*****
As Steffor approached the quorum of Guardians, he noted a slight disturbance in their cadence before backs turned in unison to provide him passage. Steffor moved through the channel of swaying bodies wrapped tightly in black capes with hoods pulled low.
Clearing the throng, he detected Kilton, Vejax and Maseriah amongst others the inner most ring of Teutons. He approached the pyramid of sela gourds and stood in his designated spot facing the prominent archway shifted into the center of the Forging Tree's broad base. Pitch black emanated from the cavernous chamber beyond the archway and greedily swallowed the cairn's abundant light.
With succinct, practiced motion, Steffor touched right palm to breast, forehead, then extended his arm, palm facing outward. He then sat down, crossed his legs and took a moment to study the others six Guardians chosen by the guild to participate in the Forging Ceremony. Bathed in the gourd's warm glow, he recognized all the faces of the other chosen. He knew several from competing in the games or from other ritual gatherings, but only two he would call close friends. Grimlock, his imposing size impossible to disguise, sat next to the Guardian on Steffor's left. Seated directly on his right was Martna.
Faces around the cairn were taut with concentration as eyelids quivered with activity. Garnered throughout the day, the chosen had reached the apex of their deep meditative state. Resolved now to participate in the ceremony, Steffor envied his peers and the time they had to prepare. He questioned his decision to take so much precious time to find resolution with the recent upheaval in his life.
Do not dwell on what could have been. Focus on the experience gained to change the now.
The thought helped quell his envy and realign his determination to prepare for the events about to unfold as best he could. With single-minded focus, Steffor reflected on his prior existence, how he channeled his thoughts to manifest the goals that mattered most.
I must not allow the concerns or beliefs of others to influence my resolve. My purpose, as is the purpose of any soul, fulfills that which is larger than all of us.
The presence of that purpose was undeniable. Much in the way Toliver must have known his destiny to be the first Guardian, Steffor knew the fate of all he loved relied on the choices he made. The why remained hidden, an impenetrable mist veiling his inner eye to all but the events connected to his actions.
Once again, he found divine solace within the Deeds: The Provider reveals only that which we are prepared to comprehend.
Steffor used the solemn chant filling the air to help further disengage his emotions. He detached himself from the hyperactive questions whirling in his head, passively observing each as they drifted from his mind. Blank of all thought, Steffor wielded the Forging Chant to bridge the gap between his analytical brain and orphic soul.
He observed a new vision of the Provider. The Source flowed everywhere, in everything. Tributaries of divine energy, fed by the same point of origin, from stream, to river, drained upon the shoreline of a small cove, pounded by waves of raw Source. He strained to maintain the vision as he sought the ocean beyond the breakers, a vast universe that instilled the fear of unknown and the excitement of wondrous adventure.
"The Provider offers the body to one so that they may serve the whole!" Tillamund intoned.
The sudden sound of the Forging Mystic's ancient voice silenced the Guardian chant. The jarring halt to the chant scattered Steffor's vision of greatness.
"So say we all," responded the Guardians. Their harsh voices, when compared to the previous hymn, added to the asperity experienced upon his abrupt bodily return. Thankfully, his malady did not linger, for the brief but illuminating state of mind had stoked a fervor, absent since his return.
Tillamund had emerged from the mysterious cavern shifted within the Forging Tree and now stood just outside the arched porta. He lifted his arms toward Steffor and the other six chosen, gesturing for them to stand. The movement within his unique, bark embroidered Mystic robes, alive with earthy browns and rich greens, created the illusion of man being one with the tree.
In unison, they stood and lined up before Tillamund. The paternal mystic moved before Grimlock and with a measured gaze, synced his opaque eyes with the giant Guardian.
Steffor closed his eyes and tried to calm his nerves with the sounds filling the valley. The tall grass rustling in the breeze. The faint creak of the tree limbs above. The tranquil ripple of the Forging River in the distance. But none of it helped diffuse his mounting anxiety.
He must open a port within each of us, connecting us to the whole, so that we may feed from their abundance. He will sense, if he has not already, that the Source is no longer in me, that I cannot sync with the rest.
