The Tides of Nemesis (The Windows of Heaven Book 4)

by K. G. Powderly Jr.

  U’Sumi and Iyapeti both nodded, and started out for the vineyard.

  A light shone somewhere in the darkness.

  A’Nu-Ahki found himself strangely drawn to it. Terrified, he stumbled across a darkened landscape, torn by conflicting desires. Naked, ashamed, and alone, he instinctively wanted to hide from the exposing brilliance just as much as he also wished to approach it. As with old Urugim before Aeden’s gate, long ago, the light penetrated, and burned through to Nu’s marrow. Dirt clung to him, as if he had just rolled in a dung heap. As much as part of him wished to be alone in his private murk, the light promised the only way to freedom. Darkness receded before it into timeless oblivion.

  From out of the luster came two men, both walking backwards, holding a cloak between them. Nu recognized them as U’Sumi and Iyapeti. Neither son turned to see his shame. Instead, they covered him in the cloak, and then walked forward again, to disappear into the light’s brightness.

  “I’ve wrecked everything!” Nu cried after them, falling to the dark surface that stretched before the white flame. “I’ve set them all up to fail!”

  “The evening’s choices lacked your usual wisdom,” a kindly voice admitted from inside the light.

  “It’s over! How can I pass judgment now? How can I stop a flood when I can’t even control a trickle—within myself? It’ll quickly get just as bad as before and there’s not a thing I can do to stop it; not in the long-run!”

  “I didn’t command you to save humanity.”

  “No?” A’Nu-Ahki said. “What was that big boat all about, then?”

  “This one shall comfort us concerning our work, and the toil of our hands, due to the ground E’Yahavah has cursed.”

  “That’s my father’s prophecy over me. I don’t understand! I never did! What am I supposed to do? I’ve got nothing left to give you!”

  “You are the one who comforts. You are the one who saw the Curse past its most violent terror, and assured the others that I will not bring global Umara in its wake. But you are not the Ram of Heaven. You are not the Promised Seed, only a carrier and a shadow. Only he can crush the Basilisk’s head, and create New-world—not you—no matter how wisely you model what you judge and teach. Nor can you destroy that work because you fail. Give me credit for some competence.”

  “Forgive me. I never intended to suggest that I…”

  “No. You just took on the burden quietly—a burden no man can carry, except he for whom it is given.”

  “What can I do to repair the damage I’ve done this night?”

  “I will put my words in your mouth—a pattern for ages to come. You will not recall this conversation, except for what your two older sons did for you. The results of our little talk will remain with you, however. You shall awaken with wisdom because of it. You’re not finished yet.”

  The sacrificial flames died to embers before A’Nu-Ahki rose from his tormented knees. U’Sumi and Iyapeti had escorted him down from the vineyard, having spent the rest of the night inside his bungalow after tending to matters at the tent. Nu had found them there before dawn, and the three of them had made an impromptu, albeit heartfelt, sin offering with the two best rams of the flock U’Sumi’s sons kept for their grandfather in his old age.

  Tribunal gathered on schedule by the dying altar flames, despite Nu’s fear that Khumi’s clan might disregard the whole proceeding. Although sullen and hung-over, Khumi showed up with an even more disheveled Khana’Ani chained in tow. The latter appeared to have suffered several blows to his face, though none serious enough to warrant immediate attention. The Accused seemed alert enough to be properly terrified, and he walked to his place unaided.

  Na’Amiha arrived with Sutara and the others, a moment later.

  A’Nu-Ahki followed his wife with pleading eyes, regretting more than anything how he had wounded her. She met his gaze with a melancholy smile, as if to tell him that she forgave him. However, Nu saw past her reddened eyes, and knew the truth—she forgave him, but all her pleasant illusions about the nature of his love for her, that had helped sustain her over the centuries, were broken forever.

  A’Nu-Ahki lowered himself into the Tacticon’s chair, thinking how much easier it had been when he had simply advised his elders. Now, over sixty terrifying young faces looked up to him with awe as the oldest man alive, as if they believed he had all the answers. If they only understood the truth that he was just an old man, as prone to foolishness and weakness as they were. No doubt, Khumi’s wagging tongue would soon enlighten them.

