Upon making contact with a physical form, the shock passed quickly and Tory hugged her for all she was worth. 'Jen, Jen, just look at you!' Tears streamed from her eyes as she pulled back to look over her once-deceased friend. Jenny was young again, and definitely alive. All signs of age were gone, her skin was free of wrinkles and her blue-green eyes sparkled brightly. Jenny's hair hung in thick masses of long blonde curls, just as it had when Tory first met her.

'How can this be?' Tory gave half a laugh, amazed.

'How did you find us?'

Jenny wiped her cheeks in an attempt to stop crying, smiling as she realised that Tory also appeared to have shed twenty years. 'I was hoping you could tell me.'

'She showed up at the ranger station this morning, asking about you.' Rhun attempted to clear up some of the confusion.

'But how did you get there?' Tory led her back to the lounge.

'She doesn't seem to remember.' Floyd was obviously disturbed by the fact. Although he was pleased that his prodigy was not an orphan any longer, Jennifer's presence was as suspicious as it was unbelievable.

'I know it sounds ridiculous ...' Jennifer appealed to Floyd, as she was again seated, 'but after the ordeal with the Agency ...' she paused, recalling the look on her husband's face when they realised the end had come, 'the next thing I remember I was walking down the road towards the ranger station.'

Tory looked at the clothes Jenny wore, which were not the same ones she'd been buried in.

Jenny slowly shook her head with an apologetic look on her face. 'I wish I could tell you,' she answered before Tory had even asked.

'Well, what's on the agenda for today?' Nick rubbed his hands together as he reported for duty. Then he spotted the woman. He almost didn't recognise his mother, as she was so young and beautiful.

'It's alright.' She held out her hands to him, too emotional to even raise herself.

As Nick rushed to hold her, Tory, Rhun and Floyd let them be awhile.

Jenny was far too shaken to discuss her resurrection at present. Perhaps given a little time she might remember something that would help explain it.

Clearly, she was immortal, yet the crucial gene had not been active at the time of her death. This seemed to suggest that someone had dug the poor woman from her grave a second time, and then activated the gene. But alas, this was only a theory. There were other possibilities that were even less pleasant, like a clone or an impostor, for instance.

'There's only one way to know for sure.' She knew Brian wouldn't be too pleased by her reckoning, for part of the answer lay buried in an unmarked grave in Sherwood forest.

It was yet another beautiful rainy day in England, which didn't aid their task any. The wind whipped through the trees overhead, creating a rather sombre atmosphere by which to work, and although Tory figured it was just the setting that was making her feel ill-at-ease, she couldn't escape the feeling that they were being watched.

'This is sick,' Brian grumbled, as he and Tory began to dig.

'True.' Tory wasn't thrilled about it either. 'If you have another solution I'd be more than glad to take it on board.'

'No.' He resentfully got stuck in to be done with it.

They worked in silence for a time, and the mindless manual labour left their minds free to wander.

'So ...' Brian paused and leant on his shovel, 'if she's not in here, do we assume Jenny is a distant relative of ours?'

Tory had been wondering the same thing herself. 'I really don't know, Brian. From what I've read, the Gods were pretty liberal when it came to bestowing their favours on the daughters of men. There could be other family lines apart from ours that carry the same gene, either dormant or not.' She ploughed on regardless.

Their excavation uncovered only one set of bones, thus a whole new chapter of the age-old mystery was opened.

'So, even well after death the immortal gene can be activated,' Tory assumed from their findings.

'The dead can rise from the grave.' Brian was looking quite pale as he stared into the pit that was filling with water. 'If the immortal gene in Jenny wasn't activated before she died ... then who did this?'

Tory eyed the surrounding forest, searching for the mysterious voyeur, whose presence she could still sense.

'A very good question.'

The full moon was but two days away when Rhun brought Pete Nangina to advise his mother. The Aboriginals were not in the habit of assisting the uninitiated to make contact with the spirit world. Still, when Pete and Rhun had outlined Tory's extenuating circumstances and history to the female Mekigar of Pete's tribe, in the interest of good relations the wise old woman agreed to assist. Therefore, it was Pete's job to ready Tory for her inward Dream Journey.

Fortunately for Tory, Rhun had done much work on her subtle body. The coil of power deep in the pit of her stomach, her Miwi as Pete called it - Kundalini as it might otherwise be known - was well extended up through her chakras. A deep meditation was all that would be needed for the Miwi to extend all the way to her third eye which it was required to encompass if Tory wished to attune to the Kurunba - the metaphysical forces that flowed beneath in the landscape.

'Ley-lines,' Tory surmised out loud.

Pete nodded in confirmation. 'What you would call a ley crossing, we call a hot-spot. This subtle energy grid was created by the Sky Heroes during Dreamtime.'

