape.

“Jump, cried Reynolds desperately as he hurled the automatic through the door. Both leapt, caught the jamb. More electroshock darts pinged off amour plate in near misses as they hauled themselves aboard. They were not alone – four soldiers with assault rifles confronted them.

Reynolds cursed, raised his hands. His half baked plan – the best he could think of at such short notice – had been doomed to failure from the start. He’d counted too much on the colonel’s value as a hostage, but it seemed that everyone was expendable. And in addition, unbeknown to him, every room in all the buildings of the base was under constant and secret surveillance.

Semiramis sensed the danger of these unknown weapons. Her occult powers had been slowly recovering from the shock of the electro-dart. She thrust out a wave of mental force. It wasn’t full strength, but it was strong enough for her desperate purpose.

The soldiers staggered as it impinged upon their brains, disorienting them, striking them with sickening vertigo. The woman leapt, kicked one man in the groin and shoved him through the doorway. Reynolds didn’t know what had happened, but was just as swift to act. He grabbed another soldier with a wrestling hold and threw him to his death.

The others, still staggering raised their weapons. Reynolds flung himself upon Semiramis and bore her to the floor. The enemy fired wildly, erratically. Bullets whined above the escapees, bounced about the amour plated cabin. One soldier screamed, was struck down by a ricocheting slug. Reynolds gasped as a bullet grazed his leg. The remaining foe swung his gun towards the prostrate pair. Reynolds lunged, grabbed the automatic he’d tossed within the vehicle, squeezed the trigger. A burst of gunfire caught the soldier in the chest. Blood sprayed sickeningly and he crashed dead upon the floor.

Then the troop carrier lurched, plunged. Reynolds turned, gasped. The pilot lay slumped upon the craft’s controls. A stray shot had blown half his head away. The tilting deck sent man and girl stumbling. They crashed to the floor, rolled, slammed against a bulkhead. Desperately, Reynolds staggered up, lurched towards the pilot’s body. The ground rushed up as he pushed the corpse aside. His frantic gaze flew across the board. Reynolds saw the autopilot button, slammed his palm against it.

The vessel’s AI swiftly took control, stabilized the craft’s erratic plunge. “Head due north,” yelled Reynolds to the computer. “Maximum acceleration.”

Quickly, the troop carrier turned on its axis, climbed skyward and swiftly fled the scene as blazing tracer fire whipped by her streaking form.

**********

Half an hour had passed. Reynolds eyed the instrument board worriedly. He had submerged the troop carrier in the deepest part of the river. The craft’s AI couldn’t tell him if his foes were hot upon his trail, but he had no doubt they’d be looking for him and the girl. Reynolds hadn’t seen any radar array in the base, so he was fairly confident that his foes hadn’t been able to pinpoint their exact location. But even so the submerged craft might easily be spotted.

He turned to Semiramis. The young woman lay upon one of the bench seats, apparently asleep. She had cleaned herself as best she could and was now clothed in a shirt taken from the dead. What was he to do? His rescuing her had been a visceral reaction, largely instinctive - an impulsive act with no clear long term plan. Had he leapt from the frying pan into the fire? To return to the base was impossible – only a brutal death lay in that direction. But would Semiramis’s own people prove any better?

He sighed. The die had been cast. There was no turning back.

The girl opened her eyes and spoke, her words interrupting his worried thoughts.

“An aerial chariot is coming this way, looking for us. It has weapons like that,” she continued, pointing at the assault rifles he’d stacked on another seat, “but larger and more powerful. We must leave this one before they discover and destroy it.”

“How do you know?” asked Reynolds, clearly flabbergasted.

I perceive it with my occult vision,” she replied. “I will show you.”

Semiramis rose and placed both hands on either side of his head. Instantly, an image formed within Reynolds's mind, cutting short his questions and ending all skepticism. It was as if he was an eagle swiftly soaring. The night sky with its spread of twinkling stars was above him and below was the river glittering in the pellucid moonlight. The scene shifted and he saw the approaching craft – a sleek ovoid studded with weapons blisters – a Class 1 gunship that in moments would vomit flaming destruction upon them.

The connection was broken. He staggered, disorientated. Semiramis steadied him. “We must get out of here, now,” she said in sharp command.

Reynolds managed to order his astounded wits. He had no doubt of the vision’s truthfulness; such was the power of the experience. The implications of it were too deep and time consuming to contemplate at the moment. Quickly, he dashed to the controls and issued orders to the ship’s AI.

The troop carrier rose to the river’s surface. Its watertight door sprang open. Figures dived out. The door closed and the craft sank to the bottom. The couple swam at an angle for the bank, aided by the current’s swift flow. Long minutes passed. Reynolds glanced back; saw an ovoid shape silhouetted against the star gemmed heavens.

Powerful searchlight beams stabbed the darkness. Reynolds and the girl dived. The seeking rays swiftly moved in their direction. Semiramis’s mind went out, impinged upon the gunship’s sensors with interfering force. The light passed them by, swung back upon the submerged troop carrier. The girl sensed falling bombs. She grasped Reynolds, hauled him from the water and into the shallow’s concealing reeds.

Explosives detonated. The river erupted in a fountain. The crouching couple felt the shockwaves through the water, were rocked by the power of the blast even though they were at a distance. Semiramis shivered from exhaustion and chill. She had stripped off the bulky, ill fitting shirt so as not to impede her swimming. Reynolds wrapped his arms around her, held her tight as the gunship hovered above the river, its sensors probing the blasted wreckage of their craft.

Five minutes, a seeming eternity to the anxious couple, passed. The gunship moved off, faded into the darkness of the night. No doubt a proper search of the wreck would be conducted in daylight. Reynolds knew they had bought some time, but it gave him little comfort for he knew that as a traitor he and the girl would be hunted down with implacable resolve.

**********

Reynolds was roused by the early morning light and the murmur of the boat’s crewmen. For a moment he lay in a disoriented daze, his brain only half awake. Then memory of the night before came flooding back and he shivered at the recall of their narrow and harrowing escape. They had struggled along the river’s marshy bank, for the fear of hypothermia had forced them from the cold water. It was an arduous ordeal – the sucking muddy earth and the torment of biting insects added to their suffering.

The couple were near to collapse after an hour of unremitting struggle, and no doubt would have perished from exhaustion had not Reynolds seen a boat, dimly illuminated by moonlight, moored to the far side of the river. His spirits had risen as his tired gaze took in its form. The craft had a high curving prow and stern. Its hull was constructed from bundles of reeds bound with a lattice of ropes and waterproofed with bitumen. A single mast with furled cloth sail and a steering oar completed its simple design.

Semiramis had made floatation devices by bundling buoyant reeds together and with their aid they had swum towards the trader’s craft, one of many that plied the Euphrates. They barely made their goal, and if it hadn’t been for the alert night watch on guard for river pirates, they wouldn’t have been able to haul themselves aboard, so enfeebled were they from the effort.

Semiramis had used the dregs of her powers, for they were at low ebb due to exhaustion, to convinced Ambe - the captain of the boat – of her identity, and the need to make all haste to Ur forthwith. The captain wasn’t happy about travel in the dark with its lack of visibility, but was wise enough not to argue with a powerful sorceress, so upon his orders the roused crew had weighed the boat’s stone anchor and set sail with as much haste as possible.

Reynolds brought his mind to the present. He turned to Semiramis who lay next to him beneath the boat’s awning-like structure affixed to its narrow deck. The young woman was sleeping peacefully. She was wrapped in a length of linen - part of the craft’s cargo of sacks of grain and pots, the vessel being bound from Lagash to her home city. And as Reynolds looked at her in the tranquility of the early morning he also found time to fully reflect on all that had occurred.

He had betrayed his country and killed men. Never in his wildest imaginings would he have thought that he would ever be in a situation like this, and done the things that he had. It seemed fantastic, unbelievable, but it was all shockingly real. He shuddered at the memory of the dead, of the torture inflicted on Semiramis. It was horrible, but he felt justified in having done what he did in opposing the aims of his corrupt government and the ruthless men who supported its objectives. His staid scholastic existence was another world away and he had discovered unknown depths to his nature. It was quite a revelation.

Reynolds shifted his thoughts to Semiramis. She was small, delicate and very attractive. Her slim form hid an inner strength, and she had fantastic powers that stood in defiance of all the science he was familiar with. There was nothing in the modern world like them, nothing like her, either. How had such knowledge been lost? It was a mystery to him – like the girl herself. She was undoubtedly an agent of Ur, but beyond this he knew nothing more, and as he gazed upon her youthful beauty he found himself strongly desiring to abate his ignorance.

