The storm at last subsided, giving way to an eerie silence, while the platform emerged from the pool, presenting Primus now transformed. He appeared a hulking figure, twice his former size.
His arms hung low and gave way to apelike hands, and his hair, dripping with muck, stuck out wildly in every direction. An elongated face boasted cheekbones high and bulbous, beneath orange catlike eyes, and asymmetrical contours ended at a sharply tapered chin.
He motioned with his finger toward the trembling servitor, and Zorastichar, ever the sycophant, approached his master, bowing.
“So tell me, how do I look?”
Zorastichar stammered, “You—you look splendid, Primus, splendid!”
“So, is it fair to say that our experiment was a success?”
“Oh, yes, it was quite successful! In fact you are now empowered, through the mere exercise of your will, to modify your molecular structure and take on any form you wish!”
“Then you have done it, Zorastichar! Have you not?”
“Well, yes, I suppose I have!” he admitted, venturing to smile a little proudly.
A patronizing grin spilled across Primus’ ugly face as he reached out to give Zorastichar his customary pat on the head.
“Didn’t I promise I would honor your loyalty and sacrifice?”
But before the little fellow could answer, Primus tightened his grip around his head and squeezed it until he felt the skull crack like an egg in his palm. Blood ran from the servitor’s ears and seeped out the corners of his eyes. And the hoarse, shaky voice of Zorastichar was never heard again.
Primus emitted a guttural growling purr and let his victim fall to the floor.
“Knowledge is power, Zorastichar, and for a little guy, you had a little too much.”
Whistling, he called, “Come, my pets. Feed!”
The two-headed twin vultures glided down from the throne, clamped their claws onto the corpse and pecked away. Their four heads dipped rapidly as they tore at Zorastichar’s anemic flesh, and due to his tampering, gobbled him up at twice the speed. Appetites sated, they flew away fat, their bloody beaks stringing with the manipulator’s remains.
Primus, though eager to flaunt his newfound talent, resisted the temptation to do so and resumed his natural state before exiting the cavern. He came upon Galaxtra and slapped him on the back.
“You were right about Zorastichar. His science was a little—creepy.” Winking, he added, “But now . . . not so much.”
Chapter 6
“The time has come,” said Abba to Philon. “The dreams we have nurtured, the risks we are willing to take, and the hope we bring, have come to their moment of convergence. Let us call into being the man and woman and give them the gift of life!”
Philon, in the light of perfect agreement, transformed into a luminescent figure, the properties of life swirling throughout his being.
“Man and woman, come forth!” He cried. Two slender forms stepped out of the swirling mass; first one, then the other. Void of substance and color, they appeared as mere outlines—sketches after the likeness of Philon—their eyelids penciled shut. A mist settled upon them, coloring in the tracings and developing their features according to Life Weaver’s design.
Philon approached the inanimate souls whom he loved already, and, smiling, placed a hand over each of their motionless hearts. Abba’s tender sigh brought a gentle wind that curled around them and entered their nostrils. Taking in the breath of life, their lips parted, their eyes fluttered open, and the human race was born.
Philon was teary as he beheld the sacred souls standing new before him, blinking wide with innocence, their faces ruddy. Through laughter and tears he introduced himself, “I am Philon!”
He wrapped his arms around the man and gave him a vigorous hug. He gripped his shoulders and proudly announced, “Your name is Valerian! You are valiant and strong!”
He turned to the woman, and with the tip of his finger collected a tear that brimmed from the well of joy within her tender heart. He patted dry her pretty cheek and kissed it. “Your name, dear woman, is Aurea. The sun rises with joy for your living!”
And so, according to the story written before time, Valerian and Aurea began their friendship with Philon amid the Garden of Delights and the wonders it contained.
The Garden was vast and verdant, its vegetation pure and plentiful. Multicolored trees towered high, clapping their leaves in the currents of the wind, a standing ovation to the Garden’s rich bounty. Songbirds perched on branches, sweetened the air with warbles and trills, while spirited waterfalls, clear as crystal, cascaded into lakes teeming with life.
