The Paladin's Odyssey (The Windows of Heaven)

by Powderly Jr. , K. G.

  “He deluded himself into thinking that the only thing that separated him from the Divine Name was access to that tenth state. He seduced nearly a third of all the heaven dwellers to rebel with him. However, E’Yahavah alone inhabits the tenth place. It is not the tenth place that empowers the Divine Name, but the Name that hallows the tenth place. When Shining One rose to storm its gates, E’Yahavah A’Nu cast him down with his legions.

  “Fearful of tumbling into the void, Shining One fled to the new-made Earth and hid himself in the body of a jeweled fire-serpent. Of all the beasts in the field, this kind of basilisk was the most beautiful and the most cunning. With scales as gemstones of every color and eyes like wizened stars, this creature walked upright, like a drake or a wurm—though most say that it stood straighter than they—almost as a man with a balancing tail. It was cousin to the dragon and brother to gryndel, wyverna, and cockatrice.

  “In those days, all beasts ate fruit or grass and no higher animal with the breath of life in it ever died. All was harmony, with nature balanced by E’Yahavah’s love rather than by death as it is now. Having taken the fire-serpent, Shining One became the Basilisk—his name today.

  “Slowly, the Basilisk began to engage the Woman, Ish’Hakka, in all sorts of conversation, complimenting her beauty and keen insight as a child-stealer woos a young girl into captivity, or a man seduces a maid…”

  U’Sumi thought he saw a shadow pass over Pyra’s face. Her jade eyes grew dull, as if some “parasite” had just sucked away their luster. She slouched over into a flaccid slump that somehow twisted her alarming beauty into something revolting , a sight that did to his eyes what the cloying perfume of the pearly chamber did to his sense of smell.

  She whispered, “Did he sleep with her?”

  A’Nu-Ahki looked for a second almost as if he would laugh at the thought. “Oh no, nothing like that; Ish’Hakka would have found such a thing repugnant—no! The Basilisk was more subtle than that. His aim was to draw her into his insurrection and by her to secure Atum as well. Eventually, after many weeks, their talks meandered toward the trees on the island in the lake. From there, the topic casually danced around the Knowing-tree. ‘Has the Eluhar really said that you shall not eat of every tree in the Orchard?’ he finally asked her one day, directly.

  “The Woman paused at this, for the Basilisk had worded the question to give it a double meaning. Had he implied that E’Yahavah had never really placed any ban on any tree, or did he mean that E’Yahavah had forbidden them to eat from most any tree? She thought that perhaps, because it was only a beast, it had heard wrong.

  “Ish’Hakka answered, after taking some time to think things through, ‘We may eat the fruit of all the trees in the Orchard except the fruit of the one at the middle. The Great God said to my husband, ‘You must not eat of it or even touch it, lest you die.’

  “On hearing this, the Basilisk knew that he had brought Ish’Hakka to the place of doubt and confusion he wanted for her. Never had E’Yahavah told Atum not to touch the Knowing-tree. Atum worked the Sacred Orchard. In order to prune it, he would have had to touch it.

  “The Woman, thrown off balance by guile, had unintentionally magnified the prohibition in her mind. On the one hand, this made her feel safe—fear of even an accidental brush by the tree’s branches motivated her to keep her distance. On the other hand, it made her dwell too much on the one thing she could not have—and fear, however well-motivated, gives rise to suspicion. Yes, the Basilisk had her exactly where he wanted.

  “‘Dying, you shall not die!’ he declared openly. ‘For the Great God knows that on the day you eat of it your eyes will be opened. You will be gods, knowing fully the experience of good and evil.’

  “Suddenly, in Ish’Hakka’s eyes, the fruit of the Knowing-tree was not something to be feared but possessed. Her mind reeled at the possibilities—she could be a goddess! She could become the Goddess, understanding the mysteries of the cosmos! She ate the fruit, and her mind expanded in dark ecstasy; yet she did not know that death had begun in her.

