The day wore on, and Aurea heard whimpering nearby. She slipped outside, and following the noise, she found Zenia nestled beneath a spread of cedar branches in the throes of labor. Aurea knew it was out of character for a white-collared monkey to separate from the troop when giving birth, and to give birth on the ground was just as unusual. But she would tend to Zenia first and ask questions later.
Valerian, having given up his search, returned home just in time to find Aurea and Zuma with the tiny newborn. Communication with Zenia was challenging, but she consented to naming the baby Zuma, for Zuma meant peace, and it was peace they so badly needed.
Zenia had not fared well during the ordeal, and Zuma was tiny and frail, so the two of them remained at the veranda, where, through Aurea’s vigilant nurturing, they began to recover.
It had become apparent that something was terribly wrong with Zenia. The once vivacious monkey had become increasingly anxious and withdrawn each day. Now she was virtually mute.
One day, as Aurea played outside with Zuma, Zenia ambled over and haltingly said, “B. . . bad. . .” She shook her head as if to shake out the words, “Mm. . . males. . . bite. . . ch. . . chase. . .”
She shooed the young monkey away and climbed into Aurea’s lap, seeking consolation. With Aurea’s attention now focused on Zenia, Zuma wandered off.
Meanwhile, Valerian conducted one last search for Rex. After spending the better part of the morning scouring the Garden, he came upon a huge set of tracks. Relief washed over him. That silly cat. He’s probably up to his old tricks and is likely to pounce at any moment. But after searching high and low, he abandoned the notion altogether and headed for home. Worried, he found himself whispering, “Please, please, let Rex be all right.”
He heard a distant growl. “Oh, that’s Rex for sure!” he said aloud. And he hurried off in its direction. Again the growl came. Valerian dismissed the hostile tone. Rex is back, and that’s what matters, he told himself.
A series of unnerving shrieks pierced the air. Valerian sped to a sprint, his heart in his throat. He came upon Rexarius lying on the ground, a small animal subdued between his deadly paws.
Valerian stepped back cautiously, his eye on Rexarius. The tiger lapped his dripping wet whiskers and mopped his mottled red paws. Void of remorse, he simply said, “Monkey is tastier than banana.” He yawned, then licked his tainted lips. “Tender flesh. . . delicious.”
Valerian’s strength drained and his breath came in heavy sighs. The Garden spun like a top, and Valerian, bobbing and weaving, struggled to maintain his footing. Rex emitted a hollow belching growl, and the dizzied man could only watch as the mass of spiraling stripes descended upon him. Jaws apart at Valerian’s neck, the cat salivated on his prey, eyes glowering with blood thirst.
Just then, coconuts rained down on Rex’s head. He leapt from Valerian to give chase to the culprits, a brisk band of spider monkeys.
“Run, Master Valerian!” squawked the crested mynahs. “Run for your life! The Garden is falling!”
Valerian sprang to his feet and ran for home in a panic over what might have befallen Aurea in his absence. Images of Rex’s horrific ruin, and the gruesome sight of the mangled monkey were now burned into his brain. He couldn’t help but think the worst. He tried to believe she was all right, and that the half eaten monkey was not Zuma, but it was not working so well. Whatever the case, for Aurea’s well being, he would say nothing of his encounter with Rex, nor mention Zuma at all.
He reached the veranda winded from the long distance run. “Aurea!” he called out. “Aurea!” Where are you?
Zenia came running and gesturing anxiously, led him to the creek behind their home. Aurea sat on a rock beyond the water’s edge, splashing her face with the creek’s cold water.
He rushed to her side. “Aurea, what’s wrong?” Eyes swollen, face welted, she looked up at him.
“I was picking flowers and the honey bees, who are always so playful, attacked me!” Valerian felt a wave of sadness and anger. He held Aurea’s hand and stroked her arm. “They came after me in a stinging swarm, and pursued me all the way to the creek!” She leaned her head against his waist. “Oh, Valerian, what’s happening to us?”
