“True. Solid proof would help but I think that there is enough indirect evidence that she serves their interests. No doubt she has had some influence on the king, which is why the citadel still stands.” Said Rutaz. “One could even say she has secretly trod the rope of treason. But of course, these things all require careful work.” Eliaz did not want to hear the rest of this conversation and did not like this evil talk of treason.
“Well my brothers, you are speaking right. But my ancient mind is too feeble for these complex things. I must get to my books. Let me know when the citadel comes crashing down and I shall record it in the current Book of Histories.” They laughed at this. Then they gave him blessings, bowed and said goodbye just as his palanquin arrived.
By now Eliaz had discerned a pattern in the Holy Writings, even if the rest did not. God often shown His favor upon those doing His will and throughout written history Eliaz had come to know that this favor was not shown to the Ainash. He could recall, after the destruction of Assenna and the Scattering, a few desert mothers had escaped slaughter, privation and the diseases that come with chaos. With a few faithful Aishanna-La, they took hold of a long abandoned citadel in Gamina and managed to fortify it against attack again and again, though there were no trained warriors among them. Four times in history the Ainash had tried to slaughter them, to raze the citadel and its town to the ground and all four times they had failed. The last time they'd laid siege to it was fifty years ago. Yet, does not the citadel still stand?
Chapter Seven
When the four travelers had reached Rhe, they reluctantly parted with Ilim. He did not have the coin to buy the camel but he did have enough to purchase an old mule in the town.
“When you come back from your journey, if you come back, do not hesitate to ask the townspeople for me.” Said Kesh'i. It turned out that he was not only one of the most respected shaikhs among his tribal brethren but a man of great repute in the town as well. Ilim was given a special cloth of blue and gold with the image of the teraphim of the Raea tribe.
“This will keep you if local tribesmen see you on your way. They will not molest you if they see this.” Ilim bowed, grateful to them.
“To get to the mountain you must go through the ruins. That is the shortest way, though it is frightening to think about.” Said one of the men.
“Truly, you men have been sent by God. This is a good sign. May there be peace within you.” Said Ilim. They embraced him and gave him dried raisin cakes, dates, hard bread and a skin of water. Ilim set off farther west.
In truth, there were three mountains where he was going, but the Mountain of God was the largest and still active, though it did not rumble but every thousand years, from what anyone knew. Most people who went there never came back. Ilim trembled at the thought. One, an ancient wise man revered among many had gone and come back. His whole body was filled with rays of light. Nagilla, the One who spoke with God's voice, he was called. How could I even dare to fill his footsteps? Ilim wondered, yet he was compelled. As the days bled away, the land grew rocky and the sand dunes shallow, until they altogether disappeared. On rare occasions he saw travelers in the far distance but no one crossed his path or harassed him. When he'd passed by the ruins of the Mountain Citadel he said a silent prayer.
“Curse those that rebelled against all that was holy!” The Mountain Citadel was seen as a haunted place of demons. No one dared to go there. Some years ago a group of priests and scribes with an army of carpenters and mason workers tried to rebuild it but the rebuilding work mysteriously stopped and these men had all vanished. Ilim recalled one of the more ridiculous legends that sprang up from that historical fact; that they'd turned up as shades that haunted the desert around the ruins. Once, he had to administer a few good beatings to some young scribes-in-training who were behind the temple relating the story. Stories like that only served one purpose in Ilim's mind; to give credit to dark forces. Those men, according to history, had been warned not to rebuild it but they did not listen, thinking their mission a holy command from God. It was an accursed place, an affront to God and a reminder of the great apostasy of his brethren near the end of the Veiled Age and most likely they were destroyed by His hand for their disobedience.
“Never shall it be rebuilt but sown down, a place where the jackals cackle and dragons find their dens. No kingdom shall be raised up in it again, for I am Airend-Ur and that is my word.” Ilim recalled the passage, a prophecy concerning the Mountain Citadel.
