Dawn Of The Aakacarns

by John Buttrick

  Her expression was grim as she nodded and matched step, something not easy to do for a Tiny. “My cousin has not yet been released from the compound and thank you,” she added the gratitude when he reduced the length of his strides to make it easier for her to keep up.

  Jubal remembered one of the rare times he had acted to influence the criminal justice system. The incident ended up with the young father-of-seven being sentenced to hard labor. “He took the pig without asking, even if his intention was to pay for it later as he claimed. I could not stop his conviction.”

  “He certainly would have paid, eventually,” Hadassah was quick to defend Betsenadab. “And I know you did what you could.”

  Andromeda pointed with the spear back toward the dome-shaped house. “Your cousin could have gone to Jubal for some pork to feed his family, just like Aricana. Bet allowed his pride to color his judgment.”

  “His time in the compound has taught him humility,” Hadassah replied to the Anakim, who towered over her, and then looked up to Jubal. “The problem is not that Bet was sentenced to hard labor. I am coming to you in order to clear up a misunderstanding. I thought you were able to get his sentence reduced from a year to six months.”

  Laara pulled Jubal’s hood back and patted him on the head, evidently she liked the feel of his wavy hair. He had no difficulty ignoring her amusement, it was not the first time she had done so. “There is no misunderstanding. I did get his sentence reduced to six months.”

  “Well, it has been over a year and they show no signs of releasing him,” Hadassah replied. “I would have come to you sooner, but Peleg and I have been so busy I neglected to stay in touch with Kareesia. It was she who brought the matter to my attention this morning.”

  Jubal had not seen the wife of Betsenadab since the trial, which had been presided over by Hades. “Ever since Fysicia informed us that Vashti would give birth to twin girls we too have been busy. Those things and my other responsibilities have painted me with the same brush as you.”

  “Betsenadab would be experiencing no trouble at all if he had not broken the law,” Orion maintained a firm position, showing no sympathy for the man.

  “Neither of you should feel the least guilty for not being mindful of his situation,” Andie assured them, clearly in agreement with her husband.

  Jubal did not feel guilty, “You are correct,” he replied. “But now I know of the matter and so will make some inquires.”

  Hadassah took hold of his hand. “I cannot ask more than that.”

  Jubal gazed down into her eyes. “It really is the least I can do,” and the most he intended to do, “and while you are here, is there anything I can do for you and your family?”

  She released his hand. “No, we are managing well and are content.”

  “Who could ask for more?” Jubal responded, pleased with her reply.

  “Those who are never satisfied,” Hadassah answered and added, “Farewell Jubal,” and then turned the opposite way.

  Orion glanced to the rear. “I do not think she wanted to be in the presence of the king.”

  Few Tinies were comfortable in the presence of their monarch, preferring to admire and esteem him from afar and so Jubal was not surprised. “She accomplished her goal.”

  “And word has it you have accomplished your goal, you have mastered that Aaka and can transform yourself into any creatures that enters your mind,” Andromeda had clearly figured out the reason for the trip to see Roddy, or at least came close to the mark. She made no mention of the incident with Brownie the bear.

  Jubal touched his cloak right over the internal pocket containing four of the twelve amulets he recently created. “I mastered the Melody long ago. Wielding the Aaka requires intense concentration and even the few select Aakacarns who know of it are not able to maintain the illusion for very long, even after I placed the tune in a producer. I have finally found a way for every Nephilim to wield the Melody without having to concentrate on the illusion.”

  “Poppa, be a wolf,” Laara insisted.

  She had witnessed him turn into all sorts of creatures and the huge canine form into which he often transformed himself was her favorite. “Not now, perhaps later,” he replied.

  Orion’s eyes seem to register each person in the street as they drew closer to Nimrod’s gated palace, proving the Weapocarn was doing his job properly. “Other than for entertainment, what is the benefit?”

  The pearly white walls of the palace were thirty cubits high and four thick with a huge number of Anakim guards at each entrance and several squads patrolling the grounds. Jubal did not understand the need for the high degree of security, but evidently Roddy did, or more likely, Semiramis did. The huge dome of the palace had a spire at each of the four directional points and stood like a massive hill beside Semi’s tower, a structure that at times scraped the bottoms of drifting clouds.

  No one stopped the Instructor and his escorts from passing through and up the cobblestone entranceway. Just before reaching the threshold he decided to respond. “The uses of Metamorphosis, gain or detriment, will be determined by the wielder, and those results will depend on the goal,” to which the famous archer nodded.

  A palace servant, a red-haired female Anakim in violet silks, led the way down a crimson-carpeted hall. To the right and left, every ten paces, were alcoves with marble statues of nude men and women, a favorite subject of modern artists. Jubal preferred to see lions or a majestic stag or two in their place, but sculpting was not his art form, although the Aaka, Forge, gave him the ability to form whatever image entered his mind. The rings, amulets, batons, and staffs, he created were often considered by others as being works of art, but took so little effort on his part that he did not see any of the tools as being equal to a beautifully and meticulously crafted sculpture.

