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Jake took the proffered canvas flask and
gulped down the liquid.  Faivish did likewise and then he gave some to Sabre. 
It would be no use if their mount would perish.

‘We will have to travel slowly.  Sabre
must conserve her energy.  Speed would be too tiring especially after what
we’ve been through.  I suggest we eat something before we go on our way.’

He dipped into his bag and produced some
moist cake.

‘It’s not much, I know, but it is
sustaining and it will not increase your thirst.’

……………………………………………

Some short while later they were ready. 
They had one final swig of water each before setting off again into the
emptiness of the Desert of Peace; and it did live up to its name.  Nothing
moved other than the two travellers on their nalar.  All was quite peaceful.

The sun, however, was becoming ever hotter
and Jake could feel its rays beating down upon his unprotected head.  Faivish
for his part pulled his hoods over both his skulls and looked every inch an
Arab.

‘I have nothing you can use.’

‘What about the bag?’

‘But it carries our supplies.’

‘How much is there?  We ate all the cake
back there.  There cannot be that many bottles.  We’re not going fast.  If we
each hold some bottles I can put the sackcloth over me.’

Faivish agreed and distributed the three
remaining flasks so that he held two and Jake one.  He then tied a bundle of
small books to Sabre’s flanks.  Jake had been quite unaware that they had been
brought along in the first place.  And then, once again, they were off.  Now
Jake realised that it was he who looked most like the Arab in his sackcloth
head-dress. 

An hour later they were still plodding
through the unchanging sand.  Already another flask had been drunk and they had
started on a third.  It was clear that with the intensity of heat they were
suffering they would use all their water long before they reached the Lake of
Forgetfulness.  If there was no ship to provide them with supplies when they
arrived they would not stand a chance of surviving.

Faivish busied himself during the
monotonous journey by making silent prayers to his maker and by reading from
his selection of books.  Jake, however, could make nothing of them.  The
language was beyond him.

So, he was left to ponder on all those
uncertainties that faced him and hoped, assuming he survived, that the Haham
would have the answers he needed.

It was less than two hours later when they
caught their first glimpse of distant water.  Their flasks had already been
discarded and Jake could feel the dryness of the inside of his mouth.

‘Please, God,’ he cried, silently, ‘Help
me.’

There was no answer but Jake felt good for
all that.  How easy it was to call upon the Lord.  Here he was, a man who
barely believed in God, asking the Almighty for help.  It struck Jake even in
his desperation as being quite ironic.  But, if there were no God then what was
this quest all about?

It was a comforting thought.

At which point Sabre put on a burst of
speed.  She had obviously seen the water and was determined to reach it and
damn the consequences.  Like an arrow they thrust across the remaining desert
and it seemed that they had reached their destination in a single instant. 
Even as they did so Sabre’s legs collapsed beneath them and the two men rolled
off the back of their mount who had served them so faithfully.  She made no
indication that she would move again.

They were at the edge of the lake and some
way distant a sail showed against the horizon.  It was impossible to know where
it was heading.

‘I thought this was just a lake.  It looks
like the sea.’

‘It is a lake.  Do you not have inland
lakes in your world?  I am certain that I’ve seen them in most of your
countries.’

It was true, Jake knew.  Switzerland was
full of lakes that were like small seas.  So was the Lake District itself and
parts of Scotland.  Loch Ness was an obvious example.

The immediate problem, however, was
thirst.  Both of them were parched and the sun still shone with an unbearable
ferocity.  Unless they found some drinkable water fast they would not survive
the rest of the day.

‘But what of the lake?’

‘Drink that at your peril.  It is not
called the Lake of Forgetfulness for nothing.’

And then Faivish shouted as best he could
with parched lungs, ‘The ship.  It is coming closer.’

‘But where’s it going?  There’s no jetty
here.’

‘It patrols the entire shore line looking
for pilgrims to see the Haham.  It takes almost a day to complete its voyage.’

‘Are there many such pilgrims?’

‘Oh yes.  The Haham’s wisdom is much in
demand.’

