“This isn’t the first time it’s rained on my watch. Don’t worry. It will stop eventually, it always does.”
Valerian quickly cut giant leaves from an alocasia plant. He tossed one to Primus and huddled with Aurea beneath another. Shielding themselves from the pouring rain, and not knowing what to expect next, they fled the bestial Garden under the auspices of Primus, whose rancorous heart fluttered for joy as they trotted blindly behind him.
How tragic, he mused, Abba’s little fools mistaking meanness for good will, and the Image Maker’s benevolence for banality.
Rabid animals snarled and growled at the three passersby, but none dared approach in the presence of Primus. The smaller ones scampered away at the mere sight of him. But out of the thicket, and with lightning speed, a fully devolved snake darted forward and struck at his heel. It did so repeatedly, keeping pace with the trio as it slithered along, but the flesh of its prey was impervious to its venomous fangs. Primus was neither startled nor concerned. He reached down and snatched up the curling, hissing creature by the neck.
“Tenacious little thing, aren’t you?” He brought the serpent to eye level, and the two cunning creatures stared at one another, their amber eyes matching in color and guile.
“Feisty, too!” chuckled Primus. Your bravery is impressive, but you lack technique.” His lips curled in tight, revealing an arsenal of white, and in one quick strike, he severed the serpent’s head. Blood spattered Aurea’s face. She let out a gasp and buried her brow in the bend of her arm. Valerian moved in front of her to shield her with his body.
Primus spat his counterpart’s head on the ground, and through a dripping red smile boasted, “Now that’s technique!”
He spit once more and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then reached to remove a smear of blood from Aurea’s chin. She flinched.
“Why so jumpy?” he asked. “With me around, Aurea, you have nothing to fear.” And he gave Valerian a furtive wink.
It wasn’t long before the threesome reached the Garden’s outer gate, although, to the beleaguered man and woman it seemed an eternity. Their leaf covering, torn and useless, had been discarded, and they stood in the bone-chilling rain.
The gate was wide and of simple construction, yet when Primus lifted its latch, he strained beneath the weight of it. He tried to open it, but it would not budge. He barked out orders to Valerian, begrudgingly seeking his assistance. Gratified that there was at least one thing Primus could not do on his own, Valerian jumped at the chance to save face and prove his manhood. He gloated on the inside, but dared not do so openly.
He planted his feet firmly in the slippery mud alongside Primus, and together they leaned against the resistant gate, pushing and shoving in the pouring rain, until at last it gave way to their stubborn will. Primus hurried them along, allowing Aurea to squeeze through first, then slipped out close behind her, leaving Valerian last to exit the place he and Aurea had called home.
Once beyond the gate they immediately encountered a full scrub of trees and brambly brushwood, which appeared as though it might go on forever. Aurea fought her way through the thorny patch, shivering and trying not to cry, though her flesh was pricked and her soul deflated.
No sooner had she given way to tears than they all emerged from the brush. The rain had ceased, the dark clouds retreated, and even Primus breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Rolling foothills spread wide before them, rising and falling in waves of velvet green toward the Purple Mountain Range. Narrow waterfalls ran like long snowy white fingers down the mountain’s face—a hand resting high upon its proudest peak—poised to be kissed by an azure sky. When Primus saw how the sight pleased his new subjects, he made it a point to illustrate his trustworthiness.
“Didn’t I tell you there was more than you knew? More to life than your little garden home?”
“Yes, you did,” admitted Valerian, gladly. “And you were surely right in saying so!”
“Besides,” added Aurea, “we are happy to have left so much trouble behind!”
“Things had gotten way out of hand,” Primus assured them. “Impossible, really.”
He called toward the mountains with a singing, whistling sound, which, though not loud, carried far and echoed off the mountain’s rocky face. Within moments three creatures appeared in the sky, their brassy color flaming orange as they crested the skyline.