  “His majesty will be along shortly,” Krissanna informed him, stiffly, after opening the door on the left. The gold-leafing was impressive, more so than the way she closed the door behind them without waiting for a response. The woman was one of Semi’s servants and evidently resented serving anyone other than the queen.

  They were left in a waiting room furnished with plush chairs placed around an oblong table, on the center of which was the golden statute of a lion. The beast was up on its hind legs, front paws reaching for the sky, with the king of felines locked into a silent and forever frozen roar of challenge.

  “Perhaps you should have made an appointment,” Andromeda suggested.

  Jubal chose a chair and sat down. “Appointments are for functionaries and people petitioning for an audience. Roddy and I have never been formal with each other, why start now?”

  He reached up and pulled Laara from his shoulders and then placed her on his lap. “Do you want to play with Tammuz and Sennacherib?”

  “They are babies,” she promptly informed her father.

  “The boys are only a year and a half younger than you,” he reminded her.

  “But I am not a baby,” she insisted.

  Andie chuckled. “A year and a half is a long time, everybody knows that,” to which the little Nephilim nodded vigorously.

  With the two females teaming up, Jubal decided not to press the age issue. “I thought you liked babies.”

  Laara placed a finger on her chin, giving the matter some thought, and after a few moments brought the hand down. “I like to play with them and have them giggle at me, but sometimes they are fussy and noisy and don’t smell very good. Is it because they are boys?”

  “The smell comes from them needing their cloths changed, but the little princes have nurses to wash and make them smell good again,” Jubal replied. “When they are older like you, that problem will go away.”

  “Then I will play with them,” she agreed and seemed pleased over her maturity finally being acknowledged.

  The boys were Anakim, not Nephilim, a fact that at first disappointed the king and queen, but their love for the twins caused them to overlook what they previously would have consider
ed a handicap. The royal couple doted on their sons and Creator help the person who suggested either child was inferior.

  In the time it would take for the granules in a sandglass to fill a quarter of the lower half, Roddy walked into the room and was flanked by the governess of his two boys. “Jubal, what brings you here?” He asked, eyed the Weapocarns, and then held up his hand. “Wait, my friend, I am glad to see you. Pennella will take your daughter to play with Tammuz and Sennacherib and we will go to my study and discuss what brings you here.”

  The man in the lion coat had always been quick to decide what must be done without consultation, but since a crown was placed on his head the trait had become even more dominant. The crown was physically elsewhere but the feeling of it apparently never left him. It meant Laara would be taken to the playroom and the two Weapocarns would remain where they were seated, but Jubal had no objections, being anxious to demonstrate the new amulets and all of the additional forms he had mastered, some of which would certainly prove how useful Metamorphosis could be. “The disclosures I make known might be knowledge you decide should be restricted, so it is best for us to be alone,” he agreed, even though no choice to refuse had been given.

  Roddy nodded, replying, “I figured as much,” and no doubt he had.

  Pennella took Laara by the hand and led her away while the newly-wedded couple was left alone in the room. Jubal had a fairly good idea of how Orion and Andie would fill the time and so had no misgivings over following Nimrod out and leaving them behind.

  The king led the way down the hall, around a corner, and into the room they had conferred in many times since the move to Semidon. Roddy sat down behind a huge cedar desk and motioned for Jubal to take a seat in the nearest chair to the right rather than the one around in front. The room was illuminated by a glowing orb up near the center of the ceiling. The Aaka, Ball of Light, created a glowing yellow sphere that gave off no heat. Jubal sometimes used the Melody in his study and workshop, preferring the steady light over the flickering flames of a lamp or candle.

  “It might be better if I stand and show you first and then sit down and discuss the ramifications,” he told the king, who nodded agreement.

  Two of the amulets were identical and the other two were shaped like a particular animal, all of them had a gold chain. Jubal reached into his pocket and retrieved one of the duplicates and then placed it on his neck with the creature in full view. In the brief time it took to will the energy forth, the cocoon formed and his point of view was suddenly from a higher vantage point.

  Roddy nodded but showed no enthusiasm. “I left an important meeting at word you had come. You formed a griffin in my presence before, several times in fact. What is different other than you used a more attractive Aakatool?”

  Jubal willed the power to cease, removed the amulet, and then tossed the golden device to the king, who reflexively snatched the producer out of the air. “The difference is the cocoon is preset. Just put the thing on, will the energy to flow, and the griffin forms without the wielder giving it another thought. Make sure some part of it is in contact with your skin.”

  Nimrod examined the amulet while walking from behind his desk, then stood in the center of the room, and put on the golden producer. There was a quick flash of light and then a griffin exactly like the one he conjured slightly more than three years earlier was standing twelve feet high with wings spread wide. “Did I not say you would find a way to make wielding Metamorphosis as common as Elevation?”

  “You did,” Jubal admitted. “You set the goal and left the minor details to me.”

  “It is the mark of a good leader. As I recall, you were not as confident as I at first. A person in my position must recognize the talents of those who are in his service and push those individuals to excellence even when they do not yet see the potential.”

