weak.
The first rule of desert travel is to never allow your mind to wander, as this is the first sign of submission to heat exhaustion. One day from water when I was seeing mirages everywhere, I knew I was fading, but I said nothing to Hamilton, who had taken less food and water than I had.
I recall reaching the point where I could not take another step. Dizziness overcame me and beyond that, I draw a blank.
Thus, I leave it to my husband, Lord Hereford, to recount what followed.
My wife was not dead when she collapsed, but I knew the reaper was not far afoot, for either of us.
I also knew that the well was only hours away—all I had to do was keep walking.
If I placed my wife on the camel, I knew it would collapse too. The only thing for it was to carry Clarissa. I wrapped her in the fabric that had been over her umbrella and bundled her up in my arms.
The first few steps were the hardest, but then my body seemed to resign itself to carrying the extra load. My throat was too parched to whistle or hum a tune, but I replayed symphonies in my head, told myself stories, and asked myself archaeological trivia questions. Anything to keep my mind active and stop it wandering.
As the sun hung low on the horizon, my pace had slowed considerably and, for the first time in my life, I doubted my ability to press on.
Then, by the blessing of all the gods, the camel began to pick up its pace and I knew the well must be near; this sign was enough to spur me on to our saving grace.
Despite my wretched state I don’t think I’ve ever drawn water faster. After gulping a few mouthfuls and splashing my face, I rushed to revive my wife, only to find that she had passed away in my arms en route.
No pulse, no breath and no spirit—Clarissa was an empty shell and the soul I loved so well had fled this wretched torment that I had led her into. My want of fame and prestige in my chosen field of endeavour had been the death of her, just as many had predicted it would be.
I thought the journey had extracted all the water from my body and yet I cried a river and wailed out my pain into the dark desert night. I cursed the gods for their cruelty in taking her from me when all I had ever done was to seek the truth on their behalf. And what had I to show for my loss?
Angry about what it had cost me, I pulled the Star vial from my pocket, looking about for a good rock to smash it against. The recollection of something my wife had asked me, back in what I now thought of as the Star-Fire Temple, stayed my hand.
I had suspected since I’d discovered the powder with strange gravity-defying properties, that it was the fabled Bread of Life, manna or ORME, also known as the Holy Grail. This substance was said to have major regenerative properties. But could it bring the dead back to life?
‘From this Star flows the eternal powers of the goddess,’ I muttered under my breath as I took up my wife’s dead body to administer some of the glowing, floating powder onto her tongue, and then closed her mouth. ‘Let us see just how eternal those powers are.’
Nothing happened and I feared that my love was lost forever. I leant forward and kissed her goodbye.
Clarissa’s body gave a great heave; she gasped for breath and opened her eyes. When she spotted me, she smiled. ‘We made it.’ She held a hand to my cheek, proud of me, and I lapsed into tears of relief and joy.
‘We did.’ I held her tightly, inwardly vowing that I would never again risk her life for my own professional vanity.
I was absolutely howling by the time I finished the account, my tears dripping on the handwritten text and smudging the ink. ‘Oh dear.’ I blotted tears from my eyes with one tissue and used another tissue on the book. When I was satisfied I’d blown the page dry, I closed the big green journal and pushed it aside.
Why was I so emotional? Well, besides the truly romantic tale, knowing that Albray’s bones lay in this mount had me feeling rather at odds. I’d been greatly upset to learn that he’d been almost beheaded, and if my knight’s claims proved true, it had been by the hand of my current employer. In Ashlee’s tale, Albray speculated that Hereford had released Molier from an imprisonment of some kind. Hereford’s tale certainly confirmed that he had let something or someone out of the Star-Fire Temple when he’d opened it, but had that entity been Molier?
‘My head hurts,’ I decided.
Trying to follow the tale of this site with an open mind was extremely taxing to my logical brain. When I blocked out possibilities as unrealistic, nothing seemed to make sense, but if I just accepted what I was reading, then the pieces of the puzzle fell into place with ease. Needless to say, at this moment my mind felt like it was exploding! Was this why science had failed to explain some of the greater mysteries of the ancient world, because it wouldn’t look beyond the realms of the logical to explain the unexplainable? How could one ever seriously hope to explain the unexplainable employing this method?
‘Mia? I hear you crying. Are you all right?’ Andre asked from outside of the tent.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ I assured him.
‘May I talk to you?’
I placed the large journals in a suitcase, out of sight, leaving only the normal reference books on my desk. ‘Sure.’ I gave him leave to enter, as I had been quite antisocial since my arrival here.
‘Learning anything interesting?’ He came in and took a seat.
‘I’m making progress.’ I put the kettle on. ‘Tea?’
Andre declined, and I knew he had today’s episode in the cave on his mind. ‘Why do I get the impression that you know more about this excavation than you are telling me?’
I thought to deny his claim, but that would only make Andre suspicious and more curious. ‘Because I do know more than I am saying,’ I confessed. ‘Or rather, I suspect many things that a little more research should clarify. I’m just waiting until I am more confident about my theories before I share…that is all.’
‘Is that your polite way of telling me you plan on locking yourself away again tomorrow?’ Andre smiled; he