  “She gave some of the fruit to Atum and seduced him into eating also. Only he ate knowingly, angrily. For Ish’Hakka had intimidated him with new ‘knowledge’ and mocked his innocent trust. When he ate, both their eyes were opened. The Woman saw then how the ecstasy of her first experience had been a delusion. Their view of reality changed.

  “They understood that they were naked because shame now foamed in their blood. Alienation, terror, and distrust gnawed for the first time at their insides. If they understood a few things they had not before, they also realized that what they had enjoyed in their bliss was now forever lost. Without nakedness of spirit, nakedness of body held no significance. Now however, the eyes of all the heavens beat down upon them. They could not reverse things. There was no escape.”

  Pyra said, “Wait a minute; I’m not sure I understand this thing with the nakedness—I’m naked in front of strangers all the time and I don’t mind. Does that mean I’m like Ish’Hakka was before she ate?”

  U’Sumi watched his father ponder her question, thankful that he wasn’t the one sitting at the answering end. It would have been too tempting just to tell her, “No, sorry, you’re just a shameless slut.”

  “No, child—I’m sorry that I must needfully use that word again—but it does not mean that. Of course, we all have no shame in our early childhood. I also know that your Temple is very strict about letting children remain naked as long as possible and teaches you all to be proud of your bodies. Still, clothing serves many purposes beyond primal shame. You have uniforms that signify different things like rank and job specialty. There’s also the desire for adornment. I dare say that I’ve yet to see any of you traipsing around here completely naked. Why do you suppose that is?”

  “It isn’t shame.”

  “Really? I’m sure that’s true for the little ones. But once children first begin to play dress-up in their parent’s outfits and then receive clothing of their own, it does not come off quite so freely ever again, does it?”

  Pyra replied, “I suppose not. But that’s just because clothing also communicates status. The people we look up to as children all have uniforms —uniforms that are all about status.”

  A’Nu-Ahki nodded. “True enough—as far as it goes—but that’s not nearly far enough to tell the whole story. What happened that first time, when one of those status-filled uniforms, belonging to a powerful person you did not know well, or fully trust, told you as a child, to take off your not-so-status-full uniform before strangers? Was that comfortable for you?”

  “No. But I got used to it.”

  “I dare say you did. You got used to it. But it’s deeper even than that. If you search your memories, you’ll find something else also happened —that the shame, rather than being absent, is simply buried. At some point in your childhood, one of those uniformed people made you do things…”

  “Okay, stop!” Pyra raked a hand through her hair and leaned forward to let it fall in front of her eyes, hiding her face. “I get it! Please, just go on with your story. I want to give you a fair hearing.”

  A’Nu-Ahki said, “I’m sorry. My purpose is not to humiliate you. I believe you are honest in your intentions and in your questions. You could have simply called me a crazy old man, but you didn’t. That took integrity.”

  She sniffed, wiping her eyes. “Thanks. I know you’re not trying to be mean to me, either.” She looked up, revealing her reddened eyes. “What happened to Atum and Ish’Hakka? What does it have to do with me?”

  “Everything; E’Yahavah found them hiding in the Orchard that evening. They had taken fig leaves and sewn them together with vines to cover themselves. Creator asked them why they had hidden.

  “Atum said, ‘Because I was naked.’

  “‘Who told you that you were naked?’

  “Silence.

  “‘Have you eaten of the tree I commanded you not to eat from?’

  “Until now, man and wife had been
in this thing together. However, the estrangement that seethed below the surface had cracked a great rift between Atum and his Maker. It now branched off and split Atum from Ish’Hakka too. The act that he had hoped would keep his wife from leaving him by whatever this new terror called ‘death’ was, had actually sundered them farther apart. The Man crumpled under the fist of this new thing called cowardice. He answered, ‘It was the Woman who you gave to be with me! She gave me some of the fruit, and I ate.’

  “Imagine her horror—have you ever been in love, Miss T’Qinna?”

  The Priestess stole a quick glance at U’Sumi that sent a shiver up his spine—whether of revulsion or excitement he dared not ask himself. Then she averted her eyes and almost whispered, “I’m set aside for all. My love must be for all and not selfishly hoarded for one only.”

