The Guardian spurred his horse on to a full gallop through the narrow, winding streets of the old city, followed closely by five companions, leaving behind the chaotic sounds of iron clashing in vain against the thundering fire of the invaders. The four raced towards the outskirts of the city, to the edge of the desert, where they stopped to take a final look at the destruction that was being unleashed upon their beloved city. <\/p>\n
The Guardian and his men watched in silence as arcs of fire erupted all across the northern sector of the city, cutting through every line of defence, the shrieks of the wounded rising together in a harrowing chorus of death. The men had no words to express the depth of their anguish. They had spent years preparing for this day; when the last remnants of the once-mighty empire would be crushed by the merciless onslaught of invaders, but to finally witness the inevitable unfolding was driving daggers into their hearts. <\/p>\n
The raiders from the north had launched several attacks on the city in recent years, each one more devastating than the last. The defenders had barely managed to repel the onslaught \u2013 until now. Their swords and spears, ancient charms and amulets, were useless against the strange sorcery the foreigners possessed. Messengers had been sent to nearby Gao and Djenne, and as far as Agadez and Niani, in urgent requests for assistance from the allies of the empire. The few reinforcements that were promised never materialized. Meanwhile, the city\u2019s defences steadily weakened to the point of collapse. Since last moon, most of the population had fled to neighbouring kingdoms in anticipation of this final assault, the Guardian\u2019s wife and only child among their number. Those who remained had resigned themselves to the mercy of their new masters.<\/p>\n
The Guardian dismounted and stood before the five others, casting his gaze upon each one of his men. They wanted nothing more than to be fighting alongside their brothers in the streets \u2013 not to save the city, for the city was already lost, but only to stand in the ranks of their doomed comrades as they faced the unstoppable terror of the invasion; to leave the mark of their blood on the hallowed soil of their ancestors. These six men were bound by the most sacred of oaths to lay down their lives for the empire, but they also had been entrusted with an assignment of the utmost importance; one whose gravity weighed as heavily on their hearts as their desire for martyrdom. The Guardian saw pain written clearly in the eyes of his men but, beyond the surface of their despair, he also saw a wellspring of determination. This unbreakable resilience, shared between them, was the only source of his hope.<\/p>\n
\u2018Look!\u2019 he said, sweeping a hand over the ruins of the city, \u2018how the jewel of the desert, the greatest treasure of humankind, is turned to dust. The prophecy of our great Teacher has finally begun to unfold. Fear God and honour the spirits of the ancestors, for we are but grains of sand in the eyes of the Eternal Ones.\u2019<\/p>\n
The Guardian knelt down and carefully drew the Seal of the Order in the sand; tracing a wide circle and, within it, three symbols in their sacred language. This was a final reminder to his men of the cause which they had been called to serve from the early days of their youth. He then mounted his horse, drawing the hood of his cloak over his head. His powerful black steed shifted restlessly, perhaps sensing the cloud of impending danger hanging heavy in the air all around them. The Guardian then turned to look at the city one last time.<\/p>\n
\u2018For as long as the heavens remain above the earth,\u2019 he recited, \u2018may the sun light our feet and the stars guide our paths.\u2019 Then all six chanted in unison: \u2018And may the God of the universe be with us!\u2019<\/p>\n
The men reared their horses and charged off into the unending darkness, charting their course towards the east, beginning the arduous journey to complete their final quest. As the inferno disappeared over the horizon, the Guardian knew in his heart that this was the last time he would see the city of his birth. He whispered a prayer of hope into the night that the hand of God, the Architect of chance and destiny, might rest upon him and his men, to protect them as they embarked on their final mission. For in their hands lay the fate of humankind.<\/p>\n
An alarm was ringing. Sara wouldn\u2019t have heard it if Zongo hadn\u2019t also been buzzing around her, prodding at her shoulder with its spindly carbon-fibre limbs. She lifted her head from the desk, squinting at the white glow from her computer screen, and brushed away the thin locks of hair that had been pressed to her face. <\/p>\n
\u2018What time is it?\u2019 she mumbled.<\/p>\n
\u2018The time is 3.17am,\u2019 Zongo answered, in its androgynous, almost-human voice. \u2018The date is 17 April 2036, and the temperature outside is 23 degrees Celsius. The weather today will be…\u2019
\nThe words barely registered. It was still dark outside the window of the-single bedroom apartment. The annoying little drone hovered beside her. She folded her head back into her arms. <\/p>\n
