“Maintaining the Cloak for 5 minutes takes about 120 loads of Obsidian II. The Cloak we just put up held for about 4.5 minutes. If we encounter another Houdakin patrol ship, we will have to resort to other measures.”
Glances passed around the room. We knew that “other measures” meant that it was important that we master our new-found skills. Next time, we might have to use them.
We had two more days until we reached Boralia, and we practiced our skills tirelessly. Nobody wanted to go through another encounter with the Houdakin and not be as prepared as possible.
At any point in the day, you could find any one of us trying to perfect our Seeking images, or our Pulses on the practice boards with what Chord jokingly called our 'baby zaps”.
“You want to cause more damage than a mosquito if someone attacks you,” he had laughed. He thought he was hilarious, much to our chagrin. Nevertheless, his banter took the strain off of our practicing, and lightened the mood on the boat.
That night, Father Zouadin and I made the dinner as we had all had come up with a make-shift schedule for standing watch above deck and cooking.
Chord had some basic meats, breads, vegetables and seasonings aboard the boat, and we all welcomed the simple, warm meals that gave us comfort. We usually had some type of egg dish along with bread for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch, and a stew with bread for dinner. We were all thankful that everyone turned out to be decent cooks.
The next day, after another heavy session of practicing. Chord brought out a dye made of the Kalora plant which we had to dye our hair with. The inhabitants of Boralia all had a pale shade of jade green hair, and we needed to blend in as much as possible. Joelle and I always wore a scarf on our heads, but we dyed ours too just in case.
That evening after prayer, we settled in our respective rooms to sleep. Chord had updated us that we would be arriving at Boralia the next evening around dusk. An annual fair would be taking place, and it would serve as a cover to enter Boralia without suspicion. We would then travel by night to safe-houses, hiding in them during the daytime as we made our way to the western part of the Sector. It was there that we would meet with the Guided Council which was consisted of Elders who had each received dreams from the Most High that would help and guide us on our journey.
“So, what is the Guided Council like? What will they tell us?” Teo had asked as we sat eating our Min-Min meat sandwiches. The thin strips of beef-like meat was seasoned with onipers, salt, lemon and pepper. It was one of the most inexpensive meats, but when seasoned well, was absolutely delicious.
Chord had paused, chewing the bite of sandwich that he had just bitten off thoughtfully. “Not many have actually seen the Guided Council. It is all kept very secret of course to avoid being discovered by the Houdakin. If you need to contact them, you can put the word out, and they find you...if they choose to. Once the Council knew that your Essentia was approaching, they prepared for this meeting with you. Even I don't know who they are. My orders are to meet with a contact on the edge of town, and he will take you all to them. I do know that each one of them was assigned to each one of you, and has a special bit of wisdom to give you.”
So tomorrow would be a big day. I felt a twinge of excitement in the pit of my stomach. It was comforting to know we would get some guidance on how to accomplish the task that stood before us.
Thoughts of the Houdakin stayed with me for the rest of the day. After lunch, an uneasiness settled over my mind that I couldn't shake off.
My thoughts traveled back to all of the history lessons we had received in our Chronicle Classes. African Americans who had dealt with Slavery, Jim Crow Laws, The Black Codes and Segregation. Indians who had dealt with the Caste System. Jewish people and what they endured during the Holocaust. Native Americans who had been forced to uproot from their homes and walk the Trail of Tears. Women and how they had been subjugated in terms of the jobs, equal pay and voting rites denied to them during the Women's Rights movement. South Africans and their battle with Apartheid. Muslims and Christians who had been murdered for their beliefs. In every situation, one group of people had tried to dominate the other. Make themselves superior. Treating the others as “less than” using the shield of some perceived 'difference' as justification. Different skin color. Different religion. Different culture. And now the Houdakin were trying to do the same thing using wealth as their reason to separate themselves and justify their selfish ways.
