“I am Life Weaver, Melinda.”
“Are you the Image Maker, the one Abuva spoke of?”
“Yes, dear child. No one can see us or hear us. I want to demonstrate Philon’s love for you.”
“Philon?”
Following him into the home she grew up in, her heart raced in her chest, and a queasy feeling crept upon her.
And before her a movie of memories, horrid ones, played out before her. “Oh, Melinda, may I speak with you?” asked an older man, in his mid forties, with a balding head and a slight limp.
From behind a bedroom door, a young teenage voice responded, “Sure Uncle Sid, come on in.”
Her uncle walked in, closing the door behind him.
Suddenly, she found herself gazing upon a scene she hoped to never witness again.
“Why have you brought me to this horrible, painful place Life Weaver?”
“Watch my child.”
As Sid began to attack and rape his niece, a man busted down the bedroom door and grabbed Sid on the back of his shoulders and pulled him off of Melinda with such force that he lay crumbled in a heap on the floor.
Crying hysterically, the young Melinda held tightly to the man’s strong arms, and as he rocked her, he said, “Do not be afraid.”
Life Weaver’s arms enveloped Melinda and before she knew it, she was lying on the floor, looking up at Emma and Abuva, “Are you ok sweetie?” Emma asked.
Melinda sat up, feeling a slightly disoriented, asked, “Where is Life Weaver? What happened to me, er, both of me in there?” She pointed toward the Frame.
Historus brought a cup of tea, handed it to her and said, “How do you feel Melinda, about that tragic event in your past?”
“There was no tragic event! Well, there could have been. I mean, my uncle attempted to rape me but this man, this strong loving man rescued me!”
“That would be Philon,” Nate suggested.
“Philon? Who is Philon?” Melinda, rising quickly to her feet, asked.
“He is Abba’s Son. He is the one who saved you.”
Melinda sat on the couch, Emma on her right and Abuva on her left, and, like a child eager to open a birthday present, she pleaded, “Can I meet him!”
Chad smiled and said, “We would be glad to introduce you to him!”
And so, as the days and weeks and months passed by, The Song Shop drew many of the citizens of Noab to its unpretentious gatherings, enjoying the presence of the Life Weaver and the Story of the Frame, as mask after mask fell from their faces, and they discovered who they really were, sons and daughters of the Image Maker!
Chapter 6
News travels fast in Noab, for nothing goes unnoticed by Prince Lucius. His spies were everywhere. He ruled by proxy on the streets through drunks and thugs and over the elite in the high-rise condos though the luring enticements of Intheism. And the Prince knew full well of the growth of the followers of the Song. For somewhere within his malevolent soul, a faint whisper of a memory also remembered the Song, though it was buried deep under debris of his manic ways. Try as he may, he could not abort what the Image Maker had placed there by His own authority and power.
Lucius had summoned Satrina, Banedread, Damios, and the Muspellum lords to an inner chamber, deep in the recesses of the castle to discuss the growth of the followers of the Song and strategize as to how to deal with them.
The Muspellum lords grumbled among themselves as they awaited the Prince and Satrina. Rulk, who fancied himself their leader, questioned them, “Well, any ideas? The Master will be here soon and I have yet to hear of any strategy…”
“Shut up Rulk!” Gragan, lord of violence shouted. “I am weary of your whining.”
Rulk jumped to his feet, his mouth open, his fangs glaring in the soft candle light of the chambers eerie haunt.
“Sit down Rulk. Calm yourself,” Zonos admonished. “I have a plan.”
Rulk fiercely gazed at Gragan across the table, slowing sitting while his claws dug into the table’s wooden surface.
Suddenly Damios entered the room, “Rise Muspellum lords, your Master arrives!”
Satrina slowly walked in the chamber, her elegant Destiner personage a noble vestige, despite her fall into the Netherlife.
Following behind her was Banedread. Lucius, entered the chamber, not as fortunate as Satrina, for over the centuries he was losing the dignity once afforded to him as a Chayilian Prince, and his appearance began to show it as deep, jagged lines began to appear on his forehead and cheeks, evidence of the Netherlife’s toll on his body.
