The Crystal Clipper (6 page)

Retracing David's steps, Ishtar and Judiah inspect the path where David had been accosted the previous day.

“You see, Ishtar, this is the path I cleared. It's nowhere near the Palace boundary. The boy must have wandered off his course.”

“Yes, possibly,” Ishtar says, considering Judiah's conclusion. “But he swears he followed your directions. Could there be an opening you didn't see? Perhaps an animal tore away the brush.”

“Possibly - possibly.” Judiah's tone suggests they not consider this possibility at all.

“Or,” Ishtar says, creating another scenario, “the guards knew that David would be walking alone and deliberately led him into a trap by diverting the path.”

“But how could they know, Ishtar? We were the only ones…Oh, no, surely you don't suspect that I… Ishtar, we are friends too long. I am insulted.”

Judiah's exaggerated indignation and pouty face are almost comical, leading Ishtar to wave his hand in dismissal. “Calm yourself, Judiah. I am not accusing you. I'm merely trying to solve this puzzle.”

“Of course, of course,” Judiah responds with a slightly giddy laugh. “I know you are under great strain because of Saliana.” He pauses a moment, then couches his words. “You know, Ishtar, what do we really know of this David Nickerson? How do we know he can be trusted?”

Now Ishtar is irritated. “What are you implying?”

“Perhaps he was not ambushed at all. Perhaps he lied.”

“And why would the boy lie?”

“To throw us off, to keep us from discovering his real reason for coming to the Island.”

Ishtar looks at Judiah squarely, his tone blunt. “And just what would that be?”

“To take Saliana away with him - away from you - forever.”

Later, David helps Ishtar light a series of candles in his cave to cast extra light on his worktable. Ishtar arranges his tools carefully on the table then spreads out a bolt of white cloth that has the texture and suppleness of doeskin. Ishtar holds out his hand. “Give me your pouch of crystals, David.” David does.

Ishtar spreads the stones out on top of the fabric and examines each one of them with a gem cutter's eye glass.

“Do you really think this will work?” David asks.

“It will, if the gridwork pattern is properly constructed.”

“If you recall,” David says, his tone ironic, “it was a gridwork pattern that got me into this predicament.”

“But this time,” the older man replies with a wise twinkle, “you will be wearing it.” As they converse, Ishtar cuts a section of the cloth into a tunic and begins fitting it to David's body, making tailor's marks in strategic places with a piece of colored chalk.

“The stones will be sewn into this garment, one on each apex of the four triangles.”

“Four triangles? Holy cow. That means twelve points – a
double
Star of David.”

“Twice as powerful,” Ishtar says, pointing the chalk at David with emphasis, “as the gridwork pattern that transported you here.”

“Holy cow. I could wind up on the moon. Or Venus!”

Ishtar laughs jovially. “A mere stone's throw away from your United States. You are already farther into the Universe's dimensions than that.”

David's face registers shock, surprise, then elation. “Farther than Venus? What do you mean? Where am I?”

Ishtar uses a delicate touch to chisel and cut each crystal to the desired size and shape. He pauses now and then, not speaking so that he can concentrate on the exacting task. One slip and the crystal would crumble into powder.

“Where do you think you are?”

David shrugs and exhales a hard breath, as if to say he hasn't the faintest idea. “Frankly, I think this whole thing is a dream. Or maybe I'm out of my mind.”

“Ah. Perfect cut,” Ishtar says, complimenting his own handiwork. He then sets the chiseled crystal aside and picks up another one. “Whether it's a dream,” he says after a moment, “or an illusion, or all in your mind, doesn't matter. They are all merely different levels of the same consciousness.”

“Please. No more riddles.” David makes a weary plea. “Tell me the truth, Ishtar. Where am I?”

Ishtar lays down his tools and gazes piercingly into David's eyes. The look seems to consider whether or not David is ready to hear the truth, or even comprehend it. He ventures forth.