A boatman’s wild shout sundered Reynolds’s pleasant musings. The young man turned and gasped in horror at what he saw. A sinister and chilling form had risen from the placid water. It glistened wetly in the dawn’s light. A snaky neck attached to an elongated shark-like body beneath the river, swayed some five feet above the gunnels, dangerously near. The thing’s bony head was crocodilian in appearance, but with longer jaws and serrated teeth. Its unnerving form was sheathed in olive green scales. Yellow reptilian eyes alive with hunger and malevolence returned Reynolds’ startled gaze for a second, and then its ugly head darted at him with the swiftness of a striking cobra, horrid jaws frighteningly agape.

Chapter 5: Magic’s Power

As the monster darted Reynolds rolled aside. Its bony jaws thunderously crashed against the deck. Semiramis woke, screamed in fright as the horror then struck at her. Reynolds kicked it in the head and the deflected snapping jaws barely missed the woman.

Ambe - the captain of the boat – shouted orders. Crewman raced for spears. Reynolds grabbed the woman, hauled her clear as the frightful beast lunged against the boat. The vessel rocked with impact. Crewmen fell. One hapless fellow rolled towards the monster. He screamed horribly as rending jaws viciously clamped upon him.

Semiramis launched a bolt of occult force – a feeble thing for she was still debilitated. The monster hissed in pain. It dropped the mangled corpse. Again, its malevolent eyes focused on the woman. It lunged. Semiramis tried to dodge but the wrap of cloth she wore impeded swift escape. She stumbled, fell, screamed as gaping jaws swept down upon her.

Reynolds, in an act of sheer desperation, flung himself upon the monster. He crashed against the horror, arms locking about its snaky neck. The thing jerked back. The clinging man was hoisted from the deck. The monster whipped from side to side in a bid to shake him off.

Boatmen rushed at the horror as it slid beneath the water carrying Reynolds with it. Semiramis cried in fear as man and monster disappeared from view. She tore away her hindering wrap. From a startled crewman she grabbed a spear. In swift and fluid motion she dived in quick pursuit.

The woman plunged beneath the water. Dimly, she saw the beast, the man clinging to it, not daring to let go least the horror turn upon him. Semiramis swiftly swam, thrust her spear. It pierced the monster’s scaly hide. Blood spurted. The brute writhed. The frantic woman struck again. She drove her weapon home with all her strength. The beast convulsed, went limp. Reynolds let go. Both swam for the surface and were helped aboard the boat by anxious crewmen.

Semiramis sank exhausted to the deck. The surge of adrenalin had worn off and now she was feeling the full weight of the previous night’s ordeals, her strength further sapped by the drama of the morning. Reynolds wrapped her in the discarded length of cloth and carried her beneath the awning as Captain Ambe brought order to his vessel.

“Thank you for saving my life,” he said earnestly as he gently set her down. “The brute would have killed me for sure if you hadn’t come to my aid. What was it? I’ve never seen nor heard the likes of it before.”

“The beast is called a dalhu,” she explained. “They are quite common, but normally do not attack people. This one was probably a rogue male. And as for saving your life, well it was the least I could do all things considered. Now I would like to rest further, for events have been somewhat taxing to put it mildly.”

Reynolds nodded in understanding and moved away a few paces to give her privacy. He sat in contemplation, mulling over all that he had experienced. He was seemingly in ancient Mesopotamia – the people looked Sumerian, they spoke Sumerian and what he had seen of their culture so far indicated it was Sumerian.

But other things belied this sensible conclusion. First, there was the mu-in – the huge hawk-like bird he had first encountered, then Semiramis and her amazing powers and now this river monster, which the woman said was commonplace. Yet none of these things which, according to his companion were ordinary were recorded in the ancient literature he was intimately familiar with. There was only one possible explanation he could think of amazing though it was – that he was in the past, but not the past of Earth’s timeline. The antimatter explosion had opened a portal to an alternative reality where natural history and the laws of physics were different from what he was familiar with.

The young man wondered what other surprises were in store for him.

**********

It was now mid afternoon of the following day. Reynolds stood gazing out the window of the Academy of Sorcery, reflecting on his arrival at the city of Ur as he looked upon the towering ziggurat in the adjacent sacred precinct.

He and Semiramis had disembarked from the trading vessel at dawn, and had been met by an honor guard who escorted them from the harbor to the palace. Here, Reynolds had been formally introduced to his companion’s parents - King Shulgi and Ninshubur, High Sorceress of Ur. All of what had transpired was already known to the king due to the occult communication abilities of the two women, and both sovereign and High Sorceress had thanked Reynolds effusively for having rescued their beloved daughter and had pressed upon him many gifts of gold, much to the young man’s embarrassment for he felt that both praise and reward were unnecessary.

The meeting with these notables had lasted several hours. All three had asked insightful questions about a diverse range of subjects, but most enquiries centered on the technology (or magic as they called it) of the invaders and their intentions. Reynolds had been forthright with his answers, but struggled to explain the workings of machines using the pre-scientific language of his hosts, particularly the electromagnetic drive that enabled the troop carriers to fly. To his surprise, though, once he had elucidated the gist of it, using the analogy of loadstones – the natural magnetic ore they were familiar with – both women quickly grasped the underlying principles.

“Ah,” had exclaimed Ninshubur with comprehension. “Then these wondrous chariots fly by pushing against the earth-force with a power akin to it, each repelling the other as loadstones do when placed in close proximity. It seems to me that if we are to have any hope of victory we must emulate this achievement, and also find a way of neutralizing the advantage of the enemy in terms of weapons.”

Reynolds had considered this impossible given the level of Sumerian technology, but after what he’d seen within the Academy of Sorcery he now questioned his earlier doubts. Turning from the window he gazed again at the astounding device that rested on a large table against a wall of the Academy’s airy lecture room.

The mechanism was a scale model of a larger machine. It consisted of a vertically orientated bronze wheel mounted on a triangular cedar stand. The wheel, about twenty four inches in diameter, had eight spokes and eight amber spheres affixed equidistant around its circumference. These spheres were approximately three inches in diameter and each one was inlaid with an incredibly complex geometrical pattern in fine gold wire. The workmanship was exquisite, but what was more incredible was the fact that the wheel swiftly rotated without any obvious source of motive power.

Reynolds had examined the machine carefully. No trickery was involved. There were no concealed belts being cranked by a hidden operator. The mechanism actually worked. Indeed, as Semiramis had explained - it had been invented by her mother and was now the motive power that turned the huge tympanum, or water-raising waterwheel system (formally powered by slaves) that lifted canal water to the ziggurat’s cisterns which in turn irrigated its terrace gardens.

The principles of its operation were based on magic. More than that Semiramis would not divulge for such knowledge was a closely guarded secret of the Sisterhood. This was a fraternity of sorceresses which extended the length and breadth of Mesopotamia and collaborated on magical research. Only women and very few at that were born with occult abilities that allowed them to probe the mysteries of the cosmos and harness those forces that underpinned it.

Although the Sisterhood had great power they did not impose upon the region’s kings. They offered advice when it was sought, but were content to let imprudent men squabble among themselves if they chose. Various rulers had sought to use their abilities as weapons, but the Sisterhood had always rebuffed their requests. More than enough butchery could be wrought with swords and spears, and they refused to exacerbate the carnage. Naturally, the kings gritted their teeth in frustration over thwarted ambition, but most were wise enough to abstain from forcing the issue, for to threaten one member of the Sisterhood would bring the occult wrath of all its associates swiftly down upon the unwise perpetrator.

But the threat now facing them was of a different and unprecedented order. The invaders were not fellow Sumerians. They would not be fighting with swords and spears, but with a kind of magic that gave them great advantage. In any battle the Sumerian soldiers would be slaughtered. It had been decided by the Council of the Sisterhood through a system of occult communication relays, much like a signal tower system, that Ninshubur would lead the response to the menace while the other sorceresses would assist where they could.

The sound of an opening door made Reynolds turn and he smiled at Semiramis who stood on its threshold.

“Come,” she warmly beckoned. “We have completed the construction. You may now enter and examine our handiwork.”

Reynolds moved enthusiastically to the woman, desirous of her company and eager to find out what she and her companions had been secretly up to. Since the end of the meeting that morning Semiramis, her mother and the apprentice sorceresses had been working feverishly on something, and Ninshubur had extensively questioned him further on the nature of loadstones and magnetism, hence his presence in the lecture room of the Academy.

Members of the Sisterhood had astounding abilities, but magic was still very much in its infancy – there were many things they hadn’t fully grasped concerning Nature and the higher forces of the occult dimensions despite being able to probe the Cosmos with their preternatural senses. The elucidation of mystery and the accumulation of knowledge was a slow tedious process, much like the advancement of science on the Earth he knew. Although Reynolds wasn’t a physicist he knew enough about basic science to point them in the right direction, and so his knowledge was quite invaluable.