  Leave it to Roddy to take credit for the accomplishment. Well, he did have a point, Jubal reckoned. “If not for your encouragement I never would have tried.”

  “And that is why I did so,” the king replied, and then returned to true form with the tiny golden griffin in his hand. “Tell me, how did you make this work? I placed the Aaka in a producer and while it summoned the potential without my having to perform the tune, I was still required to concentrate on the image I wanted to maintain.”

  Jubal nodded his understanding of the fact, having been stymied by that problem for three years, until he looked at the issue from a different angle, and the solution turned out to be quite simple. “I perform the Melody in my head, summoning the potential, and only after I create the image, do I lock the Aaka, image and all, into the producer.”

  Roddy sat down at his desk and stroked his beard in thought. After a brief time he stopped and his lips formed a small smile. “It makes sense. Presetting the form rather than relying on the wielder to choose the creature simplifies things greatly. Someone skilled like me and you can work the Aaka unaided by a tool, but few others could.”

  Jubal had to agree. “What you say is true. For me, the benefit is I can stay in the form for as long as the potential is flowing. I can do more than parade around. I can actually work and function without concern the image will fail. I could even fall asleep and the image would remain.”

  He referred to himself, knowing Roddy was swift enough to apply the words to his royal person. “Is this the only form you have locked into a producer?” The king inquired.

  Jubal reached into his pocket and pulled out two more golden amulets, a wolf, and a fantastic horse of his own imagination. “You gave your lion wings, so I figured; why not give a pair to a horse?”

  Nimrod picked up the amulet. “I like it and the wolf. Are these examples of what you will be creating?”

  Jubal nodded his head. “Like you, I can make the cocoon take on whatever form I imagine. I will make a number of standard forms, hopefully you will give your opinion of how many and what they should be, and I can also custom make creatures according to the desire of the purchaser. They will have to be satisfied with the images I create or learn the Aaka and performed the Melody on their own. That griffin I brought as a gift to you.”

  Roddy nodded, accepting the gift as his due, and stood up. “I approve of what you have achieved and will provide a list of animal shapes for you to master. Those can be placed in producers for sale and you can forget about teaching the Aaka to others. It is far too difficult for them and you would be wasting your time. That being said, knowledge of the existence of the Aaka is not restricted, only the actual notes in the Melody are to be restricted.”

  It sounded like a dismissal, yet Jubal had more to share about some of the subtler forms he had mastered, not all of them in the shape of animals. He could see Nimrod wanted to get back to his meeting, so Jubal put the two producers back in his pocket, but then remembered his conversation with Hadassah. “It will be as you say. By the way, I was wondering; do you know convicts in the compound are being held beyond the length of their sentences?”

  Roddy frowned and sat back down, motioning for Jubal to do the same, but in the front chair, king to friend rather than friend to friend. “Why do you ask? You seldom involve yourself in such matters.”

  Jubal explained about Betsenadab’s situation, finishing with, “I cannot think of a reason such a thing would be occurring and wonder if it is unique to him or a standard practice.”

  The king folded his arms across his chest defensively, although might not have realized he was doing so. “The convicts have taskmasters who set work quotas and standards of conduct. Violations are punishable by adding days to the sentence handed down by the presiding judge in the case. It could be the fellow you are enquiring about has a discipline problem or too often fails to meet the expectations of the taskmasters.”

  The explanation was certainly reasonable. “Thank you for explaining it to me. I did not think of that and it is why I seldom, as you say, get involved in these matters. A few more questions; are the quotas and expectations realistic goals? Are the
infractions of the rules serious violations or minor things?”

  He would never have made such inquires if it were not for some of the questionable laws on the books that could result in a person being sentenced for months of hard labor, such as speaking ill of a government official or of the Nephilim or expressing a desire to have a change in government. Those laws and statutes like them had come into effect after the departures of Canaan and Magog, but convicting a person for peacefully expressing an opinion, even one Jubal disagreed with, seemed more than a little heavy handed to him.

  “My friend, let me make this clear at the outset, the people living in the compound are there as a punishment for their deeds, not a person among them is innocent. The rules are stricter for them and the taskmasters can at times give contradicting orders that places the convict in trouble with one or the other no matter which command he or she obeys. That is part of the punishment and guarantees the person who finally does emerge free from the compound will never again repeat the offense. It is a far better punishment than beating them with whips as if they were animals. Also, you are not considering both men and women are in the compound. Some of them marry and have children while serving their time. It has happened that one of the convicts has a shorter sentence and chooses to stay until the spouse’s sentenced is served. Whole families are living there under those circumstances.”

  Jubal did not like the sound of that, a part of his soul cringed at the matter-of-fact way his friend was speaking about fellow human beings and innocent babies living in the labor camp. “But while he or she is there, they can have days added to their time by the task masters. While I agree they should be made to feel sorry for their crimes, especially the serious violators; what about the men and women who are separated from their families indefinitely simply because they criticized me or some other Nephilim, how are their spouses and children at home to survive? It sounds to me, under the conditions you described, a man convicted of a minor infraction can be working as a slave for the rest of his life and the same holds true for a woman!”