  Nu hung his head when he spoke. “I have not behaved wisely in this matter, as I’m sure some of you already know. That is why I have spent the morning giving sin offerings, which hardly seem sufficient. I can only give them in hope of Heaven’s Ram, and leave it at that. Some may now question my right to pass judgment in this thing at all—though that is not their place.”

  Khumi’s face darkened in an accusative glare at his two brothers.

  A’Nu-Ahki continued, “Khumi’s argument that a man should not be condemned to die on the testimony of one witness is well taken. It would set a precedent that would be too easy to abuse. Khana’Ani shall not die. One of the sin offerings, in fact the smaller of the two, was for him.”

  Muttered questions and sighs of relief wafted through the gathering.

  “Nevertheless,” Nu’s voice rose like a sword, “this sentence is more than a mere punishment for a crime. There is a shadow of things to come in it. For if any man hereafter forces a woman, and she screams for help, know that he shall fall under the full ban of the M’Ae on the testimony of two witnesses. His life will be forfeit! But Khana’Ani has a different destiny.”

  Khumi’s voice challenged him. “And what destiny is that?”

  A’Nu-Ahki nailed his youngest son with a steely gaze, and remembered what Khumi had done to him last night. “Cursed is Khana’Ani! He shall be the slave of slaves to all his brothers; led in and led out with hard labor all his life. A woodcutter and a water drawer shall he be in this community, and all shall use him for the most menial tasks. Moreover, his wife shall be Zhahara, who foolishly left a high calling to flee from responsibility with a fool who will only abuse and betray her.”

  Iyapeti and Sutara hung their heads, weeping for their daughter.

  A’Nu-Ahki pitied them almost as much as Ae’Vria. They had been good parents. More attentive than I ever was to ‘Ranna and Nissa, he realized. I deserve their pain, not them! Oh Sutara, can you forgive me yet again? Nu also pitied Zhahara, who would pay over her lifetime for the folly of youth.

  Sutara lifted her head and looked at A’Nu-Ahki. Then it dawned on him. She’s weeping! I’ve not seen her laugh or cry since this world began! In addition, her eyes toward him were soft with understanding. She nodded her unhappy agreement with his judgment. Suta had given everything she had to that girl, and Zhahara had feigned to accept, while disregarding it all.

  A’Nu-Ahki took heart, and could not suppress the sudden hope that animated his next words. “Blessed be E’Yahavah, the God of U’Sumi! Khana’Ani shall be his slave. May the Great God enlarge Iyapeti, and may he shall dwell in the tents of U’Sumi. And Khana’Ani shall be his slave as well. This is the judgment and destiny of Khana’Ani. This testament I leave to all Mankind. Henceforth I shall no longer judge, but advise. U’Sumi shall judge in my place, and Iyapeti shall enforce his judgments. This tribunal ends.”

  It took a long time for the crowd of onlookers to recover their voices. Khumi seemed almost relieved when Iyapeti stepped forward and took Khana’Ani’s chain from him. U’Sumi and T’Qinna gathered their clan around themselves and proceeded back to their own camp.

  Nu’s wife approached him at the chair, as their children departed.

  A’Nu-Ahki cried, clasping her hand, “I’m sorry for it all, ‘Miha; can you ever forgive me?”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I can’t say I’m not hurt, but I do forgive you, and I do respect you—even when you fail. You must believe tha
t.”

  “I believe. What’s say we go home?”

  She smiled sadly down on him, and helped him up. “Let’s do that.”

  The Nightmare again consumed Tiva’s life. With every bundle that her sons loaded onto the pack beasts, another parcel of hope disappeared. As she had been helpless as a child before the manipulations of Yargat, so now she was before Khumi’s iron rage. Her brother’s curse had all but come true.

  They were leaving.

  Ironically only Khana’Ani would remain.

  “Khani may be their slave, but not me!” Khumi had yelled last night.

  “I don’t want to leave them!” Tiva had cried. She hadn’t said, I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t talk to T’Qinna every day!