The Garden’s opulent diversity begged exploration, so Valerian and Aurea spent most days on rambling expeditions. They gathered data, collected specimens, and made studious observation, giving special attention to function and design. They plied Philon with intelligent questions and listened raptly to his answers, increasing their store of knowledge each day.
As for the many animals, the couple studied their characteristics, noted their habits, and learned to interact with them on a personal level.
Since communication was essential to harmony among the species, every creature possessed the ability to speak. While each spoke a language according to its kind, the animals also communicated across species lines in a dialect common to all.
Now Valerian had a special fondness for the great cats, and for one saber-toothed tiger in particular, whom he named Rexarius—though he usually called him Rex. Rex was huge in body and hearty of soul, and with red fur striped in black, he had a wildly sophisticated look. Despite his weighty bearing, his movements were fluid and his reflexes quick. With retractable claws he scaled palm trees and swiped at their coveted fruit, knocking it to the ground for the Garden’s earthbound creatures.
Valerian had first met the ample cat while napping one day in a sunny spot high above the lake near a cliff. The afternoon was balmy and the sun’s warmth seemed to lull the entire Garden into a state of slumber. Even the river shushed its splashing and whispered lazily along.
Dozing lightly, Valerian heard rustling in the thicket behind him but paid no attention, for he had already begun to dream. But when a ferocious roar jolted him from his sleep, he sprang to his feet to find Rexarius rearing back on his haunches, his massive front paws held high. As the enormous, rippling body barreled down toward him, Valerian lurched backward, lost his balance, and stepped off the cliff into thin air. He kicked his legs in comedic circles of futility, and frantically clutched at a vacant sky. Splash! Into the lake he went, turning its whispers into laughs.
He bobbed to the surface to see the great cat looking down from the peak above, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Wait until the monkeys hear that I crept up on the master of the Garden and chased him into the lake!”
Valerian swam to shore and set out, dripping wet, to track the silly beast. He didn’t mind being the brunt of the joke, and laughed as he thought of it. But he wondered if he had been set up—if the whole thing had been some sort of collaboration.
“Hmm. . .” he mused. “Everything, so peaceful. . . everyone, so quiet. . .” He climbed the embankment and sloshed along until he found the tiger’s unmistakable paw prints leading into the woods. He followed the trail and soon entered a thickset grove of banana trees. Monkeys... he remembered. That cat said, ‘Wait until the monkeys hear … Aha!’ Valerian slinked from one tree to another until he spied the mischievous cat—who himself looked rather ridiculous—hiding beneath a smattering of banana leaves. His long ringed tail made a slow nervous sweep while his cohorts, the white-collared monkeys, worked frantically to conceal his whereabouts.
Valerian lifted a forefinger to his lips, motioning for the monkeys to keep quiet. With a running leap he dove into the conspicuous pile of leaves and fur, and in one fell swoop grabbed Rexarius round the neck.
The startled cat let out more of a squeal than a roar, and the monkeys, jumping up and down, squealed too. Their lips curled b
ack in exaggerated smiles, they were all teeth and gums.
From that day forward the master of the Garden and Rexarius the cat became fast friends who were almost inseparable.
Meanwhile, Aurea had taken special interest in a most hospitable monkey, whom she named Zenia. Zenia scurried from tree to tree and swung from limb to limb gathering fruits and nuts to share with her companions.
Every morning, just before sunrise, she delivered a fresh assortment of the Garden’s fare to her human friends—for all the creatures of the Garden lived compatibly, and all were herbivores. No flesh had ever been eaten, nor had a single drop of blood been shed.
Now, Primus had always been drawn to things beautiful, and his envious heart seemed to beat with a covetous rhythm, propelling him toward things not his own.