Flying fast, they came barreling down over the hills. Hitting the ground on the run, they skidded to a halt a few paces before their master’s feet. They were tough-looking steeds, built for speed and brute strength. Rearing back on their hind legs they stood tall, pawing the air. Coming down on all fours, their front hooves scuffed the ground, peeling back velvet scrapings. Nostrils wide and snorting, they shook their shaggy manes in front of eyes glowing red like embers.
“Behold the Belladonne!” Primus announced. “They will carry us to our home in the distant valley. I have a well-established colony there. Climb aboard!”
All the while, Philon, accompanied by Abriel, in whom Abba had breathed new life, watched from a distance as the fearsome beasts bowed low, allowing Primus and his hesitant companions to mount. As they shrank in the distance and disappeared beyond the towering heights of the sandstone cliffs, Philon sighed.
“He will take them to a place of ever seeking, but never finding, of ever learning yet never understanding.” The more he considered the growing distance between himself and the two made in his likeness, the more he thought of the daunting task before him. “While they wander afar, they will never stray beyond the reaches of my love.”
Chapter 10
Above the wind and the grunting of the stallions, Aurea shouted to Valerian, “It’s just as I beheld it! I’m soaring across the sky!” Seeing Aurea so completely carefree and flashing her infectious smile, Valerian realized how much he had missed her vibrancy. He treasured the moment.
“The vision was real, Aurea! You are flying!”
Flying. How it had fascinated them. Birds, butterflies, and Primus, skimming the skies, the couple’s dreams clinging to their wings.
The flight was lengthier than they had expected, and the aerial view more breathtaking than they could have imagined. The Belladonne slowed to make their descent. Passing through a veil of cumulus clouds, Primus’ village appeared beneath them. The would-be-residents thrilled to see it.
Cobblestone streets, so unlike the Garden’s grassy paths, were none the less inviting. Each stemmed from an expansive courtyard fanned out around a grand limestone structure. Topped with graduating spires, reaching high into the sky, the temple was the most eye-catching feature of the aboveground view.
The steeds landed steadily, delivering their passengers to the temple courtyard, where attendants, all after Primus’ kind, received them.
Primus wasted no time scaling the temple’s broad marble steps. Leaving Valerian and Aurea to climb the many treads in stride with their escorts, he whisked past them to the landing. A finely dressed female loitered against a column where an entourage of servants, dressed in simple shifts, attended her.
She was tall and willowy, and her long flaxen hair, beneath a headdress of braided flowers, shimmered like silk in the sun. Her deep-et eyes—wells of clear blue water—appeared as if one might drown by falling into them.
When Primus approached, she was visibly pleased, yet disappointed that he had not come alone.
“Primus, how nice to see you.”
“And you as well,” he answered.
He touched her hair, drawing it loosely between his fingers, and kissed her ivory neck beneath the ear. Their hands touched briefly, and for a fleeting moment he let himself swim in her eyes. But as quickly as he did so, his guests appeared.
“Oh, forgive me. Let me introduce you to our new friends. These, Lupa, are Valerian and Aurea, of the new human race. It has happened just as we suspected, they are in need of safe harbor.” To them he said, “Meet Lupa, our High Priestess of Intheism.”
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br /> Valerian bowed before her, as he noticed others had done. She extended a hand and he kissed her ring.
Aurea found this irksome, but made an effort to understand, and curtsied politely before the priestess.
“Welcome to Manumit!” said Lupa, politically. “You have come to a safe haven, where liberty is the mainstay of our society. How fortuitous that you have come during the new moon, when we observe the creedal rites of our belief system. You must join us!” After only the slightest pause, she concluded, “Good, then, a driver will conduct you to your lodging and return to fetch you at sundown. I have servants ready to assist you with whatever you need. Expect a knock at door in two hours.”
She snapped her fingers and servants rushed to her side. “Remember the apparel for tonight’s event, and for everyone’s sake, do something with her hair.”
She turned back toward Valerian and Aurea. “I expect you will find the accommodations to your liking. I hear your veranda was rather plain.”
