"Addy."
She sighed. "Fine."
"Remember, we're not even supposed to talk while doing this," Marco said. "This is meant to be a silent form of meditation. Let's try to focus."
They kept working, creating symbol after symbol of sand, expanding their mandala.
Day after day, they entered the temple, refilled their funnels of sand, and toiled at their work.
They slept in the temple on the stone floor. They woke, ate their single meal of the day, and worked again. Meditation through sand. Creating. Adding beauty to the world. To Marco, this indeed felt a little like writing a novel—day after day of creation, building toward a final work of art. To Addy, who had never created art, this was new and frustrating at first. Often she fretted, groaned, felt trapped, but gradually she sank into the trance of it, adding each day to their creation.
Days turned into weeks, and still they worked, their mandala expanding across the floor, filled with figures, coiling lines, squares, triangles, a dizzying array of colors and shapes, rings within rings.
Marco found that, in many ways, this was the most pleasant time he had ever spent with Addy. Their childhood had been fragile and painful, living under the constant threat of the scum. Their youth had been filled with agony, battling the aliens on the front line. Their twenties had been filled with trauma, two homeless veterans, struggling with loss and shell shock, exiled from Earth, slowly going mad in Haven.
But now, almost twenty-nine years old, Marco was here with the love of his life, learning peace, creating art. He looked up from his work at her. Addy was kneeling before him, deep in concentration, tongue thrust out, spilling out blue grains of sand.
I love you, Addy, he thought. Fully. Completely. Eternally. I came here to study peace. And with you I found joy. I wish we could stay here forever. You make my life full, complete, joyous.
She suddenly stood up and groaned. "Jesus Fucking Christ, I'm bored! If I have to spend another minute in here with you, Poet, I'm going to strangle you."
Marco sighed. So much for the feeling being mutual.
"What did I do?" he said.
"You're too silent! I want to sing and dance and run around and wrestle. Wanna wrestle?"
He kept working, spilling out sand. "This is meant to be meditation practice, not wrestling practice. Come on, Ads. We're almost done. Just a few more hours of work."
"I'd rather spend a few hours wrestling," she muttered, settling back down.
Finally, after a month of work, they finished.
The mandala was complete.
It sprawled across the temple floor, as large and intricate as the finest oriental rug. Baba Mahanisha came to view it with them, and he smiled.
"It is beautiful, my pupils," the Durmian said. "Grain by grain, you have spread the sand into a work of holiness, of great art. This mandala symbolizes the cosmos, its balance and beauty, for the cosmos is an eternal circle, ring within ring, forever turning. It also symbolizes your dedication to peace, to transcendence, and to the Noble Path of Deep Being."
"And our dedication to processed meat," Addy said, pointing at the little red hot dogs she had added to one ring. Marco gave her his best scowl.
The baba smiled. He was, to his credit, far more tolerant of Addy than any of their sergeants.
"We learn in Deep Being," the baba said, "that all is ephemeral. The seasons come and go. We are born and we die. Within our life, suffering is temporary. So is joy. All comes and goes. All is like clouds in the sky, and we live only for the present moment. Beauty is created. Beauty is dismantled." He held out two thick brushes. "Let us see this mandala too fade."
Marco and Addy looked down at their creation. It was special to them, a work they had created together, had labored over for so long. And it was beautiful. It was precious.
"Baba, I can't," said Addy.
"Often this is a difficult lesson," said the baba. "But it's an important one. We do not live for material things. We do not live to preserve the past. When we brush the sand away, we are making a powerful statement. That our peace is not tied to the physical. That our joy is not tied to remembering past labors, only to our awareness in the present."
They took the brushes.
Addy cringed. "Can I at least take a photo first?"
"Addy, take this seriously," Marco said.
She winced. "I hate this. You go first, Poet."
He knelt, brush in hand. "Come on, Ads. Together."
She sighed. "All right." She knelt too, holding the brush above the sand. "Three . . . Two . . . One . . . Go!"
Marco brushed away a long stroke of sand, destroying the intricate creations, mixing the radiant colors.