\u2018Sara, the scan is finished.\u2019 <\/p>\n
The scan. A vague sensation stirred within her. <\/p>\n
\u2018What?\u2019 <\/p>\n
\u2018You asked me to wake you up when the scan was finished.\u2019<\/p>\n
Awareness slowly seeped into her consciousness. The imaging scan was complete. That meant there was only one more thing left to do before she could finish the preliminary report for her doctoral thesis. And, of course, tonight was the final deadline.<\/p>\n
She jumped to attention and ran into the living room, which was cluttered from wall to wall with bookshelves, radiographs, scanners, and storage cases filled to overflowing with her personal collection of obscure finds. She retrieved the leather-bound book from the cylindrical white scanner, replacing it in its storage box. She returned to her computer and tapped on the deskpad to bring up the results of the scan. Hundreds of yellowed pages of text were collated and displayed on the screen as small rectangular icons, arranged into a grid layout. She tapped again and the first page was enlarged to fill the screen. Centred on the page was a circle inscribed with three strange symbols.<\/p>\n
Sara had discovered the book while reconstructing historical artifacts recovered from a Sufi shrine in the old quarters of Timbuktu city. It was one of several shrines which had been damaged during the insurgency over two decades ago. The book had been found buried deep within the rocky foundation of the shrine, wrapped carefully in a sheepskin pouch. Local tradition held that the shrine was built in the 17th century, a fact which was confirmed by radiocarbon dating of the objects found within it. However, the same radiograph readings indicated that the book was at least a century older, meaning that it had its origins long before the creation of the shrine. That in itself was nothing remarkable. What really puzzled her was that the book was written entirely in a language which at first glance resembled Arabic script, but was composed almost entirely of symbols she had never seen in all of her research into the history of language in West Africa. <\/p>\n
\u2018Zongo, get Professor Kelechi on the line.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Sara, the time is 3.25am. The Professor will most likely be asleep by now. Perhaps you might want to wait until sunrise to make this call.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Don\u2019t get smart with me, Zongo, just get him on the line.\u2019<\/p>\n
Zongo complied without further comment. <\/p>\n
Moments later, a gruff voice rasped through Zongo\u2019s speakers. <\/p>\n
\u2018Sara? What\u2019s going on, now?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Sir, I\u2019ve just completed the scan of the text; the one I told you about last night. It appears to contain coded information, and I\u2019ll need access to the mainframe to attempt a full decryption.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Is that why you\u2019re calling me at this hour?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Yes, Professor, I believe this finding could tell us a lot more about the history of the current excavation site.\u2019 <\/p>\n
\u2018Sara, I don\u2019t see how this has any bearing on your thesis. Your work was meant to focus on the restoration of damaged artifacts. You\u2019re already several weeks behind schedule with your report and you know I can\u2019t push the deadline back any further.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I know, Professor, but this might just turn out to be the most important discovery since the decoding of the Voynich Manuscript. Let me just get to the bottom of this. It won\u2019t take more than a few hours.\u2019 <\/p>\n
\u2018Look, Sara, I know how passionate you still are about your past work, but you also know that the board wants our department to focus more efforts on restoration. That\u2019s why you were offered this grant in the first place. You\u2019re one of the best researchers in our department and I am generally inclined to trust your intuition, but I\u2019m not going to assist you to ruin your career over this trivial matter. Forget about this unnecessary diversion.\u2019<\/p>\n
The line went dead. <\/p>\n
\u2018Idiot!\u2019 Sara yelled as she slammed a fist on the desk. \u2018How can he be so narrow-minded?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018The Professor does make a valid point,\u2019 Zongo offered. \u2018Perhaps, it may be wise to-\u2013\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Oh, shut up, Zongo.\u2019<\/p>\n
Sara buried her hands in her locks and suppressed a scream. Before getting her PhD in archaeolinguistics, she had sworn to herself never to return to academia. The first grant from the University of Timbuktu had changed her mind. Now she was within sight of her second doctorate, but her initial apprehensions had begun to resurface. Her research objectives were always dictated by the donors, an inflexible bunch of upper-crusters who were only concerned with whatever field of study was most fashionable at any given time. <\/p>\n
But Sara was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. <\/p>\n
\u2018Zongo, get me Farouk. And I mean, like, now.\u2019 <\/p>\n
