by Heidi Skarie
While in the cave, the Inner Worlds became more important to him and the boundaries between the two worlds began to fade. Being in this room was like being in that cave. As Mazarka said, nothing physical could distract his attention from God—only his own mind and emotions. This test would teach him to overcome the influence of a powerful mind or psychic force.
Michio chanted HU once more, raising his vibrations and coming into harmony with the divine essence of life.
He visualized the door unlocking. In his Light Body, he saw his physical body get up, open the door and walk out of the room. Everything had an ethereal quality about it, as if he were seeing the world through a different vibration.
He was drawn down the hallway to a room filled with Light. Inside a large man with reddish-brown skin and a short beard sat on a floor mat. He wore a white robe with gold trim and a turban. The sound of waves crashing into an ocean shoreline surrounded him and the fragrance of a hundred red roses emanated from him. Next to him sat Master Bakka, who smiled at Michio as if to say, It was easy after all, was it not?
As Michio came closer, he felt his Spiritual Eye become warm. Light flooded into him and he felt himself expand and open in consciousness. Master Bakka walked over to him and took both of Michio’s hands in his. “You see, the limits were all in your mind.”
“Please sit down. I’m Master Jadock,” the other man said.
Once Michio was seated, Master Jadock continued, “You are ready for the next step.” His eyes sparkled and he turned to Master Bakka. “Much of the world still clings to him.”
“Yes, he has attachments.”
Master Jadock gazed at Michio and a blinding light poured from him—raw power of a magnitude Michio had never felt before. The power coursed through him until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Then it changed to a warm, flowing love.
“God is love,” Master Jadock said. “Soul exists because God loves it. Keep love as the center of your being. You’ll receive further training as an Ahimsa warrior while you’re here so you can fight any force that attacks you, physically or psychically. Your greatest enemy is your lower self, your passions. Never fight with anger or hatred; always be centered, balanced, filled with light.”
Michio sat in silence, listening to the sound current flowing through him and contemplating the words of Master Jadock. When he once more became aware of the room, Master Bakka had disappeared and he was alone with Master Jadock.
“I’ve watched your development since you were young and have long awaited your arrival,” Master Jadock said. “Your training will be arduous; there’s much you have to learn.”
“I feel as if I’ve been preparing to come here all my life.”
“Not just this life, but for many lives.”
A disciple quietly entered the room and placed a bowl of hot grain and a cup of tea in front of Michio.
“Eat,” said Master Jadock. “You’ve had a long journey.”
After eating, Michio returned to his room and lay on the pallet, wondering what the next test would be.
The next morning Michio joined the other initiates in the dining hall for breakfast. Most were of the same race as Mazarka and Master Jadock, but a few were of other races.
Mazarka came over to him. “Master Jadock said to take you to the next place of training. You’ve been assigned to help with the fall harvest.”
“Fall harvest? But—”
“Do you question the training you are given?”
Michio bowed his head. “No.” He followed Mazarka into the hall.
“You won’t pass the other tests so easily and to pass the eleventh test you must fight me.”
“I am not competing with you; you are my brother. I will gladly learn from you and share what I’ve learned with you.”
“You are a beginner. There’s nothing you can teach me.”
Outside they walked past several mats where men engaged in martial arts matches. Michio paused, watching them for a moment. This was the sort of training he’d been expecting. What would he learn from working in the fields? Yet things were often not what they seemed. He could serve life in whatever he did.
They climbed up to a terraced field cut into the side of the mountain. Mazarka left and a disciple named Danjuro instructed Michio on how to harvest quettle, a tall grain that had to be cut with a wooden tool with a sharp cutting end. All the work was done without machinery and involved hard physical labor.
Michio set to cutting the quettle. Before long he grew tired and hot from working at such a high altitude and had to rest. He realized it would take several days for him to acclimate to the thin mountain air and though it was cooler here than in the village below, the sun was closer and more intense.
Despite fatiguing easily, Michio found the physical labor relaxing and peaceful compared to the strain of being involved with the interplanetary war. It was easy to forget the danger Samrat Condor presented to the free worlds. He slid into a meditative state and focused on seeing the Light of God in everything: in the beauty of the mountains, in the pureness of the air, and in the colorful wildflowers.
After a few hours, Danjuro approached Michio and suggested they take a break. They walked to the well and Danjuro drew up a bucket of water and took a drink. Once his thirst was quenched he handed the bucket to Michio.
The water tasted cool and refreshing as it slid down Michio’s parched throat.
Danjuro looked across the field to the men sparring. “I came here to learn to be a great warrior. First, I did menial labor, tending to the ill-tempered tryworts. Then I spent years in a dark room, and now this! When will they recognize my worth?”
Michio followed Danjuro’s gaze. Mazarka had just stepped onto the mat with his opponent. They bowed to one another, then Mazarka attacked. Springing from the ground and slicing through the air, he slammed his foot into his opponent’s chest and knocked the man to the ground. The man rolled with the fall and leapt back up. He held out his hands ready for the next assault.