  “I see,” A’Nu-Ahki said. “What about a small child—you know how they trust people so implicitly?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Well, that’s how Ish’Hakka was. She had never even conceived that such a thing as betrayal could happen. Her man, her partner—the one she had given everything to…”

  “Is there a point to all this coming soon?” Pyra said. “Forgive my rudeness. But I can’t stay much longer and I really do want to understand.”

  “I’m sorry. I get rather carried away at times. As briefly as possible: The Basilisk tricked the woman into disobeying E’Yahavah. Her husband disobeyed knowingly, willfully, at her word. Shining One got what he came for. The basic nature of our first parents shifted toward rebellion against the Creator. We have all inherited that character ever since.”

  “Through our creation codes?”

  “More basic even than that; E’Yahavah cursed the entire cosmos—down to the smallest elemental particles, beyond even the creation codes—to reflect the acquired conflict in Man’s inner world. Although harsh, it was his first act of mercy. Had Creator left the universe balanced by his own justice, we could not have survived anywhere beyond that brief judicial allowance protecting Atum between his act and the execution of the Curse. Nature, as it exists today, is both kind and cruel; a mirror of humanity’s warped psyche. It no longer fully reflects the good character of E’Yahavah.”

  Pyra scrunched her forehead. “I still see some good in the world.”

  “Yes; fragments of beauty, truth, love, and kindness. Sometimes a bit more, usually when the human conscience is diligently trained to embrace them, or when common sense prevails in mutually beneficial ways to more than one party. That’s just it, though. We need training and incentive. It doesn’t come to us naturally. E’Yahavah altered Nature so that death became its balance—the death that is in us. On the day Atum ate, dying, we all died!

  “Even when Nature shows kindness, it often hides more subtle cruelties. The reverse is also true, thankfully. We still see artifacts of Divine power and intelligence in the cosmos, but no longer the complete loving personality of Creator, except as in a broken mirror.

  “Rather than let Atum and Ish’Hakka grow endlessly more corrupt for all eternity—like Shining One—E’Yahavah designed it so that the death now at work in them would also be the limiting force in their domain.

  “Atum’s firstborn son became the murderer of his own brother. A generation later saw the first tribal war. You can see it in each child who breaks the womb. Parents must work hard to teach children to speak truth, and to show kindness. Yet a youngster left alone with no correction—even in a plentiful world—grows selfish and cruel, without any model for that behavior at all. I’m sorry, but the truth is that people born into the Curse aren’t good on the inside the way you imagine. I’m not and neither are you.”

  Again, Pyra opened her mouth to speak, only to stop herself. This time she ended with a puzzled frown.

  A’Nu-Ahki spoke a little faster. “Even so, E’Yahavah has not given up on us. He drove our first parents from the Holy Orchard for their own protection, so they could not eat of the Life-tree, which would trap them forever in alienation and torment. Before driving them off, E’Yahavah promised to send a special son to them who would restore them from the Great Curse that he had put on all the cosmos. It is this son whom the very Star Signs of heaven announce…”

  “The Seed! Psydonu!” Pyra said, as if she had figured it all out.

  “No,” A’Nu-Ahki answered. “Neither Psydonu nor any of the titans, old or new, meet the prophetic standards for the Promised Seed. I told him this to his face at what he advertised as his confirmation ceremony. Rather than let the truth out, he sealed the chamber and murdered thousands of men, women, and children with a poisoned fog…”

  Pyra’s face drooped, speechless; her eyes dazed as if A’Nu-Ahki had just punched her in the head. She tried to force out words that seemed lodged in her throat—or so it appeared to U’Sumi.

  A’Nu-Ahki told her the rest of what had happened at Thulae, until they met her in the motorized wagon. He left nothing out.

  “No!” she shouted, pushing the words out at last. “Psydonu wouldn’t have done that! Pandura can be a vulp, but she would never have let him do that!”

  “Why do you think we had to rush away from Thulae before the festivities ended? Didn’t your grandmother invite you to the ceremony? Why are you even sitting here listening to this if there isn’t some part of you that believes it is at least possible?”