"Ha ha, made you go first!" Addy said, then winced and brushed her own path of sand. "Damn that's tough to do."
It had taken a month to create the mandala. They dismantled it within moments. A pile of sand rose in the center of the temple, a hundred colors all blended together.
They placed the sand into buckets, carried it down the mountain, and released it into a river. Colors streamed through the water, then flowed away.
That night, for the first time since beginning their training, Baba Mahanisha cooked dinner. There was more than bread and gruel too. In a hundred clay bowls, he served a feast of lentils, vegetables, fruits, grains, and other delicacies. Outside the temple, it was raining after a long, dry summer, but indoors a fire blazed in the hearth, and warmth and light filled the stone chambers.
"Normally we live as ascetics," said the baba, sitting cross-legged before the meal. "But tonight, in gratitude of the milestone you passed, we will feast."
"Hell yeah!" Addy said. "I don't even care that it's vegetarian." She inhaled deeply. "It smells delicious."
The baba nodded. "First, let us chant a prayer of loving-kindness. To all living things, we wish safety and freedom from suffering. We wish them peace. We wish them ease of—"
Outside the temple, a rumble sounded.
Marco and Addy leaped to their feet.
That was no thunder.
"Starship engines," Marco whispered.
And even here, in the temple of Deep Being, terror flooded him.
Starships. War. Death.
* * * * *
Outside the temple, the engines roared.
Marco and Addy ran toward the arched doorway, abandoning their meal. They stared outside.
Rain was falling outside in sheets. Dark clouds filled the sky. Wind shrieked. And there, in the storm, they saw it. Descending toward the mountain. A dark round starship. Its engines rumbled, belching out smoke and fire. The ship spun, revealing golden glyphs carved into its hull. Thundering, it came to hover outside the temple.
A saucer.
Standing at the temple doorway, Marco sneered and clenched his fists.
Several figures emerged from the saucer onto the mountainside. They were shadowed, clad in black robes and hoods, tall and slender.
Addy hissed and bared her teeth. "Grays," she spat.
Baba Mahanisha stepped toward the doorway too. He moved ahead of Marco and Addy, shielding them, and raised three of his hands in peaceful gestures. But in his fourth hand, he clutched his walking staff, its edges heavy with metal rings.
"Greetings, friends!" the baba cried out. "Please, come find shelter from the storm and food to fill your bellies."
"Baba, no!" Addy said, eyes flashing. "These are enemies."
"Baba, these are creatures who've attacked us before," Marco said. His belly twisted, and his pulse quickened. He wished he had a weapon. His chest felt tight. He forced himself to breathe like the baba had taught him, to control the terror.
The cloaked grays drew nearer. The rain streamed over them. No light penetrated their hoods.
They came to stand outside the doorway. Lightning flashed behind them. There were six of them, tall and powerful, hidden in their robes, even their hands covered. A coppery odor rose from them. One among them stepped closer.
"Step back
, my pupils," the baba said softly.
The lead gray spoke, voice hissing, creaking, dripping malice. "Allow us passage, monk. We seek the apes you hide."
Marco and Addy stood within the temple, tense. Their guru was far larger than them, blocking the doorway.
"This temple is a place of peace and safety," the baba said, voice still friendly, but now that voice also carried authority, was deeper, stronger. "All are welcome here aside from those who seek violence."
The hooded figure sneered. He was thinner than the bulky baba, but he exuded power. He raised one hand. The sleeve rolled back, revealing four knobby fingers tipped with claws.
"Step back, Durmian," the gray said. "We seek no violence here. Though if you resist us, we will not hesitate to become violent."
Hissing, the gray doffed his cloak, revealing a cadaverous, scarred ruin. His skin was burnt and peeling. His head was massive, one eye black and pitiless, the other eye crushed. Half the gray's face was shattered, caved in, flaked with dry blood. Yet still the creature lived. He gave a hideous grin, revealing teeth like rusted needles. Around his chest, the gray wore human hearts on a metal wire, a lurid necklace that pulsed and dripped blood.
