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Authors: R. D. Brady

BOOK: The Belial Origins
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CHAPTER 62

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

W
hen the world stopped swirling, Gerard still felt the anger and grief that had enveloped him as he’d sat on the riverbank holding the bodies of his children. He relived killing Samyaza, the feel of Samyaza’s blood running through his hands. But even that did not dull the ache caused by the loss of Kyra, Arya, and Peter.

He was back in the present time. Ahead of him, Elisabeta turned to look at Max.

“Where are we going?” Elisabeta demanded.

“To Qasr Antar. It’s just up here,” Max said, pointing forward.

Qasr Antar—the temple found at the highest elevation of the ancient world
, Gerard thought.

Then he looked around in confusion. No one had even looked his way. Why was no one asking him what had happened?

“They do not realize you have seen anything,” Victoria said softly.

Gerard’s grief was still fresh. “What… what
was
that?”

Victoria looked at him quietly for a moment. “You know what that was. It was
you
. It was what your leader did to you when you made your own choice rather than follow him blindly.”

Gerard shook his head but said nothing. Was this some kind of trick? It didn’t feel like a trick. It was as if a door had been opened in him—a door that now refused to close.

He walked forward to where Elisabeta stood.

Max walked away from them, heading to the northwest corner of what had once been the temple. He pointed to an array of rocks. “It’s under there.”

Two men started forward to move them, but Gerard waved them away, stepping forward himself. Emotions churned through him and he needed the physical activity. He grabbed the first boulder and tossed it away like a Tinkertoy. Several more boulders quickly followed. Underneath was a small cavern only a few feet deep.

Gerard squinted. “There’s something in here.” He reached down and pulled out a stone tablet. And the moment he touched the tablet, a memory appeared, intact, in his mind: he saw himself chiseling it out and placing it here after he had buried his wife, his children, and the rest of the village. He hadn’t buried Samyaza and his troops. He’d left them to rot.

Gerard knew that in 1869, Sir Charles Warren had split this tablet in two, taking half to the British Museum. On that half, an ancient message had been inscribed:
According to the command of the greatest and Holy God, those who take an oath proceed from here.

Gerard’s hand gripped the edge of the stone and crumbled it.

“Careful!” Elisabeta barked.

An image of Samyaza covered in his family’s blood entered Gerard’s mind. He swallowed down the anger and schooled his features.

Then he stood and handed the stone tablet to Elisabeta. It was written in Greek. It said,
Go forth and live the lives we were promised. Fulfill the roles we were meant to play.
In his grief, Gerard had written it to remind his brothers of why they had come.

Gerard remembered this, but he knew that in this life he could not read Greek. So he looked at Elisabeta. “What does it say?”

“That we are the chosen ones,” she said. “That this world belongs to us. That we should have dominion over all.” She nodded at Max, narrowing her eyes. “A good reminder, but also a stall. Where is the book?”

Max ducked behind Victoria. Elisabeta reached for him.

“No.” Victoria clutched Max to her, but another guard grabbed her and pulled her away.

Max looked at Gerard, his eyes huge. But Gerard saw another child’s eyes. Without thinking, he rushed to Max and pulled him into his arms.

Elisabeta stepped back, her eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

“The boy is already scared. It will be easier to get the information out of him if we do not scare him further.”

Elisabeta studied Gerard curiously for a moment, then glanced back at the tablet. “And that is the
only
reason you are protecting him?”

Gerard forced a scowl to his face and scoffed. “Protecting him? Hardly. We need answers, that is all.”

Elisabeta paused. Gerard held his breath. Finally, she waved her hand. “Very well. Get what we need and bring him down when you’re done.”

Gerard nodded as Elisabeta gestured for the guard to take Victoria with them. Gerard watched them go before he turned to Max. Blue eyes watched him seriously. “I need you to tell me where we go next,” Gerard said.

“India,” Max replied without hesitation.

“That’s where the tree is?”

Max shook his head. “No. That’s where the book is. It will tell you where the tree is.”

Gerard looked out over the valley. He remembered when he and his brothers had first arrived here. He remembered the heady rush of freedom. He remembered Kyra. He closed his eyes and took a trembling breath. Opening them, he spoke, not looking at Max. “Why was I shown that?”

Max leaned his head on Gerard’s shoulder. “Your path is not set. You can’t choose a side without knowing both sides of your history.”

Gerard looked down at this strange little boy. “But I
have
chosen. I have chosen my brothers. I have chosen Samyaza.”

Max’s large eyes studied him. “Have you really?”

Gerard turned away. He’d chosen long ago. But his family’s faces pulled at him. He remembered the love, the contentment. And he knew he had not felt that way before—or since. In this life, Elisabeta had found him when he was a teenager, just come into his powers. And he’d chosen to stay with her. After all, she had shown him what he was capable of.