The Houdakin had killed Chord's parents in cold blood, for no other reason but that they refused to let class lines be blurred. They were in possession of a plant that could virtually heal every sick human on the planet, but chose to horde it and sell it for ridiculously high prices.
How could you reason with someone whose heart was so cruel? I didn't want to deal with them, and yet, I knew something had to be done. I knew that God worked in mysterious ways. Perhaps some miracle would take place and their hearts would be softened.
Our mission was to approach them with terms of balance and peace. The uncertainty of knowing how they would react was unnerving. We would need all of the help, strength, and skill mastery that we could get.
~~~
That night, I tossed and turned. The same images since the first day my eyes had begun to glow had been bullying their way into my dreams. I awoke with at start and decided to make myself a cup of Bay Flower tea. I had noticed a jar filled with the dried blossoms in the small cupboard above the stove.
I entered the middle room, expecting it to be empty, but found Father Zouadin in a chair off to one side of the stove. He was snoring gently, but opened his eyes as I entered the room.
“Peace to you, daughter Yaya. Having trouble sleeping?” he greeted me.
I returned the sentiment, giving Father Zouadin a kiss on the top of his shiny head. “Yes, unfortunately. I was going to make some tea. Would you like me to make a cup for you as well?”
“No, my dear. Make your tea, and don't mind me.” I gave Father Zouadin another hug, and within a few moments, his soft snore resumed its soothing pattern.
The tea was ready within minutes, and I sipped at the warm liquid while tracing the lines of the wood grain on the table with my index finger. The beautiful delicate swirls of the wood curved up and down the wood panels, making small grooves. Lovely and complicated. That was exactly how I felt about our mission.
We had access to new skills, and that was the lovely part. It gave me comfort that our mission was ordained. Never before had I been filled with such a sense of purpose. A fullness in the breast at being inspired with a mission. I knew what the leaders of the past must have felt. An anger at seeing people suffer. A need to be part of some kind of change. A fear that your faith might falter in the face of fear. Those were the complications.
I had almost finished my cup of tea when Kaisan walked in. He smiled as he walked over to the table, and I smiled back. With all of the days events, I had hardly gotten to say more than the greeting to him.
“Peace to you, Sister Yaya. You having trouble sleeping too?”
I sighed, “Peace to you Brother Kaisan. Yes. I made some tea to try and help me get back to sleep. Would you like some?”
“That would be great, Sister, Thank you.” he replied raking his fingers through his thick white curls.
I made his tea, and we sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Kaisan sat his cup down, and stared at the curly wisps of steam as they gracefully evaporated off the top of the liquid. “So,” he began. “Will it be Brother Martin, or Brother Malcolm?”
I eyed him quizzically, and smiled because I knew what he was asking. The Earth Chronicles, one of our mandatory school books, gave the histories on thousands of topics from Earth Deterioration to Human Interactions. During the 1960s, two African American leaders, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X, had taken different approaches to the issue of segregation. Dr. King had chosen a route of non-violent protest, staging marches, sit ins and boycotts. Mr. X had gone the more militant route, callin
g for African Americans to respond to oppression by defending themselves with an equal amount of force.
I took a few moments to ponder his question. I really respected both men and their positive contributions to history.
“You know, I believe that they were both inspired men. I truly believe that they saw the state of their people and it hurt them deep on the inside. They were both trying to find a way to bring about change. I believe they were both praying men. And I believe that their actions yielded things that needed to be seen. You believe that segregation is wrong. So you march. You are doing nothing but marching, and you have fire hoses, pepper spray and gas turned on you. The evil of a reaction like that to something so non-violent needed to be seen. It made the evil tangible. Real. And then on the other hand, someone gets beaten within an inch of his life, and you take a group of your brethren to demand to see him and that he gets medical care. You let the world know that you will stand up for yourself and your brethren in the face of wrongdoing...that needed to be seen too. Its like looking at two different pieces on the inside of a clock. One regulates the minute hand, and the other the hour hand. Two different jobs, but both are needed to make the clock work.”
