Green Monk of Tremn, Book I: An Epic Journey of Mystery and Adventure (Coins of Amon-Ra Saga 1)

by NJ Bridgewater

  “Tell us,” Ifunka urged.

  Tvem smiled and reached into his robe. He pulled out a rubber ball. Holding it with two fingers, he explained:

  “The first teaching is this: All energy can be given, received, or returned. Observe.”

  He tossed the ball to Shem, who caught it.

  “Thou hast received the energy that I have summoned from the mimra.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My muscles burn energy which is stored in the fat of my body, this itself originally coming from plants and the sunlight through photosynthesis. Nevertheless, all of this energy exists within the field that envelops us, the mimra. When thou stoppedst the ball’s motion, its energy was absorbed and then dissipated back into the field. I gave the energy and thou receivedst it. Now, Ifunka, hold this…”

  He handed Ifunka a wooden board.

  “Block the ball.”

  Tvem threw the ball at Ifunka and he shielded himself with the board. The ball hit the board and bounced back, hitting Tvem in the chest.

  “The energy has now been returned to me. This is the basis of my fighting skills. I use the energy of my opponent against him, until he wounds or kills himself. Otherwise, if I have him at a disadvantage, I can also use my own energy, if need be. It depends on what the Great Spirit wills.”

  “This is certainly interesting,” Ifunka commented. “But there must be more to it than that.”

  “Of course,” Tvem replied. “There are nine teachings!”

  He stared into the flames and then blew on the embers, causing them to burn with greater intensity.

  “Was that a necessary action?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” Ifunka did not understand.

  “Did that have to happen? Was it fate?”

  “No, you chose to blow on the embers.”

  “So, then, it was will—volition—which set the embers ablaze.”

  “No, indeed,” Ifunka contradicted him. “It was the air you blew.”

  “Wrong,” Tvem explained. “The second teaching is this: The sum of all actions is will, and all movement derives from the Primal Will. In other words, I willed these embers to flare up and that effected the action, but all actions—all movement—begin with the Primal Will which derives from the Great Spirit.”

  “What if I will something and it doesn’t happen?” asked Shem.

  “Then thy will has come into conflict with the Primal Will. When one’s will is in accordance with the original Will, then that will is realised. Now, listen, the third teaching is this: Energy flows through a pure channel, like air through a hollow shen-reed. Observe!”

  He reached into his robe and pulled out a reed and a twig. The one was perfectly hollow and the other completely solid.

  “Which of these two can receive air through it?”

  “The reed,” Shem replied.

  “Exactly! Even so, we must become hollow reeds in order to access the power of the mimra.”

  “How?” asked Ifunka.

  “This step is deceptively simple but incredibly hard to effect: empty thyself.”

  “Empty myself?” Ifunka exclaimed, as if unable to comprehend the phrase.

  “Behold the goblet”—Tvem lifted a goblet full of water. “See how full it is, how heavy it weighs on the hand, how easily it can slip and break. It is totally encumbered with itself; but pour out the water”—he tipped it, pouring water by the hearth-stones. “And it becomes light, quick to move, unencumbered with itself. Empty the cup and it becomes a perfect receptacle. So, likewise, empty yourselves!”

  He stressed the last phrase.

  “But how?”

  “Ye are monks, are ye not?” asked Tvem rhetorically. “So the first step is familiar to you: forget yourselves—and this is achievable by following the path of the Tamitvar, that is: perform the obligatory prayers: the kashroim, the kashatvin, the kashashom, the kashammanaffob and the kashofftishatvin; give charity and serve your fellow Tremna. The second is to perform the first of the nine practices, which is the meditation of self-abnegation. This we achieve by sitting completely still, controlling our breathing and chanting the Wogane Bav Shivahyeng (‘words of inner peace’): OM MIM RA, OM VABA!”

  “How long must one chant?”

  “Until ye feel empty of all things.”

