The Lost Book of Chaos: How to Divide the World (The Secret Wars of Angels 1)

by Thomas, J. D.

  But the Captain's eyes moved on.

  Judas tried to calm down and not show anything that might give him away. And after what seemed like forever, the Captain signalled his men to head off.

  Judas breathed a sigh of relief.

  They were safe, for now.

  Judas turned to the witch woman.

  The witch woman was silent all throughout, but she finally spoke. “We should spend the night here,” she suggested. “Tomorrow you will rescue your friends.”

  Now that they were out of danger, Judas took in the woman in front of him. She had dark brown skin, with light gray hair, but not from old age. It just seemed to be the color of her hair.

  “I think,” Judas said, “that’s a good idea. I could definitely use your help.”

  “I didn’t say I would be there with you,” the witch woman said.

  Judas recalled what she said, Tomorrow you will rescue your friends. So it would be just him after all.

  “But you’re the reason they got caught in the first place,” Judas said. “You should at least do something to help.”

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you either,” the witch woman said.

  Judas scratched his head. Which was it?

  “Consider it my benevolence,” she continued, “because their help was unnecessary. Mere fire will not burn me.”

  Great, here's another strange woman who believed she had strange powers.

  “I won’t be there to help you,” she said, “but I will give you the help you need.”

  She wouldn’t be there, but she would help him. How could that be? Unless she was really...

  Judas had a strange sensation in his stomach.

  “Are you, by chance, a real witch?” Judas said.

  The woman laughed.

  “No, no, I am much more than that,” she smiled mysteriously.

  Judas felt a chill in his bones. The very air around her seemed to darken.

  For a moment, Judas compared his mental picture of Arcana against the woman. While Arcana had something mysterious about her, Arcana had compassionate eyes. Eyes full of hope. Arcana was more like a good witch, though she denied she was a witch at all.

  On the other hand, the woman in front of him was the exact opposite. From her clothes, to her face, to the way she moved, to her eyes that seemed to look into his soul.

  The woman appeared young, in her late twenties, but now that Judas looked closer, there was a sense of agelessness about her. But it was not youth, it was more like something...

  Primeval.

  Ancient, even.

  That was the word that came to his mind. He wasn't quite sure why.

  “Who are you?” Judas said, pushing away the feeling that he was somehow an insignificant life form compared to her.

  “It’s impolite to ask a woman,” she answered, “without introducing yourself first.”

  “I'm Judas,” he said.

  “I am...” the woman began.

  But out of nowhere, a name came to Judas. A name, whispered in his ears.

  Shemyaza.

  Was it the same voice that was talking to him before? Yes, it was that inhuman voice.

  “Shemyaza?” Judas echoed the voice in his head.

  The woman, for the first time, wore a surprised look.

  “Hmmm?” she said. “You seem to have heard of me?”

  Judas shrugged. “I don't know,” Judas said, “it just came to mind.”

  The woman appeared thoughtful.

  “I found it strange since earlier,” Shemyaza said, “but you and your friends are not ordinary people either. Your companion, the woman, she possesses Hidden Knowledge. Not that such child’s play interests me.”

  Child’s play? If she saw Arcana as a mere child, then maybe his thoughts about her were right. She was no ordinary woman.

  “And you...” Shemyaza said.

  “There appears to be a spirit surrounding you,” Shemyaza drew her dark eyes in slits, concentrating. “But it's not here, it's very far away. Too weak a connection to tell more about its nature.”

  Spirit?

  What was she talking about?

  Could it be the inhuman voice talking in his mind?

  Shemyaza nodded to herself. “The link is very weak,” Shemyaza said, “but it is there, and it links to...”

  Shemyaza circled him, her two hands weaving patterns around him, as if pulling on invisible threads. “Hmmm, hard to fathom with such a weak power, disappearing, appearing, strengthening, weakening. Interesting.”

  Judas felt his blood turn cold. Maybe he wasn’t going crazy after all.

  But enough, if this went on...

  “So,” Judas said, trying to divert the topic, “if you will not be there to help me, how do you suggest that I save my friends?”

  But before Shemyaza could answer, there was a grunt from behind them. The old man who had helped them had returned. Had the old man heard of Judas and Shemyaza's discussion?

  Shemyaza didn't seem to be worried. She had an air of confidence about her, as if nothing could touch her. Well, she had the same air of confidence about getting burned alive, so why not?

  “There you are,” the old man Busho said, smiling a gap toothed grin. “You should be safe now, but stay here for the night just to be certain.”

  Judas looked to Shemyaza, but she didn’t say anything, nor did she look interested.

  “Those Roman Guards,” the old man said, “always bringing trouble to us poor folks, as if their heavy taxes weren't enough. Can you imagine taxing even the poor?”

  The other poor beggars grunted in agreement.

  “They wave their banners of freedom,” another one among the beggars said, “but they impose heavy taxes on us ordinary folks. I lost my house, I lost everything. They claim to free us from slavery, only to enslave us in debt.”

  “Freedom for them and not for us,” another added in. “They impose laws that protect them, but oppress us.”