The young man followed Semiramis through the doorway and into a large well appointed workshop brightly illuminated by natural light. Reynolds and his fair companion swiftly traversed the chamber and stepped from its colonnade into the open air of the adjoining courtyard where Ninshubur and her apprentice sorceresses awaited his arrival. Here he beheld a chariot of Sumerian design by which the women stood– a four wheeled wagon-like vehicle with a slanting front shield and defensive side panels. There were no horses present to draw it.

Reynolds immediately beheld the modifications that had been made to the vehicle. Two hardwood beams separated by about thirty inches had been affixed beneath the conveyance so their ends projected front and rear for several feet, and attached to these ends were strange and puzzling devices. Each mechanism consisted of a spherical framework of bronze rings about two feet in diameter. Large amber cabochons inlaid with intricate patterns of fine gold wire were mounted in bezel settings where the rings intersected, and in the centre of the framework was a globular loadstone suspended by a thin bronze rod affixed to the alloy bands encircling it.

Clearly mystified by what he saw Reynolds turned to Semiramis with a questioning expression. The woman smiled at his puzzlement and explained.

“It is our version of your flying chariots,” she said. “It is not as good, but it is the best we could accomplish in so short a time. Events move swiftly. There has been a flurry of activity at the invader’s camp. We suspect preparations are under way for an attack upon Ur as it is the closest and most prosperous city in the vicinity.”

Reynolds was astounded, but after what he’d seen before he didn’t doubt Semiramis’s claim that the outlandish vehicle could fly. The power of magic was truly amazing. But it was only a single machine, lightly constructed, and from what he could see was armed with nothing more than a rack of javelins in which a sword was also sheathed. Marvelous though the conveyance was it would be no match for modern weaponry – the latest gunship heavy armament, with its 6000 rounds per minute, would blast it to matchwood in mere seconds. He said as much to the women.

“We realize its limitations,” replied Ninshubur. “The flying chariot is not our chosen weapon, but a vehicle constructed to swiftly convey Semiramis to the Tower of Inhedu. You will accompany her for my auguries indicate success will be enhanced by your presence. I must remain here and assist the king with Ur’s defenses. Go now for time is short. My daughter will explain further along the way.”

Mother and daughter embraced in farewell. The other girls were also bid adieu. Semiramis stepped within the flying chariot and Reynolds followed. The young man’s actions were somewhat automatic for his mind was awhirl with the swiftness of these unexpected events. The woman touched the mechanism of the vehicle with her mind to activate it. A nimbus of aureate force haloed the loadstones. The vehicle quickly lifted. Reynolds clutched the chariot’s side panel in alarm as the conveyance soared skyward swifter than a flacon. Soon it became a dot against the sky; then vanished into the vast blueness of heaven.

**********

An hour later Reynolds, his hair tousled by the wind of their swift passage, looked down upon the waters of the Persian Gulf, which was known as the Lower Sea to the Sumerians. His gaze shifted to the small island, unknown in his timeline. It was about a mile distant, and as they rapidly approached it resolved into a verdant crescent whose shore rose steeply on its western end to form a spire of natural rock that thrust skyward like the arthritic finger of a heaven defying titan.

The rocky tower had been shaped by nature’s elements to form an intriguing sight, and further carved at its peak by a master of magic. Here, two hundred feet above the glistening sea was a harmony of sculpted minarets, turrets and domes whose clustered forms, all wreathed in a confection of heady ornament, shone softly in the warm sunlight. Such was the abode of Inhedu – a brilliant and powerful sorceress who had lived over a hundred years ago.

Reynolds recalled what Semiramis had told him. In those days Ibi-Sin had been ruler of Babylon, and had fallen madly in lust with Inhedu. But the Sorceress, being more interested in the pursuit of knowledge, had rejected his advances. The king, who was an arrogant man, wasn’t wise enough to accept her disinterest. He had annoyingly pressed his desires, first with clumsy romance and then with threats thus revealing his base nature.

Things reached a head when he violently assaulted her. Reynolds saw the wild scene through the vivid eye of his fertile imagination. Inhedu spun about in consternation as the door to her boudoir crashed down from the impact of a heavy battering ram. Upon the splintered threshold stood the king, consumed by savage passion, his face alive with bestial desire.

Ibi-Sin leapt at Inhedu in a rage of thwarted fervor, base cravings hotly burning in his feral gaze as pent up lust burst forth with all the fury of a sundered dam’s floodwaters. The shocked woman fell beneath his clutching hands, was cast upon the floor. Like the claws of a wild beast the savage king’s grasping fingers latched upon her dress. Fabric ripped; the debased man slobbered passionate kisses on her naked breasts.

Inhedu thrust her fingers in his eyes. The king screamed, rolled off her, shouting madly for his guards. Six burly men burst within the room, naked swords clutched in their brawny fists. The shocked sorceress swiftly pulled herself together, flung out a ripple of occult power. In an instant all men within the room tumbled unconscious to the floor…

When the king awoke Inhedu was very far away.

Ibi-Sin was incensed. Inhedu’s rejection of him, her assault upon him was an affront to his bloated dignity. Within months his spies had located the refuge of the sorceress. Not realizing the full power of her abilities due to rampant chauvinism (for who was she but a woman despite her magic), he ordered a fleet of reed boats be constructed, and set sail when the task had been achieved, the spur of bleak revenge digging in his side.

Inhedu, surrounded by her instruments of magic, looked down from the loftiest tower of her high abode upon the approaching fleet, her face marred by anger. The craft beached. The invaders leapt ashore with martial fervor screaming strident battle cries, their bronze weapons glinting in the sun. The sorceress had spared the life of Ibi-Sin. But now she’d had enough and would not show the slightest mercy. Inhedu touched her mechanisms. The machinery of magic glowed with occult power. Rays of silver light leapt from the spinning cones to lance the sky.

The heavens darkened with crimson gloom as smoldering clouds condensed around the silver shafts. On the ground far below the yelling warriors faltered in their savage charge. All eyes turned heavenward. Every voice was stilled by strangling fear. The world hung silent in terrified suspense.

Then fire fell from the turgid glowing clouds like burning rain. Reed boats burst into roaring flames. Men died screaming in agony. The air became thick with a swirl of turgid stinking smoke from burning ships and bodies. Within mere minutes a thousand warriors, the king included, perished in that hellish conflagration of unquenchable fire. Those few survivors, shaken to the core by the unmitigated horror of unbridled magic, carried home news of the terrible destruction. The island and its tower became a place of evil to be shunned. Inhedu was neither seen nor heard from again. But the secrets of her terrible weapon’s manufacture might still be there, and this is what Semiramis sought.

Reynolds brought his mind to the present and shifted his gaze to Semiramis, who was absorbed in guiding their aerial conveyance and scanning the approaching tower for signs of occult menace. This was really the first opportunity he had had to be alone with her without the distracting threat of frightful danger. During the flight they had spoken of only the essentials of the mission, the girl being mostly preoccupied with the control of the flying chariot. But even so there had grown between them a bond which seemed to transcend the need for words.

The young man couldn’t quite explain it. He’d been in love before (or at least he thought he had), but this was somehow different. The emotion had been growing subtly, and it was only in this quite moment free of distracting threats that allowed him the opportunity for introspection. There wasn’t the intensity of blazing passion that a troubadour would sing of, at least not yet. If his feelings could be likened to anything then perhaps they were comparable to a slow and steadily burning flame rather than a roaring fire that would quickly exhaust itself.

Reynolds wondered if Semiramis felt the same. He was fairly certain she did, but realized he could be mistaken. He wanted to express himself, to reveal his feelings, but this could be embarrassing if all she desired was mere friendship. In addition the story of Inhedu was fresh in his conscious, and the last thing he wanted was to appear a blundering fool. He stood indecisive, his mind absorbed in how best to approach this delicate matter.

The young man’s thoughts were dramatically interrupted as the sorceress’s abode rapidly loomed. With unexpected and alarming swiftness a globe of blazing fire leapt from a tower window. The sphere rushed at them in a roar of whirling flame. Semiramis cried in fright. Intense heat struck like a physical blow. The globe exploded in leaping tongues of burning light and the areal chariot tumbled from the sky.

Chapter 6: Within the Tower

With one hand Reynolds desperately clutched the flying chariot’s handrail as it plunged; with the other he grasped Semiramis. The woman had turned their craft just in time to avoid the blazing globe, but nonetheless the dreadful blast had been near enough to stun her.