  They remained silent for a short while, until Ifunka asked: “And what of the fourth teaching?” whereupon Tvem raised his eyebrows just a little and replied: “Are ye empty—free of all foolishness, self and passion? Go, meditate, and we’ll talk on the morrow. The remaining six teachings depend upon the first three. Go, go, meditate and then sleep.”

  He waved his hands dismissively, rose and, having pointed out their place of rest, went to his own chambers for the night. Ifunka and Shem stayed up late, discussing the three teachings, and practised meditation late into the night, through the rising and setting of Tvash and Ffash, the twin moons of Tremn. At last, Ifunka had managed to reach a state of deep relaxation, his breathing being perfectly regulated, his thoughts tranquil as he continuously uttered the mantra, OM MIM RA, OM VABA, until, suddenly, he felt a lightening of his breast—an exhilaration—and he breathed in deeply. He felt placeless, transcendent, his whole being light and evanescent, and a vibrating energy seemed to flow from his temple to his feet. He had experienced this energy before, but it now came in greater intensity, focused by his greater concentration and refined practice. He remained in this transcendental phase for an hour or so, drifting—in his mind—from cloud to cloud, until he felt immersed within a vast web of energy—the mimra. He opened his eyes and began to sense this energy all around him, within the walls, the floor, the rafters above. It even seemed to ebb and flow from Shem, who was seated in perfect peace beside him.

  Time passed swiftly until the room filled with the glowing light of Vukt, casting a rufescent effulgence over all things. The chill dawn air quickened his bosom and Ifunka and Shem were both transitioned from their meditative state to normal wakedness. Shem turned to his friend:

  “Did you also feel the mimra all around you?” he asked.

  “It was like being suspended in a web which links all things together. It’s like we’re all part of one sheet of fabric and we are nestled within its warp and woof. Everything is one—one substance, one energy, one light. I can see what Tvem is talking about now. He uses this energy.”

  “Truly, it is one of the mysteries of the Great Spirit,” Shem opined. “His grace is illimitable.”

  “We are like sparks of light within the effulgence of the Primal Word. If we are truly possessed of such power, how can the demon-worshippers of Ffushkar stand against against us?”

  “If we can wield this power, that is,” Shem replied.

  The two monks went down the stairs and were greeted by Tvem, who was already dressed in his day clothes with staff in hand.

  “Morning!” he called, something officiously.

  “Good morning!” Ifunka replied.

  “I don’t mean ‘good morning’, only that it is morning. I’ve been up since dawn and truths are best conveyed at the extremities of the day. Come…”

  He led them outside and to a small grove of trees.

  “This is the Old Grove, the spot where my father first taught me the mysteries of the nine-fold path. Here, also, shall you learn the same.”

  They seated themselves on three wide tree stumps in the middle of the grove, which consisted of kaptitv-trees with thick boles betokening great antiquity, adorned with rough and craggy bark, laced with spider-webs and deff-ants. The ground was coated with a thick layer of blue moss, pink roly mushroom-balls (called wimff), which gradually crawled about by pushing spores through their bottoms until they were slightly propelled forwards, absorbing moisture from the dew-drops which hung on the moss follicles. A snake-eating ffig rolled between them, hunting se
rpents hidden in the bushes and undergrowth, while wultva-budgies chirped and warbled on the tree branches. The sun, rising over the trees of mighty Ffushkar, stretching as it did for more than two hundred tvinshaff in all directions, bordering on the Varome Sintva, the White Mountains which stretch from the top to the bottom of the continent of Tremnad like a spinal cord and, on the other side, by the great plains of eastern Tremnad, bathed them in its warming, ruddy glow which poured through the leaves, twigs and branches which enveloped them on all sides. As they breathed in the chill, morning air and felt its revivifying freshness on their cheeks, Ifunka and Shem watched Tvem, who sat in perfect relaxation and tranquillity.

  “I hope you have performed the kashroim—your dawn-prayer.”

