“Get out of the way, Selot. I want to see things clearly here, whatever the cost might be. There's a limit to what is acceptable and what is not, and we are risking going past that limit. Men always create more trouble than they can handle, and if I have to risk my neck for them, if you have to risk your own neck for them, I want to see the full picture, every last detail. Or I swear I will knock you out with one punch right now, tie you up and take you back from where we came.”
“I no longer have reason to doubt you, Vetem,” Var said, stepping out from behind Selot's protection. “You are right. It is only right that you should know every detail.” The tension melted away suddenly. “I would like Ucal to join us.” The warrior had remained a little part away, waiting. Var made a gesture with his hand and he came forward. He sat down on the bench which had been used during the war council.
“I have an alternative,” Var announced. “It is an alternative which will consent us, in all likelihood, to avoid a war completely, to avoid the loss of my men's lives, and most importantly, women. It would also reduce the loss of lives of the soldiers of the Kingdom of Dar. They obey the generals and a king who is in the hands of an obscure power that I cannot fathom.”
“The Congregation,” Marrhit said concisely. “A group of old Xàmvetems who have rebelled against their mission to protect mankind, transforming them into a group of dictators who want to have absolute power, from the shadows.” Var and Ucal were open-mouthed.
“I have come to the conclusion there is a type of...civil war in the heart of the Uicics.”
“You are not far from the truth, Marquis. Both factions want your Cumbal, and they will do anything to get their hands on it; they might even manage it, meaning catastrophic outcomes for the entire world. That is why your containment tactic is even more dangerous. It leaves you open to too many possibilities of being held back until they wear you down and take you out because of exhaustion. The army has much time and many men. They will make you bow sooner or later, until they force you to reveal its whereabouts. They will to do with you as they please. You cannot allow that to happen. You must attack and defeat. Selot and I can eliminate the Xàmvetem who controls the operations and those who could take their place. In the end, King Lotar won't have the will to attack you and pacts can be made. You must be extremely aggressive in the offensive. It is the opposite of what you have just decreed.”
“What role will you have in all this?” Var asked, astounded. With all his experience, courage, his long life as a warrior of the first order, nothing had prepared him to feel like a child in front of this youth.
“Free agents.” Marrhit smiled widely, which looked the same as Selot's. “We have bowed out, Marquis. We are on our own.”
“You're setting yourselves against your own Council?” Var asked, baffled.
“Yes,” Marrhit confirmed.
“That sounds dangerous for you.”
“It is,” said Marrhit, succinctly. “And so, what is your alternative?” he pressed.
Var gulped. He let a look escape in Selot's direction.
“I have gained the two Steles which allow one to use the Cumbal.”
“You're mad,” Marrhit offered. He already understood what he was driving at. “The experience of generations past has amply demonstrated that its use is a folly that corrupts anyone who has it in hand. It is an object which should be destroyed.”
“It can be used for good. It is only a tool,” argued the marquis.
“It is a power that is far too great. No one who has that kind of power remains unharmed.”
“It could save thousands of lives. It could avoid war. Do you understand what I'm saying, Vetem? It could avoid many long years of war, years of suffering and death, mutilation, orphans, destroyed families, lives ruined. We can avoid war.”
Marrhit was bored by wasting time on such partial and reticent information. Men were not to be trusted since they were always ready to deceive. His instinct screamed that Var was dangerous because he lied. He leaped to his feet, menacing. Selot followed him a fraction of a second behind, ready to intervene. Var and Ucal instinctively got up and retreated. But Marrhit was too quick for them. He reached out his hand and wrapped it tightly around Var's throat, stopping himself just before suffocation. At the same time he took out his blade and pointed it at Ucal's throat.
“Whoever moves, dies.” Selot stayed still. Marrhit took what he needed from Var's mind. His logic told him to close the hand that held his throat to terminate the task. The part of him that Selot had changed however, stopped him from doing so. Against his nature, he let go of Var's throat and put his sword away. He spat on the ground in a sign of disgust. He kept his eyes on Var, but his words were for Selot.
“He has told you lies, your wonderful marquis, little brother,” he said. “He knows every single rite that you need to use the Cumbal. He has kept it from you because he foresees a very hard task ahead and the only thing you are probably not willing to do. He wants to win time so you can become fond of them, of their cause, the lost looks in the eyes of their children, the suffering of his people, so you can take pity on he himself. So that you would, in the end, from the bottom of your soul accept any condition on their behalf, even this. He feared that had he asked you immediately, you would back out despite your loyalty and your friendship. He planned on exploiting your emotions to make you accept. He denied you the truth and the authentic freedom to choose.”
Selot's heart sank. He looked at Var. He didn't need to ask if it were true.
“The strategy to gain time was vital to press your soul to want to protect them from the oppressive superiority of the army; to wait whatever time necessary to carry out the rite. When instead, as I declare, he could face war with a probable victory.” Marrhit let his words reach the hearts of everyone. “You are really, very good at deceiving your friends, Var of Atiarav,” he ended, throwing a brief look over at Ucal.