Their plummeting conveyance rolled. Reynolds cried in fear and pain as he dangled from the vehicle by a single arm. “Semiramis,” he shouted desperately “in the name of all your gods, wake up.”

The girl moaned, stirred feebly. The ground rushed up. The terrified man could feel his fingers slipping. The end was swiftly coming. He kissed her in farewell.

The press of his lips roused the girl. Her eyes flew open and in a second she grasped the nature of their frightful peril. Her mind reached out and touched the occult mechanisms of the plunging craft. The loadstones glowed with fierce illumination that slowed their dreadful fall.

Semiramis clung to Reynolds. He released his hold about her waist and with both hands grasped the chariot’s rail thus strengthening his faltering grip. The vehicle slowly righted, both shakily clambered within the craft and collapsed upon its floor as the conveyance gradually settled to the ground.

Both lay breathless for a moment as they recovered from their harrowing ordeal. Semiramis was the first to pull herself together. She reached out with her occult senses and again probed the enigmatic tower. Mice and insects were its only denizens. The defensive magic Inhedu had left behind must operate of its own accord. The young woman cursed her shortsightedness in self-reproach. She’d been looking for an active hostile presence and had overlooked the possibility one might lie hidden in a dormant state.

Reynolds saw her angry frown and misinterpreted. “I meant no insult by kissing you,” he said, aware that in this world different mores might well prevail. “It was done out of love, not lust. I thought we were going to die, and well I… I…” His words trailed off in flustered ineffectualness.

Semiramis turned to him and smiled. “I am not offended,” she replied. “On the contrary, honey flows from between my thighs at your touch, and I am eager for you to taste this sweet ambrosia of desire. But our mission takes precedence at the moment, and I trust you understand my reticence.”

A great joy filled Reynolds. He took her hand and smiled at her with painful longing. “Then let us be about this business and have it swiftly done.”

Quickly, they gathered their equipment and exited the chariot, which had landed near the water’s edge where the isle’s luxuriant vegetation thinned. Soon, they were within the denser growth, shaded by the spreading boughs of stately cedars. Cautiously, the couple made their way through thick bushes – the remains of an extensive garden run wild with a century of neglect. Now forewarned by experience, Reynolds took the lead and probed the vegetation with his spear in search of concealed traps. None were found, and within ten minutes they had reached the soaring tower free of threatening incident.

A huge metallic door – twelve feet high and four in width - stood defiantly before the daring couple. The brazen portal, which was set deeply in the naked rock of the soaring tower, was incised with dire lines of cuneiform and thus the frightful warning read:

Dreadful perils lie within for those who dare to breach my tower. Horrid death in multitudinous forms awaits you. Turn from this path while breath still remains in your body. Turn from this path while your soul still remains unblemished. Turn from this path while the gods still look upon you with favor. Be warned all foolish trespassers who ignore my potent warning: the flame of life shall be extinguished. The soul shall be blackened. The gates of Heaven shall be forever closed to you. Eternal darkness and bitter lamentation shall be your fate. I, Inhedu, Master Sorceress, thus weave my bleak curse with all the baneful power of my malefic magic.

Normally, Reynolds would have dismissed the warning as superstitious nonsense, but in a world where magic was as real as atomic power it was something to be taken very seriously indeed. Clearly, Inhedu had secrets she meant to keep even in death. That she wasn’t a person to be trifled with was also very clear. The sober expression his companion wore reinforced his unsettling deductions.

“We must enter despite the danger,” affirmed Semiramis. “The threats are very real, but I think they will be mostly natural rather than supernatural. Inhedu sought to guard her secrets from sorceresses as well as common folk. My occult abilities can sense and interfere with mechanisms of magic as well as natural ones such as your people use; for I can detect the power within them. But I am blind to simple hidden traps that work by levers, pulleys and springs,” she unnervingly concluded.

Semiramis shifted her gaze from the inscription to a large bronze lever that projected from a horizontal slot in the right hand side of the portal’s deep recess. This was more than likely part of a mechanism that opened the huge door. It was obvious, and in the light of the dire warning it was too obvious.

Man and woman looked at each other in unspoken agreement. Reynolds removed the large coil of rope from his shoulder. “I’ll tie this to the lever and we can pull it from a safe distance,” he announced.

In but moments the task was completed. The couple hauled vigorously on the rope. The lever was stiff with a century of disuse, but it soon gave under their combined strength. The ponderous door of solid bronze began to slowly sink within the threshold’s floor.

But no sooner had the portal fully opened than a flight of darts shot forth from its dark interior. Reynolds, a warning cry on his lips flung himself upon the girl. Both tumbled to the ground, the deadly missiles hurtling above them like a swarm of enraged hornets. They lay upon the earth for a time. The narrow escape had left them shaken, and brought home the fell dangers of their mission.

Both slowly rose and cautiously approached the sinister doorway. A rectangle of enigmatic darkness confronted them. The way was open. It would have been easy to step across the threshold – an invitation to the foolhardy. But Semiramis was no fool. She dug a rock from the earth with her knife and cast the stone before the portal.

No sooner had the heavy rock crashed near the threshold than a trapdoor dropped away. The stone fell within the spike lined pit with a hollow boom. A gap of ten feet now stood between the couple and the open door. Reynolds gazed within the deep pit. A grinning skull among disjointed bones returned his troubled gaze. It was clear they were not the first to try and breach the sanctity of Inhedu’s abode.

“These booby-traps must reset themselves,” he grimly observed, and no sooner had he spoken than the huge bronze door began to ponderously ascend.

Semiramis cursed. She ran back several yards then charged the rising portal, and with a mighty leap flung herself across the yawning pit. Reynolds swore at the reckless, desperate act. But he wasn’t going to let her face death alone. Swiftly he followed her example. His clutching hands caught the upper edge of the rising barrier. Both swung above the glinting spikes. The gap was narrowing, closing fast. Semiramis hauled her body through the lessening slit. Reynolds came upon her heels. Both dropped within the tower and collapsed upon the floor, breathing hard; hearts racing from the frantic effort.

A clanking noise drew Semiramis’s gaze. It was the grating of a turntable as another rack of deadly darts swung towards the door. In a panic the couple scrambled clear. The mechanism ceased it motion. No missiles were cast upon them. It had merely reset itself. There was no danger at the moment from that direction.

Reynolds gazed warily about the chamber they were in. It was a circular room about sixty feet in diameter at whose far end was a narrow corridor, and at its terminus was another bronze door, undoubtedly secured against intruders. The area was dimly lit by blue illumination from a band of glowing stones set about the walls some ten inches from the floor.

“I sense no occult danger,” announced Semiramis in a low voice. “But even so we must proceed with caution.”

Carefully, both advanced towards the corridor’s entrance, their eyes scanning walls, floor and ceiling for any sign of threat. No menace disclosed itself to their probing scrutiny and both reached the entryway unharmed. A careful examination of the passage revealed neither trip wires nor any sign of trigger mechanism that might precipitate foul death upon them, and so they entered the narrow way with all the care of a cat slinking past a sleeping hound.

Soon they stood before the bronze door. It was ornamented with three panels of stylized plants and animals, delicately molded, and above them more cuneiform script which read as follows:

Be warned all rash trespassers. Those who seek my hidden wisdom must prove themselves worthy of this treasure. To pass beyond this barrier solve this puzzle and thereby prove your acumen.

Alive as you but lacking breath,

As cold in life as in death;

Never a thirst though I always drink,

Dressed in armor but never a clink.

To state your answer find the clue. It surely lies before you.

“I wonder what it means?” said Reynolds, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

A clang cut short all further speech. The couple spun around. Another bronze door had crashed down behind them. Semiramis swore. They were trapped in the narrow passageway. Then, adding to the couple’s consternation, water began to gush in unstoppable torrents from hidden valves concealed in the shadows of the high ceiling.

In a panic Reynolds flung his strength against the door that bore the inscription. Semiramis grasped his shoulder.

“Brute strength will not avail us,” she reprimanded. “Calm yourself. We must think this through and find the answer that will unlock the door.”

“Sorry,” muttered Reynolds as he leaned against the portal, fighting his bolting emotions. “If this was something I could physically fight, like that river monster that dragged me under, I wouldn’t feel so damnably trapped and helpless.”

The water rose with frightening rapidity as the couple scrutinized the riddle. It was a growing threat that was most unhelpful to their desperate cogitation. The creeping liquid death was at their knees, then at their chests. It would soon be above their heads and they were no closer to solving the enigmatic puzzle.