The Source is so close I feel it all around me. Why can't I remember...
As he opened his eyes, Tillamund stood before him. Sightless eyes probed Steffor, searching for the means to connect. A spastic twitch traveled across the Mystic's cheek and chin as his brow creased with concentration. As the other's search continued to come up short, Steffor tried to realize the gifts he once commanded. It was in that moment the jolt of Source penetrated his being.
Cognizant of Vejax's location on his left periphery, the concentrated beam of blue light, emanating from beneath the Teuton's hood, struck Steffor with fierce intensity. Fearful at first as to how others around him would react, Steffor realized he was the only one able to detect it and he relaxed, accepting the gift without inhibition.
At first, the Source being tealked by Vejax was plentiful. Steffor was a starving man given a morsel, and he was grateful. And as Vejax predicted, it was enough spark to ignite the flame. The Source rejuvenated mind and body and exposed with abrupt clarity the weight he had been carrying since his rebirth.
The novelty of his reunion with the Provider's spirit was short lived as Tillamund gripped Steffor's budding well and docked himself to Steffor's Source. Their connection securely locked in place, Tillamund moved over to Martna to repeat the procedure.
Steffor fought the coupling the Mystic placed on his heart, a cap on his newly acquired unquenchable thirst for the Source. He needed more time to adjust to the Source pulsing through his being. The reckless abandon in which he sucked wave after wave of the Provider's energy was unsettling.
The Provider's Source is limitless!
Still a bit frantic, the thought shook his concerns aside and elevated his spirits, cleansing him of the remnant melancholy of days past. The resurgence of energy instilled hope, courage of old, and the vivid recollection of all that was good in the world. Overwhelmed by the compulsive need for the Provider's grace, Steffor prayed. Forgive me. I have forsaken you for too long.
A familiar voice from within answered his prayer. You have not forsaken me, nor have I ever left you.
The reunion healed and caressed. The same voice, edged with urgency now, filled his mind and said, If the first step in your purpose is to succeed, your insatiable hunger for my spirit must be contained. Trust that I will always be here for you, no matter what the physical dimension may tell you otherwise. The life you have known will never return, prepare your mind and soul.
Tillamund, having connected to the last of the chosen, returned beneath the archway and continued with his litany. "Confronted by a foe set on destroying your body and all its creation, you gave us our protectors, the Guardians. Through your Spirit, we survived and persevered. In doing so, you bestowed upon us The Forging Tree: your living embodiment and producer of our champions, the Teuton Guardian."
Extending his arms before his chest with palms inward, Tillamund opened the channel connected to the Provider's Citizens and directed it to the seven chosen. Steffor staggered from the tidal wave of Source. The rush of energy expanded the images of his recent meditative state. It revealed each Citizen as its own tributary, the four races the streams and rivers, the turbulent cove the collection of the whole and the Provider's limitless love.
Vejax's force fed stream of the Source had become a trick
le and dissipated all together as he no longer required his friend's assistance. The conduit placed on his soul by Tillamund now stoked, not hindered, Steffor's ability to consume the Source, having surpassed that which he had ever known. As a leaf feeds on the sun's rays, Steffor opened himself to the whole and siphoned his fill of energy from the Provider's bountiful sea of life.
Steffor drank more and more, and as he did so, the line between physical and ethereal dimensions began to warp. His power expanded, drawing in more Source despite teetering precariously between worlds. His inner eye, its acuity enhanced by the ample supply of Source, had broadened its perspective, driven by the question deepest in his heart.
What of those waters beyond the Provider's sheltered cove, the ocean that nourished the Provider and countless other coves.
Tillamund continued with the ceremony. "We honor your love and give back your gift to us, Eldrak: Teuton Guardian, husband, father, friend and Citizen. May the body he inhabited serve us one last time and guide us in choosing his successor." The Forging Mystic looked to his left and nodded to the Guardian at the edge of the semi-circle, standing a few feet from the opening in the tree.