“The Star of David gridwork is a sacred geometric form. Each point in the star represents the ideals to which man aspires on their highest level. The top three points,” Ishtar explains as he touches each apex, “are Mercy and Justice with Power at the center apex. The bottom three are Love and Wisdom with Truth at the center point. Triangle upon triangle, laid in opposite directions, weaves these principles into a tapestry of interactive forces. Had you known what you were doing when you invoked its power, you would now exist in a state of dynamic equilibrium between your earthly self and your higher self.”

“Dynamic what?” David is truly nonplussed, his expression vacant.

“A state of total enlightenment, my boy, where knowledge is infinite and mysteries are solved in a miniscule particle of time.” Ishtar's face illuminates at the wonder of it all. Then, it registers surrender to the circumstances. “But, since you are here by accident and not by design -”

“I'm in some sort of etheric limbo.”

“We call it the hole in reality.”

“You mean like a black hole?”

“No.” Ishtar resumes cutting and polishing the crystals. “A black hole is a phenomenon of astronomical space, measurable by physical science. A hole in reality is a psychic phenomenon, measurable only by your own metaphysical awareness.”

Ishtar adjusts the fit of the tunic on David's shoulders and ties off a basting stitch, then motions for David to remove the garment.

David shakes his head and scratches it, completely bewildered. “This is all too confusing for me.” Then, the enormity of the situation clicks in and David nods, his emotions deflating. “I screwed up, didn't I?”

Ishtar begins to draw the gridwork pattern on the tunic, marking where each of the twelve crystals is to be sewn. “In prosaic terms, yes.”

“Great. Now what?”

“Now,” Ishtar says with bold encouragement, “we correct the 'screw up' and reverse the dynamics of the situation. That's why I doubled the gridwork pattern.”

As David watches Ishtar work deftly and intently, an unexpected feeling of affection and admiration for this man fills his heart. Ishtar is so much like his father, with that same unyielding dedication to his craft, the same meticulous attention to the smallest detail.

“You know, it's funny,” David ruminates aloud, “how your problems are so similar, yours and my dad's. He feels like it's his fault Sally can't walk, and you feel guilty about Saliana being up in that tower. All because your work meant more to both of you than anything else. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were the same person, or brothers at least.”

“We are all interconnected, David. Kindred souls who touch time and time again under different circumstances, for different reasons.”

“And sometimes by accident,” David says glumly, referring to himself. “Ishtar - did I - did my botched experiment with the grid patterns cause your problems? The Snake, Saliana being captive, and all that?”

Ishtar places a fatherly hand on David's shoulder. “No, no, my boy. We merely had an inter-dimensional collision. It happens often, causing destinies to become intertwined in unexplainable ways. Perhaps it is really our good fortune, and not our dilemma.”

David moves his own hand up to touch Ishtar's in a mutual gesture of kinship. Their eyes meet and, in that moment of time, the bond between them is fixed throughout eternity.

In a few hours the gridwork pattern is finished, except for one final and crucial crystal. Ishtar picks up a stone that looks like broken charcoal and holds it up to the candlelight. It is translucent in spite of its dark color.

“This is a piece of Moldavite,” Ishtar informs David, “the last one of its kind on the Island.” As he sews it into the tunic with a gold thread, his admonition is foreboding. “You must not lose the Moldavite, especially if you encounter the High Priestess Jaycina. It is your only means of communication with me and Dorinda.”

“Communication? How?”

“David, how did you lose your hearing?”

“I had otosclerosis when I was seven. The doctors operated several times, but my left ear never responded. My right ear can hear only very loud noises or speech, even with my hearing aid.”

“Seven years old. This is why you still speak so well,” Ishtar concludes. “There's barely any indication of a speech impediment. Tell me, is your hearing loss sensorineural or conductive?”

“Both, but mostly sensorineural. The sounds get into my inner ear, but my brain can't quite interpret them.”