  “Indeed,” Ifunka replied. They had both performed their ablutions before descending from their room.

  “We’ll eat breakfast in a little while. First, the fourth teaching, which is this: Light, energy and will are of one essence. To clarify: the sun, mighty Vukt, gives light to this tree and the tree grows and bears fruit. Our skin, green like the leaves, absorbs light and makes sugar. The scholars of olden times called this process photosynthesis, but the general atrophy of natural science and other disciplines has led this truth to be forgotten by most. Sugar is burned within us to produce heat and energy. Will governs this energy and converts it into action. Light, heat, and will can all be manipulated and used to good purpose. If I will it, I can focus positive will upon this tree and it will grow strong. If I will it, I can wish it ill and it should, over time, weaken. This is intention—how we will good or evil for a thing, or ourselves.”

  “Are we, then, made of this substance?” Ifunka asked.

  “All material things belong to one substance,” he replied. “Which interacts with spirit, the other, immaterial substance, but does not touch it.”

  “What is the practical application of this teaching?” Shem asked.

  “If ye have the will, ye can succeed. If ye destroy your opponent’s will, he shall fail. All energy he uses against you can be transformed into your own will and energy.”

  Ifunka felt the answer was a bit muddled but he kept quiet out of reference and respect for his host and teacher. Tvem’s face became yet graver and more concentrated as he spoke again.

  “The fifth teaching is the core of the nine-fold path, upon which all the other teachings depend, and it is this: Within every person is the sum of all created things, and within every atom there is a sun. Heed these words again”—and he repeated the teaching.

  Then he fell silent and stared at the tree branches. Ifunka and Shem also kept silent, benumbed by the unusual and extraordinary nature of this principle. They read the words again and again on the tablet of their minds, analysing the teaching, tearing it apart, but could not grasp its immense significance.

  “Hold on a moment,” Ifunka at last broke the silence. “How it that possible? The sum is the result of addition—the totality of something. We cannot embrace or contain the whole universe. That is the most extraordinary and awesome claim I have ever heard; and surely the atom is the smallest divisible part of existence, meaning that it cannot contain the sun. The sun is a composite thing, whereas an atom is the simplest and most basic unit of existence, so it cannot be broken into parts, though it can itself become a building block within a composite object.”

  “There thou art mistaken,” Tvem asserted. “Both thy points are erroneous. Firstly, the whole is contained within the individual. The seed contains the tree, the drop contains the ocean. The part is not just an element of the whole—it is the whole. What ye see is but an illusion, a covering which hides reality. Secondly, the atom is not the most basic element. It is a composite of yet smaller divisions bound together by a hidden force, and these are ultimately vibrations of the mimra. Within each atom is contained the sum energy of the sun—nay more, of a myriad suns which, if released, would split the world in twain. If this is the power of one atom, what is the sum power contained within one person? It is the same as the energy, light and heat of the entire universe. Every power, every mystery, every knowledge is buried within each and every person, and we are all parts of the whole, as well as being the whole itself.”

  This revelation stunned the boys yet further. They wanted to object—because it was too unbelievable—but they could not. Tvem did not pause to address their dumbfoundment but, rather, continued in his exposition of the nine teachings.

  “Now, let us continue on to the sixth teaching, which is this: within everything there is a symbol, and within every symbol is a meaning. This is an extension of the last teaching, because all knowledge is contained in everything, and in each thing there is a symbol representing a distinct meaning.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” said Ifunka.

  “What do you see in my face—in my expression?” the old man asked.

  “I see wisdom... patience... perhaps even humour.”

  “Well done!” he congratulated him. “You’re beginning to read the book of existence. I could elaborate on this point for hours, but ye are both limited for time. So here is the seventh teaching: sacrifice and determination are the foundations of success and attainment.”

  “That teaching at least is clear,” Shem commented. “I have struggled with the others.”

  “Indeed, it is clarity itself,” Tvem replied. “But as with the third teaching, it is not easy to implement. To sacrifice is to give away that which is lower for that which is higher.”