The Muspellum stood, their heads bowed in deference, until their masters had taken their seats.
Rulk wasted no time, “My Lord Lucius, I-”
“Shut your mouth Rulk! I have not given you permission to speak, have I?”
“No..no, my lord,” Rulk replied, seething on the inside.
The Prince rose to his feet and slammed his fists down, “Do not refer to me as Prince Lucius in these walls herewith! I weary of the human masquerade! You shall address me as Primus, Lord of the Muspellum, and lord of this earth!”
To which all bowed their heads, acknowledging his wish.
Primus motioned to Satrina, summoning her to speak.
“As you know, followers of the Song grow in numbers right in the middle of Noab. We have assembled you, my lords, to determine what strategy, if any, to deter them, as we all are aware of the protection afforded to them by the Life Weaver.”
Pornia spoke in soft, sensual tones, “My lord Primus, and my queen Satrina, we have but to give them something else to believe in, am I not correct, Zonos?”
“Why yes, my brother. Deception is a sure tool with these humans. We will simply use the mindset that they now enjoy concerning the Image Maker and turn it against them.”
Primus interrupted, “And tell me Zonos, how will you do this?”
“Over the centuries we have discovered that humans build, how shall we say, paradigms in their thinking, and then they see themselves in that mindset and live out of it.”
Pornia chimed in, “Zonos and I have invented a word for this deception. It is called religion.”
“Ah, yes, I see!” Satrina agreed. Smiling at Primus she delved deeper into their strategy. “What they mean to do is introduce positions of fame to their leaders and institutionalize the Song, so that it merely becomes a thought and not an experience. They will be taken with the pride of who they think they are and the Song will ring hollow in their hearts!”
Primus grinned, “And I will take this discussion one step further. We will create a religion wherein our Banedread will be the image they will follow and serve.”
“I would be honored my father,” Banedread acknowledged. “And one day, they will bow their pitiful souls before you!”
“My goal is to enslave them! To humiliate them!” Primus blustered. Then, his cadence slowed, salivating with revenge, “I will use them to punish Philon for depriving me of my rightful place!”
Satrina got up and stood behind Primus, her long flowing hair draped down upon his broad shoulders. She gently laid her hands upon his head, bowed her head slightly and began to chant and sway. She slowly lifted her hands into the air and blue arcs of lightning flowed between them. Her face grew somber and her pupils turned black as coal. A dark, sinister presence filled the room! The Netherlife materialized in dark, shadowy wisps, darting here and there, and finally entering all who were present.
What followed was a cacophonous symphony of hellish gnarls and warped languages pouring from their mouths. They were depraved sounds, bestial in nature, dissonant in tone.
Their gathering sank into a twisted orgy of repulsive practices as they drank of the Netherlife’s abominable wine. Long into the night they lost themselves in the dark art of Intheism, indulging themselves in its narcissistic debauchery.
Outside, passerby’s fled in terror at the murky, sullen energy that emanated from the castle walls and seeped out into the streets.
It
was reported the next day that law enforcement were overwhelmed by the multiple reports of burglaries, drunkenness, violence and murders throughout Noab.
A conjured confusion continued into the daylight hours!
Street light systems failed, car accidents occurred all the day long, and hospital emergency rooms were overflowing with countless reports of sudden, unexplained illnesses.
Atop the highest tower of the castle, Primus jeered delightfully at the effect of the dark energy of the Netherlife was having on the human vermin.
But the fire of his celebration was quickly dowsed as Damion nervously summoned him. “My lord, Primus! We have a problem at the Ziggurat sight.”
Primus swung around, his eyebrows furled, he demanded, “And what now, Damios?”
“The Fellowship of the Song, they…they have gathered at the Ziggurat and they are singing that Song.”
“What!” Never before had Primus exploded into his Chayilian form in broad daylight, but, in his rage, he did! With his fists clenched, he sneered skyward, screaming, “I will have my revenge upon your son, Abba!”