  “But oh how rude of me,” the old man said, “I haven't even introduced myself.” The old man hadn't, however, Judas had heard his name already several times, but Judas kept silent since he was an old man.

  “The name's Busho,” the old man said as he extended a hand. Judas took it. Shemyaza didn't seem interested in interacting with mere mortals.

  “Judas,” Judas said, and since Shemyaza didn't offer, he continued, “and this one is Shemyaza.”

  “What a peculiar name,” Busho said. “Shemyaza reminds me of... But never mind, it couldn't be, that was a long time ago and you wouldn't be the same a—but I digress.”

  Old man Busho gestured for them to move closer.

  “Why are the Roman Guards after you?” Busho whispered, though his whisper was loud so that everyone could hear.

  “We were caught in some trouble from earlier,” Judas explained, “they were going to burn a witch, though they had no solid proof. And so my friends meddled and, now I'm caught up in it too.”

  “I see,” Busho said, “well, you are always welcome here in our humble place. A sanctuary where our roof are the stars and the trees. A place where the people wear clothes that are torn and tattered, but are kept warm in the spirit of compassion for one another.”

  Judas couldn't help but like the old man. Though this was far from a sanctuary, he did feel very welcome here.

  That night, they joined the homeless people as they huddled around a big fire. From the dancing firelight, Judas could see a mix of people from all over the land. Many looked like foreigners. Few things were similar among them, aside from being poor.

  Food was passed from one to the other. There wasn't much, and whatever little there was, it looked to be of close-to-stale bread. The people didn't seem to mind.

  “There are people who help us with simple blessings such as these,” old man Busho explained, pointing to the meager food they had. “Not all Romans are evil see? It's not the Romans we don't like, it's only those at the top mostly, they are the ones who put so muc
h pressure on us poor. Because, they can't understand what it's like to be poor. To work hard. To struggle. To be hungry. You understand?”

  Judas nodded.

  “What is this place?" Judas asked.

  To which the old man chuckled, "A simple haven, for all." The old man accepted bread from one of the others, and broke it in two, giving one to Judas. Though Judas was hungry, he couldn't take it—it was their food, and they did not have a lot to begin with

  “Don't be shy,” Busho said, smiling that warm smile again, “there is enough for all.” Busho truly meant the offer.

  Judas doubted that, but decided to take the offered bread anyway as it would be rude to refuse twice.

  The bread tasted horrible, but he ate it anyway. And while there was not enough to feed his hunger, he felt his spirit overflowing. That bread—given not from abundance but out of the old man's poverty—meant the world to Judas.

  Chapter 6 – The Chained Land

  “Your friend,” Busho said, “she’s not eating?”

  “Oh don’t mind her,” Judas said.

  Shemyaza mostly kept to herself.

  After the meal, the poor people gathered around to share their stories. They were simple folks, and having nothing, this was the way they passed the time. Some of the poor had warmed up to him. He listened to their stories, and he shared his own.

  "What happened to your hands and feet" one of them said, pointing to the bandages around his hands.

  "Pierced by nails," Judas said, as if joking. He offered to untie the bandages so they could see the wounds, to which they laughingly refused.

  It turned out that many of the people in the haven came from distant lands. At first they came because they were looking for work and a means to survive. “We brought our families with us,” one of them shared. “But there's no work to be had even here in the city. Some of us are farmers who can no longer pay the rent in our land. Our debt to the landowners accrued, and we were forced to either become slaves to the owner forever, us and our children, and our children’s children. The other option was to escape our fate and start anew, somewhere that we would not be known, even if that meant being homeless.”

  In a way, Judas and these people were similar. These people too were running away, as Judas was running away.

  The others shared more of their stories.

  Some of them, bakers, smiths, soldiers, tailors, who could no longer hold the job, were buried in debt, and again forced to choose between perpetual slavery and poverty. They could not bear seeing their children as slaves. And so, here they were.

  There is an evil in the land, invisible chains that bind people to the soil, Joshua once told him.

  Joshua, his Master, his Teacher. Judas wondered when he could find Sky Jerusalem and meet his Master again.

  “The people appear to be free,” Joshua had said, “and yet they are enslaved. They are clothed well and smiling, but they are on the edge of a cliff.”

  There was a time, long ago, when Judas did not understand. It took him a while, but when he did, he explained what he understood to the Master, for confirmation.

  "The land is a heritage," Judas remembered how he had answered Master Joshua. "No one owns it. Does anyone own the sun? Or the stars? Or the moon? Or the seas? And yet today, we sell the land as if it is ours. The Earth is not ours, yet we rent it to the poor.”

  “The hardworking who appear to be free,” Judas continued, “barely make ends meet. And though they appear to be fine at first glance, they are slaves forever. Their masters tell them ‘but there are no chains that bind you, how can you be slaves?’ But their wages are cheated, paying them little so they can never save enough to free themselves. They have no other choice but to stay. Slavery through debt. Slavery through desperation. Slavery through deprivation.”

  “We keep the system running,” Judas said, “all this so they can be slaves forever. Even the best minds, the hardest workers, will be paid little, to forbid him from saving for their future. What good is a slave if he saves enough money to be free on his own? The wealthy become wealthier, the poor remain poor forever."