Reynolds fought his fear, strove to think. His mind was a morass of confusion. His heart hammered within his chest. Semiramis, though calmer, was as clueless as her jittery companion. The water rose ever higher; covered their lips, their noses, shrouded their heads in its chilly smothering mass. Reynolds lifted Semiramis. They swam up. Their noses pressed against hard stone, both gasped air from the diminishing pocket trapped against the ceiling. The light was dim, smothered by the rising water. In but moments they would die in utter darkness.

“If only we were fish,” muttered Reynolds despairingly.

Semiramis’s eyes grew wide. She barely heard him above the roar of cascading water. “That’s the answer,” she cried in sudden realization. “The panels of plants and animals upon the door - the key must be a fish!”

Both gasped what little air remained, dived. They swam down through the gloom. Each commenced a frantic search for the air above had vanished. Darkness hindered their questing fingers that groped like a blind man’s digits.

Reynolds fought against his panic. He knew he was weakening fast as was his fair companion. Water smothered him. Darkness enveloped him. His breath was quickly running out. Then his questing fingers sensed the outlines of a finny shape. He pressed desperately against it, and with a click the protrusion sunk within the panel of the door.

Stones sank within the floor. Water began to drain away through the outlets. Fear clutched Reynolds. Semiramis floated limply beside him. He grasped the unresponsive girl, swam up toward the ceiling. The pocket of air had reappeared with the lowering of the water. He gasped the life giving gas, filled his lungs. Pressing his lips to the girl’s he commenced desperate respiration.

The water subsided, sank lower, further still as did Reynolds’s hope, for Semiramis remained unconscious despite his best efforts. The chilly fluid drained away entirely and he laid her pale unmoving form upon the floor. The thought that she was dead was like torture. He pushed it from his mind in desperate denial, pressed on with his attempts to revive her.

At last she coughed, sucked in air. Reynolds rolled Semiramis on her side and sank down beside her, physically and emotionally exhausted, one hand gently rubbing her back. When her coughing fit had passed she turned to him and he took her in his arms.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, then kissed her.

They clung to each other in a passionate embrace. But the grating of the rising door rudely intruded and Semiramis was thus compelled to wryly speak.

“My love, we’d best continue on before the mechanism resets. This ordeal is not one I’d soon repeat.”

Reynolds grinned despite it all. He helped her stand. They staggered through the open door. Before them was a broad staircase that spiraled upwards to the tower’s uttermost height. Both sat upon the stone treads to gather their strength in preparation for the arduous climb, Reynolds’s arms affectionately about his fair companion.

After a time Semiramis spoke: “Regrettably, this pleasant interlude must end. Are you sufficiently rested? Good, then let us continue our difficult ascent.”

They proceeded up the stairs. Reynolds drew his sword and tapped the treads ahead of him, hoping to safely spring any trap that might lie in wait. The climb was laborious, uneventful. It seemed to last an age, but finally they reached the tower’s height, legs aching from the severely taxing effort.

A wide arched doorway stood before them. The couple paused on its threshold to catch their breath. Reynolds peered within the room before him. It seemed they were on the lowest level of the sorceress’s palace – six doorways led off from the circular chamber. Light spilt through some, hinting at courtyards beyond. Others led to spiral staircases that gave access to the upper levels of the building. The floor was of polished marble inset with patterns of silver squares. Sinuous arabesques were the dominant decoration. Everything looked deceptively innocent. Both knew they had no choice but to go on.

Now rested, they walked cautiously through the doorway and out upon the chamber’s floor. In mere seconds bars sprang up from the floor with lightening swiftness to touch the high ceiling, trapping them within a glittering cage. Portions of the silver squares were the tops of this entrapment system activated by the pressure of their feet.

Reynolds cursed. Semiramis pointed. “Look,” she said as she gestured to a large bronze plaque now rising from the floor several feet away. Sick fear gripped Reynolds as he read the message it contained.

To save your life twist the golden section of the silver bar, but by doing so you will kill another. What value, then, do you place upon yourself?

No sooner had he read these lines than another section of the floor dropped away and from the opening roared tongues of livid flame. Then an area of the ceiling opened above the fiery pit, and from this aperture slowly lowered by chains about her wrists was a kicking screaming child of perhaps no more than ten.

Reynolds swore at the confronting sight. Semiramis gasped and gripped his shoulder. She pointed up in speechless horror. A section of the ceiling above their cage was inexorably descending, bearing down upon them with tons of weight. Both looked at each other with complete dismay. To save themselves from being slowly crushed to death would they have to sacrifice a child?

Chapter 7: Secrets of the Sorceress

The massive block rumbled down. Nearer came the mighty insensate mass, pitiless, relentless. The frightened couple thrust their arms against its descending face – a futile exercise born of utter desperation. Reynolds looked at the golden section of the silver bar as his arms buckled under the terrible weight. All he had to do was twist that portion of the rod.

He gazed at the child; kicking, screaming above the roaring flames. Surely, she would be precipitated into the leaping fire to be burnt to death should he turn that shining switch. Reynolds swore, cursed Inhedu with passion. He threw every atom of his strength against the pressing mass of stone as did his sweating companion.

Their knees buckled, their backs bent under the tremendous pressure. Again Reynolds glanced at the shining switch. In but moments the sinking stone would block all possibility of him reaching it. He looked at Semiramis. The panting woman shook her head. The only consolation was they both upheld the same morality.

The block forced them to their knees, their bellies. Both held hands as they felt the terrible press of tons of weight. The breath was crushed from their lungs. The terrifying end was near. Reynolds gazed upon Semiramis. “I love you,” he hoarsely gasped.

She smiled, breathless. Then a click broke the terrible silence of gathering death. The frightful press of weight began to ease as the block commenced its rise. The couple gasped air into their lungs. Semiramis wept with vast relief. Reynolds gathered the trembling woman within the comfort of his arms and stroked her hair.

He looked at the dangling child with sick worry, but there was no need for fear. The roaring, flaming pit beneath the girl had closed; the chains had lowered her gently to the floor; the manacles had released her from the cruelty of their iron clutch. Now she walked steadily towards them as the bars of their cage sank within the floor, and as the child drew near Reynolds gasped in complete amazement, for closing distance revealed that it was not a living being, but a mechanism of magic intricately wrought in human form.

The flesh tinted body was of a matt ivory-like substance, giving it the appearance of a life size doll when close up. The dark eyes were of glass. Its wig was of human hair. It moved with a naturalistic grace not at all machine-like even though its limbs were mechanically articulated. The jaw was fixed; the lips, though slightly parted, incapable of movement, but in the extremity of their situation this had remained unnoticed by the couple until now.

“It’s a mezbur,” gasped Semiramis in wonder. “Inhedu was reputed to have created such devices. Now we know it’s true.”

The mezbur halted several feet from the couple and spoke, its contralto voice issuing forth through fixed but parted lips.

“I, Inhedu, though long dead, speak to you across the gulf years. I have preserved my knowledge, for with my arts I foresaw an age in sore need of it. But it is dangerous knowledge. It can do great good, but also harm; for in the hands of fools and ruthless men such power would bring immense disaster to the world.

“To prevent this I devised the tests you have endured. Your bravery and intelligence is now proven, for neither fools or cowards could have come this far. Neither are you ruthless, for you were willing to sacrifice yourself to save a child. Therefore, I commend my knowledge into your wise and benevolent hands. You, whose name I do not know; whose age I but dimly see, have become the custodian of my wisdom. Now, follow the mezbur. It will show you the way to the secrets of my power. Use it well for the betterment of all humanity.”

The recording ended. The mezbur turned and began to walk away. The couple rose and followed; their minds in a state of wonder. Mounting another flight of steps they ascended to the upper level of Inhedu’s abode, and as they were led through the spacious halls of the citadel they marveled at the exquisite craftsmanship of its graceful architecture.

Internally, the eyrie of the sorceress was smaller than it appeared, for many of its external features were purely ornamental – a testament to the artistry of its creator, and so they arrived at their destination sooner than anticipated. A domed tower of three levels with broad balconies on each stood before them in one corner of a courtyard.

The mezbur turned to face the couple and spoke its final words. “Within this tower lies all my esoteric knowledge.” The automata reached within its robe and withdrew a strangely shaped metal prong. “Here is the key that will unlock many secrets. My work is done. Farewell and may Enki, god of wisdom, watch over you.”

Semiramis took the pronged key from the mezbur’s still hand. She looked at the locked bronze door of the tower, overcome by the power of emotion, the voice of the long dead woman still echoing in her mind. She stood on the threshold of marvels. Within lay the accumulated knowledge of the greatest sorceress of all time, and the responsibility that had been entrusted to her was a heavy weight to bear.