‘And they all cross this desert?’

‘Of course not.  Unfortunately we took the
shortest route to escape the storm.  The children of Lilith could never cross
the Desert of Peace.’

‘So there are other approaches?’

‘Many.  In every direction.’

‘I see.  So the storm could still be out
there waiting for me.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then, let us pray that the ship is
quick.  If we are struck by the storm at sea we will be in extreme difficulty.’

A rowboat shortly arrived and Jake and
Faivish climbed in.  For poor Sabre there was nothing they could do.  She was
still alive but so weak.  Both of the men regretted leaving her this way but
there was no choice.  They could not even put the noble beast out of its
misery.  Sadly, it made a last farewell croon and they set out across the Lake
of Forgetfulness.

The ship that they ultimately boarded was
single masted with a square sail in the manner of sailing vessels of the
so-called Dark Ages.  It also sported a number of holes for oars like a Roman
galley.  Inside however it had comfortable seats for passengers and Jake was
quite content to watch the two-headed crewmen as they went about their
business.

A cry came from the crow’s nest and Jake
knew the worst.  A storm approached.  The children of Lilith were coming.

The crew came to life and just in time. 
Barely had they furled the sail when the first warm rain blew across the deck. 
The sky was becoming angrier and the wind roared with a sound of evil.

The Captain, a pleasant man, gruff in the
manner of seafarers everywhere, approached his passengers and Faivish warned
Jake to hide his ring.

‘You two are strangers.  You are a man
from Heled are you not?’

‘Heled?’ Jake queried but Faivish confirmed.

‘What business have you in our world?’

Again it was Faivish who took the
initiative.

‘We seek the Haham.  My friend seeks the
way to return to his world.’

The Captain nodded, ‘And you know nothing
of this storm?  It appeared when you boarded.’

‘No, nothing.’

‘I do not know.  It is rare to have
travellers from Heled.  What brings you to our world?’

‘I came searching for someone.  A woman
has been abducted and brought here.’

‘Then there are more of you.  I do not
like this.  This storm is unnatural.  Just look at that sky.’

As before it had taken on the pallor of
poison and the burning rain swirled in a mighty whirlwind.

The Captain turned back to his men and
organised their rowing but it was soon apparent that their fight was a lost
cause.  They could not hope to prevail against a wind like that.

A banshee screeched its warning and the
sailors huddled together in dread.

‘Who are you?’ asked the Captain, all
trace of pleasantness gone from his voice as he returned to Jake.

But the answering call came from the air
formed from the wind itself.  Rasping and dead, it did not use words but its
meaning was plain enough, ‘Destroy him and we shall let you live.’

‘The Children of Lilith.’

The Captain looked at Jake who stared back
at him dreading what he could see in his eyes.  The Captain wanted to save his
ship.  Jake was an impediment to that.  With a click of his finger the Captain
called over two of his men and without further instruction they grabbed at
Jake.  He tried to fight but they were easily a match for him.

Faivish stood there helplessly.

Jake felt himself lifted over the side and
being plunged into the warm and churning waters.  Instinctively he swam towards
the surface.

And then he felt the pull.  It came from
below.  Something was tugging him downwards into the depths of the lake.  He
held his breath but he could not do so forever.  He was sinking fast.

He had to breathe.  His lungs were
bursting.  He struggled but it was all to no avail.

There was nothing else he could do.  Jake
opened his mouth and felt the liquid flow down into his throat.  He coughed and
spluttered and resigned himself to his fate.

Ben Tiferet looked at Lapski as they stood
on either side of a drawing of the Sefirotic Tree that they had placed on the
floor.  It had been inscribed on four sheets of A3 copier paper that had been
stuck together with tape but the handiwork was hardly artistic.  It would do
for its purpose, however.

Shmueli, who was still in his trance, was
sitting next to Fiona on the sofa awaiting the beginning of the ceremony.  She
had not been too happy about the rearrangement of the furniture in her lounge
but her arguments had been ignored.

‘Are you ready, Professor?’

