The Awakened

by Julian Cheek

  Fastana continued in a sort of sing-song way, his body slowly rocking sideways, his eyes disappeared up into their sockets, sightless whiteness the only thing emanating from his eyes. “Anahim have travelled there. Nephilim also.” This was a shock; Ngaire had never dreamed that they had travelled between realities also. Fastana continued. “And every time they chose to enter, none of them returned! To enter is to perish. The accursed Nephilim, as is their nature, tricked the holders into allowing their passing into the other sphere and many there were who infiltrated that place before the Ethereals changed things. The source of this power to enable world swapping, was broken in pieces and infused into the monks such that no one individual could ever harness the power to allow travel between worlds. Since that day, no more Nephilim or Anahim have made the journey, until the day when Aronui sacrificed herself to summon he who alone was capable of ending the scourge here.”

  Fastana looked quickly at his Padme and a silent command shot between the two of them. The mighty lion immediately stood up and, without a second glance, ran off down the corridor they had come from, disappearing from view.

  “When Aronui was here, she gathered me to one side and said, ‘ensure the band is not broken and hold fast until the Silver Fern is come, then gather again and do what must be done’. And then she stepped into the light and was no more.” Fastana looked up at Ngaire and nodded to her. “You have come, Ngaire, ‘Silver Fern’, and so I follow my duty and will summon the monks’ apprentices once more. Perhaps we can yet, convince The One. Now rest, it will take some time for the gathering to awaken.”

  With that, Fastana beckoned to a small alcove off to one side, set up above the rock pool. Within, there were a number of couches and welcoming lamps, and fruit and water for the hungry travellers. The three fell down onto the couches and tried to talk about what had just transpired, but the strains of the day and the exertions paid their toll. Within a few minutes, their voices trailed away as sleep overtook them. Once again, the only sound remaining was that of the waves crashing below them in safety. Seria, Pila, the snake Padme of Tensa and Mazina, the half-jackal, half-owl of Hauka settled down around their charges, facing outwards in a semi-circle.

  Fastana took one last look out to sea then turned and disappeared into a rock niche hidden from view, to summon his gathering.

  The first dappled rays of a morning sun filtered down through a gap above their heads, allowing a little natural light to enter their chamber. A few gulls called out their early morning greeting to their mates as they hovered in the warm currents coming off the face of the mountain walls outside. Three bundles roused themselves slowly from amongst the stark furniture on the platform and looked out with groggy eyes. Below them, already assembled, stood twenty of the fittest travellers who had journeyed with them, along with their Padme and the lion, who had summoned them all when sent off by his charge.

  The trio looked down with some confusion, wondering what their people were doing down there but their curiosity was soon eased when Fasatana re-emerged from the niche he had entered the night before.

  “Ah, you are all here,” he said. “Get up, Ngaire. The gathering awaits you.” The twenty, made up of men and women, looked up at their leaders, wondering what was happening. Their Padme, similarly, were flying around buzzing with unanswered questions. The lion remained impassive, as if bored with these procedures.

  As soon as the trio were ready, Fastana turned and headed off back through the rock niche, not looking back to see if anyone was following. The assembled group set off behind their leaders, already having explained that they had been summoned by their respective Padme to follow the lion, whose name, apparently, was The Summoner, hinting perhaps at his overall responsibility.

  The niche opened up into a tight, twisting, damp path, only wide enough for one person at a time. Faint light bounced off the slick walls and floors sufficient enough to give some sense of direction, but, as the trio were rapidly discovering, designed in the same way as the route down to the rock pool. One to ensure that anyone unwelcome to enter would find it very hard to return, or to attack that which they could not see. The group continued their winding path, always following the echo of the footsteps of Fastana ahead of them until at last they arrived at yet another large cavern, almost perfectly circular in form, the walls polished to a smoothness that caused many to gasp at the sheer workmanship. There was only one entrance into the room; the one they had entered. Apart from Fastana and the twenty-three, there was no one else!

  “Where are your people?” Hauka queried. She, like the rest of them, was starting to feel that they might have been brought into a trap. With the only escape back the way they had come, and a lion blocking their way, their sense of security started to dissipate in the damp air around them.

