The Fifth Mountain

by Paulo Coelho

  Elijah lived with the boy in a small stone house rebuilt on the site that had once been a storage place for merchandise. Each night the inhabitants of Akbar would sit around a fire in the main square, telling stories that they had heard earlier in their lives, alongside the boy, who noted everything on clay tablets that were baked the next day. The library was growing before their very eyes.

  The woman who had lost her son was also learning the characters of Byblos. When Elijah saw that she could create words and phrases, he charged her with teaching the alphabet to the rest of the population; in this way, when the Assyrians returned, they could be used as interpreters or teachers.

  “This was just what the high priest wanted to prevent,” an old man, who had taken the name Ocean because he desired to have a soul as great as the sea, said one afternoon. “That the writing of Byblos survive to threaten the gods of the Fifth Mountain.”

  “Who can prevent the unavoidable?” Elijah replied.

  The people of Akbar would toil by day, watch the sunset together, and recount stories during the night.

  Elijah was proud of his work. And with each day that passed he grew more impassioned with it.

  One of the children charged with keeping the vigil descended in a run.

  “I saw dust on the horizon!” he said excitedly. “The enemy is returning!”

  Elijah climbed to the turret and saw that the news was correct. He reckoned that they would be at the gates of Akbar the next day.

  That afternoon he told the inhabitants that they should not attend the sunset but gather in the square. When the day’s work was over, he stood before the assembled group and saw that they were afraid.

  “Today we shall tell no stories of the past, nor speak of Akbar’s future,” he said. “We shall talk about ourselves.”

  No one said a word.

  “Some time ago, a full moon shone in the sky. That night, what all of us had foreseen, but did not want to accept, came to pass: Akbar was destroyed. When the Assyrian army departed, the best among our men were dead. Those who had escaped saw that it was futile to remain here, and they determined to go. Only the old, the widows, and the orphans were left—that is, the useless.

  “Look about you; the square is more beautiful than ever, the buildings are more solid, the food is divided among us, and everyone is learning the writing invented in Byblos. Somewhere in this city is a collection of tablets on which we have written our stories, and generations yet to be born will remember what we did.

  “Today we know that the old, the widows, the orphans, also departed. They left in their place a band of youths of every age, filled with enthusiasm, who have given name and meaning to their lives.

  “At each moment of rebuilding, we knew that the Assyrians would return. We knew that one day we would be obliged to hand our city over to them and, together with the city, our efforts, our sweat, our joy at seeing it more beautiful than before.”

  The light from the fire illuminated tears coursing down the faces of some of the people. Even the children, who customarily played during the evening meetings, were listening attentively to his words. Elijah continued.

  “This does not matter. We have carried out our duty to the Lord because we accepted His challenge and the honor of His struggle. Before that night, He had urged us, saying, Walk! But we heeded Him not. Why?

  “Because each of us had already decided his own future: I thought only of removing Jezebel from the throne, the woman who is now called Reencounter wanted her son to become a navigator, the man who today bears the name Wisdom wished merely to spend the rest of his days drinking wine in the square. We were accustomed to the sacred mystery of life and gave little importance to it.

  “Then the Lord thought to Himself: They would not walk? Then let them be idle for a long time!

  “And only then did we understand His message. The steel of Assyrian blades swept away our youth, and cowardice swept away our adults. Wherever they are at this moment, they are still idle; they have accepted God’s curse.

  “We, however, struggle with the Lord, just as we struggle with the men and women we love in our lifetimes. For it is that struggle with the divine that blesses us and makes us grow. We grasp the opportunity in the tragedy and do our duty by Him, by proving we were able to obey the order to walk. Even in the worst of circumstances, we have forged ahead.

  “There are moments when God demands obedience. But there are moments in which He wishes to test our will and challenges us to understand His love. We understood that will when Akbar’s walls tumbled to the ground: they opened our horizon and allowed each of us to see his capabilities. We stopped thinking about life and chose to live it.

  “The result is good.”

  Elijah saw that the people’s eyes were shining again. They had understood.

  “Tomorrow I shall deliver Akbar without a struggle; I am free to leave whenever I choose, for I have done what the Lord expected of me. But my blood, my sweat, and the only love I have known are in the soil of this city, and I have decided to remain here the rest of my days, to prevent its being destroyed again. Make whatever decision you wish but never forget one thing: all of you are much better than you believed.

  “Take advantage of the chance that tragedy has given you; not everyone is capable of doing so.”

  Elijah rose, ending the meeting. He told the boy that he would return late and said he should go to bed without waiting for his arrival.

  HE WENT TO THE TEMPLE, the only place that had escaped the destruction and had not needed rebuilding, though the statues of the gods had been taken away by the Assyrians. With all respect, he touched the stone that, according to tradition, marked the spot where an ancestor had embedded a staff in the ground and been unable to wrest it free.