Ben nodded.  This was the most dangerous
experiment that he could contemplate but he knew that it was the only way.  He
was still uncertain of Lapski’s assertion that the En Sof was controllable.  It
had already successfully melded with the psychic Kevin Saint-George and that
might well have been all it needed to provide it with some semblance of life. 
If so it was probably ready to act alone in which case Mitch could be nothing
more than a tool of the creature; poor fellow.  Still the En Sof had to be
contacted if they were to have any hope of reaching Jake to explain to him his
mission.

Ben began to chant and his former student
echoed his words.

There was an immediate change.

It was subtle but, then again, it pervaded
everything.

Ben felt nauseous.  He wondered if the
others felt the same.  A twisting wrenching feeling and that unbearable taste
of bile that was a natural precursor to a vomiting attack.

His head throbbed.  An intense pain and
pressure above and behind his eyes.  This was just the way a migraine attack
had been described to him.

Blood raced.  His heart seemed to be
pumping at twice its normal speed.  Could it keep that pace without damage?  He
was not a young man after all.

Pounding in his chest, beating constantly.

Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum.  Dum-dum-dum-dum.

He felt so weak, so impossibly weak. 
Every muscle aching stiffly.

And then the laughter.

Hollow, mocking laughter.

He had to sit down.  Stop this before it
was too late.

And the light began to change.  An
illusion due to his dizziness?  No.  It was happening.  The air was thickening,
becoming opaque, clouding to a milky whiteness as something tried to form
itself out of its substance.

Ben took deep breaths.  Concentrated on
stabilising his metabolism.  He had to survive this encounter.  He had to learn
about this enemy of life itself.

It had happened so fast, so unbelievably
fast.  It was almost as if the En Sof had been expecting their call and maybe
it had.

And then, it was there, filling the room,
a monstrous thing that exacerbated all of Ben’s problems.  He tried to look at
it but he could not achieve focus.  The image spun; there was no point of
reference for his eyes.

Nothing made sense.  This being did not
fit into any known pattern of creation.

Ben closed his eyes.  Watching any longer
would have driven him mad.

Someone screamed.  Fiona, it had to be. 
Ben just hoped that she had the sense to shut out this impossible image and
retain her sanity.

Even with eyes closed he could still
imagine its form or a sane approximation of it.  There was no head, no body,
just one amorphous mass that rippled and undulated in no particular order.  It
had colour and then again it did not.  Hints of blue, red, purple, yellow, but
no more than hints.

And there was one thing more of which Ben
was conscious, now that his eyes were shut.  A smell, a malodorous scent that
irritated his nostrils.  It was like putrefaction, but then again it wasn’t. 
It stank like sulphur, only more so.

So this was the prototype for life, it was
no wonder that it had been discarded.

‘So, little humans,’ said a deep mellow
voice that increased the ache in Ben’s temples and seemed to emanate from every
direction at once, ‘You wish to speak to me yet you cannot bear to look at me. 
I find that amusing.  I will take on a form that you will find more to your
liking.’

Something twisted.  It was as if space and
time themselves were being wrung through a mangle and the flood of evil
sensations seemed to wash away.  Ben could breathe again.  His heartbeat
returned to normal.  The pressure on his head relaxed.  The smell departed. 
Was it safe to open his eyes?

‘Mitch?’

It was Fiona’s voice and Ben followed his
instincts.  Standing before them was none other than Mitch Mitchell or
something that appeared to be identical to him.

‘Is that really you?’  Lapski asked and
received no response other than an angry grimace.  If it was Mitch, then he was
still livid at the way he had been treated.

‘Mitch.  You don’t know me.  I am Ben
Tiferet.  I am...’

‘I know who you are.  So you’ve brought me
back.  Why?’

There was something wrong.  It was his
manner.  Whoever this being claimed to be it was not Mitch.  There was no point
in antagonising the creature, however.  It had enormous power and Ben was not
ready for a confrontation.

‘We need your help.’

Mitch laughed mirthlessly.