“But here, you can hear normally. This is good. It means you are vibrationally attuned to the Island's frequency, and it means that the Moldavite will work quite well. You know, of course, that crystals are used to control radio frequencies in electronic equipment.”

“Yes. In fact, I have an old crystal set my grandfather left me. It still works,” David says casually. Then it occurs to him, “But - how do you know about electronic equipment?”

“Never mind that now,” Ishtar says brusquely, indicating this is not the time to change the subject. “The Moldavite's power to transmit and amplify sound is superior. This means that you will be able to hear me speak to you, word for word, through your hearing instrument which will be picking up the Moldavite's sound vibrations.

“But if you lose contact with us,” Ishtar forewarns David, “you will be completely at Jaycina's mercy, and she has none. She will try to beguile you, seduce you with her beauty. If this fails, she will bewitch you, and your eyes will be unable to see what your heart knows is true.”

Ishtar ties off the sewing thread and helps David put on the tunic. His costume is now complete, having already relinquished the white deck pants, blue jersey and sneakers that were ruined in his fall. Now David wears the suede boots and snug pants that Dorinda tailored for him and, topped by the crystal-laden tunic, he feels an inner power he has never experienced. But then an obvious, disturbing thought occurs to him.

“But what if Jaycina sees the crystals - the gridwork?”

Ishtar holds up another garment, emerald green in color made of a sturdy woven fabric. “You will wear this vest over it to conceal it.” Ishtar places his hand over David's heart. “As long as Jaycina does not touch you here, the Moldavite will stay intact.”

David slips on the vest and laces up the front. Next, Ishtar shows David a ring with a large, clear, pyramid-cut stone. It shall be his ultimate weapon against Jaycina's inscrutable powers.

“Jaycina wears a white diamond ring that looks like this,” Ishtar briefs David. “If you are detected and caught, you must somehow find a way to remove her diamond ring and replace it with this one. When it has worked its magic, it will turn blue and you will know her heart has found Truth - the one force Jaycina is powerless against.”

Ishtar gives David the pyramid ring, which he recommends stay hidden in the cuff of David's boot. Then he hands David the most precious gem of all. “Don't forget this. Your Singer.”

David holds the treasured crystal in his hand for a moment, wistfully recalling the first moment he saw it. How he wishes he was back home in his own living room when any thoughts of mystical adventures were merely fantasies. He places the Singer in the tunic's pocket.

When Judiah enters Ishtar's cave, Ishtar's eyes narrow suspiciously, but he does not give voice to the doubts that have been plaguing him. After all, he did ask Judiah to report to him regarding David's accessibility to the Prism Palace. He has no choice but to risk the mission to rescue Saliana on Judiah's professed loyalty.

“I have timed the sequence of the patrol,” Judiah announces to Ishtar, with a slight inflection of self-importance. “When the rituals are taking place, the guards do not patrol the path. They guard the temple.”

“Good. This will enable David to cross the perimeter undetected.”

“Yes, Ishtar. There are fewer men available to check the grounds.” Then, to David, “When one sentry goes by, that will be your chance to scale the Palace wall.” His tone softens to shades of feigned comradeship. “Good luck, lad. I will be close by at all times to help if you should need me. But you won't be able to see me. Just know that I am there.”

David makes his way carefully along the path to the Palace grounds, then halts just outside the forbidden zone and conceals himself in the brush. A sentry walks by on his patrol, then disappears from view. Knowing this is his chance, David sprints across the grounds to the Palace courtyard. Unlike the view of the Palace he first glimpsed from across the meadow, one of spectacular radiance, this side of the Palace is dim and shadowy, like the dark side of the moon.

Hovering low to the ground, David creeps along the west exterior trying to get as close to the Tower as possible before attempting to enter. At last, he sees the Tower straight above his head. But how in the world can he get up there?

He feels around for some grooves in the surface to grab on to so he can scale the walls. But the facade is slick and smooth and impossible to climb.