He traveled early in the morning, broke for rest in the heat of the day and then continued in the evening until it was too dark to travel. The land was becoming patchy, with poor grasses and cactus here and there. There were shallow sinks, some plain and smooth and others littered with bones. He gathered a few cactus stems, hacking and cutting off the spines with his machete and fed one to the mule. Ilim had emptied his waterskin after traveling for three days, five days in total and he had finally come to a small spring. Both he and the mule drank their fill and Ilim refilled his skin. The landscape grew sharper and steeper as they began to climb. He could see the mountains drawing closer and the sun a white flame in the pale, red sky. He tore a strip of cactus leaf, peeled it and chewed it. The juice refreshed him. He stopped and listened, straining to hear anything. Only a slight, hot breeze and the occasional skitter of an insect or sand lizard. The city of Galieh was northeast of this place but that would be too far out of the way. He was approaching the ruins. Again, he said a silent prayer and then spurred the mule on. Evening was coming on and he thought of going the long way around just as the tribesmen's words rose in his memory. He might encounter robbers here or the other way, or worse! It was too late to turn back. He continued on as the light faded, thinking of what to do. He would go around the ruins first, but how long would it take? It was already going to be a long and difficult journey. After a few hours of traveling and stewing in his thoughts he finally found and settled in a small cave, tethering his mule and wrapping himself in a blanket. He was glad he would not have to sleep under the sand dunes. He went to sleep and dreamed again.
This time he dreamed he walked the streets of Assenna. Except it was not in ruins. It was the image of glory and beauty that he'd only heard about and read in scrolls and books. He walked about as if in a haze of fog and mist. The streets were paved with mosaics, gleaming fountains, temples of perfection with towers that floated toward the sky, some with domes of ivory, gold or bronze, some made of polished red rock, black stone and every precious stone. There were temples, gardens of rare flowers, groves of olive trees and paved streets lined with graceful date palms and obelisks that told of the grandeur of the Red Kings. Lifted above these glorious things was the palace, sitting within its hanging gardens in gleaming white stone, its lofty towers and spires seemingly reaching for the sun. Had he ascended to heaven itself? He looked again and the palace sat behind a glittering green lake and an arched walkway stretched from its gate to the doors which were inlaid with pure gold. Ilim picked fruit from the trees in the gardens: oranges, pomegranates, lemons and plums. Every tree with fruit he picked from and ate his fill. He drank from the fountain before him and the water was sweet and cold as ice. He was refreshed yet it made him feel as if he had drank sparkling star wine. He felt joy as he heard the beautiful songs of the pyrrhus. A tiny hummingbird appeared near him, flitting its way to and fro as if to say: “follow me.”
Then he noticed that the city was filled with people - joyful, happy people but they did not see or hear him. Nor could he touch or talk to them. He reached a hand out to touch a cart standing by the fountain and his hand went through it as if it were mere mist. Yet the hummingbird seemed vividly real. He could hear the soft beating of its tiny wings. It flew toward the palace gate and Ilim followed it across the paved walkway and steps. He looked into the water and he could see the constellations of stars in the lake. They sat like crystals set in a mirror. He crept up to the doors and they opened before he could touch them. Before him stood nothing but th
ick cloud and mists. The little bird had disappeared. Ilim walked through the doors and soon found himself engulfed in light and cloud. When these subsided, he was at the foot of the Holy Mountain. And then he woke up.
And now he was not dreaming but here he was, at the mountain. He looked around in amazement. The city and the palace were gone. There was nothing but desert and the mountain before him. He could hear what sounded like distant thunders and mists rolling down from its summit. Ilim became afraid. Then he heard a voice.
Ilim. I have called you to become my prophet. The time has come to prepare the way, to raise up the throne of the Red Kings of old times and to bring back the Old Ways among my people.
“Why me? I cannot bring back the old ways.”