‘I'm flattered.  Why should I help you? 
You have betrayed me.  All of you.’

Which sounded like Mitch’s sentiments. 
Was this some effect of the symbiosis of the two?

‘Listen to me.  If we are to save you we
need the remaining crystals.  Jacob Tranton must be brought here with them. 
You must contact him and tell him what to do.’

If that was Mitch he would refuse.  The En
Sof, however, knew the truth of the statement.

‘No.’

So it was Mitch.

And then the man’s face contorted in
agony.

‘Yes,’ he said when his muscles relaxed,
‘I will help you.’

‘Good.  You must return to the Tevel and
find Jake.  You must help him to travel to the Arka where three of the crystals
lie.  With his natural affinity he will locate them.  Tell him of the dangers
he will face.  The last two crystals are in the Adamah and the Eretz
respectively.  You must help him.’

‘I will help him.’

‘Thank you.’

‘No, mortal.  Thank you.  You have
liberated me.  You have given me freedom to move throughout the worlds
including your own.  I have enough human energy within me to survive and I
shall survive.  I will bring you the crystals and this Jacob Tranton and the
process will be complete.  I thank you.’

A flash of blinding white and Mitch, or
the thing that was using his body, vanished.  Ben could not help sighing with
relief but he was worried by that final thanks.  What did the creature mean? 
Was it no longer bound by Lapski?  Was it a free agent able to roam at will
through all the worlds including our own?  The En Sof had no particular love of
life on Earth which it regarded as a usurper.  It could do untold damage if it
were so inclined.

Ben tried to suppress the thought.  It was
not a pleasant one in the slightest.

‘So that,’ he challenged his former
student, ‘Is the En Sof.  And you really thought that you can control it? 
You’re a fool, Alex.  A complete idiot.’

‘Professor!’

‘No.  You listen to me.  That thing is
beyond the control of any of us.  It must be stopped.  Once it gets what it
wants it will have no use for you, me, or the rest of this universe. 
Everything will be destroyed and all because of your ambition.’

‘No, Professor.  You’re wrong.  Believe
me.  I know what I’m doing.’

‘Do you?  We’ll see, won’t we?  At the
moment it has reason to do what we want.  It needs us, but later…?  I just
don’t know.

‘Now.  Shouldn’t we do something about
young Mister Isaacson?  He’s still in that trance.  Someone’s going to be
asking questions.’

‘You’re right, of course.  I’ll release
him but I’ll make him forget everything that ever happened.’

………………………………………….

Rabbi Yisroel Tashlich could make nothing
of what he was hearing.  The three young men all told him the same story.  Last
night they had left Shmueli downstairs when they went to bed.  They all awoke
several hours later and found themselves in the company of three strangers; two
men and a woman.  Of Shmueli there was absolutely no sign and the boys could
give no real description of their visitors.  They were far too confused.

They were certain, however, that something
had gone missing at the same time as Shmueli.  His Kiddush cup.  The Rabbi
snorted in anger.  That told him what he wanted to know.  So Professor Benjamin
Tiferet had come to Shmueli after all.  He had warned Shmueli not to get
involved with that
apicorus
; don’t say the boy hadn’t listened.

On being questioned Asher remembered that
another stranger had been due to visit Shmueli last night.  A guy named Mitch
Mitchell from the local paper.  Apparently it was something to do with
Shmueli’s
shiksa
ex-girlfriend.  Asher even vaguely remembered the
doorbell ringing as he went to bed.

So that gave three avenues for enquiry. 
Ben Tiferet, Mitch Mitchell and Shmueli’s ex; Cherry Linford, if the Rabbi
remembered correctly.  There had to be a connection.

‘All right,’ he announced, ‘I’ll see what
I can do.  If this has something to do with Kabbalah it’s better not to involve
the police.  I think I’ll do some digging of my own.  See what I can learn. 
Okay?’

No-one demurred.

Rabbi Tashlich was ready to begin
investigations.  He would start with Cherry Linford.  See what she might know. 
It should not be too difficult to learn her address.