  He thought how, in his country, places such as this were being erected by Jezebel, and a part of his people bowed down before Baal and his deities. Once again the premonition ran through his soul that the war between the Lord of Israel and the gods of Phoenicia would go on for a long time, beyond anything his imagination could encompass. As in a vision, he saw stars crossing the sun and raining death and destruction on both countries. Men who spoke strange languages rode animals of steel and dueled in the middle of the clouds.

  “It is not this that thou shouldst now see, for the time hath not yet come,” he heard his angel say. “Look out the window.”

  Elijah did as he was ordered. Outside, the full moon illuminated the streets and houses of Akbar, and despite the late hour he could hear conversations and laughter from the city’s inhabitants. Even facing the Assyrians’ return, the people kept the will to live, ready to confront a new stage in their lives.

  He saw a form and knew that it was the woman he had loved, who now returned to walk with pride through her city. He smiled, feeling her touch his face.

  “I am proud,” she seemed to be saying. “Akbar truly is still beautiful.”

  He felt the urge to weep, then remembered the boy, who had never shed a tear for his mother. He checked his sobs and thought anew of the most beautiful parts of the story that together they had lived, from the meeting at the city gates, till the moment she had written the word love on a clay tablet. Once again he could see her garment, her chair, the fine sculpting of her nose.

  “You told me you were Akbar. Well, I have taken care of you, healed your wounds, and now I return you to life. May you be happy among your new companions.

  “And I want to tell you something: I too was Akbar and did not know.”

  He knew that she was smiling.

  “Long since, the desert wind wiped away our footprints in the sand. But at every second of my existence, I remember what happened, and you still walk in my dreams and in my reality. Thank you for having crossed my path.”

  He slept there, in the temple, feeling the woman caressing his hair.

  THE CHIEF TRADER SAW A RAGGED GROUP OF PEOPLE IN the middle of the road. Thinking they were robbers, he ordered the caravan to take up arms. />
  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “We are the people of Akbar,” replied a bearded man with shining eyes. The leader of the caravan noticed that he spoke with a foreign accent.

  “Akbar was destroyed. We have been charged by the governments of Sidon and Tyre to find a well so caravans can cross the valley again. Communication with the rest of the land cannot be interrupted forever.”

  “Akbar still exists,” the man said. “Where are the Assyrians?”

  “The entire world knows where they are,” laughed the caravan leader. “Making the soil more fertile. And feeding the birds and wild animals for a long time now.”

  “But they were a powerful army.”

  “There’s no such thing as power or an army, if we find out where they’re going to attack. Akbar sent word that they were approaching, and Sidon and Tyre set an ambuscade for them at the end of the valley. Whoever didn’t die in battle was sold as slaves by our navigators.”

  The ragged people cheered and embraced one another, crying and laughing at the same time.

  “Who are you people?” insisted the trader. “And who are you?” he asked, pointing to their leader.

  “We are the young warriors of Akbar” was the reply.

  THE THIRD HARVEST had begun, and Elijah was the governor of Akbar. There had been great resistance at first; the old governor had attempted to return and reoccupy his position, for such did custom dictate. The inhabitants of the city, however, refused to admit him and for days threatened to poison the water in the well. The Phoenician authorities finally yielded to their demands; after all, Akbar’s only importance was the water it supplied to travelers, and the government of Israel was in the hands of a princess of Tyre. By conceding the position of governor to an Israelite, the Phoenician rulers could begin to consolidate a stronger commercial alliance.

  The news spread throughout the region, carried by the merchant caravans that had begun circulating again. A minority in Israel considered Elijah the worst of traitors, but at the proper moment Jezebel would take on the task of eliminating this resistance, and peace would return to the region. The princess was content, for one of her worst foes had in the end become her greatest ally.

  RUMORS OF A NEW Assyrian invasion began to arise, and the walls of Akbar were rebuilt. A new system of defense was developed, with sentinels and outposts spread between Tyre and Akbar; in this way, if one of the cities was besieged, the other could send troops overland while assuring the delivery of food by sea.

  The city prospered before one’s very eyes: the new Israelite governor had created a rigorous system, based on writing, to control taxes and merchandise. The old folk of Akbar attended to it all, using new techniques for supervision, and patiently resolved the problems that arose.

  The women divided their time between tending to the crops and weaving. During the period of isolation, to recover the small amount of cloth that had remained, they had been obliged to create new patterns of embroidery; when the first merchants arrived in the city, they were enchanted by the designs and placed several orders.

  The children too had learned the writing of Byblos; Elijah was certain that one day this would be of help to them.

  As was always his wont before the harvest, he strolled through the fields that afternoon, giving thanks to the Lord for the countless blessings bestowed upon him for all these years. He saw people with their baskets filled with grain, and around them children at play. He waved to them, and they returned his greeting.

  Smiling, he walked toward the stone where, long ago, he had been given a clay tablet with the word love. It was his custom to visit that spot every day to watch the sunset and recall each instant that they had spent together.

  “AND IT CAME TO PASS AFTER MANY DAYS, THAT THE WORD OF the Lord came to Elijah in the third year, saying, Go, shew thyself unto Ahab; and I will send rain upon the earth.”