  Khumi had clasped her lower jaw between his iron-vise thumb and forefinger. “You’re my wife! You will not add to the disgrace of this clan.”

  So now, Tiva watched her sons load the caravan, and tried to keep from crying. She saw T’Qinna run toward her through a blur of stifled tears.

  U’Sumi’s wife panted. “I came as soon as I heard.”

  “I don’t want to go.” Tiva wept in T’Qinna’s arms while she still could.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Why do I have to be punished? I’d gladly trade places with Khana’Ani, and draw water for the whole community, if I could only stay!”

  “Don’t lose hope, Tiva. It’ll work out.”

  “You keep saying that. I’m trying to believe it. I’ve always tried.”

  T’Qinna kissed the top of Tiva’s head. “Don’t give up.”

  Khumi walked up, and tapped his wife’s shoulder. “It’s time.”

  Tiva felt herself slowly pulled from T’Qinna’s embrace by her husband. She resisted the panic urge to hold on.

  Once they were out of earshot, Khumi whispered into her ear, “We’ll return often to visit, Tiva. T’Qinna’s friendship is good for you.”

  Tiva looked up into her husband’s eyes and saw there something unexpected—a ghost of the fire-dancer she had once loved in another world.

  The morning campfire amid the vines warmed the two men’s feet.

  Nu read the sheepskin roll, and then handed it back to U’Sumi. “Kind of brief, don’t you think?”

  “It has all the important elements in order. We have to face facts, Pahp. Exploring the frontiers is dangerous and time consuming. Even the relative safety of these mountains is wild and unstable compared to what we were accustomed to before the Deluge. Outlying clans are barely surviving under the most primitive conditions—even with the onset of warmer winters the last few decades. Is a full-length library practical in such a world?”

  “I suppose not—not yet, anyway. Has there been no papyrus found? I had hoped to preserve the library at least.”

  U’Sumi shook his head. “We’re out of blank papyrex scrolls from the ship. Papyrus won’t grow in highland marshes, and dragons infest the river plains—when giant waves aren’t burying them, that is. I’m using imprint runes on baked clay to preserve the library’s shorter literature.”

  Nu said, “It always comes down to the same thing: When can we leave the highlands? Soon our numbers will demand richer farmland.”

  “Not that soon—our clans are too small yet to mount a big enough expedition to clear the plains. Mountain scout camps still report the timing of wave clusters is still too unpredictable to risk the high number of settlers. Besides, there’s another reason to go with a brief account.”

  “What’s that?”

  U’Sumi hung his head. “Given all that’s happened, it might be better if we don’t go too much into the old world—wrong focus for young minds.”

  Nu grunted. “I see what you mean. But the histories I chose dealt honestly with things. Too much protection isn’t healthy, either. Let’s have a look at it again.”

  U’Sumi handed the fragment back to his father.

  This time, A’Nu-Ahki read it aloud: “‘These are the dynasties of A’Nu-Ahki: A’Nu-Ahki was a just man, unblemished in his family lineage. A’Nu-Ahki walked with the Eluhar, and begat three sons; U’Sumi, Khumi, and Iyapeti.’ Why in that order?”

  “Prose meter—it’s easier for the children to memorize.”

  Nu gave a dubious chuckle.

  “I won’t teach from this without your approval,” U’Sumi said.

  “It’s fine. I just hope we can also preserve a more detailed history.”

  “I’m working on it. The Academy will pass on what was good in the World-That-Was—things we’ll need to fulfill Iyared’s Charge and rebuild.”

  “How soon before you think we can really start to do that?”

  “Not until the ocean settles. Perhaps we can start building ships in a couple more decades or so. We have to be reasonably sure about the waves.”

  “Have you heard from Khumi’s clan lately?”

  U’Sumi said, “They’ve settled the lands from the Treasure Cave to the New Ufratsi River sources. They’ve actually sent a few sons to the Academy.”

  “Really? That’s hopeful.”

  “Discipline problems, except for one of Kush’s younger boys, surprisingly enough—Nimurta. He’s a genius, that one is, and an athletic hunter—a natural leader. He’ll go far.”