Upon receiving the signal, the young women promptly walked around the side of the tree and disappeared from view. Moments later she returned, leading Eldrak's corpse hovering a few feet off the ground. His arms were crossed over his staff that lay across the length of his body. With swift purpose, she deposited Eldrak and his staff into the Forging Tree.
Steffor intently watched the Guardian complete her duty. His intrigue had little to do with the ritual at hand but had everything to do with witnessing her shift the Source to suspend and transport Eldrak's body. His senses heightened to new levels, he could now see her draw the Provider's energy from all around. He watched in wonder as the Source flowed throughout her body, how the brain orchestrated its movements and bent it to her will. The mechanics of it all were both beautiful and spellbinding.
It was then that he became aware of the vortex surrounding him, visible only by his unique paradigm. He watched helplessly as it continued to expand. His unabated pull on the Source caused the space around him to bend inward, creating a concave maelstrom of energy that stretched from his being in every direction.
Control yourself! The voice Steffor knew to be his soul commanded.
"Who among the chosen will fill the void of Eldrak and live the Certain Way without falter," Tillamund said with strained voice.
"Your body. Your people. Your will be done," Citizens around the world intoned.
With his arms raised toward the sky, the Mystic looked to the heavens and continued the ancient litany. "Almighty Provider, open your heart and shower the bodily remains of your devoted champion with your love. We ask that you allow another to manifest your power so that we may always defend and protect the living from evil."
Tillamund lowered his arms and turned back around to address the chosen seven. "The time has come for one of the chosen to create their staff and take your rightful place as the Provider's next Teuton. The body once owned by Eldrak is your fuel, the tree is your forge, I am your tool; you are the creator. May your actions enrich us all. Come forth and claim your place."
The Provider's knights, standing with rigid posture only moments ago, bent and slouched with effort.
I must contain the power welling inside me. I deplete them of Source faster than it can be replenished. If I do not find a way to stop, I will kill them all. And it will not stop here...
To control the experience, Steffor knew he must change how he perceived it. He looked inward, exhausting the remaining reserves of his fortitude, and shut out the drama unfolding before him. Deep within the vacuum of his mind, he poured his Self into the inner eye, trusting it for guidance, escaping to a newfound state of consciousness. Steffor hovered above his body and studied the scene below. The strange portrait captured the essence of naturalism, evidenced through the lens of the supernatural.
The temporal dimension holds no influence here, no past or future, the present is infinite. I observe but no longer dictated by emotion or the needs of the body.
With the removal of both psychological and physical governors came the immediate discovery of his omnipotence. A power he had always believed possible, only now fully comprehended. The need to realize his full potential was all consuming and immediate. He reached to the heavens, to the ocean of energy beyond the breakers, knowing the Provider's corporeal world would no longer sustain him.
Steffor pulled the Source from every Citizen as amplified his soul's pipeline. He augmented the power of his inner eye to visualize an existence beyond his world. His astral body broke past the puffy white clouds encapsulating his arboreal home, into outer space. He jettisoned far into the cosmos and lay witness to millions of stars and majestic planets, diverse worlds of earth, mountains and large bodies of water. Each world was home to a huge array of life, vessels for the soul, some like man, and others strange and alien. His heart buckled with empathy for the countless isolated souls, living on worlds devoid of love and compassion, where the collective was unaware of itself. Possessed by the desire for mass transcendence, a connection beyond the physical, Steffor wept for those captured in subsistence.
I understand now, we all come from the same divine source.
Committed to martyrdom in attempt to end all suffering, Steffor prepared to send his astral projection into every corner of the Universe. It was then the tether of life, the last thread connecting him to a material existence, jerked him back with commanding force.
Not yet Steffor! The familiar voice was distant but strong. Charged by this voice, he reluctantly returned to the body he last inhabited. Time slowly churned its way back into consciousness as gravity brought physical senses back online.
"You must return to us Steffor." The sound of Calivera's imploring voice completed his transportation from the supernal plane back to the material.
What have I done?
Semi-conscious Guardians flagged on bent knees, moaning from the effort to stay alive. Panic seeped in as his pull on the Source grew stronger and unabated, wrestling with vivid images of Citizens around the world sapped of their life force in a similar manner.