  Fastana waited silently in the centre of the room, his hand resting softly on his staff. Waiting for the crowd to stop so they could pay attention to what he had to say. “When it was decided by the Ethereals to cease any further opportunities for either themselves or the Nephilim to world swap, a great many debates were held over many years as they discussed how to protect both the other worlds and this part of their being. Too much damage had been caused by the Nephilim in other places and the Ethereals were determined to bring this to an end.”

  On hearing that the Nephilim had apparently also travelled over the dimensions previously, a loud clamour rose from within the group. This was news indeed, and not what they wanted to hear.

  Fastana had to stamp his staff onto the smooth surface to regain their concentration. “The Nephilim have never since regained entrance,” he said. “The last to enter, and fall, was summoned there before any of you were old enough to feed yourselves!” he continued, now that he had their attention once more. “The Ethereals gathered all the Anahim leaders together and they in turn summoned every monk in civilisation to ask them to help as they had never done so before.

  “Many weeks passed before everyone was assembled, and this place still echoes with the sounds of their gathering, the camaraderie and the one time when men and the mighty Anahim were collected in one place.” Fastana looked around him at the walls as he spoke, trying to recall that day so very long ago, when he stood here as a young acolyte, awestruck at being in the presence of these otherworldly beings who had created him, and being able to communicate with them as easily as walking. Those days were long past and now, he was the last. After him, he was at a loss as to what would become of his central position amongst all the monks.

  “We monks numbered over five thousand on that day,” he began again. “There were so many that a number had to stay outside of the citadel walls to sleep, but we were all here, with the Anahim.” He bowed his head before he continued softly, “It was an honour to be numbered with them and to be found of some worth for them to trust us, trust me.”

  At last he was ready to tell them what had transpired that day. What a master stroke had occurred and how brilliant and outrageous the plan was.

  “The Anahim were directed to take their powers enabling them to world swap and, in effect, breathe it out into every monk assembled there. A piece of this power was thus fused with those assembled there. When they departed back to their own lands and countries, it ensured that no individual could combine all the people together again and so to coalesce the power to form and destroy and create worlds and places again. For this power is pure and boundless, not held to any time, place or dimension. The final piece to this unusual disassembly was to send the strongest shard to another dimension, away even from the monks. It is that piece that has been passed down from generation to generation and now resides in Sam. And so, I can well understand why you want to get him to wake up from his dream and do that which is natural to him; allow that which is within to shine, and to destroy that which destroys, and thus bring healing.”

  Ngaire and the rest had never properly realised why it was that Sam was so important to their very existence before. For some, they believed that he was
simply a mighty sage in his reality. None actually knew just what he held inside him. They were even more determined now to find him, convince him one way or another, and bring him back to settle the score finally.

  But how?

  Ngaire offered up that question. “Fastana. If this power was shattered and placed inside your fellow monks all those years ago, and you are now the last of them, how then are you able to assist us? You are the last of the monks of the Anahim. Are we to seek an alternative path to our plight?” She started to feel the weight of despondency as she heard her mind relay out the seeming impossibility of what it was they were trying to achieve, when, theoretically, their only chance lay in a collection of people who were mostly all dead!

  Ngaire was certain that underneath Fastana’s demeanour, a smile was lurking. He knew something, of that she was sure.

  “I did not say that the power was destroyed,” he began. “Neither did I say that the monks were dead, although a great many have indeed moved on from this plain and now walk with the Anahim in freedom and peace. Do you not see? Do you, Ngaire, a healer of the people, not see inside you to the answer that lies at your door?”

  Fastana was playing with her, she was sure. She was also getting a little angry that he was seeming to make sport of her in front of her people. “What does he know of the outside…?”

  “When Hahona, the mightiest of the Anahim left this place to fuse the central shard with one from another time and dimension, he did so generations ago.” He stopped to see if they were seeing where he was going with this. The returned stares were still blank, so he continued.

  “Sam did not exist then.”

  Still nothing.