The Sky Heroes? It seemed that here was yet another name for the Shining Ones or the Lofty Ones; their deeds and reputation had been widespread indeed. She was even more interested to learn that an Aboriginal name for the Otherworldly Spirits was Rai.

Pete explained that it was not really the Mekigar's place to decide whether or not Tory was spiritually evolved enough to pass into the realms of the Dreamtime.

'Those who have not reached the proper level of spiritual perception will not see the Rai, because they lack the knowledge to do so ... for the Rai only talk with experts.'

He then elaborated on how the sacred topography was translated into art for the ceremony by means of Churingas. These symbolic diagrams were as varied as the Dreamtime sites they represented and had been passed onto the Aboriginal people from the Sky Heroes.

Painted in the four sacred colours of red, yellow, white and black, Churingas were used to concentrate a site's Kurunba, or life-essence. Body painting, sand painting, cave frescos and bark paintings were repositories for the symbols that were hidden in secret places about a particular Dreaming site and only produced when a ceremony was being re-enacted.

Tory was instructed to fast these next two days.

Tomorrow Pete would accompany her into the desert where she could centre herself in preparation for Tjukuba.

Springtime in the Red Center brought more obliging weather than the violent storms of winter. The earth had begun to dry out and crack once again, so most of the plant life lay dormant in wait of the flash summer rains.

Barefoot, and dressed in white clothes of pure cotton, Tory wandered the dry wasteland between Lake Amadeus and Uluru, alone. Pete was following her movements, though he kept his distance so Tory was not aware of his presence. Maintaining a calm state of repose was a little difficult with the prospect of seeing her love within the next twenty-four hours, but Tory endeavoured to sweep her anticipation aside in favour of thinking nothing at all. She allowed herself to become mesmerised by the landscape, where past, present and future were intrinsically fused.

After many hours in the sun, Tory became numb to the heat and the hot earth beneath her feet. Likewise as the sun began to set, she was not aware of the drop in temperature. Her aimless wandering had brought her into the shadow of the great rock, Uluru, and upon sighting a cave there she felt the urge to stop and kneel.

Her mind, blank for hours, turned to the day of Rhun's birth. The memory of holding the tiny newborn in her arms brought tears to her eyes.

'Has your walkabout come to an end, child?'

When Tory looked up to find a tiny, Aboriginal woman elder staring down at her, she was frightened she'd done wrong and so moved to raise herself.

'Uh!' The woman placed a hand on Tory's shoulder, forcing her to stay put.

'I felt an affinity with this place,' Tory explained with honesty.

'Go on.' The woman's eyes, though dark in colour, seemed to beam with light.

She stared through Tory, into her soul, as did the gaze of Taliesin and her father. This was the Mekigar Pete had told her of, Tory was sure of it. Still, she hesitated to voice the rest of her reason as it seemed kind of irrelevant. The Mekigar obviously sensed Tory's reluctance and encouraged her to answer just the same.

'It brings back memories of the birth of my first born.'

'The boy-child I have come to know?'

Tory nodded, shyly, as her response seemed silly.

'This place tells the story of a similar event.' The holy woman motioned Tory to raise herself, and when she had, pointed out the marks on the ground where Tory had kneeled. 'These are the knee-marks of the woman who assisted with the Sky Hero's birth.'

Tory gasped at the news, fearful that she had perhaps defiled the sacred site. 'I apologise. I didn't realise.'

'No you didn't.' The Mekigar placed a palm against Tory's cheek and gave a hearty laugh.

By dusk, Tory and the holy woman were joined by the other female members of the surrounding tribes, some of whom painted Tory's arms and face with sacred Churingas. The rest of the women were seated in two circles, singing chants to sticks rhythmically beaten on the ground. Tory had experienced a similar heady buzz induced by song at an Atlantean ceremony that she'd participated in once. The separation between her physical body and her psyche had begun.

Seated before the mouth of the cave, Tory observed a large quartz crystal wand emerge from the wrist of the Mekigar and slide into the holy woman's hand. So enchanted was Tory by the ritual, that she thought perhaps this phenomenon was imagined, until she was encouraged to lay down and the crystal wand was rested upon her third eye.

'Allow all fear to pass over you and you will never fear again, for beyond the horror lay the Rai you seek.

Balga-ma-ni!' the holy woman cried, which meant 'bring all into being'.

In her mind's eye Tory saw the image of Maelgwn bound and beaten as he was dragged before someone.

As it was always from the perspective of his persecutor that she witnessed the event, their identity remained a mystery.

'Join us, Dragon.' The unknown entity advised him in a voice that was so distorted to the ear, one could not tell if it was male or female.

Maelgwn, barely able to hold himself upright, shook his head.