During an earlier excursion he had spotted the blue marbled planet and now, curiosity having gotten the better of him, he flew to the shining orb and stealthily entered its atmosphere. Cruising low he conducted surveillance.
Well, what have we here? It appears the Image Maker has been up to something. He dove in close and hovered among the tree tops. Whatever the purpose, its design is painstakingly meticulous. Hmm...”
He sat on the branch of a husky tree, and looked around. Moping, he murmured, “Aw...now isn’t this special? Here sits a pristine garden in the middle of nowhere, fitted with all the warmth and comfort of a caring home. Pphhh!”
Resentment raced toward revenge, and Primus swung from the tree and hopped to the ground. Oh, how he relished the cool sensation of trespass as the fresh, untrodden grass bent beneath his encroaching feet. And he embarked upon a wily reconnaissance of the Garden of Delights.
One morning Valerian and Aurea came upon a large standing frame. Made of Redwood, and elegantly crafted, it was of square dimensions, and stood considerably taller than Valerian. Its casing, embellished with carvings along its borders, had been the obvious work of a proficient artisan. The encasement’s surface was flat and flush, yet appeared to stir with an opaque liquid.
When Valerian touched it, bright metallic colors burst open and sprayed into a fine mist that remained contained within the frame. A face formed in the mist, and the couple jumped back, stumbling over one another to get away. Astonished and winded, they sat staring up at Life Weaver, who’s friendly, irrepressible grin brought them relief. They smiled back nervously.
Life Weaver introduced Himself, putting them at ease, and gave a brief introduction to the Frame of Story before inviting them to journey within it, to see into the future.
“You have many choices to make in life, and it will be most beneficial if you are further informed.”
With that he extended his hands, and Valerian and Aurea laid hold of them without hesitation. Instantly, He swept them off their feet and into the Frame, where their journey began in swift flight. Streaks of light blurred past them as they sped down the corridors of time. At last they came to rest on a grassy knoll.
Life Weaver was tall and sturdy, and His white hair lay in thick braids against His royal blue robe. He pointed just ahead, to a castle bristling in the sun. White flags waved in the wind, high atop exultant spires, and a stout stone wall stood in testament to the castle’s abiding strength. The city reflected the wealth of thriving trade and its residents bustled about happily.
“The scene before you,” explained Life Weaver, “is a kingdom abounding in prosperity and peace. But another scenario remains.”
They flew again, passing through the portal of time, and soon returned to the previous knoll. The sky was gray, and gusty wind blew cold against their faces. The grand castle walls had become dilapidated, and the city’s residents wandered about aimlessly. Beggars, gaunt with deprivation, panhandled in vain, and young and old alike worked outlying fields, their weary backs buckling beneath the lashes of a cruel taskmaster.
“What has befallen the castle and its people?” asked Aurea.
“Behold, the author of the debacle comes!” answered Life Weaver, pointing. “Take one look and you will match him with his work.”
Pounding hooves heralded his coming, and a troop of mounted henchmen thundered past, kicking up dust clouds in their wake. Straddling a snorting black stallion, the Dark Prince charged in, his steely eyes aglint with ill intention, and he wore a grimace like that of a dreadful tyrant.
“It is time to return,” said Life Weaver, and as soon as they lifted off, Valerian and Aurea leapt from the Frame and into the safety of the Garden. Aurea sank down on the grass and breathed a sigh of relief—happy to have returned to familiar surroundings—yet unnerved by the previous scene.
“Valerian,” she confided, “the Dark Prince. . . the sight of him struck fear in me.”
Valerian sat down beside her, and hearing the timorous tone in her voice, wrapped his arms around her delicate frame. He pulled her in close and she leaned into the warmth of his strength.
“You don’t have to be afraid as long as I’m here,” he said, consoling her.
“But what will we do if he comes?”
Valerian jumped up and flexed his muscles. “Look at me, Aurea. I am strong. If he comes, I will face him!”
Aurea laughed at Valerian, just as he had hoped she would.