Var had been put into a corner. “For my people,” he whispered. “To avoid death.”
“Of course. Better to sacrifice a Vetem. A sixteen year old boy who has the wonderful characteristic of not being a citizen of Atiarav,” Marrhit fumed. Selot felt the affection in those words. The whole world had been turned upside down.
“I am sure he will survive the rite...”
“It's easy to be convinced when the hide you risk is not your own. And afterwards? I must give you credit though: you were the first to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Neither the Congregation, nor the Council of the Uicics have yet understood. As I imagined, you are as determined as you are dangerous.” It had now turned into an interrogation. They both knew what they were talking about. Var let out a short sigh. How did he think he might deceive that Vetem?
“Please,” Selot stepped in. “Please, help me understand.”
Marrhit had not taken his eyes away from Var. “Now it's your turn, Marquis. Now show us your bravery and speak to my brother as if you were standing in front of God.”
Ah, there is the angel, thought Selot.
Var nodded, defeated.
“Yes, Selot. It is as your brother says. You are the only person in the world who can use the Cumbal. I came to the realization as I reasoned on all that my subconscious knew. I was tormented for weeks, months, until it became clear to me, an illumination so to speak. Some pieces were missing, but today I have those too.”
“The only one in the world?” Selot asked, stunned. “Any Vetem can do it.”
“But no other Vetem can enter the place where it is held, because that energy is protected by an enemy to your species. Any Vetem would die. Except you.” Selot was speechless.
“The Uicics put a series of high level security in place, to be certain that no one could use it. No one, except a person with very precise characteristics would be certain of using it, remaining on the right side of the heart. That's what is written on the first Stele.” Selot gulped. The advice Janavel and Asheeba had given him before leaving. A prayer which he'd repeated e
very day since his departure.
“The Cumbal cannot leave the place where it is kept, or it will be useless. That place is inaccessible to Vetems, and is guarded by men. If any man however, touches the Cumbal, he dies. Checkmate. But then there is you. You can go where it is kept and use it.”
“Where is it?” Selot asked, who couldn't imagine such a place existed.
“The Abbey of Affradatis, where it has been for centuries.” Selot closed his mouth and his stomach suddenly. In the silence that followed, everyone put the pieces of the puzzle together. Selot came to his own conclusions.
“Marrhit...you didn't want to go past Affradatis. You felt that energy and you wanted to stay well away from it,” he murmured.
Var nodded. “The Abbey of Affradatis was founded to guard the Cumbal and its rules are a variation of an existing religious order, but not without several important differences. Whoever is familiar with that order knows that, sooner or later, it would be able to accommodate a Vetem with the right characteristics to handle the Cumbal.”
“Prasheema knew that...The safest place for me, where no Vetem would enter...” Selot kept on reasoning.
“That energy is like poison to us,” Marrhit confirmed.
“But being there from infancy would make one used to it, like poison,” supposed Selot.
“Not only that,” Var cut in. “You are not entirely Uicic. I had figured that out already, before finding you in Saus. When Prasheema told me she was your mother, I understood. The Rotmandi part of you protects you and bestows upon you other characteristics, which one day you may understand completely.”
“So that is where I must go...”
“Yes,” confirmed Var. Selot paled. The only place on the planet where he did not want to go. He felt goosebumps on his skin. “I believe I know what the rite is about...” he said as his voice cracked.
“It is the rite of Illumination,” Var murmured.
Selot nodded slowly. He'd never seen it practiced, and he'd never heard of anyone witnessing it, but he knew what it was. It had been written in theology texts if he remembered correctly. It was an aesthetic course that was carried out over very few days, which moved physical and meta-physical planes. If the person was not very well prepared, the body and mind might not stand up to the very hard pressure which was expected, and death was imminent. It was a rite from theory books, maintained impossible to carry out, impracticable, reserved anchorites close to perfection in the contemplation of God. Unfortunately, he knew those details quite well.
Var closed his eyes, forming the words 'forgive me Selot', on his lips. Marrhit inhaled deeply and knitted his brow. Ucal didn't know what it was about, but he guessed enough to feel the boy's pain. He did what he was there to do. He pulled out the copies of the two Steles from a piece of leather and handed it to Var. Var held them out to Selot. The first was the scroll on which Var had copied the inscription at the foot of Mount Kisov, a year earlier. The original had been etched on a sacred stone centuries ago. The second was the one Ucal had copied its contents from the Stele, which had been kept in the underground chambers of the palace of the Governor of Solzhaz.
“The biggest secret of the world is contained in these, Selot. I'm putting this secret in your hands. These Steles explain everything. I do not know how to interpret the antique language, since they are so ancient. I only know that it has been passed down through generations of my family by word of mouth. Everything you must do to face the...to prepare yourself to use the Cumbal, is described in these Steles. Of what happens to whoever uses it. And finally, what is to be done after one has used it.” He hesitated an instant. “You could be forced to retreat once more to the Abbey of Affradatis to clean your spirit, from being in contact with a force so powerful. It will be the Cumbal itself that decides and communicates that to you. Whatever it commands your soul to do, will go up into your brain and you will not be able to escape it.”