  Nu said, “Hopefully in the right direction. We can’t save the world, just model mercy and truth. Anything more must wait for Heaven’s Ram.”

  Epilogue

  Q’Enukki faced down the mob, all of them jabbering in strange tongues. He and his companion passenger from the star-gate-creature’s transit node understood their speech, due to Samuille’s sensory enhancements. It was getting ugly.

  Samuille had briefly landed the node on Earth twice to pick up two other passengers, and once more, for a mission that had involved only the other passengers. Q’Enukki and his companion had one last unpleasant job to do on Earth before their transformational “quickening” would heal them both completely forever.

  The gate-creature’s second passenger had been a great lawgiver of a future age; the third a seer, much like Q’Enukki, from an era even farther ahead in time. This third passenger proved formidable to many of the People at Time’s End. Eli’Yahu—whom the mobs called “El-eye-juh”—put up with no nonsense. The smoldering pile of corpses in front of them silently said so.

  The pavement around the New Temple in Jerusalem reflected the smoky blood-red moonlight in slick puddles of rainwater that Eli had just allowed to fall for the first time in two years—to no avail.

  The Internet kiosks dotting Temple Mount still did a thriving business for that Ultimate Idol. Their holographic terminals displayed, and downloaded to personal pods, the latest version of “Godware 6.6”—an interactive human image that spoke, moved, and responded to questions. For an offering, the Image gave spiritual, astrological, psychological, sexual, financial, legal, medical, or any other kind of advice—all from the latest web databases, filtered through the handsome face and winsome personality of “The Avatar.” A wafer of psychoactive anti-depressant “manna” even dispensed automatically before each kiosk “epiphany.”

  The Avatar was also accessible from any home computer with the now-mandatory web access, though the “manna” came separately. Godware 6.6 even generated well-publicized “miracles” for the quasi-literate masses spawned by over a generation of United Nations-controlled global public education. Usually the fanfare came via technology, but rumors had it now that something else intervened—something dark, “neo-supernatural,” and horrendous. Q’Enukki recognized the work of his old enemies—those lesser ones that had not been incarcerated during the first World-end, that is.

  It surprised the Seer how little had really changed. This time they are “advanced outer space aliens”—not so different from what they did before. Same strategy—for several generations, undermine belief systems based on accurate knowledge of E’Yahavah, and then bring to life whatever rises as the popular alternate mythology to formalize into the New R
eligion.

  Another band of protesters approached from behind the military cordon. These bore the robes of different global religious leaders from among the Time’s Enders. E’Yahavah had removed the genuine followers of Heaven’s Ram quite suddenly, over a generation ago, from the grip of these old gryndels, though. The younger generation born since then—especially among those descendants of U’Sumi known as “Jews”—came to the truth most readily, but they usually paid for it now with their lives.

  The approaching shamans ignored Eli, no doubt hoping to appeal to Q’Enukki. They think that because I often remain silent that they can lever themselves between us. My silence will undo them.

  Samuille had educated his charges about these foolish peoples. If Q’Enukki found their pronunciation of Eli’s name uncouth, how much more so that of his own: Eeenok, they called him—or something close to that. Some insisted on naming him Mozez—that is, Masae the Lawgiver. This was not too far off, since Masae had also ridden with them in the transit node, and participated with Eli in the gate-creature’s last stop before this one.

  Those two had spoken with Heaven’s Ram! Q’Enukki wished he could have been included in that landing instead of this one! Only he and Eli could do this job, however. They found Masae already transformed when Samuille picked him up. This last mission required two unquickened seers.

  The brightly robed world religious leaders bowed at his feet.

  “Rise; I am man, not God,” Q’Enukki said to them in the language of commerce used by the Time’s Enders. They called it Eenglissh.

  “Do we not all bear divinity within us?” a popular guru posed.

  Q’Enukki answered, “No,” dismissing the notion, and the man.

  Another prelate with a white collar stepped forward, along with a well-known televangelist. “We represent the Judeo-Christian part of World-church.” They bowed their heads. “You speak in the name of the God our traditions created. Yet our God is a God of love. You call down disasters, and speak evil against us. We only want to come to an understanding.”