Marco's breath quickened. He wanted to run, to fight. He wished he had a weapon and body armor. He was just wearing robes, had nothing but his fists. Addy stared at the gray, her cheeks red with fury. Hatred simmered in her blue eyes. They were no longer the eyes of the trickster or joker, no longer the eyes of a woman in love, no longer the eyes of a Deep Being pupil at peace. They had become the eyes of Addy the warrior, the heroine who had raised Earth in rebellion against the marauders, who would not hesitate to fight again.
"Name yourself!" said the baba, voice booming. "Do not come here skulking in the night as a thief. Who are you?"
The gray hissed out a horrible laughter, a sound like sizzling flesh. His comrades echoed the sound, raising their claws.
"I am Abyzou!" said the gray. "Born of Nefitis. Lord of Hosts. Prince of the Sanctified Sons."
Addy stepped forward, snarling. "Yeah, well, I'm Addy, Lady of Fuck, Princess of You. So why don't you get lost before I bash in those weasel teeth of yours?"
Abyzou looked at her, and his eyes crackled with internal fire. "Addy Linden," the creature hissed. "I know you. I've known you since you were a child. I watched from under your bed. From your closet as you slept. Over your shoulder as you suffered, as your father beat you, as your mother sank into a stupor, as the other children tormented you, as they locked you away in the classroom for the freaks. As they broke you in the war, branding you, fattening you up like cattle. You think you know pain. But you know nothing, Addy Linden. My goddess will teach you true pain."
Addy could only stare. She seemed frozen. Tears filled her eyes. Her mouth opened but she could not speak.
Marco took a step forward, fists clenching, and Abyzou turned his eyes upon him. Those eyes seized him like claws. Marco could not move. His legs would not obey. That black gaze wrapped him in agony, penetrated him, dug through him, unearthed all his secrets, and pulled them out like talons pulling out entrails.
"Marco Emery," the creature said, voice slithering. "The boy who hurt so many. Who let his friends die while he lived on, a coward. The boy who fathered the marauders, whose own blood formed their twisted king. Yes, Marco. I know. I know that Lord Malphas was built of your flesh. That he killed your beloveds. That he killed your father. That their blood is on your hands. I was there, Marco. Watching. Laughing. I was with you in Haven as you stood on the roof. And your pain has only begun, Marco. My goddess will see you along your path of agony, and it will last for all eternity. None of your race, not in all your faiths, have imagined a hell as torturous as what awaits you."
Marco could do nothing but stand, transfixed, held by that gaze as surely as by manacles. And in his mind, he saw nightmares taking form. Visions of a black pyramid in an alien city, an eye upon its crest. A rancid goddess upon it, a crown of metal hammered into her brow. And he saw the creatures, the Sanctified Sons, descend upon Earth, enslave humanity. He saw them shatter the bones of his loved ones. He saw Lailani, Ben-Ari, and Addy broken upon wooden ankhs, still alive and screaming as the enemy pulled out their organs. Hell. Hell on Earth.
Yet if Marco and Addy were paralyzed, Baba Mahanisha was not.
The guru seemed to grow taller. He took a step onto the mountainside, and the lightning flashed, illuminating his massive form. He raised his staff with two hands, and his trunks rose, revealing tusks. For the past three months, Marco had known a gentle giant, kind and loving.
Now he saw a warrior.
"Twice I have offered you kindness, and you have rejected it," said Baba Mahanisha. "Leave this temple! You profane it. It is forbidden to you. Leave now!"
The grays all doffed their robes. They raised metal batons, the tips crackling with electricity, and they laughed. The creatures pointed their weapons, and thunderbolts flew toward the baba.
Marco cried out, the spell breaking.
Baba Mahanisha swung his staff.
With its metal tips, he deflected bolt after bolt, casting them back into the storm.
"Leave this place!" the baba boomed.
But Abyzou cackled. "You cannot harm us, monk. I know your order. You are forbidden to kill. I will not kill you either. I will delight in keeping you alive. And screaming. For many long centuries."
The grays leaped forth, claws lashing.