I shall bring them back. I have chosen you for your boldness of heart and tongue. You do not shrink back from telling the truth nor have you sullied your hands with corruption. Three things I will do. Warn the people of the coming of the way, purify the temple and the priesthood and protect the heir to the throne. You, I am choosing to bring my denunciations to the people of Hybron to turn back from the way they have gone and it is you that I have chosen to guide the boy.
“Lord, was not Khalit an heir to the throne? Is he not king already?”
Khalit is not the heir that was foretold. It is his son who is the heir. As for Khalit, he has turned aside from the way. Do you consent to go, Ilim?
“I shall go. But where from here?”
I am sending you first to the citadel in Gamina. Seek out the Temple Mother, Berenice. A child is traveling with her, a girl named Anet. This girl you must instruct for there is a purpose for her. Teach her the ways of the desert and the ways of judging for I shall raise up judges; prophets and prophetesses out of the desert once again into the world. You are the first. Go and I shall lead you by the way to the citadel. From there you will go back to Jhis and station yourself between the temple and the palace and you must speak denunciations against the priests who have profaned my temple and abused my people. I am giving you this: that the Red King is coming and he is sweeping away the corruption of the Ainash, the savagery of the land and all those who oppose justice.
“But are not these women disobedient to you? Why must I meet with these women?”
If I say a thing will be done it will be done. They are my servants as you are my servant. You know the Writings. Where do you read otherwise? You show me, as you know them well. Ilim could not remember reading any such thing.
Where do you see that I approve of the Ainash and their new laws? I do not approve. If I have made a woman a prophet it is not for the sons of men to contradict me. The Ainash have taught you wrong in this. I have raised up prophets and judges, men and woman from long ago and I shall do it again and will you question me?
“No, my lord!” Ilim fell to his face in fear.
Get up, Ilim! You must be cleansed before you begin the work. Go into your cave and there you will find water to cleanse yourself. After this all who have minds to see will know that you have been washed from the former things and that you are my holy prophet. The holy words are upon your skin. Go, cleanse yourself and when you are done, go your way to the citadel. The ass you have brought will be guided there. When you get to Jhis I will set a sign by you so that everyone seeing will know you are my prophet.
Slowly he rose and shielded his eyes from the light and heat. His sandals under him felt as if they were melting off his soles. Ilim's eyes were blinded, the light was so bright. His feet burned as if the skin were being seared into the ground and then he felt darkness envelope him, a soft coolness and he fell asleep. When he woke again, he was in his cave. He looked upon his skin under his clothes and found his body painted in the white flowing script in Old Alhar, passages of the holy book. Deeper in the cave there was a steaming lake. He had not noticed it the day before. He got up and bathed himself until there were no painted letters left. He felt his skin sting and then it cooled, as if the letters were some healing balm upon his skin. It was early morning and the sun was beginning its trek across the sky but it had not yet crowned the horizon. Ilim drank his water until he was sated. He now had a new purpose. He had been commanded to go to the citadel to meet with the Scions of the Desert Mothers. He marveled at the quickness his life had changed. For years he, like all Ainash scribes and priests had been taught they were witches, whores, the very evil of evil! Women who pretended to powers of the supernatural. He never truly believed these women were wicked like many of his fellows, but merely misguided. Could he have been wrong all these years? A hawk dipped from the sky with a fresh piece of meat in its beak. It dropped it on a rock in front of the cave, called out to him three times with a wailing cry and cocked its head at him and then flew off. Ilim laughed, feeling nearly delirious. Was it not all a fevered dream? he thought.
“Along the way He shall lead me, through darkness and haunts of the red rams and on desert plains he will feed me, toward paths of righteousness. . .” He ate the raw meat, wishing he had at least a bit of salt. He got up and fastened his packs to the mule and got on his way, letting the mule lead him on the long journey to Gamina.
Chapter Eight
The royal proclamation was given throughout the land that the king was setting aside Queen Diti and that he sought a new woman as queen in the land, for she had not given him any sons.