Within moments a coach and driver pulled into the courtyard and the human couple—now a novelty in Manumit—was helped aboard.
The driver made a clicking sound, his cheek drawn back in two quick jerks, and gently waggled the reigns. At his signal the horses made a steady start, pulling coach and passengers behind. They clopped rhythmically along, parading the celebrities through town as onlookers craned their necks to catch a glimpse of them.
They rounded a bend or two, and coming upon a more wooded area, left the greater population behind. Daylight blinked intermittently as columns of shade streaked the passing carriage. The horses slowed into a sharp turn and the driver eased the jostling coach down a tree-lined path. Pine needles shuffled beneath the horses’ hooves and crunched beneath the wagon’s rolling wheels until they came upon a charming cottage.
It was a fine looking place with shrubberies cozied at its sides and cherry trees in full bloom. Valerian leapt from the carriage. Taking Aurea in his arms, he carried her into the home that Primus had custom-made for them.
The driver unhitched two of the horses from his rig of four, and secured them inside a readied corral. Since his passengers had no belongings to unload he resumed his place at the reins and drove away.
The cottage was undoubtedly more spacious than the Garden veranda, more polished too. In fact everything in Manumit was more refined.
An oversized bed lay stuffed and billowy upon a wooden platform. Valerian could not resist diving onto it. He tossed pillows in the air and laughed, “Look at all this, Aurea! Can you believe it? Do we not owe Primus our very lives?” the fluff. “Ahh...” yes, she sighed. “I don’t even want to.”
Aurea too a backward free-fall and sank down into think about what might have happened if he hadn’t rescued us. We do owe him everything!”
Valerian rubbed her rounded tummy.
“We couldn’t have made it any other way, Aurea. It was the only reasonable thing to do.”
Aurea brushed her hand across Valerian’s brow and smoothed his cheek with her thumb. “We did all we could do,” she assured him. She looked him full in the face. “That’s the way we have to think of it. We are safe now, and that is what matters.”
“That is all that matters,” he said. Aurea’s protruding stomach pressed against Valerian’s, and the two fell asleep exhausted, their unborn baby nestled between them.
Evening came, and Manumit’s guests of honor strode down the center aisle of the ritual hall, attended by ushers on either side, and to the accompaniment of a robust standing ovation. Valerian felt proud as he walked arm in arm with Aurea. He had always adored her, but on that night, in the company of such lordly beings, she was completely ravishing.
Her luxuriant hair, a dark chestnut brown, cascaded loosely down a gown of pastel peach, and she glowed the way she had on the day she told him of her pregnancy.
They were conducted to the platform where Lupa took each of them by the hand and turned them toward the gleaming audience.
“Mighty Muspellum!” she shouted, “I give you the humans!” The moment turned awkward when their hands shot up high, as Lupa, standing significantly taller than they, waved them before the clapping crowd.
“Citizens of Manumit!” she cried aloud, “Receive your new members, Valerian and Aurea!” Like red-faced marionettes, the inductees waved mechanically, during the insufferable salutation, their smiles forced and stiff.
Lupa at last released them, and they melted into their seats for the spectacle they had become.
All eyes now on Lupa, she began her speech.
“I journeyed in flight not long ago,” she said, “and alighted where the ocean meets the shore.” Since she loved to dazzle her audience with magic, she brought her hands together—knuckle to knuckle—against her chest then thrust them into the air—flinging her fingers wide. And a hologram appeared. Oohs and ahhs erupted from the crowd. Lupa smiled pleasingly, and with the assistance of the hologram’s compelling images, resumed her story.
“While contemplating the ocean I observed tiny shelled creatures struggling through the sand on their way to the sea. Much to their misfortune, hungry seabirds flying high overhead, swooped in low and snatched them up before they reached the water’s edge. Sadly, few came to realize destiny’s fulfillment.”
Lupa closed the hologram and walked among the crowd, expounding on the philosophy of Intheism.