'Join us, or die,' his captor clarified.

Tory's love raised his dark eyes to view his tormentor. 'Then I choose death.'

'Stubborn fool!' Energy like lightning shot from the being's fingertips, inflicting Maelgwn with grievous pain.

No, he is not dead. Tory refused to believe it, and breathed deeply until the fear passed. Her faith made her belief strong and she no longer needed to see Maelgwn to confirm what she knew to be true.

Thinking the dream journey was at an end, Tory opened her eyes to find a misty light spewing forth from the mouth of the cave. From within the disturbance her animal guide emerged. The unicorn, white as snow, came to stand over her.

You are free to go ... I shall protect your body from invaders, until your return.

Tory raised herself to find she had left her physical form behind; her eyes were still closed and the crystal remained positioned upon her forehead.

The door of the Earth is open. The unicorn motioned with its head to the misty cave from whence it had come.

Walk the steps of light to where Ra waits to embrace you.

Tory looked back to the Mekigar, who nodded to confirm that it was safe to proceed. Tory willed her weightless form towards the light source. The cavern itself had taken on a different guise; torches lit the walls that now featured ancient forms of text. As she ventured deeper, a celestial staircase came into view, glimmering with all the lustre of a divine being. She paused before the seemingly endless flight of stairs to admire it a moment, then began the ascent.

Onwards and upwards the stairway led, until it transformed into a tunnel of swirling light matter. Her consciousness was being propelled through the universe at an inconceivable speed, yet it felt like a gentle glide.

Then, rather abruptly, everything came to a standstill.

She alighted in a large room filled with stars. Its walls, roof and floor could only be defined by the vague contours of their shape. In the centre of this star chamber, atop a circular staired platform, was a large throne of quartz crystal which rotated one hundred and eighty degrees, so that the host might look down upon his guest.

Lamamu. This is an expected surprise. His voice resounded out from beneath the ornate helmet that encompassed his entire head.

His headgear was akin to that of the pharaohs of ancient Egypt and the high orders of the Atlantean priesthood. The face depicted on her host's mask was not that of a man, but of a falcon, conforming to the ancient depiction of the God. Beyond his facial facade she could see naught but the beautiful light energy of his subtle body. In fact, given the sombre light of the room, his being gave off its own illumination.

Grandfather. Tory bowed her head, ever so slightly. I have looked forward to our meeting for what seems like an eternity.

The God raised his magnificent form, as well-developed as any human warrior. He stood at about seven foot. A three-tiered neckband of gold hung around his neck and shoulders, featuring the motif of a serpent sliding over a large circle - the symbol of his sun-god divinity and his father's clan, Tory guessed.

Embossed inside the golden circle was the eye of Ra.

But it is not I you seek. He sounded a mite insulted.

You have come in search of your earthly love for fear that I have murdered him.

It is true. I have perceived images of such a horror. Tory was tactful. But as the outcome was conveniently left out and the torturer has taken care to remain anonymous, I have seen no evidence that would implicate you as the antagonist in the affair. Nor have I seen any proof that Maelgwn has even been murdered.

Why are you seeking the Dragon, if you believe he lives?

He was again seated, folding his muscular arms.

Am I wrong to believe so? Tory moved closer to hear an answer.

Oh, don't doubt yourself now ... you were doing so well, he encouraged. Despite the visions and all her sweet assurances, Inanna still failed to fool you. He chuckled again. She will be most put out.

Tory had read about the trouble between Inanna and Marduk of which Inanna had been the instigator.

But how on earth had Maelgwn and herself got entangled in their differences?

You have something she desires, Marduk advised her.

What could I have that a Goddess would envy? The chariot? she ventured to guess.

This only served to amuse her host. You are very naive. He slapped his knee.

Not Maelgwn! The notion was completely devastating. Tory had never had to compete for his favour before. After all, what woman in her right mind would chose to oppose her? But Inanna was a Goddess, a powerful and beautiful one at that.

Come, come. Do you really think that Inanna would have bothered tormenting you, if she had already managed to convert your lover?

No. The realisation drowned her fears. Nor would she be vexing me if my husband was a corpse.

To be sure. He thumped his armrest, proud of her. So now you see why Maelgwn insisted that you not risk leaving your body, for Inanna is eager to claim it. Only through you does she stand a chance of tricking her way into Maelgwn's favour.

But I have come so far. Please don't say I must return, without so much as a glimpse of him, Tory pleaded. Have I not adequately protected myself?

There is no need to convince me. Who do you think arranged all this? He held up both hands and motioned her to be quiet. I promised the commander a surprise that would spur him through his next mission, and you're going to help me keep that vow.

Commander! Tory wasn't really that surprised to learn of her husband's new status. Mission? What mission?