Mahanisha swung his staff. It whirred so fast it appeared like a disk. The massive baba, the size of an elephant, moved at incredible speed. One gray lunged toward him, and the staff slammed into the creature's head, knocking it back. Two more grays attacked, and the staff whirred, sweeping out their legs. The creatures kept trying to enter the temple, to slay the guru, only for the staff to hold them back, cracking their bony bodies. Their cries echoed in the temple.
As the battle raged, Addy grabbed Marco's arm.
"Poet." She pulled back her robes, revealing her legs. She wore a pistol strapped to each thigh.
He gasped. "You brought weapons into a temple of peace?"
Addy nodded, eyes hard. "A precaution. One I'm glad for." She drew the pistols and handed him one. "We fight."
Marco took the pistol. It was heavy and comforting. He glanced back toward the battle, where Baba Mahanisha was still holding the grays at bay.
"Wait," Marco said. "Let's see if the baba can still resolve this without killing. Shedding blood in his holy temple would be devastating to him."
Addy sneered and raised her pistol. "I'm not waiting long."
A gray leaped onto Mahanisha and sank his teeth into his shoulder. Another gray lashed his claws, ripping into the guru's leg. Blood spurted. The grays attacked like wolves on a bison. Baba Mahanisha bellowed, enraged, ripping them off, tossing them back onto the mountainside. Their bones shattered. Yet still more grays attacked, tearing into the burly monk.
The guru gave a mighty swing of his staff.
Abyzou caught the gnarled wood in his claws.
"Your torment begins, monk," the gray hissed. "I exile you from this hall."
Abyzou tightened his grip, shattering the staff. Wooden shards flew, slamming into Baba Mahanisha, cutting his skin. The grays shrieked and laughed, biting deeper, clawing.
The baba gazed upon his enemies, his eyes damp. He spoke softly even as they ripped into him.
"May you be safe and free from suffering." A gray tore into his legs. "May you know peace." The grays ripped off his cloak and lacerated his chest. "May you have ease of being."
The mighty baba fell to his knees.
Addy and Marco screamed and fired their guns.
Bullets slammed into the grays, shattering against their skin, barely fazing the creatures. They seemed made of boiled leather over steel bones. The creatures walked around the fallen baba, advancing into the temple, reaching out their claws. Marco and Addy kept firing, hitting the grays' heads, knocking them back, drawing some blood, but u
nable to kill them, to stop them. The desiccated humanoids stepped into the temple, bloodied claws raised, eyes dripping hatred.
Those eyes tugged at Marco.
Visions invaded him.
The dark city. The black pyramid. The wretched queen.
Come to us, Marco. Worship her. Scream for her.
He was in a daze. The nightmarish visions tugged him. He couldn't move, couldn't fight. Addy too stood frozen, the grays controlling her. The creatures were gripping Marco's mind, as surely as claws could grip flesh, filling him with their terrors. They were controlling his thoughts, controlling his body, and he took a step toward them, and—
You are not your thoughts.
The wisdom resurfaced.
You are not your nightmares.
He took a deep breath.
Breathe. Let your thoughts be. Let them flow away.
He sank into deeper consciousness. He watched the nightmares float away. He let the alien thoughts fade.
He fired his gun and hit a gray in the eye.
The creature howled, raised his hands, and blood spurted between his fingers.
"Addy, come!" Marco grabbed her wrist, snapping her out of her paralysis.
They ran deeper into the temple, and the grays followed. They entered the central hall, the place where they had spent a month constructing the mandala. Abyzou and the others raced after them, raising their electric prods.
Marco had only a single bullet left. Addy's gun was already clicking, empty.
As the grays advanced, Marco knelt and grabbed a bowl of colored sand. He hurled it with all his strength.
Sand flew into the grays' large black eyes.
Addy joined him, tossing bowls of sand, shattering the vessels against the aliens.
A storm of colored sand filled the air, blinding, swirling. The grays fired their bolts but missed.
Marco charged toward the blinded enemy, pulling Addy with him.
As he raced by Abyzou, he fired his last bullet, hitting the creature.
As Abyzou fell, Marco and Addy barreled through the group of grays. They raced through the clouds of colored sand. They burst outside onto the mountainside. The rain fell and lightning flashed.
Earth Honor (Earthrise Book 8) Page 14