Kaisan looked at me and smiled, nodding his head. He took another sip of tea. “Good answer.” he said raising his eyebrows.
I smiled too. It was nice to finally get to talk with my friend. I looked back up, but now Kaisan looked distracted.
“Everything OK, Ki?” I said, using the nickname I had used since 1st school.
Kaisan looked up, hesitant, and a little nervous. His clear brown eyes searched mine. I smiled tentatively, and placed my cup on the table. Kaisan cleared his throat.
“Yaya, you know, with all that has been going on, I haven't gotten a chance to speak to you,”
I could tell that he was nervous. What was it that had him so flustered?
“I spoke to your parents before we left, to get their blessing. I was wondering, if you felt about me as I do about you?” Kaisan glanced over at Father Zouadin, but the little old man was still snoring away.
I blushed. I hadn't been expecting this conversation on this trip. Kaisan was looking at me expectantly. I smiled. I wanted to reassure him.
“Kaisan, of course I do.”
Kaisan let out a huge sigh, and Father Zouadin looked up, smiled and nodded his approval, and then went back to sleep. I giggled internally. Of course he had been listening.
I clasped my hands on the table and continued “This mission is very important to me. I want to take things very slow. I can't even concentrate on anything like marriage until all of this is over.”
I looked down, knowing that I needed to say the next part. “I don't know when that will be, but I understand if you can't wait and need to move on.”
I bit my bottom lip without realizing it, not knowing what Kaisan's response would be.
Kaisan smiled, “Yaya, I only wanted to make sure that you had feelings for me. I don't mind taking things slow. There's no rush if we both feel the same way, and I don't need to 'move on'. I'll be beside you as long as it takes. And beyond.” He looked into my eyes, and a rush of warmth flooded my heart at the sincerity of his words.
I blinked back tears and smiled too, “OK, so we will go slow and concentrate on this mission. And then afterwards...” my voice trailed off and I suddenly felt very shy.
Kaisan picked right up, “afterwards, we can talk more about everything. For right now, I am grateful that I can be here to protect you.”
“Me too,” I said, so pleased that he understood my dedication to what I had been called to do.
There was a moment of silence as the affection and the spark of the beginning of something new passed between us. But before either of us could say anything more, Father Zouadin cleared his throat a little louder than usual to signal that he thought it was time to go back to bed.
Kaisan and I exchanged knowing smiles and began to get up from the table.
“Good night, Sister Yaya. May the Peace of the Most High be upon you.”
“And you as well Brother Kaisan.” I said, grinning. “and to you too Father.”
Father Zouadin just snored loudly. Kaisan and I both chuckled silently and returned to our rooms.
Once back under my blanket, I couldn't erase the smile on my lips or in my heart. I slept peacefully without dreaming.
~~~
By dusk the next day, we were all ready to enter Boralia. As our boat approached, we could see the twinkling lights of the carnival on the shore. Our contact was to meet us at port number four and escort us to our first safe-house.
Our stay on the boat had been as nice as it could be. There had been food to eat, and our small group had developed a deeper sense of camaraderie.
But the nights had also been drafty, and the sleeping pallets, although soft, had not been very thick. They had not done much to counterbalance the stiffness of the hard floorboards. The thought of a softer bed was very welcome.
Once we reached the port, we unloaded quickly and made our way down the platform to meet Chord's contact. Houdakin guards were everywhere, their Obsilectric guns holstered tightly at their waists.
We had each been given a parcel with various shoe making supplies as part of our cover, and I was glad that our hands were occupied. It made us blend in a little more.
We waited a couple of minutes, pretending to busy ourselves with arranging our bags, as we waited on our contact. Chord glanced around several times, but didn't seem to see who he was looking for. “Come on, let's go. We don't want to wait around too long,” he whispered. And so we followed him out of the shipping area and into the fairgrounds.