Var held the two Steles in his hand. The boy looked down at them. He felt his heartbeat accelerate. The images of Estela and Prasheema flashed before his eyes. He'd had such high hopes of seeing them again. He'd imagined his life in a thousand different ways over those last weeks. He'd fantasized in those rare days of respite. He'd imagined a life of peace in the valley of the Uicics, with the hope of following in Asheeba's footsteps, practicing medicine. He'd savored the idea of living freely. He dreamed of being able to caress Estela and to smile without a weight on his heart. That bright image became evanescent and was sucked away, leaving ice in his chest and his pulse weak. In that moment, the words of his mother came to his rescue.
The Existent is showing us our paths with much insistence. It is sufficient that we follow it fearlessly.
He stretched out a hand and took hold of the Steles. “I'll read them,” he said quietly. With a red-hot coal, he lit a torch. He distanced himself in silence to find an isolated corner to stay by himself.
When he was gone, Marrhit confronted Var. “Take into consideration that we can go to war and win.”
“Yes, I will,” Var promised. “We need more information on how the army is moving. That God would want it so; that it were not necessary to ask this sacrifice of Selot.”
“Marquis, you have not given weight to my contribution. I can penetrate the lines of the army and eliminate the Xàmvetem generals efficiently. Selot and I are Baìah, and we represent a remarkable advantage in battle.” Var was astounded. That Vetem, until a few hours ago, could barely tolerate sharing the same air as him. He had just exposed his deception, and was now offering his services in war. He did not understand where the change had come from.
“You could kill me and go on your way with Selot. With your lives in tact. Why don't you do that?” Marrhit shook his head. One had to explain everything to men, much like children.
“It is not for you, nor the fate of your people; I am indifferent of your lot. It's for Selot. So he may decide freely. I do not know how you humans think about this matter. Choosing freely for us is to exercise our dignity. I owe it to him.” He halted. He was fighting within himself. He bit his lip, then made up his mind.
“Marquis, I beg you: please give weight to what I can do for you and do not hurry your decision.” There, it was done. In the end, he too, had offered his right arm to that damned marquis. He moved away with a hint of irritation, leaving Var bewildered.
Selot read the Steles with careful attention. He had no difficulty in interpreting the language even though it was archaic. His long hours of study at Affradatis, left him with an advantage even now. He read it, and reread it, mulled over every passage, every hint and meaning; he delved into every hidden clue, its every allusion and cross-referenced everything that was there, which is what the old ones usually disseminated in their writings. It wasn't only about literally translating the sentences, but above all, gathering the symbolic sense, the fruits of its complex legacy, referring to sacred texts which dug its roots deep down into the origins of the world. That night he read by the light of the torch. He was dedicated, and read with intelligence and heart. He studied it for many long hours, meditating on every passage. He read on until the light of dawn began to brighten the sky in the east. Once he was certain he'd understood its every hidden meaning, every subtle indication, and every warning, he rolled up the copies of the Steles carefully. He'd memorized them perfectly. At that very moment, he understood what the secret was. The deep secret which the Congregation and the Council were up against, for which several members of the Council were willing to corrupt themselves. He was the only one to have that knowledge. And he was the only one who could use it. He returned to the camp.
Var waited in front of the fire, on the edge of the tiny settlement made up of tents. Marrhit had spent the night wrapped up in the arms of the beautiful group leader and in that moment, was eating an abundant breakfast. As soon as he saw him, he went over to Var to wait together. He didn't want Selot to be alone when he spoke with the marquis. He wanted to keep a close watch on him. Selot turned up
, his eyes marked by the long, sleepless night of reading by the feeble, shimmering light of a torch. His face was strained and there was a very subtle unsteady movement which didn't seem to belong to him. He bowed and handed over the copies of the Steles to the marquis.
“My Lord. For what I have learned this night, it is my duty to put myself at your service in any way you find necessary for the survival of your people. Use me for war as you deem fit. Use me to access the Cumbal. I submit to the trial needed to make contact with it when you command. Consider this: in order for me to be at the height of this challenge, with some possibility of success to face the rite, I must be in special condition of preparation. For what I know of myself, I can reach this state in three days of isolation, fasting and prayer. The rite will last five days. Therefore, when you wish me to be ready for this mission, know that I need eight days, plus time to reach Affradatis. Please take this into consideration while making your plans.”
“Selot...my boy.” Var wanted to hug him. Marrhit found it hard not to react. He respected his decision, but he was also determined to not allow him to carry out the rite to gain access to that cursed object.
“It would be better to burn the copies of the Steles,” Selot went on with a practical manner of speaking. “They are fixed to my mind and it is vital that no one else access what they contain.”
Var threw them into the flames. The three of them were lost in thought as they watched them burn until the scrolls were complete consumed.
Var broke the silence finally.
“I am making up a team to spy on the army that is rising up against us. I thought of nine groups of three, spread out in these zones,” he pointed to the map he'd spread out on the ground. “I believe, in about a week's time, ten days at most, we'll have all the information we need.”
The Creed Page 46