\u2018Connecting to Farouk,\u2019 Zongo replied and, within an instant, was displaying the dim, grimy-looking interior of the young boy\u2019s rented room. A proliferation of display screens and network cabling were strung haphazardly along the walls of his apartment, so it took a while to notice his thin, black form emerging from the shroud of darkness. Farouk had a policy of never disclosing his actual location so, as far as she knew, he might be living next door or on the far side of the moon.<\/p>\n
\u2018Long time, Sara,\u2019 the boy said, in his French-affected English. <\/p>\n
\u2018I need your help, Farouk, and it\u2019s really urgent.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Straight to business, huh? Okay, what can I do for you?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I\u2019ve got to run a decryption on a coded text from one of the sites I\u2019ve been working on, but this one is going to take some serious horsepower.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Ah, I see. But I think the University mainframe is online, no? Or is there some problem with the Timbuktu grid?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018No, no, they\u2019re just not giving me access. Some bullshit politics with the board.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Politics? No problem. I can fix that for you, easy. Real easy.\u2019<\/p>\n
The boy immediately went to work, disappearing into the flora and fauna of his electronic jungle. A few minutes later he reappeared onscreen.<\/p>\n
\u2018It\u2019s done. I have now set up a secure virtualized supercomputer using timeshares from seven different mainframes: one at the Ecole de Kinshasa, two at CERN in Switzerland, another in Novosibirsk, two more at the SKA at erCarnarvon, and, of course, the one at your politics university. Is that enough horsepower for you?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Farouk, you are a genius!\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Yah, sure, so you will marry me now? You know money is no problem for me; I can take very good care of you. We will make many beautiful, genius babies together.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I do love you, Farouk, but not that much,\u2019 she said as she tapped on the deskpad. \u2018I\u2019m sending you the scans and reference files right now.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Receiving. But I think you are considering my offer, yes?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Think again. It\u2019s business before pleasure, Farouk, not the other way around.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Ah, but you are too serious for me, anyway. No fun. No joie de vivre…\u2019 he shook his head as he drifted back into his dark world.<\/p>\n
Zongo cut the line and descended towards its recharge station as Sara went to pour herself a glass of water. She sat by the dining table, wondering about the potential significance of the text, and the authors of this cryptic language which seemed to have no greater purpose than to obscure information from prying eyes. And they had succeeded: for over 400 years. What secrets were they trying to hide? <\/p>\n
When Farouk called back at sunrise, Sara was by her desk, sipping on a double shot of espresso from a vacuum flask as she pored over the scans.<\/p>\n
\u2018I don\u2019t know what else to say, Sara \u2013 I cannot make any sense of this.\u2019 <\/p>\n
This caught her completely by surprise. It was blasphemy coming from the mouth of one who considered himself a god of the networks, an omnipotent deity within the electronic realm. He was not the type to accept failure, let alone admit it. <\/p>\n
\u2018What do you mean? Are you messing with me?\u2019<\/p>\n
Farouk remained silent for a few moments before he replied.<\/p>\n
\u2018Sara, I don\u2019t have 10,000 degrees like you, but I do know my cryptography. You see, the whole point of encryption is to make information appear totally random, and that\u2019s what my results are showing; that this text is nothing more than one, long string of nonsense. But if there is any meaning to that randomness, as you seem to believe, then I can tell you one thing for sure \u2013 there is not enough horsepower on this planet to decode that book.\u2019 <\/p>\n
At first, it was nothing more than a suspicion \u2013 an intuition, a subliminal shift in the song of the winds, the sounds of shadows sailing across the dunes \u2013 but by the third sunrise of their journey, the Guardian was sure they were being followed. Mid-morning, the men spotted the forms of a dozen riders on the horizon. They were being pursued. <\/p>\n
\u2018This can only mean that our temple has been discovered,\u2019 the Guardian said to his men. \u2018They will surely have captured Teacher.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018We could have protected him,\u2019 said Keita, visibly agitated. <\/p>\n