If it had been a different day, I would have enjoyed the atmosphere. The air was festive, and faces looked carefree on this night. Children and parents walked about holding tasty treats on sticks. Couples strolled along, arms linked, smiling and laughing.
Throngs of towns people milled about, playing games or enjoying the music that was coming from the band performing on the small stage.
We made our way through the fair, trying to keep the concern out of our expressions. Our contact hadn't met us at the designated point, so we were a bit nervous, and remained alert.
Just then, a young boy of around eleven or twelve years old approached us. He ran up to Chord and looked at him with expectant eyes.
“Will there be rain today?” he said, glancing over at us quickly.
Chord smiled and answered, “If it be the Will of the Most High, young man.”
The boy's eyes brightened and he turned on his heel, motioning for us to follow him.
He led us to the edge of the fairgrounds, across two dirt roads, and then into a dense forest. It had begun to rain lightly, and the sound of the drops as they spattered on the leaves muffled the sound of our footsteps.
The little boy moved quickly and with purpose, leading us down an unmarked path that he knew well.
Finally, the trees cleared to reveal a small adoba, similar to the ones found on Deloria, except that it was made of a smooth tan clay rather than the light-gray clay that was more abundant on our Sector.
Syag, Pine and Rutelan trees stood guard on either side of the house, and wavy vines of ivy curved and arched lovingly around the door frame and windows.
The boy gave three quick knocks on the door and it immediately opened to reveal a tall, slender man of medium build dressed in a cream colored tunic and cinnamon brown pants.
“Come in, come in,” he said urgently, scanning the forest to make sure we hadn't been followed.
The space we entered was small and cozy, lit by several different sized candles which were placed around the room.
“May the Peace of the Creator be upon you all. Please, have a seat, and make yourselves comfortable,” the man said as he collected our cloaks and motioned for us to sit on one of the pillows placed around a low table in the middle of the room.
He disappeared behind a curtain and we gratefully dropped onto
the oversized pillows. Mugs of Charo leaf tea had been set out for us, and we thankfully gulped down the spicy, warm liquid.
Moments later, our host returned with a small woman who wore a simple salmon colored cotton caftan with a matching scarf draped around her head and shoulders. She smiled warmly at us, but her eyes were sad and it looked as if she had been crying.
The man walked over to Chord and they embraced, “My Brother Chord, please forgive me for not meeting you at the dock. Our younger son, Elias, has been very ill over the last few weeks, and he fell into a fit of seizures right as I was about to leave. Thankfully, by eldest son, Munir, was able to go out and meet you. We feared tonight might be Elias's last, but for now, he is OK.”
“Of course, Brother, we understand,” Chord replied, his eyes concerned. “Perhaps we should continue on to the next safe-house?”
The small woman placed a hand on her heart, “No, Brother, we are honored to have you all stay with us. God will watch over our son. It will be as He wills.”
Chord bowed his head, “May The Creator reward you both for your kindness, dear Sister.”
Chord and the slender man grasped hands again, and he looked at us. “And let me introduce myself, my honored guests. My name is Noah Nauel. And this is my wife, Saffiyah. You already met my son, Munir,” He said motioning to the boy who was seated on one of the large cushions.
“My youngest son, Elias is resting. God willing, you will be able to meet him tomorrow. For now, we will get you settled. I know you must be exhausted after all of the traveling.
The Sisters will stay in our Guest Room, and the Brothers will stay here in our Family Room. You will remain here until tomorrow evening, and then we will go on to the next safe-house. We will need to travel to four more safe-houses before we make our final trip to the Guided Council. Now, I will let you settle in and get some rest.”
Sister Josephine, Joelle, Hantaywee and I all followed Sister Saffiyah behind the curtain and down a small hallway past a bathroom that was situated directly across from Elias's room. The room was dimly lit, and we could just make out his small figure sleeping beneath the blankets.
The Azurean Trilogy (All Three Books: 1, 2 & 3): Essentia, Burgeor & Manifest Page 6