  “She said I had to stay with the coach,” Pyra whispered, as if to remind herself more than to inform A’Nu-Ahki and U’Sumi.

  “Why? Weren’t the drivers there? You’re a priestess! I saw many priestesses of your order dead in that crowd through Psydonu’s periscope!”

  “I pleaded with her to let me come inside, but she refused,” Pyra said, as if putting something together in her head not entirely related to the discussion. “She took me with her so we could spend time together. Then, when we got there, everything suddenly changed. We argued over nothing until she finally told me I wasn’t worthy to look upon Psydonu. She—she was like my mother until then! Her favorite proverb is how everyone’s worthy in their own way! It was all so weird! She seemed to be picking a fight with me for no reason—almost to ensure I couldn’t go in with her!”

  A’Nu-Ahki would not relent. “The human heart is rotted out and growing more so each day. We need to be rescued not only from the evil we do, but also from what we are inside. If not, it forever burns us down!”

  Pyra glared at him. “What are you doing to me? What gives you the right to say these things? Is your tribe in the Holy East so pure?”

  “No. My tribe failed in a far worse way. We meticulously preserved prophetic knowledge without preserving kindness, justice, and honesty. In the so-called ‘Holy East,’ we indulged the additional abomination of keeping the correct names and terms intact while gutting them of their very meaning.

  “Even my people slowly got tired of Creator because he would not let them have their own way—even after their ways always proved mad and self-destructive. Men invented gods they could manipulate into saying whatever they wanted. The rebel sky dwellers of the Basilisk sometimes appeared to them and made things even worse. After trying long to reason with humanity through the Seers, E’Yahavah reluctantly allowed the world to go its own varied ways, which were really only different shades of the same basic lie; that people can be their own gods. He gave them up in great sadness, knowing that evil is never satisfied. It never relents.”

  Pyra said, “And that vast over-generalization is supposed to prove to me that my grandmother is a mass-murderer?”

  U’Sumi expected her to get up and leave. Instead, the rage in her eyes unexpectedly softened, as if she had just remembered something important. What replaced her outrage resembled the kind of shock he had seen on the faces of wounded soldiers at the Battle of Balimar Straits. It had also stared out at him from the few mirrors he had looked into since then.

  She gazed off into space like a corpse. “Tell me more,” she said.

  A’Nu-Ahki obliged her. �
�There remained in the heavens about two hundred Watchers—I mentioned them earlier, when I spoke of my vision. These sky beings had not followed Shining One in the First Insurrection, but had weighed his arguments about Atum-Ra. They wanted women, but for more noble-sounding reasons than Shining One. They despised what Shining One had become, although he first suggested the very craving in their hearts.

  “These Watchers—willfully ignorant of E’Yahavah’s plan and looking to establish their own—thought that they could fulfill the Star Signs. They intended to redeem humanity by taking ‘wives’ to slowly change the human creation code so they could produce their own offspring. Different Watchers used different methods—some crude, others sophisticated—but they distorted humanity rather than enhancing us. The Watchers reasoned that their influence would raise the sons of Atum from savagery, that their bloodline would slowly reduce death. Yet they only deceived themselves before deceiving us.

  “The Basilisk ensnared them with what, for them, was an unnatural affection; either that or the Watchers saw it as a way to manufacture a pretext for power over society. Whichever it was, the sons of A’Nu would do and say anything to legitimize their unions with women; something I’m increasingly convinced can never actually produce natural offspring, only its illusion by extreme forms of creation code manipulation or potions. This Temple is only one vehicle for such manipulation. There are many others far less sophisticated, some even downright primitive.”

  U’Sumi saw the numbness in Pyra’s eyes harden into a flash of rage, then disappear. She’s probably all insulted.

  Yet she said nothing.

  A’Nu-Ahki continued, “E’Yahavah warned them not to continue in this fantasy, but the Watchers persisted and fell to Earth, ensnared. Most of them still believe in what they do, and hope to prove themselves somehow. They are self-willed and deluded, which makes them many times more dangerous than even the first rebels, who at least made no pretense.