"All will be well Steffor," Calivera said soothingly in response to his frantic thoughts.
Steffor turned at the sound of her voice. Shrouded by a halo of soft light, she stood at his side, appearing unaffected by his deviant power. "How are you...you are unlike the rest." The statement developed new meaning as he sensed Calivera's power, one of equal force and potential to his own. Yet where he desired to expand his essence outward, hers consecrated within the Provider. Calivera conflated the souls of every Citizen and used her unique power to shield the whole from his destructive draw.
She is my counter weight.
The sight of her radiant smile banished all lingering doubt. "I feared...our time in this life...I so need you to..." Steffor sobbed, uncertain what to make by her presence, fearful she was an illusion certain to evaporate at any moment.
Without hesitation, Calivera stepped forward and draped her arms around his neck. Steffor met her embrace, placing his hands on the small of her back. Calivera pressed her body tight, the musky scent of her hair flooding his senses. Waves of pleasure washed over his body. His hands, as if possessed by another, moved along her sleek back and shoulders and curved buttocks. Calivera pressed her body closer in response to his probing hands, releasing a small moan of pleasure as her lips, wet with desire, found his gapping mouth and kissed him.
The world melted away, their eternal bond all that existed, the simple and complete feeling of joy they shared sufficient to fill all that is emptiness.
"Send me the Staff!" Tillamund screamed.
Steffor hesitated, spellbound by the caprice to stay in paradise.
Calivera, remaining locked in his embrace, placed a soft hand on Steffor's face, her thumb absently wiping his tears. "I will never deny your love again," she whispered,
"know this Steffor." She looked deep into his eyes, nodding as she did so. "Do what your heart knows must be done. Do not doubt another moment. I will be here no matter what occurs. Do you trust what I tell you?"
"With all that I know to be true, I trust you Calivera."
"Send it now! There is no other, you are the one. Do as I command Guardian!"
Tillamund's plea was desperate, his robes and long hair rippling toward Steffor as if pressed against a strong wind.
Steffor turned to face the Forging Mystic as he gently moved Calivera to his side. Fists clenched, placed on his hips, Steffor breathed deep and pieced gratitude from the past with the present and locked them into the future.
Time paused, and the Provider bellowed from the void, nature's bass, a wave of vibration leaving utter silence in its healing wake. Color ceased, detail no longer a necessity, the Source and the faint outline of its privileged vessels was all that existed within the paradox of nonexistence.
Time resumed while the deafening silence remained. His body flexed with bent arms shoulder width apart and fists turned inward. As he leaned upon the foundation of Calivera's counter measure, Steffor gathered the maelstrom of energy before him, containing it within a dense, blue orb. The last storm tendril collected, his pull on the world finally restrained, Steffor looked up and waited for Tillamund.
The storm having knocked him to his knees moments prior, Tillamund got to his feet, stood straight and faced Steffor. Steffor waited.
"Why do you delay Steffor?" Tillamund pleaded, his face vexed with urgency.
Steffor, his ability to contain the Source waning, continued to wait, allowing the silence to settle the man's thoughts. He waited for a sign, the signal that Tillamund understood his fate. That his existence as Forging Mystic, Citizen, a normal soul, was about to end. Steffor would not, could not take the next step without Tillamund's informed acceptance of his future role.
Poised to command Steffor again, the recognition hit before the words escaped his lips. His jaw went slack, unconsciously opening and closing his mouth several times. Shoulders drooped as Tillamund processed what his heart already knew. A moment later, he stood tall and composed, strength found by vatic purpose now replaced by that of personal resolve.
"So be it."
The millisecond after Tillamund echoed his last words, Steffor unleashed the Source back into the world. The electric band of energy shot from the dense orb into Tillamund, launching him into the nether regions of the Forging Tree.
Steffor felt more than saw the intense beam of energy fill the vast chamber within, then flow up the tree's hollow center. Tillamund, Eldrak's body and staff and portions of the Forging Tree itself melded to become raw material. Steffor brought forth the image of his staff and sculpted with one defining purpose.
Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy: Volume I) Page 27