\u2018Yes, we might have, but only at the cost of our mission. Did Teacher not tell us that sacrifice will be demanded of every one of us \u2013 even himself? In this, too, his words have come to pass.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Those savages,\u2019 said Musa. \u2018They are like a plague upon the earth. They do not seek to build, only to destroy. What kind of evil possesses them?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018There is no evil in humankind, and neither is there any good. There is only the drive to seek happiness and avoid suffering. The invaders are no exception. They only seek to relieve themselves of suffering, even at the cost of inflicting it upon others. They are being driven by forces beyond their control. We have now entered a New Age, when a great change will sweep across the four corners of the earth, leaving no peoples untouched in its wake.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018What then will be the fate of our own people?\u2019 asked Ahmad. <\/p>\n
\u2018The same as all humankind \u2013 they will rise again. In time, this tragedy will be forgotten. History will be written and rewritten until our memories are erased from existence \u2013 until the prophecy of our Teacher comes to pass. We can only pray that the invaders do not discover the location of the Sacred Book.\u2019<\/p>\n
The six riders reached the foot of the mountains by noon, proceeding until they found suitable cover within the recess of a cave at the edge of a steep rise. They shared the final, meagre portions of the bread and water they had brought along to sustain themselves. The end was within sight.<\/p>\n
By nightfall they were ready to begin the trek up the desolate face of the mountain but they could not allow their pursuers to discover their final destination. Two of them would remain at the cave, to ensure that the others would not be followed. <\/p>\n
\u2018I volunteer,\u2019 said Keita. <\/p>\n
\u2018And I,\u2019 said Ibrahim.<\/p>\n
\u2018So be it,\u2019 said the Guardian to them. \u2018May the God of the universe be with you.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018And with you,\u2019 they replied. <\/p>\n
The two men readied their weapons and released their horses, retreating into the darkness of the cave as the Guardian and his three remaining companions continued into the mountains. <\/p>\n
After the evening prayers, Sara left her apartment, brushing through the crowded souk as she made her way towards the Medina; the oldest quarter of the city. Unravelling the mystery of the coded book was now the only thing on her mind. Her initial suspicions of its importance had been confirmed beyond doubt. The attempt to decrypt its contents had only raised even more questions about its origins. How was it possible that 16th-century scholars could devise a form of encryption that was indecipherable by the most advanced computing technology of the 21st century? Neither did she think it plausible that anyone in that era would have spent volumes of valuable paper on a nonsensical text. Everything about this book appeared to defy all logic.<\/p>\n
She decided to dig deeper \u2013 closer to the source. The shrine had been kept by the same household since its creation. She had visited some of the family elders formally to ask for their permission to begin the excavation. Back then they had seemed reticent, almost hostile, at first, but she put this down to the personal nature of their relationship to the shrine. Looking back on those encounters now, she was beginning to suspect that they might have been holding back some information from her. <\/p>\n
The house was located close to the entrance of the shrine, where separation barriers were still in place. She was welcomed at the entrance by a young veiled woman, who led her into the courtyard. <\/p>\n
\u2018I would like to speak with Mrs Tour\u00e9 \u2013 I called the house earlier. Is she around?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Yes, she is expecting you.\u2019<\/p>\n
Sara sat on a straw mat laid out underneath a date palm growing in the centre of the paved courtyard. An old woman emerged from an arched doorway a few minutes later and seated herself across from her. <\/p>\n
\u2018Welcome, Miss. How may I help you today?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I have some questions about the shrine, in particular, about a book we uncovered during the excavation. We found it buried beneath the foundation. I\u2019m hoping you can give me some more insight into its origins.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Is that so? This is the first I\u2019m hearing of anything under the shrine. Perhaps, if you describe the contents of this book, I might be able to tell you more.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018That\u2019s the problem. You see, the book is written in a strange language \u2013 one that has never been documented before, and I can\u2019t make any sense out of it. I can show you some of my scans.\u2019 <\/p>\n
Sara pulled out a screensheet, which displayed images of the first four pages of the book. Mrs Tour\u00e9 reached forward to take the sheet from her. She examined it for several moments, and turned her gaze to Sara, staring at her with an intensity that made her nervous. And then she rose without saying a word, returning into the building. Sara wasn\u2019t sure what to make of the woman\u2019s reaction, but she waited patiently until she had returned, holding an old picture frame, which she handed to Sara. In it was a faded celluloid photograph of a middle-aged man standing next to a woman in hijab, who held the hand of a young girl. Despite the difference in age, Sara could see a resemblance between the young woman in the photo and the old woman sitting before her.<\/p>\n