“I don’t know, Aurea, but I will never leave you alone again.” Her hair felt warm against his lips as he kissed her worried head.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the veranda, while Zenia went in search of Zuma.
Given the violent bee attack on Aurea, and the harrowing ordeal with Rex, Valerian decided to prepare against further acts of aggression. While daylight lingered, he cut armloads of bamboo and sharpened the canes into torches and spears.
He wrapped leaves and birch bark together into thick full wads. Using vines for binding he secured them to the top of several staves and stationed them around the veranda’s perimeter. At day’s end he set them ablaze, making a fiery palisade to defend against the darkness and to ward off would-be predators.
Having replenished the food supply, he filled the cistern, and just before nightfall, battened down the windows. They had seen no sign of Zenia or Zuma. Shut inside the makeshift fortress, they huddled together in bed, anxiety stifling the air. Peculiar utterances, menacing and fragmented, made them cringe, and their troubled minds conjured up one disturbing image after another.
“I hear something,” whispered Aurea. “It’s on the roof!” A chill ran down her spine.
“Shh,” Valerian cautioned. He crept out of bed, taking a spear in each hand, and slinked about stealthily, tracking the noise’s every movement.
Soon a scratching sound at one end of the roof sent Aurea scampering to a far corner. Scraping and digging, a huge clawed-paw plowed a hole through the roof’s thatching. The animal thrust his head through it, and spying Aurea, growled hungrily. Valerian, spears in hand, awaited the perfect moment. When the snarling predator bared its fangs and made a leap for Aurea, the novice spearman impaled it midair and lobbed it to the floor. The creature lay panting, its life ebbing away.
Valerian plunged a spear into its chest, and doing so again and again, roared in defiance of the garden’s madness, “I, Valerian of the Image Maker, am the Master of this Garden!” His primal cry ricocheted throughout the woods. And the trees wept for the knowing of evil.
Aurea could scarcely take in the violent display, but with Valerian standing over the kill, bloodstained and trembling, his hands riveted to the embedded spear, she came to his side and pried loose his fingers.
Valerian sank to the floor. Knees mired in blood, he stroked the head of the hearty-souled cat. Shoulders bobbing, he sobbed in silence, his face buried in Rex’s fur.
Aurea lead him away from the suffocating scene and seated him at a table in their nook. She sank a basin into the cistern. Watching the water flow in over its rim, she remembered Philon saying something about the Garden’s tapestry unraveling beneath their feet. She was sure it was happening now, and dreaded the thought of conditions worsening. Basin full, she washed away the blood that Valerian had necessarily shed to save her life, and that of their unborn child.
Meanwhile, a yellow pit viper, slithering along the dusty floor, remained undetected while the drama unfolded. Had they seen him before he slipped away, and looked into his eyes, they might have recognized a certain personality. For Primus, not wanting to miss a thing, had taken on the form of the spiteful serpent.
Aurea’s sleep was brief and fitful, while Valerian, refusing sleep, kept his arms wrapped securely around her bulging waist. Having partially patched the roof’s gaping hole, he could only remain watchful through the night. Haunting cries of the helpless fueled a growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach, and he lay strategizing. As for Rex bleeding out in the floor, he would have to lie there until morning.
Chapter 9
When morning came, they emerged from the veranda to find that the preceding night had indeed seen a savage struggle between predator and prey. Pollinator flies, whose diet had consisted solely of vegetat
ion, now swarmed animal carcasses, and herbivorous birds, squealing and squawking, rifled through the remains.
The grisly sight made Aurea queasy. She clutched her stomach with one hand and reached for Valerian with the other. For the first time, she doubled over retching, and vomited on the Garden’s befouled ground.
A mournful whining, within earshot of them, led to the discovery of Zenia rocking back and forth cradling what was left of Zuma in her arms. Valerian groaned aloud over the rending of life and the cruelty it imposed. It seemed all consuming. Zenia ambled over to the Master of the Garden and laid the remains of peace-turned-sacrifice, at his feet, then lumbered away, her little one’s blood matted red within the white of her fur.