“You need not concern yourself with such measures of strength, Valerian,” said Philon, approaching, “for the force beyond this Garden would test the firmness of your resolve, not the power of your might.”
“Then what shall we do?” asked Valerian.
“You journeyed within the Frame of Story. The visions you saw were symbolic of the outcomes of choices you have yet to make. The conflict to be won shall take place within your hearts. You must choose wisely.”
“But what of the Dark Prince?” asked Aurea.
“Do not listen to him at all, and never dine with him, for he has powers beyond your understanding and is the master of illusion. To be caught in the web of his deception is to rend the Garden’s symbiotic tapestry, and have it unravel beneath your feet! As for the etchings on the Frame, they tell a story, one in which you are included. However, its meaning remains sealed until the appointed time.”
Valerian and Aurea pondered the counsel of Philon and made a pact with one another never to give audience to the Dark Prince, and never to allow him room inside their hearts.
Primus, hiding in a nearby thicket, had been eavesdropping all the while, mulling over how he might deceive them and somehow get his hands on the frame.
“A tiny tug on a couple of loose threads, and that tight-knit tapestry will be in ruins.” He vowed to endear Valerian and Aurea to himself and tear them away from Philon, for since his banishment, in the presence of so many on that day long before, animosity had burned like slow burning coals in his bones, and he would settle for nothing less than full and lasting retribution.
Chapter 7
The couple to whom the Garden had been given, lived in a thatched-roof veranda in a peaceful clearing, among earthy aromas and the soothing sounds of whistling birds and babbling brooks. The earth was watered by mist and by dew that fell overnight. Living meant laughter, love, and good times, and home meant those things, too, but with a pinch of spice.
Valerian loved to make Aurea smile, and he liked to show off a bit too. He had slipped up behind her one day while she was engrossed in a project and cupped his hands over her eyes. “Aagh!” she yelped.
Valerian laughed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. But I have a surprise.”
“Well, you know how I love surprises,” she said catching her breath. “However, I prefer the much less alarming kind!”
She reached across her shoulder and began to pummel him with the basket she had been working on.
Valerian kept one hand over her eyes and used the other to block the basket and the grassy tassels that whipped about his head. “I’ll make it up to you!” he cried. “Just give me one chance!”
“You do have some making up to do, and one chance is all you’re getting!”
she joked, while bringing the play-fight to an end.
“One chance is all I need! Now, I am going to remove my hand from your eyes, but you have to promise not to peek.”
She scrunched up her face to show him her eyes were tightly shut. “I promise,” she said, with a dip of her chin.
Convinced she would keep her promise, Valerian took her by the hand and led her outside to her favorite sitting spot on the porch. He eased her down into a sling backed chair, one, of a set of three, that the two of them had worked on together. Framed in bamboo and woven with sisal fiber, harvested from Agave leaves, the chairs were both sturdy and comfortable.
Valerian knelt at her lap. “I want you to know how much I love you, Aurea. Sometimes I look into your eyes and it seems I can see straight into your heart. I know what you are thinking before you even say a word. Your presence lifts me, and nothing in this Garden is as beautiful as you.”
He kissed her smile and whispered, “Open your eyes.” And he presented her with an oversized bouquet of flowers.
“Valerian, you are my song,” she said sweetly.
Tender shades of pink and powdery hues of blue, among white, bell-shaped lilies, made the perfect color scheme, she had said. And she sniffed at their sweetness and cradled them in her arms as one does a child.
“And I love you, too,” she said and gave him a loud smacking kiss. A pair of rose-ringed parakeets, whose bright green plumage gave way to berry-red beaks and rose colored neck-rings, sat in a nearby tree, their slender blue tails side by side. Parroting the garden’s couple, they alternated between loud kissing sounds and, “I love yous.”
“The birds were hard to come by,” teased Valerian. “Those ring-necks?” he pointed with his thumb. “They were hard to find!”
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