\u2018That was my grandmother,\u2019 Mrs Tour\u00e9 said. \u2018She used to tell me stories about times gone past, when this small, dusty city was once the centre of the world. Scholars would travel here from all corners of Earth to teach and learn. That all ended when we came under attack from the raiders of the north. Much of our greatest treasure was plundered, and a great deal of learning was lost forever. After that, the city entered its period of decline.\u2019<\/p>\n
Sara was well aware of the history of Timbuktu, how the empire of the Songhai \u2013 the last great empire in West Africa \u2013 had been brought to its knees by the constant raids of the Berber, Tuareg and Moroccan kingdoms, with the help of conscripted European infantry. The arrival of the arquebus, one of the first modern firearms, had changed everything. This was the stuff of textbooks. <\/p>\n
\u2018But there was something else she told me,\u2019 the old woman continued. \u2018When I was young, I really believed that it was true, but in my later years I dismissed it as a fabrication. According to the story, the first king of the Mali empire, Sundiata Keita, created a special group of the most learned scholars in the kingdom to serve in his court. They reported directly to him, and were known as the Guardians of the Empire. After the fall of Mali, they continued to serve under the kings of the Songhai empire, which came afterwards. Their activities were always shrouded by a veil of secrecy. This lasted until the fall of Songhai, after which they were never seen nor heard of again. That is where the story always ended, whenever my grandmother told it.\u2019<\/p>\n
Sara had never heard of any such legend in all her years of research. She didn\u2019t know whether she ought to believe the old woman, but she had no choice but to listen. <\/p>\n
\u2018And according to her, our family is descended from the last leader of the Guardians. His name was Abdul Rahman Tour\u00e9.\u2019 <\/p>\n
\u2018Do you know if any of this is true?\u2019<\/p>\n
The old woman reached underneath her shawl and pulled out a silken cloth, about the size of a handkerchief, and handed it to Sara. Embroidered into the fabric was an unmistakable inscription, almost identical to the one in the book. Sara\u2019s heart jumped. She was onto something.<\/p>\n
\u2018May I ask how you got this?\u2019 <\/p>\n
\u2018That is our family crest,\u2019 the woman replied. \u2018It has been used for as long as any of us can remember.\u2019 <\/p>\n
\u2018And do you have any idea what these symbols might mean?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018Of course,\u2019 the woman answered. \u2018I never had the opportunity to go beyond secondary school, but even I can tell you what they are. That\u2019s the problem with the youth of today: too much knowledge, not enough education. Why, can\u2019t you see? The answer is obvious. It is written quite plainly in the stars.\u2019<\/p>\n
At first Sara was confused by this remark, but as she examined the symbols more closely, the obvious conclusion struck her with the force of a lightning bolt.<\/p>\n
\u2018Thank you!\u2019 Sara exclaimed, jumping to her feet, \u2018thank you so much!\u2019<\/p>\n
She knelt down and kissed the hands of the old woman in a spontaneous expression of gratitude. She ran out of the compound, after saying a hasty goodbye, and down the street, towards her apartment in the metropolitan district. She stopped in an open square to look up into the night sky, where she stared at the answer, or at the least the first part of it. She traced the outlines of the three symbols in the stars above. Orion. Phoenix. Kranich. Three constellations, all visible above the Sahara. <\/p>\n
Triangulation. They were reference points; directions to a specific location. A message from the dead to the living. Written plainly in the stars.<\/p>\n
Tour\u00e9 and his men were minutes from their destination when they heard the first shots ringing out across the mountainside. They froze in their tracks as the shots continued sounding in scattered bursts. There was silence. And then one final, solitary shot. <\/p>\n
\u2018God rest their souls,\u2019 Tour\u00e9 said. <\/p>\n
\u2018We three will remain here,\u2019 said Abubakar. \u2018We can slow them down. Not for very long, but long enough.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018So be it,\u2019 Tour\u00e9 replied. \u2018May the God of the universe be with you.\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018And with you.\u2019<\/p>\n
The men drew their bows and took up defensive positions. Not long after parting from them, Tour\u00e9 heard more shots, this time much louder than before. The pursuers were very close behind. He ignored the sound of the approaching threat and scaled the face of a large, rocky plateau which jutted out near the peak of the mountain. The mission was almost complete. <\/p>\n
