“Ah, yes, Natriel! I am looking forward to seeing the fangs of the Nether Snake sink into his neck, if he survives the holocaust we will rain down upon him and his fair Yenna.”
Just then one of his commanders entered the room, “Hail Maxim! All is ready, my lord!”
“We will attack when evening begins! As the shroud of darkness falls on Aeton, so will we!”
Meanwhile, Natriel and his company watched from atop a command post overseeing the Sea.
Her patience wearing thin, Isidorus asked, “Why do they wait, Natriel?”
“I know Maxim well, my friends. He has already attacked us…the battlefield of our minds. He seeks to intimidate us as we behold this grand display of power.”
“We will not be intimidated!” Atreus blared.
“No, we will not, my friend.”
Yenna hastily entered the room. “My lord Natriel, I have a disturbing report concerning this Dr. Phillips.”
Having garnered the attention of the chieftains, Yenna revealed her findings, “Blood samples I had ordered from the guard watching Phillips contained unexplainable changes which we have never seen before. We are not sure exactly what has happened to him,” she paused, “but something has changed in his blood composition.”
“Thank you Yenna. Did you have blood samples ordered from the human?” inquired Natriel.
“No my lord, but we can see to that promptly.”
“Please do! Something tells me this Dr. Phillips may be a tool of our enemy.”
Atreus chimed, “He is a weak human. He has no weapons, and he has no wings.”
“That is what I am suspicious of, that which appears weak may be the carrier of destruction.”
Yenna hurried out of the room with two guards to apprehend Phillips, who by this time, with the assistance of his newly infected Destiner, fled into the city. Coming upon the enclave wherein Phillips was to be at rest, the guards found it empty.
“My lady, he is not here, neither is the guardsman.”
“Quickly, go to Thoriel, report this to him, and convey to him that finding him is of utter importance to the welfare of Aeton!”
Both guardsman bowed their heads and sprang into action.
Yenna made her way back to the command tower to take her place alongside Natriel.
Meanwhile, Phillips and his companion made their way through the city and towards the great wall built to protect Aeton. Their destination would place them behind the wall, opposite wherein the widest stretch of beach found its way to the water of the Sea.
Suddenly, an hour or so before the eventide, the winds grew stiff from the sea, and billowing clouds swept in from the southeast. As each minute passed by, a mounting tempest pressed in on the armada, spoiling Maxim’s plan for a clear assault. “The Image Maker!” spat Maxim.
“Do not mention His name in my presence Maxim,” Balik screeched. “Stop with your superstitions! Surely this will not hinder your warriors?” Balik’s long absence from the Presence and his persistent immersion into the Netherlife, left his heart dulled and his memory blighted. He no longer believed that there was an Image Maker. And, if there was, such a Being was so far removed from his life, that he disdained such vain thoughts of the Divine.
Maxim, his patience now wore thin, pulled his saber and pressed it hard against Balik’s chest, “We shall soon see who will take the day Muspellum.”
Balik, not in the least intimidated, drew his saber quickly and parried his weapon aside, “Do that again Maxim, and your eons will come to a swift end!”
Chapter 12
As war was soon to break out in the Silver Sea, Noab had completely submitted to Banedread.
Soon after all the citizenry had been inoculated with the Netherlife, Banedread quickly ordered military incursions into the entire world. And, with the assistance of the dark enchantments of Satrina and the strength of Xcelene warriors, the Netherlife now flowed in the blood of the human race. Primus no longer needed the disguise of “Prince Lucius.” Now emboldened, he appeared as the Muspellum Prince he had been since the day the Shroud of Angst wrapped itself around his soul. Though he despised humans, he took a twisted delight in their worshipping him and his son, Banedread.
The Clerica were now his priests. Discipled in Intheism, their meeting halls were filled with bizarre chanting, cosmic meditations, and of course, traveling into the well of their innermost being…the Pool of Passion.
The main meeting, held every Friday evening and facilitated by Satrina, was simultaneously broadcast worldwide so that all could participate in offerings of adulation to Primus and Banedread.