- The Third Book of the Kings 17:32, Translations of The Holy Aishanna.
The last of Diti's possessions were being packed away and moved. Nearly everyone from her household had been taken from her except for Zigal who came with her from Gamina, and a few from her personal guard. When the king had finally come in to tell her what she already knew she was serene and supremely composed and bowed to him, to his seeming relief. But what had he expected from her? She had always given him the utmost respect and never acted out of turn or in any disgraceful manner. She'd bowed to his whims graciously and with courtesy, mainly in order to help carry out the Divine Purpose.
Ten years they had been married, three of them very pleasurable, the rest saw her settling into her true reason for leaving the citadel, keeping an eye on the Ainash and their intrigues and reporting back to the citadel. Khalit satisfied himself with corralling every pretty and willing girl in his sight into his harem. It pained her at times that she did not bear children for him. Other times she was relieved. They would most likely be worshipers of the sun, especially if they were boys. Hec and his fiery consorts demanded death and blood through the games or death through war. Glory was everything and woe betide the able-bodied man who died from accident or illness. He brought dishonor to himself and his family. But could a man help it if he fell sick? No, she was content that she obeyed the needs of the Divine Purpose.
Fricka, sensing that something was wrong for many days now stayed very close to Diti, sometimes getting underfoot when servants came near to move furniture. She gave Diti at least some comfort. She was tired of the intriguing around her and told herself that this was an improvement. Norda, an older woman from the territories of the far north, was her only friend at court. Norda had died a few years ago from a fever while she and the king were away in Egi. Something the scions could have easily treated. She pulled on an elaborately embroidered shawl with the long, silken thread fringe Norda had given her as a gift. Dark and light blue with silver thread, rare colors and precious in this part of the world, it had the emblems of the woman's clan, wild boars. It was even more precious to her than the many jewels Khalit had given her. She wrapped it around her shoulders. At least when she walked to the House of Mourning she would give them all one last sign that she had been queen of this place. None of the concubines were permitted to wear blue. Only a queen. Cradling Fricka in her arms she held her head erect and swept from the room with Zigal behind her. The House of Mourning was north of the palace, proper, with its own separate gardens. The king's servants conducted her through the long, paneled halls and over familiar polished stone walkways. She was forced to pass by the rooms
of the new favorites. They and their attendants would be watching the procession and whispering behind golden-latticed windows. Salayma was now foremost among the new favorites from what Zigal had told her. As soon as they turned the corner the brash rival who always tried to contend with her, Salayma, confronted her. Salayma was now very pregnant and had made sure everyone in the palace knew that she was carrying a son. Salayma's retinue was now larger than her own and she'd come to gloat over Diti's misfortune.
“There is nothing more pitiable than an old woman being put away like a useless mare. It is no wonder he did not do it years ago, Most Precious One.” She held her swollen belly and grinned. “See where he has been and weep old woman. If it were left up to me, you would not be allowed to stay in the palace at all.” Diti sighed. Salayma was never one for much subtlety or sense.
“Perhaps it has escaped your notice Salayma, but the king has already chosen his new bride, who I hear, is of high birth.”
“He put you away and you are a noblewoman.” She sneered. “So why not her? Besides, there are ways to prevent a woman from giving birth.” She grinned proudly. And it was true. Diti had known the taste of certain bitter herbs in her tea, her wine, her food and she was not fooled. She learned to avoid this most of the time by having her foods prepared right before her eyes and having her food tasted before she ate. Diti lifted a brow in disdain at the concubine. This one was a mere tool. It was too bad Salayma did not realize that she and her puppet-masters had wasted their time. Besides, the puppet-masters had found golden pastures in Egi. She fixed the concubine with a withering look.
“Good day Salayma and I do hope it is a son you are carrying. For your sake.” Salayma's laughter was loud and derisive as Diti motioned for her retinue to continue on. Salayma's servants did not move.
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