Michio continued studying this form of fighting. It was an art in balance and movement, involving total concentration. “What is this form of fighting called?” he asked.
“Namay. It originated at this school. Have you had training in any form of martial arts?”
“Yes, I’ve studied soku since I was a child. Where I’m from, it was considered an essential part of one’s education. Mazarka has amazing control of his body and makes Namay look like a dance. It is a pleasure to watch him.”
“I’m better than either of them. If only they would give me a chance. I’m losing my skills and ruining my hands working in these fields. It is a waste of my time.”
“Are you ever allowed to workout?”
“We have workouts in the early morning before breakfast. In the evenings, there are sparring matches. In winter there’s more free time and we spend a lot of time studying.”
“Why do you stay if you’re not satisfied with the training?”
Danjuro lowered his brows. “You must have been told we aren’t allowed to leave once we begin training. Even if we were allowed to leave, I’d be ashamed to return to my family and friends. I told them I would return as a great warrior.” He stared at the men fighting with an angry glint in his eyes. “Besides, I want a chance to fight Mazarka someday. That thought keeps me going. He is so proud, gloating over those of us who work in the fields. I will defeat him someday.”
“I must go back to work,” Michio said, not wanting to speak ill about Mazarka or their training.
“Don’t you resent being taken advantage of? They’re using us as slaves so they can spend their time training. You clearly aren’t used to physical labor—your hands are free of calluses.”
“It is right that we should work for the food we eat.”
“My family is rich. They will gladly pay for my food.”
“If they were merely interested in raising food, they would use modern equipment. There’s a greater reason for us to work in the fields. I trust Master Ja
dock will reveal the lesson behind this experience.”
“If there’s something to learn, why don’t they just tell us? I resent being forced to work.”
“I understand your feelings. I resented being put in a dark, locked room immediately upon arriving here. I wasn’t prepared to spend years there. My anger, caused by my fear of failure, hindered my ability to accept the test and I wasn’t able to master it as quickly. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“You were locked in a dark room immediately upon arriving?!”
“Yes, I was tired from the journey and expected a meal and a chance to sleep before starting my training.”
“I never heard of such a thing. Usually a student studies for two years before he decides to commit to taking the twelve tests. Some choose to leave rather than take them. The prospect of being locked in a dark room for years is frightening to a new student. Besides to pass the test, psychic skills are needed and most new students don’t have them. How long were you there?”
Michio looked across the mountain, debating what to say. He did not want to appear to be bragging. “Long enough to learn what was needed,” he said, trying to avoid a direct answer.
“How long?” Danjuro pressed.
“About an hour.”
“An hour! But that is not possible!”
“I’ve had a lot of previous training and Master Bakka helped me. The lock on the door was only an illusion. We each have different things to learn. Another test may be harder for me than you.”
“What can we learn working in this field?” Danjuro asked with a new note of respect in his voice. “How to cultivate grain? How to grow food? I came here to be a warrior, not a farmer.”
“What is your true purpose? To serve life or to be a great fighter?”
“I want to do both.”
“There is more to becoming an Adept than developing warrior skills. If you are already an accomplished warrior, then perhaps you have other lessons to learn.”
Michio went back to work, pondering this new test. Was it to learn patience and humility or to develop strength? Or maybe the test was on several levels. His conversation with Danjuro disrupted his contemplative mood and his uneasiness at being separated from Toemeka returned.
Although he didn’t like being here when Alandra was in the middle of a war, Michio knew he had to let go of his worries and fears. They wouldn’t serve him here. He needed to focus on the present moment.
6
New Threats
On a large Coalition Starship, Lieutenant Erling Fenian walked into Commander Quintary’s office and stood at attention.
Commander Quintary finished what he was reading, a deep frown wrinkling his brow. His shoulders slumped and he looked exhausted. The war was hard on all of them. They were fighting a losing battle, but no one wanted to admit defeat.
Finally, the commander looked up, his eyes scrutinizing Erling.
“At ease, Lieutenant. Sit down.”
Once Erling was seated, Quintary pushed a button on the computer. “I want you to see a holomessage I received a few days ago from Queen Koriann Van Marsindi.”
Erling’s chest tightened, realizing Koriann’s country must be in grave danger for her to contact the Coalition.
A holographic image of Koriann appeared in the air just to the right of the desk. She wore a velveteen gray, high-collared jacket and black slacks. Warm feelings for her swept through him. He tried not to think of her after leaving Jaipar, but here she was—captivating, vivacious and needing help.
“Commander Quintary, you have come to our aid in the past, so it is with high hopes that I turn to you again. Samrat Condor has threatened to attack and completely annihilate Jaipar unless we surrender.”
Koriann lifted her chin and clenched her hands into fists, showing resolve and courage. It was a stance Erling had seen many times before.
“His air fleet is the most powerful in the galaxy and we have little chance against it. Furthermore, we are weakened from the war we just fought when we overthrew General Bhandar.
“What would you advise based on your current knowledge of Samrat Condor’s military strength and strategy? I know your situation is perilous and I know I’m contacting you at a difficult time. However, whatever aid you can give us would be deeply appreciated. Best Regards.