Reynolds sensed something of her feelings and placed his hand upon her shoulder. She looked at him and smiled. Whatever the future she knew she wouldn’t have to face it alone. Semiramis slid the strange key within its lock. A click broke the solemn silence. The door swung inwards, and they entered the inner sanctum of the long dead sorceress.

A spacious room stood before them. It was lined from floor to high ceiling with many niches that overflowed not with clay tablets but with metal scrolls embossed with cuneiform. Reynolds took one from a nearby recess and gazed at it in wonder. Apart from a thin layer of dust, the greenish metal foil, as soft and flexible as vellum, was as untarnished as the day it had been inscribed.

A gasp from Semiramis made Reynolds turn. Her worried look met his concerned gaze.

“A psychic message from my mother,” she anxiously explained. “The invaders have left their camp in force and will fall on Ur within hours. We have no time to search out Inhedu’s secret of the Sky-fire – the weapon she used against Ibi-Sin and his warriors - which lies buried somewhere in the vastness of this library. It will take us years to read all these documents.”

Reynolds thought for a moment. “Perhaps we won’t have to,” he said. “That sphere of blazing light which nearly killed us; I’m sure it came from this tower. Maybe we can mount the weapon on our flying chariot. Given the lack of time it might be our only hope.”

“May the gods grant that it is,” she replied with feeling. “Let’s ascend. The device must be on the uppermost floor. But first I’ll let my mother know our plans.”

In but moments the message was communicated, and this accomplished the couple mounted the spiral staircase in the centre of the room. The next level proved to be an occult laboratory where Inhedu had conducted her research and experiments.

The spacious room was filled with outlandish instruments of brass and crystal; ebony and amber. Spheres, rods and cones of these materials were joined in assemblies that resembled abstract sculpture more than machinery. Reynolds couldn’t even begin to guess what their purpose might be, and even Semiramis was mystified. None, however, had the appearance of a weapon, and so the couple hurried to the final level of the tower.

Both stepped from the spiral stair and into the last chamber, which appeared to be a workshop where the instruments on the floor below had been manufactured. Six circular windows, equally spaced, pierced the curving wall of the uppermost room, and mounted on a tripod before each aperture was a very strange device that could swivel in any direction thanks to its ball and socket joint.

The mechanisms consisted of an ebony prism, hexagonal in cross-section, about a yard in length and four inches in diameter, the forward end of which was capped by a faceted ruby gemstone with a baseball size onyx globe mounted above it. Four stubby rods, equally spaced, projected from each face of the prism. Spheres of milky crystal, each six inches in diameter were affixed to the ends of these rods, and each sphere was studded with amber cabochons.

Reynolds moved to examine one of the strange mechanisms, starting with the crimson jewel. He jerked back in alarm, not at the gem, but at the ebon sphere mounted above the glittering jewel, for here a moving crystal eye stared back at him, enclosed within the very substance of the globe.

The young man stumbled back in shock, and it was just as well he did, for a ball of blazing fire erupted from the glittering jewel with unexpected and alarming suddenness, the roaring sphere singing him with its actinic heat. Reynolds staggered and leaned heavily against the wall. He swore in pain as he clutched his eyes, dazzled by the flare and shaken by the narrowness of his escape.

Semiramis rushed to his side in a state of extreme anxiety.

“I’ll be all right,” he reassured her. And then with an understatement: “I think I’ve found the weapon.”

**********

Reynolds, his expression tense, looked down at the approaching enemy through a haze of concealing cloud. A dozen of the flying troop carriers, flanked by two Class 1 gunships, were swiftly winging towards Ur, and were now a mere ten miles from their destination. It seemed the mission was more of a commando operation than a full scale invasion. The plan was probably to capture the king, his family and the court’s inner circle, these hostages then becoming the puppets of their conquerors.

The young man shifted his worried gaze to the four weapons taken from the tower. Using the tools in Inhedu’s workshop he and Semiramis had mounted the devices on their flying chariot – two facing forward and the remaining pair pointing rearward. It had been an extremely hazardous task for the devices, despite their sophistication were quite primitive in certain respects: They were primed to fire at anything that moved, being incapable of discriminating between friend and foe, and the couple had come frighteningly near to being blasted to ash on one occasion when the blindfold they’d bound about the ‘eye’ of one device had slipped.

Again, Reynolds looked below. The squadron was almost beneath them. They had the element of surprise. The enemy would not be expecting an attack from the air. They were concealed by thin cloud and the flying chariot was surrounded by a haze of distortion, generated from Ur by Ninshubur, which would hopefully interfere with radar detection. But even so they faced the might of modern military technology. Would magic be enough? Reynolds’s anxious thoughts were interrupted by Semiramis’s sharp command.

“Unhood the eyes, and like a falcon we shall dive upon the foe,” she bravely said.

Reynolds obeyed. The flying chariot plummeted, fell from the sky upon its prey. The roar of the streaming air smote his ears, his face. Their weapons blazed. Globes of burning fire vomited from the crimson jewels. Several troop carriers were hit. The actinic spheres exploded like enormous fireballs. Burning wreckage dropped from the sky in a molten rain as the terrific blast rocked the plunging chariot.

Three more troop carriers tumbled from the sky; then the gunships went into action, the pilots having overcome their initial shock. The enemy machines climbed, guns blazing furiously. A 50 caliber projectile whined passed Reynolds’s ear. Another struck one wheel of the chariot, blasting most of it away. Semiramis wove their vehicle in an erratic path as their own weapons continued to pour forth withering fire.

The two surviving carriers scattered. One gunship was hit. It fell from the sky wreathed in flames, whirling uncontrollably. It struck the earth and exploded in a thunderous conflagration as all the ammunition detonated. Victory swelled in Reynolds’s breast. The distorting haze about their chariot wavered, dissipated with a hissing crackle, dashing his elation.

Semiramis cursed – the strain of maintaining the field had proven too much for Ninshubur. The surviving gunship’s radar locked upon the chariot. Its weapons blazed thunderously, filling the air with flying death. Cannon shells roared past as Semiramis dived. Projectiles exploded all about them. Shrapnel whined. A fragment slashed Reynolds’s cheek; another struck the chariot’s propulsion mechanism.

Their vehicle plunged like a wounded bird, weapons still furiously firing. One hurtling globe of blazing light struck the remaining gunship’s stern. It exploded in a flash of roaring fire. The enemy craft plummeted, its pilot fighting desperately to save his whirling craft as Semiramis battled to control the chariot. Reynolds hung on for dear life. Both machines fell from the sky like dropped stones. The hard earth rushed up. Each vehicle crashed in bone jarring impact. The boom of their collision faded and silence crept in upon the scene.

**********

Reynolds regained consciousness. He lay stunned, having been out for some time. The flying chariot had landed hard, had toppled on its side flinging him and Semiramis from the vehicle. The man groaned and gingerly touched the lump on his head, amazed that he was still alive after that frightful plunge. He shifted his gaze and saw the young woman lying nearby. She was unconscious, but otherwise seemed to have escaped serious injury. Boots crunched on the stony soil drawing his gaze. Fear knifed him when he saw who approached.

It was Colonel Rawson who walked towards him, two airmen from the crashed gunship by his side. The man halted at a safe distance, hands on hips, and gazed down at Reynolds, a look of cruel savagery making his ruthless visage even harsher.

Wordlessly, the colonel raised his sidearm and pointed it at Reynolds, his finger resting on the trigger.

Chapter 8: The Element of Surprise

“If you want to live, Reynolds, you’d better talk,” grated out the Colonel. “A flying chariot! I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, and even now it seems impossible.”

Reynolds wasn’t fooled for a moment. Rawson was a ruthless man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill him when his usefulness was over. The young man’s mind worked furiously, and in the silence Rawson’s brutal face grew even bleaker. He pointed his automatic at the sill unconscious girl.

“I’m going to count to three,” he harshly said. “You either talk or she gets a bullet in the gut. It’s not a quick or pleasant way to die as your snooping mentor, Professor Jamison discovered.”

So, Jamison was dead. Reynolds had suspected as much, but to have it confirmed was still sickeningly shocking. With an effort he swiftly ordered his reeling thoughts. Semiramis was in danger. Brute strength was of no avail. Only wits and cunning could save her now.

“It’s alien technology,” blurted out Reynolds, realizing that if he told the truth the colonel would think he was being a smartass. “In the remote past aliens visited Earth, and what you see is the remnants of the technology they left behind. If I show you how it works will you promise not to harm the girl?”

Rawson barked a derisive laugh. “Do you think I’m a fool?” he snarled. “I’m not letting you anywhere near those weapons. Don’t move an inch. Don’t even think about it. You can explain things from where you’re lying. You,” barked Rawson to one of the airmen, “go check it out.”

