The embodiment of all evil (Baphomet) rode like an advancing hailstorm toward Isabella (Navigator). His gleaming white Arabian steed raced with precision hooves.
Tossing its ancient well-formed equidaen (ancient horse breed, primogenitors of modern-day equines) head in response to Bephomet’s gentle nudge with his left heel, incredibly, his horse increased its already swift and spirited gallop.
Its form and speed spoke well of the horse’s royal breeding from antiquity’s princely stables of Eber Nari (modern Syria) that birthed the original bloodline of the great Darley Arabian, sire of Secretariat and Northern Dancer.
The ancient horse, sped, his hooves almost not touching the ground. His gait was akin to his future bloodlines’ speed as they rounded the bend at the Preakness Stakes, outclassing the finest equines to the finish line, and into Triple Crown horse racing history.
Staring in deep thought at Baphomet on his white horse advancing at what seemed lightning speed, Isabella’s mind galloped.
She noted that one of Baphomet’s hands wore the giant gilded gauntlet that had smashed the protective bubble with her and Metty (her guardian angel) inside hours earlier back in Shangri La. The same massive gilded gauntlet, she had been led to believe that she had vanquished.
Proof positive, Isabella mused to herself that Baphomet was behind this whole charade. But why, and for what purpose did he go to such lengths?
Snapping her thoughts back to the peril at hand, Isabella remembered her late grandmother’s earlier warning:
“Be careful of your words in this place, little one. Nothing is as it seems.”
Isabella had noticed that her words thus far seemed to have “created” her experiences in this strange land, wherever she was.
As if to further snap her out of her musings, Isabella’s flaming sword, which she carried about in her half-human half-angel blood stream materialized. Then it swooshed off into the darkness nearby.
Isabella understood why the sword “behaved” in that manner. Whatever words she chose next were all on her. Her flaming sword could not interfere…yet.
In a flash of inspiration, Isabella remembered that the twenty-eight so-called gentlemen in freshly pressed suites around the boardroom table back in Shangri-La seemed to imply that “the powers that be” were beholding to her warrior ancestors.
Isabella reasoned that since the twenty-eight men in the boardroom in Shangri La appeared to be lying about…well, everything (who they were, her “death,” and their part in sealing The Door she had opened with an incantation to save her life); she had a suspicion that they did not want her to involve her ancestors.
Therefore, Isabella said out loud:
“Ancestors from all times and dimensions, arise, please help me!”
…a great cloud like a pending storm appeared overhead engulfing everything within sight. Isabella could see the great cloud, Baphomet looked up startled for a moment; then shrugged his hefty shoulders and continued his hasty advance on his white steed.
But his horde of fallen angels that had followed him on their horses suddenly broke ranks and scattered screaming in terror.
As the cloud lowered, the tundra created a great and strange mist over the moors —
Out of the mist marched a great army, seventeen thousand two hundred mighty men and women of valor from way back in Isabella’s bloodline.
Her ancestors were dressed in battle gear and armed with iridium swords. Their faces glowing blueish white obscured their exact features.
They advanced determined out of the mist created by the great cloud, each with swords raised, ready for battle. The force of their movements created a strong wind swirling around Isabella.
Isabella’s ancestors took their positions with swords in hand and arranged themselves in rows of thousands by their lineage behind her. Her flaming sword swooshed into her hand from out of the shadows.
And then there was stillness for about five minutes…
An eerie silence charged the atmosphere seeking words that were not forthcoming to fill its void from anyone present.
But, no one spoke.
And then, Baphomet charged forward. His white steed appeared to fly without wings, at its top speed.
At the sight of the flaming sword with Isabella as its hilt, Baphomet’s white steed reared up its hind legs and screeched to a halt refusing to go any further.
The jolt landed Baphomet on his hindquarters sprawled on the ground. His six-meter frame landed with a tremendous thud. The solid gold triangle necklace with the eye of Osiris and the massive fist gauntlet he carried whacked him in the face, unceremoniously.
Isabella noted as the massive gauntlet jettisoned from Baphomet‘s right arm, that his right hand was missing. A bracelet of gold encircled his wrist at the point where his apparently missing appendage should have resided.
Then Baphomet, still sprawled on the ground, vanished.
His fine white steed galloped off into the distance, away from Isabella and her ancestral army still at the ready watching her back.
Isabella turned to her ancestors, their faces all gleaming and glowing bluish-white. She thanked them from her heart without words for their sacrifices unto death, and for coming to her aid. They replied vocally in perfect unison:
“We are always with you, Isabella. Know that you are not alone. And, remember, you are protected.”
And then the great cloud that witnessed their arrival lifted Isabella’s ancestors back into the heavens and disappeared after a few moments hovering overhead.
Determined to get to the bottom of all the trickery that had befallen her. Isabella spoke out loud: “Shangri-la!”
In the next moment…
Isabella was back in the boardroom with the twenty-eight men in their freshly pressed suits around the table. Metty was bound in his seat fastened by primordial chains.
With speed, she did not know she possessed Isabella lept on the massive acacia table…
Without a word, Isabella crouched ninja-style, as low as she could atop the table. And in one move spinning her body 360 degrees without stopping until the deed was done…
Her flaming sword cut down all twenty-eight severing them in half, at their chests, before they even knew she was in the room.
She ended her spinning move by gently severing the chains binding Metty. His chains clanked on the table and bits fell to the floor clattering.
Each one of the twenty-eight men in their pressed embroidered suits startled expression registered as their last unspoken word, as their severed torsos with their heads attached slumped one at a time onto the acacia boardroom table.
Oddly, the table was not covered in blood but, in some strange blue liquid glowing white light that oozed from the twenty-eight’s severed bodies.
He walked through the wall on Isabella’s right. He looked at the severed bodies and outstretched his right arm (the gilded gauntlet was no longer present.)
At that moment…
The bluish ooze that had emanated from the severed torses of the twenty-eight men in embroidered suits around the boardroom table suddenly consumed the severed remains and molded…
…into Baphomet’s missing hand!
Not one to be alarmed easily, Isabella was aghast at the sight of the apparent beyond-earthly dimension, super elevated necromancy it would take to accomplish what she had just witnessed.
The twenty-seven joints of Baphomet’s right hand had assembled smartly into a living hand as if someone had stitched it super fast with invisible thread. His “repatriated” hand looked humanoid, except his middle finger appeared to have an extra joint.
The reason became obvious as he plucked the gilded gauntlet from the ether somewhere in another dimension of space and time directly onto his right hand.
His middle elongated finger fit securely in the hilt of the small blade crafted into the gilded gauntlet.
Then, in an instant, Baphomet uplifted the gilded gauntlet on his right-hand ready to strike Isabella (or so he made it seem)…
Still crouched on the acacia boardroom table, Isabella readied her flaming sword to defend herself…
But, before Isabella or Metty (now freed from his chains) realized what was about to transpire, Baphomet vanished from Isabella’s right side and reappeared instantly behind Metty…
Without warning, Metty suffered a crushing blow from Bephomet’s gauntlet…his body slumped to the boardroom floor…
***To Be Continued Next Sunday****