Gerard hefted Max up higher and began the long walk down the mountain. “I have made my choice,” he repeated.

But even in his mind, the little’s boy’s words haunted him.
Have you really?

CHAPTER 63

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

W
hen Laney and Ralph reached McCarran Airport, Jake and Henry were already there, waiting for them, and the Chandler jet was ready to go. Laney and Ralph boarded, and they were on their way.

Once settled on the plane, Laney called Clark and found that, by some miracle, they had a safe house in that part of India, although it currently wasn’t staffed. It did have an up-to-date medical suite though. Laney swallowed, hoping they wouldn’t have to avail themselves of that particular service.

Clark also had agents based in Europe, Asia, and Africa, and he’d sent them on their way to the site as well. Hopefully they could get to the temple before the Fallen. So far there hadn’t been any reports of any problems in the temple.

But the Fallen had now had Max for over twenty-four hours. If he told them right away where the book was, they’d have a huge head start. Laney prayed that somehow Max and Victoria had been able to stall.

Jake closed his phone and Laney looked over. “Jordan and Jen are getting the second group together. They’ll be a few hours behind us,” he said.

Laney sighed. She wished they were closer, but it couldn’t be helped. “Okay.”

Jake took her hand. “So what’s the archangel like?”

Laney pictured Drake in his leather pants. “Not what you’d expect.” She told Jake about Drake, starting with his show and ending with their goodbyes back at the Illustra.

“So you got into a fight at a biker bar?”

Laney grinned. “With a surprisingly friendly group of guys. Well,
after
the fight, at least.”

But then her smile dropped as the conversation with Drake at the Illustra floated through her mind. “He wouldn’t help us, Jake. The world is spiraling out of control. We could be dealing with an immortal Fallen, and he wouldn’t help. I don’t get it.”

Jake remained silent.

Laney looked over at him. “You agree with him.”

Jake sighed. “He’s a soldier. He’s following orders.”

“But that’s not right. He should—”

“Laney, the military works because soldiers don’t question orders. They do what they’re told because they know they don’t have all the information—and because they trust that the role they play in things is important. I’m guessing it’s the same for the angels.”

Laney tried to interrupt, but Jake continued. “I mean, let’s play this out. Drake jumps in to help us. It becomes a slippery slope. Let’s say we succeed and protect the tree. What happens if the archangels start disobeying orders and one day one of them stops guarding the tree? Think of the danger to the world! The battle would be never-ending.”

A part of Laney knew Jake was right. But she still couldn’t help but think that having two archangels on their side could tip things in their favor. “I don’t know. I still wish he was helping us.”

“I know. But we’ll play the cards we’ve been dealt.”

Laney sighed.
What other choice do we have?

Jake went back to reviewing the information on the Sree Padmanabhaswamy Temple that the SIA had forwarded them. But Laney was too keyed up to focus on that right now. The flight time from Las Vegas to India was supposed to be close to twenty hours, although the pilot had said he might be able to shave a few hours off if they were lucky. Laney hoped the time would pass quickly.

She turned in her seat and looked back at the rest of their group. Ralph sat quietly, staring out the window. He looked calm, but his hands were curled into fists in his lap. Henry sat near him, but the air between the two was still strained.

Farther back, Laney’s uncle was sitting with Kati and Maddox. Kati’s presence had been a surprise when Laney had met up with the group at the Las Vegas airport. But Kati had refused to be left behind—and Laney couldn’t blame her.

Her uncle and Kati sat with their heads bowed, their hands clasped together. Kati was saying something quietly, and even though Laney couldn’t hear the words, she knew the prayer.
Hail Mary Full of Grace, the Lord is with thee.

Turning away, Laney closed her own eyes, offering her own informal prayer.
God, please take care of Max. He’s just a little boy.

She opened her eyes and looked out the window, unsure if her plea had had any effect. She knew she didn’t
feel
any more assured of a positive outcome. You would think that with everything that was happening— all the Biblical tales that were being substantiated—her faith in the existence of God would have increased. But she had a hard time believing He was around when all these horrible things kept happening.

A hand on her shoulder pulled her from her thoughts. Her uncle sat down across from her and Jake. “Are you all right?”

Laney sighed. “Not really. How’s Kati?”

“She’s…” Patrick paused, searching for the right word. “She’s dealing. She knows everyone here will do everything in their power to get Max back. And she’s trying to hold it together. But it’s difficult.”

It’s difficult.
What a simple statement. It had been the motto for Laney’s life since all of this had begun. Laney nodded but didn’t say anything. After all, what was there to say?

Next to her, Jake had pulled up a schematic of the Sree Padmanabhaswamy Temple on his cell. Laney glanced over, looking for a distraction.

Jake nodded toward his phone. “So what’s so special about this temple?”