As the airman drew near the downed vehicle what Reynolds hoped would happen occurred. The pilot came within the visual field of a weapon. He started as the eye focused on him. He flung up his sidearm. Both weapons fired simultaneously. The hapless man was struck, his scream of agony was shrill but brief as raging fire engulfed him. The streaking bullet shattered the weapon’s eye.

Reynolds cried out in pain as the backwash of the intense heat struck him like a blow. Fighting through agony he lurched erect. The danger wasn’t over. Rawson and the remaining airman, although staggering from the fury of the blast, were far from hors de combat. The young man flung himself on Rawson. He knocked the gun from his enemy’s hand. They grappled madly. Reynolds’s foe drove a knee at his groin. The young man twisted and caught the blow on his outer thigh. He grunted, jerked the colonel and flung him across his hip and to the ground.

The surviving airman fired. The bullet whined past Reynolds’s ear. Reynolds tore a rock from the earth, hurled it. The stone struck his attacker in the throat. The man gurgled, collapsed, choking to death on his crushed larynx. Rawson lashed out. His boot heel crashed against Reynolds’s shin. The young man swore, fell. His foe drew a knife, lunged. Reynolds rolled and the swinging blade plunged into soil, missing him by mere inches.

Both men lurched up. Reynolds flung another rock. Rawson nimbly dodged, lunged. Reynolds sidestepped the deadly thrust, grasped his foe’s arm, twisted savagely. Rawson howled in agony, dropped the blade. He fell to a knee, scooped up dirt and hurled it into Reynolds’s face.

Reynolds cried out, stumbled back, blinded by the grit. He heard Rawson rushing at him but couldn’t see the man. He was helpless, completely at the mercy of his ruthless opponent. He swung his fists wildly, desperately, expecting at any moment to feel the agony of cold steel ripping into his guts.

The sound of a thud came to his ears. Reynolds stood tensely. He hadn’t felt his flying fists connect, but the noise was like a body falling. A voice spoke. It was that of Semiramis.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I struck Rawson with my occult powers. He is dead. Are you badly hurt?”

“The bastard threw dirt in my eyes. I can’t see,” he gasped in agony.

“I’ll get the water skin from the chariot,” she said worriedly.

Soon the dirt was washed away and Reynolds could see again, and as he stared at the colonel’s lifeless body he glumly knew that although the battle had been won the war was far from over. As long as the Sphere remained it would continue to act as a conduit between this reality and that of Earth. The enemy wouldn’t give up. Earth was dying and they had nowhere else to go. They’d be back with more men and bigger and better weapons.

**********

Reynolds finished setting the occult weapon upon its tripod, the sole undamaged device taken from the wrecked flying chariot. He swung the muzzle of the mechanism towards the Sphere, which hung suspended in the air at a height of about a thousand feet, and was a little over three miles from the invader’s camp.

The young man wore a worried look. This was the best that could be done in the way of countering the arrival of reinforcements. Anything that came through the Sphere would be shot down. But it was just a solitary weapon, and once the element of surprise had been lost a single missile from a gunship would be enough to obliterate it.

Pushing these glum thoughts aside he turned and walked towards the nearby flying craft, only recently completed – not the chariot, but another vehicle Ninshubur, her apprentices and a team of workmen had constructed. It was a wooden platform about forty feet in length and twenty in width. Levitating mechanisms identical to those of the chariot were mounted at each corner of the rectangle, which was enclosed by a waist high safety rail.

Within an hour the flying platform had arrived at the site of the crashed chariot; Ninshubur, thanks to her occult senses, had been aware of all that had transpired. Reynolds grasped the knotted rope dangling from the vehicle’s side and hauled himself aboard the levitating craft. Semiramis helped him over the rail and he gave her a brief smile of thanks before turning his attention to the crowded deck.

It was packed with warriors armed with bronze axes, javelins and large rectangular shields. Their armor was different from the Sumerians of Reynolds’s reality. Each man wore a conical bronze helmet with neck, nose and cheek guards. Their bodies were protected by a short sleeved coat of toughened leather that flared from waist to mid shin and was reinforced with discs of bronze. Thick sandals, cross-gartered to below the knee, shod their feet.

Ninshubur stepped forward from her cluster of apprentices. Her presence showed the desperate nature of the situation. This was an all out do or die effort. If the foe couldn’t be stopped then Ur would inevitably fall to the invaders, despite King Shulgi’s preparations. The king wasn’t a happy man. He’d wanted to come, but knew he had to say behind and coordinate the resistance movement should their mission fail.

“Is the weapon ready?” enquired Ninshubur.

“Yes,” replied Reynolds. “The eye is focused upon the Sphere. I’ve done all I can.”

Nunshubur turned, signaled to her apprentices. Swiftly, the craft climbed skyward under their direction and flew towards the base of the invaders. In under half an an hour they had arrived at the scene. Reynolds, looking directly below, saw the camp was in a state of high alert. Heavily armed men lined the walls, some with binoculars while above circled the two remaining troop carriers, no doubt using their onboard radar to scan the heavens. The flying platform was shrouded in an occult field of distortion that concealed it from electronic surveillance, but this knowledge gave Reynolds little comfort. They were descending vertically form a great height, relying heavily on the element of surprise. But all someone had to do was look directly up and they’d be quickly spotted.

Lower and lower sank the flying platform – a thousand feet, five hundred, two hundred and fifty. Reynolds tensed as Ninshubur signaled to her apprentices. Two of the girls focused their occult powers. A spiked bronze sphere, three feet in diameter, rose from the deck as the levitating mechanism within its thick casing was activated. It plunged over the side like a hurtling meteor. It streaked along the ramparts of the camp smashing into men like a cannonball.

Soldiers screamed. Their mangled bodies were violently flung from the gabions. The corpses splattered against the ground in gory ruin. Machinegun fire from the walls chattered furiously, smashed into the platform. One warrior was hit. Half his head was blown away. The streaking sphere of spiky bronze avenged his brutal death. The platform thumped to earth between two sheltering buildings that cut off the gunner’s line of sight. Reynolds vaulted across the rails. The warriors swiftly followed shields raised, others carrying a battering ram. They charged towards the command centre.

Above, one of the troop carriers opened up with its heavier weaponry. 50 caliber rounds slammed into the charging warriors. Men died screaming. Semiramis gasped in fear as fountains of earth erupted at Reynolds feet. She cried an order. The spiked sphere streaked up and slammed into the troop carrier’s weapon, disabling it. The globe hurtled at the other craft, rammed into a propulsion pod. The vehicle spiraled down, crashed to earth well outside the compound.

Reynolds and his men didn’t falter in their charge. Failure wasn’t an option. It was vital they seize the command centre in order to force the surrender of the camp. Their goal was but yards away when an enemy platoon swept around the corner of the building to intercept them. Gunfire erupted. Six Sumerians fell lifeless to the earth in bloody ruin.

“Shield formation,” shouted Reynolds in utter desperation.

Warriors locked their rectangular shields to form a wall as two more tumbled screaming to the ground. Heavy slugs slammed against the occult hardened wood, bounced off as if it was thick steel. The Sumerians charged yelling ferocious battle cries. Axes swinging, they slammed against the foe.

A wild melee of chopping axes and thrusting bayonets erupted as the battering ram slammed against the door of the command centre. Semiramis looked on in consternation. Around the building’s further side other soldiers sprinted to fall upon Reynolds from behind. Ninshubur also saw the threat. Both women struck out with all their occult powers. The attackers staggered, clutched their heads and screamed in agony. They tumbled lifeless to the earth.

Semiramis sagged against the railing. “My powers are depleted to the point of ineffectualness,” she gasped to her mother who was also nearly spent. “Instead we must lend our strength of arms to the battle.”

Both women leapt across the rail swiftly followed by the tiring apprentices who quickly encircled them with shields held defensively. Above, the surviving troop carrier swept down upon them as they sprinted for the melee of battling men; in its open doorway stood a soldier, hand grenade at the ready.

With his shield Reynolds turned aside the thrust of his opponent’s bayonet. He struck savagely with his axe. Blood gushed as it sank deeply into the side of his foeman’s neck. The battle surged to and fro around him. Men screamed, swore, died. The ram crew continued their hammering of the heavy door. From the edge of vision he glimpsed a flash of movement.

Quickly Reynolds glanced. Fear struck him at the sight of the diving troop carrier. A soldier thrust at him, nearly ending his life. He chopped the man down, snatched his gun and fired. Streaking lead slammed into the troop carrier. The soldier in its doorway toppled backwards. The percussion grenade exploded within the vehicle. The machine veered away, smoke billowing from its open door. It crashed into the compound’s distant wall. The ship exploded thunderously as its power-cells, damaged by the impact, discharged their pent up energy. The shock-wave from the blast hurled friend and foe violently to earth.