She bowed her head and the holographic image disappeared.
“What’s your reply?” Erling asked.
“I told her not to surrender and that we would send some agents as soon as possible. Samrat Condor is trying to intimidate her, but he is not in position to attack Jaipar right now with the war going on in Alandra. His threat isn’t surprising. We knew he wouldn’t give up control of Jaipar without a fight.”
“Someone should go immediately.”
The commander handed him papers. “I agree. Here are your orders, Lieutenant.”
Erling read the order with a sinking feeling. He was commissioned to go to Jaipar on planet Borko as a military advisor. But how could he leave Alandra when his family was still in Jelmur?
“I realize this isn’t easy for you, but Alandra is already lost. All we can do at this point is try to delay the takeover whereas Jaipar has a chance. Queen Koriann needs your help and since you aided Jaipar on your most recent mission, you’re the best qualified person to represent the Coalition on Borko.”
“Send Hendora Radmeer or Onolyn Larcomb. They were there as well.”
“You were leader of the Jaipar mission. Hendora and Onolyn don’t have your expertise.”
Erling wondered if he could refuse. Not likely, it was a direct order. He wasn’t sure he wanted to anyway since he’d promised Koriann he’d return to Jaipar if she needed him. But how could he desert his family?
“As soon as they can be spared, I’ll send Onolyn Larcomb, Hendora Radmeer and Zachary Kwao to join you,” the commander said.
“But Zac is a new recruit,” Erling said.
“He’ll want to go to Jaipar when he finds out about this new threat. Jaipar’s his home.”
“He’s a little reckless. Are you sure he’s ready for a field assignment?”
“He’ll be under your authority. Your orders are to leave tomorrow.”
Erling rose. “Can you get word to my family?”
The Commander leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry; communication with Jelmur has been cut off. I know you want to keep fighting for Alandra, but you’re of more value as a military adviser to Queen Koriann than a fighter pilot. With your strong leadership qualities, it’s time for you to move to a position with more responsibility. I’m promoting you to major.”
Erling lifted his eyebrows. “Major? What happened to being a captain first?”
“In war, men move up in rank faster.”
“A higher rank won’t make the job any easier. What can one man do to save a whole country?”
“You can’t do anything alone, but if you work with the Queen and her generals, as you did before, it’s possible to save Jaipar.”
Erling’s ship came out of a space jump near Borko. The planet reminded him of his home planet, Alandra. Both were prized for their climate, vast landmasses, oxygen-rich air, natural resources and prime location in the galaxy.
Erling flew over the country of Jaipar to the City of Silver Light. A feeling of nostalgia engulfed him as he flew near the coastal city. It was beautiful despite having been occupied for the last ten years by General Bhandar. He realized if he ever wanted to settle down, this would be a perfect place. Not that he was ready to settle down; he was dedicated to the Coalition and defeating Samrat Condor.
The magnificent, white-stone palace with its numerous towers and balconies appeared. Erling radioed the military air control tower, requesting permission to land on the royal airfield. After an uneventful landing, he left his ship and entered the Marsindi Palace grounds. Gardens lined the sidewalk leading to the palace. Erling breathed in the scent of flowers as he thought of seeing Koriann again. She now reigned over this pow
erful country. When they’d fought together for Jaipar’s freedom, he thought she was the rebel leader’s daughter, not royalty-in-hiding. At first, they hadn’t gotten along, but the dangers of their shared goal drew them together until they’d grown close. It wasn’t until the overthrow of General Bhandar when control of Jaipar was regained that her true identify was revealed.
He’d taken the news hard. Being royalty meant she was expected to marry someone of her station. There was no future in a fledgling relationship with a Coalition agent. When he was ordered to return to Coalition Headquarters, he wasn’t certain he’d ever see her again.
Erling climbed up the expansive staircase to the palace entrance where guards were posted. He showed a guard his Coalition papers and the man led him through the palace to the throne room. The throne room was spacious with high ceilings and large windows overlooking the ocean.
Erling walked across the marble floor under magnificent crystal chandeliers. Servants and guards stood at attention while people stood in line, waiting for an audience with the Queen.
A court administrator, smartly dressed in a navy-colored uniform, studied Erling’s papers, then said, “Wait in line. You will have to be announced. The Queen is talking to an important ambassador.”
Erling ignored the administrator as he stared across the room at Koriann. She wore a floor-length, flowing cream-colored gown and bands of gold with jewels set in them encircled her light-brown hair. Entranced by her beauty, he was drawn like a humming bird to flowers, oblivious of others in the room.
“Wait, Major Fenian! You can’t just walk up to Her Majesty,” the court administrator said, hurrying to catch up to him. Several guards closed in on him.
The disturbance caught Queen Koriann’s attention and she spotted Erling.
“Erling!” she exclaimed. To her men she added, “It’s all right. Let Major Fenian come forward. I’ve been expecting him.”
Erling stopped in front of the throne, suddenly aware he’d been presumptuous to interrupt her conversation with a foreign dignitary.