  Master Joshua had nodded to him. That was so long ago. Three years? Four? Judas was no longer sure.

  Years after that conversation, Judas and The Master talked about the same topic. But The Master had a strange instruction by then.

  “Therefore you shall free them,” Joshua said. “You shall betray me for thirty shekels of silver, and from that thirty you will free the land from chains. From every synagogue, from every church that wants my head, ask for thirty shekels of silver. I have no more wealth left. But by doing this, you will have enough to free many slaves. And even when I am gone, you will continue to free them.”

  Judas shuddered. He saw the image of Joshua in his mind, to his right, bleeding with a crown of thorns. Then he remembered his own hands. He remembered the searing pain, though his wounds now were healed, the pain was still fresh in his mind. He fingered the bandages around his hands.

  Sometimes, Joshua had some… twisted… ideas that no ordinary man would even consider.

  “Do not be concerned,” Joshua had said to him. “Because I will not die.”

  Suddenly, Judas had a vision, a memory.

  The vision was of a young man, with the horns of an ox protruding from his head, and lighting flashing as that young man tried to revive the body of a charred child. Judas tried to brush that memory away.

  Judas's train of thoughts was interrupted by a yawn.

  Busho was gone, perhaps he had found a spot to sleep close by, but Judas could not find Busho in the crowd so he decided he would thank the old man tomorrow. For now, he wanted to go to sleep.

  As he lay down however, he noticed Shemyaza’s eyes on him. Judas sighed, and approached her, but she turned and began walking away.

  What was she up to? Did she intend for him to follow?

  Judas decided to do so.

  They came to a dark corner. He could barely see her features, as the moon above became covered with clouds.

  “Shemyaza,” Judas called softly. “What are you d—?”

  From Shemyaza’s hand came something slivering... It fell to the ground and rushed forward towards Judas.

  “What— ?!” Judas tried to step back but it was too late. The snake bit him on his hand. The last thing he could recall were its scales, golden, as the clouds cleared and the moon shone again. Then the snake slivered back to the hands of Shemyaza.

  Chapter 7 - Thirty Shekels Of Silver

  Judas awoke to the sound of mail clinking and several metal boots marching. There was a cry in the distance, and another in protest.

  What had Shemyaza done to him?

  And that golden snake...

  “You can't do this,” one of the poor farmers said. “This is not right.”

  “What's not right is you being here,” a soldier answered. “This is not your place, you are on the property of the city.”

  “We are looking for a criminal and we have reason to believe you are hiding him,” another soldier said, showing them a hand-drawn image of Judas. “If you cooperate, no one else will get hurt.”

  They took the baker this time, and made an example of him. The baker grunted at the blows and kicks he received, but the baker did not talk. Judas tried to move inconspicuously, looking for the old man Busho.

  “Please, we don't mean any harm!”

  “Hey doesn't that man look like...” one of the people around Judas answered, but another cut him off.

  “Shhhh, keep quiet, we don't give away one of our own.” The first one closed his mouth apologetically.

  Judas gritted his teeth, as he heard the blows of the soldiers continue.

  Deep inside, Judas was grateful that these people wanted to protect him, even though he was a stranger, but he couldn't let these people suffer because of him.

  Just before he was losing hope, he found the old man.

  "They are looking for me," Judas said.

  "Th
en go," old man Busho said, "Where is your companion?"

  Judas shook his head. “She should be fine,” Judas said, “but I have no idea where she went.”

  The people around them had heard the two talking, but they kept quiet.

  “We will cover for you,” old man Busho said, “you need to go.”

  “No need,” Judas said, “I don't want your people getting caught in my problem. I will grab the attention of those soldiers, but you need to leave this city too. After they discover that you were helping me, they may send you out of the city. Or worse.”

  The old man just smiled, “There is nowhere else for us to go. We have gone to different cities, there is nothing for us in any of them. Besides, this is as good a place as any.”

  “I understand that,” Judas said, “But there is land, land for you. You will buy it, but promise me, you will never sell it again. It is for your people, it will be your new haven, for you and anyone who wishes to live with you.”

  “This is our haven,” old man Busho said sadly, his eyes beginning to look unclear.

  “Your haven is not the place,” Judas said, “Your haven is your people. They are loyal. They take care of each other. If the soldiers kill them...”

  The old man understood, wiping tears before they could fall from his eyes.

  “Here is the money,” Judas pulled several shekels of silver from his small money pouch.

  The old man looked doubtful, as there wasn't enough to buy any amount of land, even a small one.

  “Pass it around to the others,” Judas said, “and tell them to pass around whatever they receive.”

  The old man did so, still sceptical. After all, how could there be enough in that small money pouch?

  But Judas kept pulling out more shekels of silver, passed it to the old man and the others around him. As this went on, their eyes grew bigger and bigger in disbelief. Some of them were beginning to sweat at what they were seeing. Old man Busho's jaws dropped in shock. Everyone in the crowd held many shekels of silver, and they continued passing it around. No one could understand how it happened.

  It was the pouch given by Master Joshua to him. The silver shekels were paid in blood, the Master’s blood.