Aurea sank to the ground, beaten. She clutched at the mud—a mixture of soil and blood—as if to retrieve the life soaked into it. Despairing, she squeezed fists full of hair at the sides of her head and wailed in fury and protest.
Primus watched from a distant tree. Amused, he congratulated himself. He had lured the perfect pair into a seamless snare and had drained them of life’s vitality.
Now he would lead them far from home and farther still, he hoped, from the reaches of Abba’s grace.
Since his initial reconnaissance of the garden he had handpicked a number of Muspellum from Tyrannous and brought them to Earth. They set up a village, superb in design, and outfitted it with custom accommodations for the unwitting couple. A charming community of residents had been installed—and for reasons undisclosed—a temple had been erected.
I wonder what Abba thinks of the hapless turn his Garden has taken, he chuckled, and of the misfortune that has befallen his little family of. . . two! He laughed aloud at the humorous thought. In fact, since no one could hear him above the Garden’s present mayhem, he gave free vent to his glee, laughing with arms wrapped round his waist. A tear slipped down his cheek. “Ahh. . .ha, ha, ha! What a pity! Whatever will they do?”
At last he collected himself and wiped away the tear that streaked his ill-disposed face. Rubbing it between his fingers he cast his mind back to the last time he had shed a tear, but he could not or would not remember. He shook himself to be rid of the happiness he felt, for it brought back memories of better, brighter times. Let bygones be bygones! He resolved sourly. It looks like this is my cue. And he swung from the tree to insert himself into the situation. Upon his approach he stopped abruptly a few yards in front of Valerian and Aurea. He looked around as if in total shock. His jaw dropped open and he slapped his brow. “What in Abba’s name has gone wrong here? This place is a shambles! And the two of you look...unwell!”
He saw the welts on Aurea’s face, made an air-sucking gasp, and walked fast paced toward her. Performing his best impression of pity he held out his arms and cried, “Oh, you poor dear! Come here, come here!”
He hugged her solicitously then held her at arm’s length to inspect the injury. “What merciless measure of meanness has assaulted you, child? Your poor lovely face!”
“I was attacked by bees, Primus,” she reported, relieved at his presence and comforted by his concern. “You can see how many times they stung me.”
“Everyone’s gone mad added Valerian. “Having lost the ability to speak or reason, they have are devolved into brute beasts. They tear at one another’s flesh and lap up the blood they spill!”
Aurea chimed in, “As for what has gone wrong here...” she shrugged her shoulders, “we haven’t a clue. We barely made it through the night alive!”
“You really don’t know, do you?” asked the fallen Star.
Valerian was indignant. “What are you implying? Of course we don’t know.”
“It’s Philon’s magic. It has broken out against you. You have no doubt angered him.”
Aurea shot back defensively, “How have we angered him?”
“Oh, one can never be sure, really. Don’t tell him I said so, but he can be rather moody at times.”
“Philon is our friend!” insisted Aurea.
“I’m not arguing that point,” he said duplicitously. “I too am your friend, and as such, it behooves me to inform you that I have seen those emerald green eyes turn black with anger and icy with revenge!”
Although shocked to hear such things about Philon, Aurea could not deny that by all appearances, Primus could be telling the truth.
“What must we do to appease him, then?”
“Humph! Appease him? Look around you, Aurea.” Primus’ tone was condescending. “Wouldn’t you think it a tad late for that?”
Valerian drew Primus’ attention off of Aurea, who felt belittled.
“Then what would you suggest we do?” he asked.
Primus eased his tone. It appears you are left with little choice. You shall have to come with me.”
The couple looked blankly at him, for since he lived on a planet far away, they wondered what he could possibly mean.
Primus turned around and proceeded to walk. Tilting his head to one side, he spouted over his shoulder, “Would you believe me if I said I saw this day coming?”
His question went unanswered.
“Fortunately for you—given our friendship—I made preparations for the inevitable.”
Aware that Valerian and Aurea had remained at a standstill as he sallied onward, Primus spun around impatiently. “All right, then, I suppose you could stay here!”