“Oh, great. This is like climbing a wall of ice,” he grumbles. Why can't it be like a real medieval castle, he thinks, with some ridges to dig his boots into? Then, something along the side of the wall catches David's eye and he walks toward it.

“Oh, no way. A rope? This is almost too good to be true.”

He looks around warily. The landscape around him is still and dead quiet. Not a sound, not a sense of anything moving nearby. Too good or not, David grabs onto the rope and jumps up, letting it take his full weight. He jumps back to the ground.

It just might work, he decides.

Once again, David grabs onto the rope and pulls himself up onto it. Inch by inch, he painstakingly climbs its full length toward the window of the Tower.

From an obscure nearby place, Judiah and a sentry stand together watching David scale the Tower wall using the conveniently-placed rope.

“Good work,” Judiah commends the sentry. “The boy is in. Jaycina will take over from here. Be certain you're not detected by anyone when you cut down the rope.”

Accepting the few pieces of gold Judiah offers him, the sentry nods stoically then rushes off.

Exhausted from the climb, David glances down at the ground below and tries to steady himself on the window ledge. A sudden wave of vertigo sets his head spinning. His lunch threatens to regurgitate. He leans his head against the portal and, remembering a little trick his mother taught him, David presses his palms together in a prayer-like gesture. He stares intently at the vertical line of his hands. In a moment his dizziness subsides.

Exhaling deeply, relieved, David steps off the window ledge and into the Tower. Remembering the Moldavite, he places his hand over his heart and speaks in a forced whisper. “Ishtar. Ishtar, if you can hear me, I'm inside the Palace up in the Tower.”

In his cave dwelling, Ishtar's nervous waiting for David's voice is over. He holds a large quartz crystal, which is curved and hollowed like a conch shell, up to his ear.

Elation fills his voice. “He made it! He's in the Palace Tower.” Dorinda huddles close to Ishtar's crystal earphone trying to hear for herself.

David strains to hear something, anything, in return from Ishtar. Then, faintly, it comes through. “I am receiving you, David. Can you hear me, my boy?”

“Holy cow!” David is amazed to hear Ishtar's voice through his hearing aid. “Yes, I can hear you.”

“Good. Wonderful. Now, carefully, go and look for Saliana.”

Stealthily, David moves further ahead into gleaming hallways of the Tower, each surface as slick as the Palace wall. Were it not for his sturdy boots, he surmises, he surely would go slipping and sliding across the floor as though it were an ice arena.

Then, he hears it, something oddly familiar. But he cannot connect it to any recollection. A few more steps and the sweet sounds of Saliana playing the harp and singing fill the air:

“I know a place where the Moon Dancers waltz

In gossamer gowns and slippers of stardust.

On velvety royal blue carpets of nighttime

They step light as air to the music of wind songs…”

He tiptoes into the room behind Saliana. She does not hear him and continues singing:

“Moon Singer, Moon Singer, take to the sea,

Fly on the wind where the sky used to be.

Moon Singer, Moon Singer, take me along.

Keep me safe in your light till I find my way home.”

Entranced with her singing, David clumsily trips on something underfoot. Startled, Saliana turns to see him. Her breath catches in her throat.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?”

David stares at her, blankly, captivated by her fragile loveliness. If he had not heard her angelic singing for himself, he would never have believed that this delicate girl's music held such divine powers.

“That's the most beautiful song I've ever heard,” David tells her, still not connecting her music to the song he heard the day Sally disappeared. Recognizing the questioning look in her large brown eyes, he announces, “Your father sent me.”

At once alarmed and elated, Saliana moves toward David. “My father sent you? Is he - is he all right? Nothing's happened?”

“No, no. He's fine,” David assures her. He wonders why he can't stop staring at her. Then he notices the rose crystal pendant she wears around her neck, and it hits him.

“You look so much like Sally. Just like Sally.”