“Actually, a lot,” Laney said. “In fact, recently it’s received a lot of media attention. Hold on a sec.” She pulled out her own phone and quickly brought up an aerial picture of the temple. It was seven stories high and rimmed in lights. Laney flipped to another view, and the human figures painstakingly carved into each story of the temple became clear.

“Have either of you ever been inside?” Jake asked.

Laney shook her head.

“No. Only Hindus are allowed inside,” Patrick said.

Jake glanced between the two of them. “You two would love to get a glimpse, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Laney said, looking at the amazing designs that rimmed the building. “For the architecture alone.”

The temple was considered an incredible example of Dravidian architecture—pyramid-shaped temples made of sandstone, soapstone, or granite that were popular in southern India. It was reported that the temple had incredible murals and a gallery of deities, and that one corridor was supposed to hold 365 intricately carved granite columns.

Laney might not have ever been inside it, but she had read up. The temple was dedicated to the god Vishnu—the Protector, one of the three main deities of Hinduism. Vishnu was often depicted as having blue skin and four arms, and was usually shown holding a lotus flower. Laney couldn’t help but note the commonality with the statue that was alleged to have been in the cave in the Grand Canyon. It, too, had been holding a lotus flower.

Laney pointed at the schematic on Jake’s phone. “Beyond the thick walls surrounding the temple lie, among other things, an eighteen-foot statue of Lord Padmanabhaswamy reclining. For centuries, the devout have left offerings to Vishnu there. They’ve been collected in vaults on the temple grounds.”

“Who built it?” Jake asked.

Patrick answered. “It was allegedly built by a sage who received a visit from Vishnu in the guise of a troublemaking child. The child defiled a statue, and the sage ran him off. Later, the sage searched for the boy. When he found him, the boy changed into an Indian butter tree. The tree was immense and fell down. It was allegedly eight miles long.”

Laney remembered when she’d first read of the temple and its origin. “The sage begged for Lord Padmanabhaswamy to shrink the tree—which was an image of the reclining Vishnu—so that he could see him better. A temple was later built on that spot, and within the temple walls is that statue of the reclining Vishnu.”

“Do you believe that’s true?” Jake asked Patrick.

Patrick smiled. “Well, the last two years have taught me to have a healthy respect for ancient stories. It is true that the origins of the temple itself are unknown. As to when the encounter between Vishnu and the sage occurred, no one is sure. Some scholars argue that the Sree Padmanabhaswamy Temple was the Golden Temple referred to in Tamil literature, which would date its origin to possibly as early as five hundred BCE. But others argue that it’s closer to five thousand years old.”

Jake turned to Laney. “You mentioned it was in the press recently.”

Laney nodded. “The temple has been under the stewardship of the Travancore family for centuries. In 1750 the family offered themselves to the deity as servants who would take care of the temple.”

Patrick smiled. “But there have been some concerns raised by different groups that the Travancores have been failing in their duty. As a result, some people called for an audit of the temple and all its wealth. And they found much more than they expected.”

“Had some of the wealth gone missing?” Jake asked.

Laney shook her head, and Patrick waved her on. “Actually, the opposite. They found over twenty-two billion dollars’ worth of treasure in two vaults in the basement of the temple.”

Jake’s mouth fell open. “Twenty two
billion
? How’s that even possible?”

“In the Hindu religion, people offer wealth to the deities when they petition them for help. The Travancores have been storing all of Vishnu’s wealth in the vaults. Not to mention the wealth received from neighboring kingdoms,” Patrick said.

“And it’s all been just sitting there?” Jake asked.

Patrick nodded.

“But that wasn’t even the most interesting find,” Laney said. “There was a third unknown vault in the basement.” Laney paused, realizing that it was this third vault that they probably needed to get to. She pictured the vault and the mystery surrounding it.
I wonder if…

“The third vault?” Jake prodded.

“Right, sorry. They’ve been unable to open it so far.”

“And some people say they
shouldn’t
open it,” Patrick added.

“Why not?” Jake asked.

“The vault door allegedly has no handles, no noticeable locks. It’s simply a heavy door that no one seems to know how to open,” Patrick said.

“Can’t they just drill it?” Jake asked.

“I’m sure they could,” Patrick said. “But even then there are concerns. You see, two entwined snakes are carved into the door.”

“A warning.”

“Yes. And people are taking that warning seriously. Even the man who originally sued to have the temple audited died before the door could be opened.”

Laney chimed in. “Of course, he was in his seventies, so that might be completely unrelated.”

“People are drawing parallels with the legends of the curses on ancient Egyptian tombs,” Patrick said.

“So what will happen if the vault is opened?” Jake asked.

Laney and Patrick exchanged a look. “I’m not sure,” Laney said slowly. “But it’s probably a good idea if we don’t let that happen.”

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