On one such Friday, about noonday, a Muspellum warrior arrived at the Castle to deliver a long awaited report. Damios, who interviewed the messenger, now entered Primus’ private chambers, bowing low, he said, “My lord Primus, I have the report you have been waiting for.”
“Enter, my friend.”
Damios, smiled slightly, knowing all to well the manic side of his master, therefore, it was always wise to take such friendly innuendos with a grain of salt. He entered the room and reported, “Their den has been at last located.”
Satrina and Banedread were both present.
“Good!” Banedread snapped.
“And?” Primus pressed.
“No one was found in the hideout, my lord.”
“What! Pray tell, Damios, where then are they?” Primus asked, clenching the handle of his saber.
“My scouts report that the followers of the Song have journeyed to a far away land, west of the old ruins of ancient Manumit. They lost their trail in the foggy heights of a mountain range.”
“Father, where could they possibly go to think they can escape our reign?” Banedread spat.
Primus feigned surprise, for he knew full well where his prey had fled.
Satrina probed, “Something bewitches you Primus. Tell us!”
“They flee to the Garden of Delights, the birthplace of their origin!”
Banedread, though full of the malignant Netherlife bequeathed at his conception, nevertheless, drew from its faulty, dark reasoning’s. “Then we shall go there to destroy them and their despicable homeland!”
Primus, clearly weary of Banedread’s adolescent tirades, grasped his neck and pinned him against a wall. Mocking him he exclaimed, “So you would just march into Philon’s trap Banedread! You’re a fool!”
For a moment their eyes grew dark with hatred and ill will, desiring only to plunge their sabers into each other’s belly.
“Stop this nonsense!” commanded Satrina. “We have a common enemy, we must not destroy ourselves!”
Primus slowly loosened his grip around his neck, whispering, “Watch your tongue Banedread, else I will cut it out.”
Banedread hissed.
“Primus, do not let your fears rule you!” barked Satrina. “The Garden is forsaken, overgrown, a haunt for wild animals and broken promises. Let us march upon it with our hordes, kill the followers of the Song and make the Garden our own.”
A smirk grew across Primus’ face like a brewing storm. “You are my most valuable treasure, Satrina! Banedread, go and instruct Damios to muster our forces, we march on the Garden at dawn!”
◆◆◆
Nate, Emma, Chad, and the remnant of the Song, along with Historus, had a week earlier embarked upon the Garden of Delights, which once was the blissful abode of humankind’s parents, Valerian and Aurea.
The great wall that surrounded the Garden was all but overgrown with vines, weeds, and trees. But Historus, with knowledge that Life Weaver had imparted to him, located the entryway. Its door hung halfway open, like a man clinging to his life, and hanging by one hinge, it was as if the door was broken open by some force seemingly many lifetimes ago.
The troupe entered the Garden, keenly aware of the wild animals and other unseen hazards lurking in what now appeared a dangerous, overgrown jungle. Historus, the time for disguise now expired, led his friends through the maze in his true Chayilian form, in
this form he could protect them from any threat.
“Where do you lead us Historus?” asked Nate.
“I was told to guide you to the home of your primal parents, Valerian and
Aurea.”
Emma, in hushed tones of awe, said, “This is so surreal. We are treading on holy ground, the birthplace of our race.”
After those sacred words fell like diamonds from her tongue, a placid melody arose from the mouths of the followers of the Song. Rising up it filled the forest, the fragrance of its tone awakening the dormant life within it. Black collared monkeys soon bounced and danced from one tree to the next. Panthers and tigers could be seen peering and studying them, walking at a distance on their flank. All sorts of birds fluttered about, congregating above them as the humans followed Historus to their ancient home. It seemed the Garden sprung to life, welcoming the orphaned children back to their Genesis.
Suddenly, as if on cue, a breeze tenderly blew upon the Garden, massaging and stirring up the trees to sway back and forth providing an orchestration of stringed instruments, a necessary accompaniment for the singing of the Song. Not since time immemorial had the Garden been filled with such a rapturous symphony! Soon, the human cohort, now accompanied by a host of all sorts of Garden species, arrived upon the dilapidated home of Valerian and Aurea.