  “That doesn’t seem like sacrifice at all—it’s a gain.”

  “Honour is higher than flesh—spirit is higher than matter. The cocoon of the ffug gvalhish (‘the windmill-fly’) reveals its beauty; no longer does it crawl upon the tree bark.”

  “I see,” said Ifunka. “So you see sacrifice as shedding the unimportant, ephemeral aspects of life for that which is nobler—more lasting.”

  “Exactly. Now, the eighth teaching is this: all negative energy can be opposed and overcome by positive energy, which is stronger and more effective. Do ye remember the first teaching?”

  “Energy can be given and received,” replied Ifunka.

  “Yes, all energy can be given, received, or returned; but positive energy—positive will—can overcome negative energy.”

  “So good always triumphs over evil?” asked Shem.

  “In the end... but not in every battle. Sometimes the negative must overcome for a while. But the practical application of this teaching is that, when two wills are opposed, positive energy has greater force. Its power is more effective.” He paused, as if for dramatic effect. “Now, the ninth teaching is this: there is no power and no force greater than that of unity, and unity springs from loving-kindness. Two friends, when united, can overcome hundreds; two lovers in locked embrace can withstand the world; a united band of brothers-in-arms can vanquish a mighty army. Ye twain are two friends who can overcome all the demon-worshippers who stand against you, so long as ye have love for one another and loving-kindness remains your watchword. Be not afraid of those embodiments of negative energy who shall try to destroy you. Now, let me teach you the first method.”

  Intrigued, the two monks sat up straight, their backs resting against the boles of the lofty kaptitv-tree.

  “But first, meditate, prepare yourselves, absorb the teachings I’ve already given you. Later, we shall meet by the water’s edge.”

  With that, he stood up and walked off towards the forest.

  “Where are you going?” Ifunka called after him.

  Tvem swirled his staff in the air and looked over his shoulder.

  “I’m going to keep all of us safe...”

  “From the clay men?”

  “Amongst other things.”

  “Are you going all on your own?” asked Shem.

  “Where I go—ye would not want to follow; I am a watchman in this age of gloom and ty
ranny. I shall see you at midday, if the Great Spirit wish it.”

  He could be seen moving like a phantom until he vanished into the forest vastness.

  Chapter XII.

  Dark Dwellings

  The day waxed on, the Tremna sun—Vukt—reached its zenith and then began its descent unto the forest-laden horizon where it kept its secret night-abode. The boys waited by the edge of the lake, ever and anon casting glances back at the forest edge full as it was of numerous perils and hidden threats. The forest was a primal being, a shadowy entity which absorbed and embraced all that came within its bosom. It called to them, asked them why they did not come again within its warm embrace. They resisted its call, as much they could, until at last it began to draw them in with its pulsating, rhythmic chant.

  “The forest…” said Ifunka, as if in a trance. “Tvem has been gone too long.”

  “I feel it calling us,” said Shem. “The forest calls us to come within its shadows.”

  “That’s something we all feel,” Ifunka replied.

  “Yes, but it speaks. Didn’t the bard teach us so? The forest speaks… the trees cry out. They are all part of one being which covers the face of this world. Tvem hears its call—I know it. That’s what pulls him in—that’s why he went into the forest. He lives by its edge, far away from other men. Here, in this solitude and remoteness, its call is strongest. I can feel it tearing at my soul.”

  “Why do you think he hasn’t returned, Shem?”

  “Maybe he has succumbed to the forest’s call—maybe he... but no, he is in danger, or held up by some obstacle.”

  “If that is true, we must help him,” said Ifunka. “He’s helped us so we must, in turn, help him.”

  “I’m afraid—the clay men took the bard.”

  “If we trust in the Great Spirit, there is nothing to fear. Is not the universe contained within us?”

  “Ifunka, brother, let’s stay here. This is where he said to stay.”