“Fortunately, our survival is not contingent upon the whims of a higher unseen other, as was the case of the defenseless turtles in our study. While they suffered no deficiency of will, they did lack the capacity to exceed certain fixed limitations. Therefore, death swallowed them alive.”
Valerian and Aurea, having themselves so recently witnessed death’s voracity, winced at the painful reminder, and hoped Lupa would not linger on the topic too long. Valerian identified with the hapless turtles and thought of naming them after himself and Aurea.
Lupa eventually wound her talk to a cresting crescendo.
“We Manumitans have come to enjoy the art of self-evolution. Now bindings once tight, choke potential no more, and freedom’s faint whisper intones amid shouts of autonomy!”
The amped up audience arose, clapping and nodding their heads in accent. The newly-adopted couple, caught up in the swell, joined in too, although they scarcely understood what she meant.
Primus glided onto the platform, bringing fresh shouts of approbation.
“Mighty Muspellum!” he shouted his fist thrust high. “Comrades of the highest order are we!” All cheered in agreement of his declaration and favorable endorsement. When at length they quieted, he continued.
“Through determined exercise of the will and implementation of superior skill, we have managed to escape mediocrity’s dread languor.” His audience nodded proudly. “Consequently,” he continued, “our range of living reaches exponentially beyond that of our estranged kinsmen!”
“Yes, yes!” echoed his listeners in reply.
“Having surpassed the Chayil in every way, should we now temper our zeal? No!” he declared emphatically. “We shall do no such thing! In fact I have now set my sights set on things Divine!”
Primus’ fans cheered uproariously, for they loved his irreverent humor, and the air of daring he possessed. Valerian nudged Aurea. “What do you suppose is a Chayil?”
Primus quieted the cheering throng, and before exiting the stage, called Lupa back to the lectern.
“Let us now prepare ourselves for the observance of our most sacred rite,” she said, “the calling up of our Pools of Passion.”
An ethereal timbre winded the air as a female flautist, seated on stage in a black satiny smock, performed a soothing solo. The flute’s melancholy cry was mood altering, and the listeners closed their eyes.
“Empty your minds...” instructed the High Priestess, “now hold out the cup of your hands.”
In a voice strong and steady, she invoked the soulful waters,
“Identity entombed,
Wrest free
from the womb;
O being divine—
Thou art mine!”
Within moments, a pool of watery light appeared in hand, after cupped hand.
“Gaze into your passions...” she urged, “Take a good look... Are you remembering your dreams...? Good then. Drink in your desires!”
And per her directive, the subordinates sipped the waters dry.
All rose at her command. Then, like a school teacher transcendent-self is knocking at the door. We are ever before her class, she announced, “Remember, now, learning to open up to it. You are dismissed.”
She approached Valerian and Aurea. “I hope this was not too much for you. These are rather heady truths.”
“No, not at all,” answered Valerian, not wanting to seem out of touch. “In fact, we found it enlightening.” Aurea, however, was more forthright.
“Our palms remained empty, Lupa. Why?”
“Well...” she said, groping, “Given the uniqueness of your design, it appears that diligence is required. You are just now embarking upon your journey. Expect to be ever learning.”
She patted their backs. “Now off with you. You look exhausted.”
The next day Primus turned his immediate attention to his current and most pressing obsession of deciphering the Frame’s encryption.
On the previous day, when Titanos had come to the Garden to pick up the Frame, Primus had pulled him aside and ordered him to scour Manumit, as well as Tyrannous, in search of the brightest, most scholarly minds among them. He was to set them to the immediate task of decoding the Frame’s mysterious writings.
Now he had received word from Lupa that the team of intellectuals, despite their working tirelessly through the night, had not made as much as a wit of progress toward the goal. She intimated that the Frame’s high celestial nature called for other measures, maintaining that the knowledge they sought could indeed be gained, but only through visionary endeavors. Therefore, Primus agreed to meet her at the Hidden Chamber, and he brought along Titanos to stand guard.
Rise of Primus Page 8