Historus knew how many humans had escaped Banedread’s tyranny: 144,000 from Noab and surrounding provinces. An exodus of such proportion could not have gone unnoticed unless the hand of the Image Maker camouflaged the undertaking, for His purposes cannot be thwarted.
Chad questioned Historus, “What will do now? Night is falling.”
Historus, ever listening to the voice of the Life Weaver entreated Nate, “Nate, what will we do?”
“This is too much for me my friend. Don’t you have a direct line to Abba? Besides, why would he listen to me? I failed him. I lost my way and got caught up in myself.”
“He enjoyed being with you on all your fishing trips, Nate. He has and always will love you, my friend.”
Just then a swoosh could be heard over their heads, catching the attention of everyone. Infinitum, a Chayilian Prince, the expanse of his regal wings lowering him to the ground, alighted and directly set his gaze upon his dear human friend, Nate. “Historus is correct, Nate. Soon you will understand in your heart the immense measure of the Image Maker’s love for you!” And turning to the remnant, Infinitum continued, “His love for all of you!” Noticing their weary faces he remarked, “Historus, it seems our human friends need a place to sleep for the night.”
Raising his hands, the Chayilian Prince spoke words not of human tongues. As he spoke, the people felt movement underneath their feet, and taking notice, witnessed a miracle born of Abba’s heart for them, a thick, yet soft, velvet carpet of grass now grew before their stunned eyes!
“That should give you all a good nights rest. Grass, soft as any pillow, and alive with a peaceful lullaby’s not of this world: His Rest.”
Then Infinitum whistled, and the air around them filled with lightning bugs. So many appeared above them, that their soft lights emitted through the forest, flickering here and there, providing a tranquil ambiance for these beloved ones.
Emma, concerned for the safety of all inquired, “But, sir, what of the beasts and snakes and the like?”
Infinitum assured her, “Dear Emma, creation senses the return of the Master of the Garden, already their behavior is changing, and already the lion lies down beside the lamb!”
As he was speaking, unknown to Emma, a black panther stood beside her, positioning his head underneath her hand. Emma felt something soft and instinctively stroked his head. Then looking down she jumped away, so shocked the words were stuck in here throat, “That’s…that’s…that’s…”
“That, my dear, is a panther. No need to fret, soon he will be talking as his ancestors once did.” At that, the great cat simply plopped down on the soft carpet, yawned, and closed his yellow eyes, falling asleep under the calming illumination of the lightning bugs.
Soon, the remnant fell asleep under the watchful eyes of Historus and Infinitum, all except Nate and Chad. As the foursome sat on the old porch of Valerian and Aurea, Nate, his intuition prompting him inquired, “Something tells me tomorrow is a big day, Infinitum.”
He smiled, “Yes, tomorrow is a big day Nate, which is why you and Chad should sleep the sleep of His Rest.”
Undeterred, Nate pressed him, “He is coming, isn’t he?”
Historus interrupted, “Yes, Primus is coming. He and Banedread and Satrina and a host of Muspellum and a horde of human warriors.”
“We are not warriors Historus!” Chad remarked, his voice audibly shaking at such a prospect.
“No Chad, you are not. But you are one of the Sons of Abba and there is far more to you than you now realize, but soon you will understand of what I speak.”
“Go my friends,” Infinitum entreated, “and enter His Rest.”
And so, Nate and Chad, no sooner than when they laid their heads on the velvet grass, fell fast asleep.
“When can we expect visitors, Infinitum?”
“In the morning hours, Historus.”
“Primus has no knowledge of the prophecy before time?”
“No, he does not, neither does the Destiner, Satrina.”
“Shall we set the stage, Infinitum?”
“Yes, it is time, my friend.”