  FROM THE STONE WHERE HE SAT, ELIJAH SAW THE world shudder about him. The sky turned black for an instant, but the sun quickly shone again.

  He saw the light. An angel of the Lord was before him.

  “What has happened?” asked Elijah, startled. “Has the Lord pardoned Israel?”

  “No,” answered the angel. “He desireth that thou return to liberate thy people. Thy struggle with Him is ended, and—at this moment—he hath blessed thee. He hath given thee leave to continue His work in that land.”

  Elijah was astonished.

  “But, now, just when my heart has again found peace?”

  “Recall the lesson once taught thee,” said the angel. “And recall the words the Lord spake unto Moses:

  “And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee to humble thee, and to prove thee. To know what was in thine heart.

  “Lest when thou hast eaten and art full, and hast built goodly houses, and dwelt therein, and when thy herds and thy flocks multiply, then thine heart be lifted up, and thou forget the Lord thy God.”

  Elijah turned to the angel. “What about Akbar?” he asked.

  “It can live without thee, for thou hast left an heir. It will survive for many years.”

  The angel of the Lord disappeared.

  ELIJAH AND THE BOY ARRIVED AT THE FOOT OF THE Fifth Mountain. Weeds had grown between the stones of the altars; since the high priest’s death no one had gone there.

  “Let’s climb it,” he said.

  “It’s forbidden.”

  “Yes, it’s forbidden. But that doesn’t mean it’s dangerous.”

  He took him by both hands, and they began climbing toward the top. They stopped from time to time to gaze at the valley below; the absence of rain had left its mark throughout the countryside, and with the exception of the cultivated fields around Akbar, everything seemed a desert as harsh as those of Egypt.

  “I’ve heard my friends say the Assyrians are coming back,” the boy said.

  “That could be, but what we have done was worthwhile; it was the way that God chose to teach us.”

  “I don’t know if He bothers much with us,” the boy said. “He didn’t have to be so severe.”

  “He must have tried other means before discovering that we were not listening to Him. We were too accustomed to our lives and no longer read His words.”

  “Where are they written?”

  “In the world around us. Merely be attentive to what happens in your life, and you will discover where, every moment of the day, He hides His words and His will. Seek to do as He asks: this alone is the reason you are in the world.”

  “If I discover it, I’ll write it on clay tablets.”

  “Do so. But write them, above all, in your heart; there they can be neither burned nor destroyed, and you will take them wherever you go.”

  They walked for some time more. The clouds were now very close.

  “I don’t want to go there,” the boy said, pointing to them.

  “They will do you no harm: they’re just clouds. Come with me.”

  He took him by the hands, and they climbed. Little by little, they found themselves entering the fog. The boy clung to him, and although Elijah tried to talk to him now and again, he said not a word. They walked among the naked rocks of the summit.

  “Let’s go back,” asked the boy.

  Elijah decided not to insist; the boy had already experienced great difficulties and much fear in his short life. He did as he was asked; they came out from the fog and could once again discern the valley below.

  “Someday, look in Akbar’s library for what I wrote for you. It’s called The Manual of the Warrior of Light.”

  “Am I a warrior of light?” replied the boy.

  “Do you know what my name is?” asked Elijah.

  “Liberation.”

  “Sit here beside me,” said Elijah, pointing to a rock. “I cannot forget my name. I must continue with my task, even if at this moment all I desire is to be at your side. That was why Akbar was rebuilt, to teach us that it is necessary to go onward, however difficult it m
ay appear.”

  “You’re going away.”

  “How do you know?” he asked, surprised.

  “I wrote it on a tablet, last night. Something told me; it may have been my mother, or an angel. But I already felt it in my heart.”

  Elijah caressed the boy’s head.

  “You have learned to read God’s will,” he said contentedly. “So there’s nothing that I need to explain to you.”

  “What I read was the sadness in your eyes. It wasn’t difficult. Other friends of mine noticed it too.”

  “This sadness you read in my eyes is part of my story. Only a small part that will last but a few days. Tomorrow, when I depart for Jerusalem, it will not have the strength it had before, and little by little it will disappear. Sadness does not last forever when we walk in the direction of that which we always desired.”

  “Is it always necessary to leave?”

  “It’s always necessary to know when a stage of one’s life has ended. If you stubbornly cling to it after the need has passed, you lose the joy and meaning of the rest. And you risk being shaken to your senses by God.”

  “The Lord is stern.”

  “Only with those He has chosen.”

  ELIJAH LOOKED AT AKBAR below. Yes, God sometimes could be very stern, but never beyond a person’s capacity: the boy was unaware that they were sitting where Elijah had received an angel of the Lord and learned how to bring him back from the dead.

  “Are you going to miss me?” Elijah asked.

  “You told me that sadness disappears if we press ahead. There’s still much to do to leave Akbar as beautiful as my mother deserves. She walks in its streets.”