“Summon Banedread! Now!
◆◆◆
Nate, Emma, and Chad, along with their newly found Fellowship of the Song had gathered in the square before the Ziggurat, closing off traffic and attracting the people of Noab as they lifted their voices in unison singing the Song Life Weaver had given them.
“What are the words, I don’t understand the words?” one man shouted.
Another person replied, “Who cares, whatever it is, I’ve never heard anything so beautiful in my life!”
Local TV stations were covering the event and the whole spectacle was now live into the homes of all Noabians.
Then the Fellowship began to dance and an ecstatic joy, one that had never been witnessed before in Noab, broke forth like living water gushing from some unknown source and overflowing onto the surrounding crowds, immersing them in the Song!
Some were dancing, some were laughing uncontrollably, some were crying, some were singing, some were, for the first time in their lives—smiling.
And so, this continued for an hour or so, no one desiring that this experience should ever stop, but, like a stunning sunset must give way to the quiet of a night sky, the Song rested.
Nate, moved by the Life Weaver, climbed up on the car that had brought them there, and shouted, “Citizens of Noab! What you see and hear and are experiencing is the Song of the Image Maker of Old!” The Life Weaver himself carried his voice on the wind, so that all present heard Nate’s voice.
“You need no masks to wear any longer! This land we have been existing in, the Land of Always Knowing but Never Understanding in a mirage! It’s a lie! And now, this day, the Image Maker himself is unveiling himself to you and to all his creation!”
“What do you mean we have no need of masking, stranger? How dare you attack our customs!”
Nate recognized that voice. Sledge!
Before Nate could protect himself, Sledge and two of his henchman grabbed him and dragged him off the car onto the city street.
The crowd was thrown in disarray as no one could see what was really unfolding.
Chad flew himself into the scuffle swinging wildly at Sledge hoping to land some punches.
Local police pushed their way to the scene, especially one particular officer.
Undercover, Jonas grabbed Sledge and one his comrades and pulled them off Nate by the time other officers had arrived to breakup the scuffle.
While all involved were being cuffed, a strong, commanding voice inquired, “What seems to be the problem here officers!”
The officers were immediately halted by the presence of Banedread.
Jonas sensed something about this man, but could not pin point what it was. He seems harmless, Jonas thought to himself, but is he?
One of the officers responded, “Just breaking up a scuffle, sir.”
“One of my security guards tells me that that thug,” pointing out Sledge, “incited the violence.”
“We will take him and his buddies downtown for questioning.”
“This other man,” Banedread added, “who was speaking, he is innocent of any wrong doing. Apparently thugs are not interested in cleaning up Noab.”
With that, Sledge and his buddies were taken into custody, while Banedread took the opportunity to introduce himself.
“Hello, I am Banedread, owner of the Ziggurat, and you, your name is Nate, correct?”
“Yeah, that’s my name.”
“And your friend, I believe his name is Chad?”
Chad, still held in the grip of two officers replied, “Yes..umm, yes sir.”
“Well then, I should like to speak with you both, if you please, and be my guests. Perhaps you could enlighten me since Noab has never witnessed a display of such wonder!”
The officers released Chad, he and Nate followed Banedread into the Ziggurat, leaving Emma behind, anxiously awaiting their return, while Jonas waited on the Life Weaver.
Once inside, the two were a bit overwhelmed at the splendor before them.
The Imperial Hall, as Banedread introduced it, was constructed of circular architecture with sapphire walls rising forty feet into a pearl ceiling.
Every ten feet stood silver columns, standing like sentinels around the room.
In the center of the tiled, topaz floor, a fountain gushed forth ocean blue water from giant shells that were placed in a half moon position to greet those who entered.
Banedread led them to his office, high above on the 100th floor.
“Please, please sit down. Would you like a refreshment?”
Nate and Chad took their seats before Banedread’s wide, imposing desk, the sort which spoke in and of itself that he was somebody.
“No thanks, Banedread,” Nate said matter-of-factly.