And so, the two Chayil walked up onto the dilapidated porch, skeletons of various animals strewn here and there, a vivid reminder of that fateful night the Garden succumbed to the chaos of the Netherlife. The windows were still boarded up, quiet witnesses to Valerian’s noble attempts to protect his family. The front door, closed shut, was a chilling reminder of the door of the first couple’s heart closed off to the overtures of Philon’s love. Historus pulled the door open, and although its wood crumbled in his hands, its composition held its own, as if it were yearning for the secrets inside to be revealed.
Once inside, the Chayil, their sabers burning brightly in the darkness, found their way back into the master bedroom, where Valerian and Aurea retreated to that fateful night. “Look Infinitum, the stories were true!” Historus cried, pointing to the ceiling, a huge hole was exposed, where the saber-toothed tiger, Rexarius, whom Valerian had held so dear, tore into the room with savage intentions to kill the couple.
“His remains lay here, Historus, along with the spear Valerian plunged into his side.” The beast’s skeleton was strewn asunder, probably food for other predators in the jungle. “Soon this tragic tell will be swallowed up in the splendor of the Consummation.”
“There it is, brother!” Historus exclaimed. And there, in the corner, the Frame of Story stood.
“It is fitting that Philon placed it here, in the darkness and angst of the Valerian and Aurea’s pain.”
The two grabbed the Frame with their strong hands and made their way back out of the house, placing it on the grass directly in front of the house. Historus reflected, “In His light, we see the wisdom in placing the Frame here. He has not abandoned Humankind despite its shame and brokenness. He stands with them.”
Historus stationed himself on one side of the Frame and Infinitum on the other. Bowing their heads and closing their eyes, they slowly enfolded themselves with their regal wings, forming a celestial cocoon of His Rest.
◆◆◆
Far away and exalted above the entire universe, the Zenith Orb shown brightly, basking in the ever-present light emitted from the Image Maker’s Presence. It was here, that the destiny of all creatures was decided. And, it was here that the Watchman of Humankind, Abriel, awaited, along with his Chayilian brothers, the much-anticipated proclamation: The Consummation.
The Chayil assembled on the white sands of the Endless Sea. Their number covered the beach as far as the eye could see. The light of the Presence passed through their magnificent translucent wings, creating a spectacular, fluttering living rainbow.
T
he splendid Chayil, hair glistening as with starlight, were adorned with gold platted armor. Sky-blue robes fell down off their broad shoulders, their strong hands gripping the handles of their mighty swords dug into the sand before them, awaiting the Call.
Off in the distance above the sea, but approaching quickly, flew Kalandra, escorted by the celestial eagles, living creatures whose keen eyes see through all who enter into His Rest. Kalandra came to rest upon the beach, her gracious gait representing all that is dignified and good for one serving in the Image Maker’s Presence. Righting herself as she approached the shores, her ethereal wings extended, and she lowered herself before the Chayil.
“Family! Today is the Day we have all longed to possess, insight concerning the Image Maker’s restoring all things to Himself. But it remained hidden in His eternal purposes for all He has created. And now, we will witness the Consummation.”
Before them, small twinklings of light appeared, dancing, twirling, and swirling. They emitted a joy so contagious that Kalandra was the first to begin to giggle, followed by a wave of elation that swept over the mighty company culminating in crescendo of laughter!
Before their eyes, the twinklings separated, forming the images of three persons. It was if an artist were drawing and composing the figures before them, until three persons, completed, stood smiling on the sandy white shores.
Abba, dressed in a simple, powder blue, linen ephod, his feet gently caressing the wet sand, stood between Life Weaver and Philon. “My children! I love you all!”
His words animated the hearts of all who heard his words, eliciting a chorus of praise, “We love you Abba!”
“Listen now to a mystery revealed. Before creation, we determined to create a family to share our life, our love, and our joys with! They too must possess what we possess: self awareness, ability to imagine and discover, and most of all, to live in Shared Life.” Abba turned, and disappeared into the Life Weaver.
Life Weaver then continued, “In bequeathing to our creation what we ourselves possess, we knew that our life would need to be truly discovered before it could be truly experienced. And in the discovery, the journey into lostness, rebellion, and pain would be the path that our creation would choose.” Life Weaver, now translucent, faded into Philon.
Return of Philon Page 9