Chapter 9: A New Beginning

Reynolds struggled up. He swore bitterly as he swayed unsteadily on his feet, his ears ringing from the terrific detonation. More soldiers were racing at him from the encampment’s further side, unaffected by the stunning blast. Looking about he saw his men were still unconscious. Spurring fear sent him staggering to the women’s side. With relief he saw that they were recovering – the wall of shields that had surrounded them had afforded some protection from the debilitating blast as had his own.

A bullet whined alarmingly above his head as he knelt by Semiramis. “The door – we’ve got to break it down,” he cried as he fired at the advancing foe, pinning them upon their bellies.

His companion nodded. The women stumbled to the ram. Struggling, they hauled it up and slammed its bronze clad tip against the stubborn barrier.

“Hurry up,” Reynolds yelled. Continuing to fire he raced to a corpse, snatched two grenades from the body of the soldier and pulled the pin of one as bullets flew all about him. A girl was struck. She screamed and fell lifeless to the earth. Reynolds swore. With all his strength he hurled the grenade at the vicious enemy. The soldiers madly scattered. The grenade exploded, its blast hurling several to the earth.

In the short pause of gunfire the women again slammed the ram against the dented door. It buckled. Another blow sent it crashing inward. Forewarned by Reynolds, the women leapt aside as the door collapsed. A burst of gunfire erupted from the breached portal – a narrow miss. Reynolds hurled the second grenade within the building. Its thunderous detonation quickly ended all resistance.

They piled into the smoking room as the enemy regrouped and slammed more slugs against the prefab’s outer wall. Corpses were strewn about within the building. Another door, not as robust, confronted Reynolds. He kicked it down and fired wildly into the room beyond, then hurled his body through the open way.

“Surrender and live,” he shouted to the survivors as his wild gaze, as fierce as an enraged tiger, swept the room. Reynolds’s eyes focused on a man he recognized – Major Ledin, second in command.

“Announce your surrender over the Base’s PA system,” he commanded. “Colonel Rawson is dead. You’re up against forces you don’t understand. You can’t hope to win.”

The major returned his gaze with steady hard eyed defiance.

“It’s you who won’t win,” he replied. “A gunship from our time has just come through the Sphere. It’s armed with a fifteen kiloton antimatter bomb. The crew has orders to destroy Ur. I am, however, prepared to be merciful. If you surrender I’ll countermand that order.”

Reynolds swore; doubly so as he heard the rush of feet behind him – the surviving soldiers outside were preparing to storm the building. It seemed all their plans had come to ruin. Then, suddenly, without warning, there was an intense flash of blinding light in the sky. Some of its actinic intensity seeped through the open door and filled the room with muted glare. The glare faded to ominous silence. Frozen military men stared at each other in horror. Then a boom sounded like that of a discharged shotgun. Upon its heels came a thunderclap swiftly followed by a sustained roar. The shockwave from the world shaking blast hit the building, and it trembled as if caught in the clutches of a tremendous earthquake.

Dust swirled through the breached door. Objects fell from shelves. People clutched desks, each other. Friend and foe alike were united in stark terror. After what seemed an age the frightful roar died and the shaking stilled. The room was silent, the faces of the enemy pale and stunned.

Reynolds was the first to recover. Swiftly, he stepped to Major Ledin and disarmed the shaken man, pressing the automatic to his head. The sight stilled the soldiers who came stumbling into the room from outside.

“Stand down and hear me out,” he ordered. Leden nodded shakily, and his men lowered their weapons.

“Your antimatter bomb seems to have gone off prematurely,” Reynolds calmly said. “If you’ve long range surveillance cameras point them in the direction of the Sphere. I think you’ll find the sight rather interesting.”

The major moistened his lips and gave the order. A large screen in the windowless room came to life and showed in the distance a billowing mushroom-shaped cloud towering into the sky. The camera’s telescopic capabilities were activated. The scene swelled, clarified. Of the Sphere there was no sign at all. The room was deathly still. Reynolds nodded to himself, his suspicions confirmed. He spoke:

“Our weapon destroyed your ship causing the bomb to detonate,” he explained. “The antimatter explosion destabilized the forces sustaining the Sphere. It’s gone for good. You’re trapped in this age,” he continued, addressing all his shocked foes. “You’ll eventually run out of ammunition and your equipment will break down over time. You have limited spare parts and no means of manufacturing more. The Sumerians outnumber you and have capabilities you’ve never dreamed of. This isn’t a fight you can win.

“But all isn’t lost,” he said, appealing to self-interest. “I have influence with Ur’s king. If you surrender peacefully I can ensure the humane treatment of all. No one will be tortured, executed or enslaved. All of you have skills and knowledge the Sumerians can use. Share this with them as equals rather than conquerors and you can earn a place in their society. Cut off from your own time this is your only hope of a decent life.”

Semiramis, who hadn’t been following the conversation as it was in English, wasn’t distracted. Her roving gaze spotted a dark figure in the dimly lit room. It was peering over a bank of instruments by the far wall. In the shadows the glitter of its cruel eyes had drawn her gaze. She started; then tensed as a shadowy hand appeared. In the clenched fist was the silhouette of a gun – a gun that pointed at Reynolds’s back.

Semiramis hurled her knife. The flying blade struck its mark. The figure screamed. The gun went off, its report deafening in the confines of the room. Pandemonium erupted. Assault rifles were raised, frightened jumpy men yelled, cursed. The situation was on a knife’s edge. Violence loomed like the black thunderhead of a gathering storm.

Reynolds yelled for silence. His voice cut through the chaos. Slowly, the tenseness eased, the soldiers settled. Semiramis walked to the corpse and disdainfully toed the lifeless body. It was with considerable satisfaction that she gazed upon the dead countenance of agent Black. She pulled her knife from his sightless eye and wiped it clean upon his shirt. For her justice had been done.

**********

Several days had passed. Major Ledin had seen sense and surrendered, and the invader’s base was now occupied by a large body of Ur’s soldiery. The would-be conquerors had been disarmed and were being treated humanely. The threat to this world was over. Reynolds, however, was in a somber mood despite the foe’s defeat.

He sat on a bench in a small courtyard garden adjoining the Academy of Sorcery, thinking of his own world. His native Earth was doomed due to unmitigated climate change. Billions would perish and there was nothing he could do about it. It was a somber thought and one that troubled him deeply. This world was much like Earth. Would history repeat itself here? These people were just as human, just as capable of all the folly that had destroyed the planet of his birth.

The arrival of Semiramis interrupted his bleak musings. Her appearance lifted the cloud of gloom that had settled on him, and her smile gladdened his heart.

“Come,” she said. “I have something I’d like you to see.” He returned her smile, stood and took her hand. They walked across the courtyard and entered the Academy of Sorcery, stepping within its spacious workroom.

On a long bench was a magical device – it was the scale model of the engine that turned the huge tympanum which lifted canal water to the ziggurat’s cisterns. The machine consisted of a vertically orientated bronze wheel mounted on a triangular cedar stand. The wheel, about twenty four inches in diameter, had eight spokes and eight amber spheres affixed equidistant around its circumference. These spheres were approximately three inches in diameter and each one was inlaid with an incredibly complex geometrical pattern in fine gold wire. The wheel rotated without any obvious source of natural motive power.

Reynolds remembered it. It was the first example of the magical technology he had seen, and even now the sight of it still amazed him. What was more amazing though was the fact that it was now connected to a dynamo, one of many items of equipment the invaders had brought with them. The dynamo spun rapidly and an electric current snapped between the spheres of the spark gap Semiramis had constructed.

In an instant Reynolds grasped the significance of what he saw. Here was a pollution free means of energy generation that could only be accomplished by the marrying of two technologies. A vision arose within his mind – huge flying ships gliding with swift silence above a wondrous metropolis of broad tree lined boulevards along which quietly rolled vehicles of strange design. The air was free of choking fumes, scented only by the flowers of the shading trees. The sky was bright azure, unmarred by smog or the effluvia of smoking industrial chimneys. Clean factories humming with power manufactured goods that gave prosperity to a happy people.

The prophetic vision faded. Perhaps it was a utopian dream, but the spinning dynamo before him gave promise of such fantastic possibilities. He would not live to see it of course, for that time was of the distant future far beyond the span of his existence. But his children’s children and so on, many times removed, might gaze upon such marvels in the flesh.

He turned to Semiramis and saw that she had caught something of his vision. They lovingly embraced. The world was bright and fresh, and filled with the wondrous promise of a new beginning.

THE END