He unhooked his satchel and removed his instruments, and began carving into the rock with all of his strength and skill, as the sounds of the struggle below gradually gave way to a deathly silence. In less than two minutes he had completed the inscription. A wave of peace overcame him. The work was done. The future was now in the hands of God. <\/p>\n
Some day, he thought, as he descended from the peak, some day, the Seeker would retrace his footsteps to the peak of the mountain, and uncover the hidden truth. He offered a prayer of thanks to God as he calmly walked towards the sounds of the approaching men.<\/p>\n
A moment later, he was staring into the faces of his pursuers: a motley group of mercenaries, most of whom were total strangers to the land. Of the dozen which had been spotted in pursuit, only seven remained, all of them armed, but three were badly injured. This caused Tour\u00e9 to smile. His men had not gone quietly into the afterworld. And neither would he.<\/p>\n
\u2018May the God of the universe save us all,\u2019 he prayed, drawing his sword for the last time.<\/p>\n
Sara was halfway up the mountain in a rental hovercar, with Zongo driving her up the winding road that snaked high into the A\u00efr mountains. She had set off as soon as she was able to triangulate that general area. Zongo steered the vehicle off-road, dodging large obstacles and sailing over smaller ones. When they arrived at the destination, Sara climbed out of the vehicle, looking out over the expansive desert.<\/p>\n
With Farouk\u2019s prodigious knowledge of cryptography, they were able to put together the final pieces of the mystery. Most of the characters in the text were stylized representations of the various constellations, arranged into specific configurations. The reason they were not able to decode the text at first was because they only had half of the equation. The other half was written into the infinite complexity of the heavens; in the relative positions of a multitude of stars to a single, absolute reference point on earth. In effect, the Guardians had harnessed the forces of the entire universe to create a colossal machine, the greatest supercomputer in existence. And so in order for the decryption to work, it had to be calculated with the same computational precision as was used in the encryption. They needed to find the exact location of the reference point from which all of the calculations were based. <\/p>\n
\u2018There should be some kind of indicator somewhere around the peak of this mountain,\u2019 Sara said. \u2018Zongo, search for the target symbol.\u2019The drone detached itself from its harness and flew out over the rocky terrain.<\/p>\n
\u2018Sara, this could be a huge discovery,\u2019 said Farouk, on the other end of her comlink. \u2018And not just for university politics, you know? If we are able to unlock this encryption, there is no telling what else we can do with this technology..\u2019<\/p>\n
\u2018I suppose, but all I want is to know more about the lives of our ancestors. We can always discover new technology, even if it takes a thousand years. But we can\u2019t learn anything about our past without a historical record.\u2019 <\/p>\n
\u2018Target has been located,\u2019 Zongo announced, hovering over a spot some 30 metres away. <\/p>\n
Sara ran over to the spot and knelt down, inspecting the faint carving in the rock. It had weathered over the centuries, and was now almost imperceptible, but it was there all right. A few more years, she thought, and it would surely have been erased from existence. But they had arrived in time.<\/p>\n
\u2018Have you found it?\u2019 Farouk asked.<\/p>\n
\u2018Yes, we\u2019ve got it. I\u2019m sending you the co-ordinates.\u2019<\/p>\n
While Farouk fed the data into his network of hijacked supercomputers, Sara traced her fingers across the faint grooves of the inscription. Tour\u00e9 had been at this very spot, 400 years ago. He could not have known with any certainty that someone would eventually uncover the mystery. She wondered what it must have felt like to carry the burden of a secret that might never be revealed. Above all, she wondered what kind of knowledge was possessed by scholars whose intelligence had somehow outpaced modern civilization for centuries. There was only one way to find out. <\/p>\n
\u2018You\u2019re not going to believe, this, Sara.\u2019<\/p>\n
The readout of the transcript began to scroll down Zongo\u2019s display, translated into English from the original Arabic script:<\/p>\n
These are the Archives of the Guardians of the Empire,
\nKeepers of the Lost Knowledge of the Ancients,
\nThe Ones who Write Secrets in the Stars…<\/center><\/p>\n
The Guardian spurred his horse on to a full gallop through the narrow, winding streets of the old city, followed closely by five companions, leaving behind the chaotic sounds of iron clashing in vain against the thundering fire of the invaders. The four raced towards the outskirts of the city, to the edge of the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":198,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[344,343],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n