“Oh, I would,” Chad responded until Nate kicked him with his foot.
“Well, maybe not, …er this time, sir.”
“Suit yourselves.”
A man and a woman entered the room and stood one on Banedread’s left and the other on his right.
“Let me introduce to you two of my associates. To my left is Mr. Jarah, and here to my right is Miss Kadja. They have been following your Fellowship of the Song closely and have seized this opportunity to speak with you.”
Nate, true to his country upbringing said, “Nice to meet you all. I’m Nate and this is my associate, Chad.” To which Jarah and Kadja nodded acknowledging their presence.
Jarah spoke first, “Nate, we have been aware of a spiritual vacuum here in Noab for quite sometime, and it seems to us, at least in our observations and reports from others, that your movement may just be what may fill the void in our lives.”
Kadja continued, her voice soft and reflective, “In our studies we have found that masking seems to exacerbate our frustrations and is not the answer to fulfilling our human dilemma---to know who we are and why we are loved.”
“Why yes,” Nate agreed. “I know for myself and Chad, the message of the Image Maker has given us, well, hope and a reason to be.”
“Exactly, Nate!” Banedread quickly point out. “This is why we have good news for you, if indeed you should desire our assistance.”
“And what assistance is that?”
“I am willing, for the sake of the citizenry of Noab, to allow your movement to meet in as many centers throughout our city as you need, free of charge. All we ask is that your people clean them when your meetings are over.”
“Wow! That’s awesome!” Chad exclaimed.
“Wait a minute Banedread. What’s the catch? Hidden fees? Fame?”
Rising from his seat, and seeming a bit intimidating, Banedread addressed Nate’s concerns, “Why no Nate, I have no hidden agenda. I will not interfere with your meetings, I may even attend a few, as my own soul needs refreshing, especially the kind I witnessed out in the streets today.”
“Deal?”
Nate and Chad stood up, shook
his hand, and Nate agreed, “Deal!”
“Well, gentleman, it has been a pleasure meeting you both, here is my business card, please be in contact with me, but please note my two assistants will be handling the details, as I am a very busy man.”
Nate and Chad left the room and headed for the elevators.
Meanwhile, Banedread immediately went into a strategy session with Kadja and Jarah.
“Report to me Zonas, or should I say Jarah?”
“Yes, master. Our plan is to let the movement grow of its own momentum. Soon, they will need to choose leaders amongst themselves to facilitate their gatherings.”
Pornia, who introduced herself as Kadja, spewed, “Then we will seduce them with fame, for who among the humans does not desire fame?”
Jarah disclosed the end of their insidious plan, “And money, their love of money will corrupt them, slowly; then with fame and money, they will build the paradigms that will insulate them from the propaganda of the Image Maker.”
“Very good, very good!” Banedread cackled. “Soon they will be prepared for my inauguration and they will bow their knee to me!”
Chapter 7
Meanwhile, beyond the sphere of this universe, lies another, the Silver Sea.
This universe is far more ancient, eons older than the newly created one, which is the home of the Charyil and the human race. It is here that the clans of Destiner’s live, ever enjoying the words and wisdom of the Image Maker, until the unspeakable deceit of the Netherlife crept into their lives. The Elders knew full well the dangers the Netherlife presented, but could in no way stop its temptation and seductive power on free will choosing beings.
Centuries had passed since Satrina, once a ruling Elder of the Destiners, planted the seeds of rebellion and contempt for the Image Maker in the tribe of Xcellenes, and now those seeds were coming to fruition.
The Xcelenes had managed to not merely delve into the Netherlife, but immersed themselves in its baleful broth. They had constructed, with the assistance of Primus’ Muspellum, a new temple. It was from here that the enchanting influences of Intheism were taught and heralded across the Silver Sea. Through their malevolent propaganda, they succeeded in winning over more than half of the other clans. Having won the theological victory and gaining strength from their unfettered access to the Netherlife, they had seceded from the governing clan, the Aeton Tribe and now formed a confederacy to challenge their right to rule the Silver Sea.
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