His remark was a point well-taken when he went on walking. Within seconds the couple was following closely on his heels. While they had no idea how Primus would get them to wherever they were going, they were certain of one thing: their best chance of survival lay in sticking close to him.
“Don’t pretend it isn’t what you wanted from the start.” he quacked. “Am I right, or aren’t I? Of course I am! We three know it, and in case you are wondering”—he pointed upward—“they know it too.” His followers looked up to see who “they” might be.
“Believe me, the greater the distance between you and them, the better!” The unwitting couple shrugged their shoulders, mirrored an incredulous look, and waddled hurriedly behind him.
An item of particular interest to Primus, had him heading straight for it, and coming upon it, he found it standing gloriously untouched by the previous night’s pandemonium. He ran a hand down one side of the Frame’s casing, slowing his fingers to search its unusual carving.
“Valerian, wouldn’t you think it advantageous to take along this exquisite Piece?”
“Uh...I’m not so sure about that,” he answered.
“Apart from its artistic value, there remains within it all that the Life Weaver has shown you, and more.”
“True. But...”
“Frankly, it is the more that once investigated could serve to the betterment of our lives.”
Aurea couldn’t help speaking up. “I don’t think it’s ours to take.”
“If he didn’t want you to have it, wouldn’t he have kept it to himself?”
“Well. . . I don’t know. . .” she answered weakly.
“Well. . . I don’t know. . .” he mocked her. “That is precisely why I did not pose the question to you in the first place,” he snapped. “What do you think, Valerian? I tell you, it is yours for the taking.”
Valerian chewed at the corner of his bottom lip. He resented Primus’ ill treatment of Aurea and felt like a coward for not defending her, but he knew that to be reactionary would further incite him. While he hesitated, Primus went back to badgering Aurea.
“To leave it behind would be a blatant act of disregard, Aurea, and a show of ingratitude on your part. Besides, woman, aren’t you in enough trouble as it is? For heaven’s sake, do something right!”
Valerian interrupted, “I don’t think you and I can carry it but so far.”
“You and I won’t carry it!” blurted Primus impatiently.
“Titanos!” he shouted loudly.
Downward gusts of high-pressure wind suddenly swept clean the ground around them.
Aurea’s hair snap
ped in the wind, stinging her face, as a loud whooshing sound turned everyone’s attention skyward. She clung tightly to Valerian as the immense figure, whose wingspan she feared would engulf her, came flying fast toward them, eclipsing the sun.
Much to the couple’s relief, the being—whatever it was—made a skillful bull’s-eye landing just steps away from them. Still, they shrank under his enormous shadow. Peeking up at him they winced like bugs beneath a giant’s notice. His wide jawbone ended in a long, black goatee, and he peered down at them with silvery metallic eyes, beneath eyebrows pointy like rooftops.
“Hail, Primus!” greeted the newcomer.
“Hail, indeed!” answered Primus, pleased by the dramatic approach. “Valerian, Aurea, meet Titanos.”
The strangers exchanged nods, and then Primus stepped just out of earshot of the shell-shocked couple to lay plans with Titanos regarding the Frame. Within moments and without warning, Titanos shot into the sky with a powerful thrust. Drawing up a wild wind behind him, he carried the Frame of Story to its newly appointed destination.
“And that’s that!” announced Primus, brushing his palms together as though he had done a good day’s work. And truth be told, Aurea and Valerian, while nervous about the idea, were somewhat pleased themselves, for at least they would have something left out of all they had lost.
Just as the last of their hesitation evaporated, raindrops began to sprinkle their faces and splatter their clothes. Alarmed by the oddity, and in a panic over the sky’s apparent dissolution, Aurea held out her arms. Emphasizing the dropping water, she glared at Primus as though he had been the cause of it.
“What is this, Primus?” she demanded. Valerian cringed and reached out for her, but missed when she stepped toward Primus, pointing.
Primus laughed at her sudden burst of boldness and felt as if he liked her better for it.
“You tell me now! What is happening here?” Primus shook his head and smiled coolly.
Rise of Primus Page 7