  “The shard of power fused with the very being of the first Wielder. And it has been passed down ever since then, from generation to generation until today, where it resides in Sam. Still the same as it was. Still as powerful. Still as pure. It exists today even though the original recipient has long since returned to the dust whence he came.”

  Tensa called out in uncontrolled excitement, he had it! “So what you are saying, is that whilst the monks also received it, whether they still live or are dead, it also has been passed down from generation to generation until this day. Still as powerful…”

  “Still as pure,” Fastana continued for him. “Yes. Still exists in all those it has been passed down to.”

  Hauka, on hearing this, could not contain her youthful curiosity. “But Fastana. You are monks! Surely you…” She started to realise the sticky position she was getting herself in to and she faltered.

  “We don’t!” Fastana said with some mirth. “Not in the way you would normally be required to act to maintain a new generation!”

  Hauka had to turn away for fear that her red face would be a beacon to all around her.

  “People have one way,” he said. “Fish another. Stars have a very different way of bringing new life into existence. We monks are no different. What we are, what we have learned over the millennia, we pass on to acolytes through spirit and through mind, just like I was taught when I was an acolyte all those years ago, sitting in front of the Anahim in wonder and awe.”

  There were a number of collective gasps from the assembled people. This was indeed an experience they would never forget. Some already had visions of them passing this down to their children and their children’s children, gathered around a camp fire at night, as the stars gleamed above them.

  “But,” Tensa began, “you have brought us here.” He pointed to the room, empty of all others save themselves and Fastana. They saw that there was no other way in or out and the place had no hidden walls or elements to hide any other people who, apparently were now dotted all over this world. He was at a loss.

  “Yes, I have brought you here,” Fastana agreed, looking with pride at the singularly empty, circular room within which the gathering stood. “I have brought you here to reveal that which you seek. For here, you will see just what has been hidden from the world for generations.”

  At that, Fastana raised his staff above his head, and with a loud, guttural cry, slammed it down onto the floor in front of him. At first, nothing happened. The noise of the staff striking the floor bounced off the smooth surrounding walls and slowly filtered off into the ether. But then, like a leak had occurred under a floor, thin strands of blue started to flick out from under his staff within the rock floor itself. The strands moved in a dance around this central spine and then started to grow and stretch out, feeling for more space, more depth. As the strands of light grew away from Fastana, the people around started to move away from them, fearful that something would happen to them if they were touched by this underground light show.

  More and more flashes of electric light shot out from where the source was and sprang out like arrows, heading straight for the walls where they bounced up the surfaces, looking like veins in a body. Living veins that were moving and dancing and flashing slowly become entangled and thicker and more visible, until all the walls and floor were moving as one vibrant and dazzling display of lighting-like flashes of the deepest, brightest blue.

  And then the dancing stopped. Instead, the walls were now bathed with a uniform blue skein just beyond reach within the rock face itself. A few of the braver people ventured to touch the surfaces, but all they felt was the same cool face of the rock, but this time, there was a slight, almost imperceptible vibration from within the bed rock of this chamber’s walls.

  “To venture into Sam’s dimension,” Fastana said softly, “is to venture into a place from which there is no return. The Summoner,” pointing to his Padme, “went back to your people while you slept and gathered those you see before you here. Each one was chosen for a reason. They were chosen because over all the others gathered here, they were willing to go where no one from this reality has ever travelled since the inception of time itself. They were willing to go, knowing that there was to be no return. No guarantee of even finding Sam, but willing to go nonetheless. And go, as a sacrifice if needs be, such that Maunga-Atua could survive. This is no easy burden to carry, Ngaire. No one has ever travelled in this way before and we are unsure what may become of them when they do. Apart from through their Padme who will remain here, we will have no way of knowing whether they will have success or not or whether they will be able to find Sam or not.”

  Ngaire, Tensa and Hauka looked with shock at the crowd around them. None of them appeared to be afraid. They stood tall and proud, each and every one, looking forward and towards the trio. Their Padme sitting now in front of them, waiting. The import of what they had just heard was almost too much for them to bear. “You cannot!” cried Ngaire. “This is simply madness.” She looked around the group of people, searching for at least one of them who would agree with her, stop the rest in going to a place of no return with no guarantee of success. All she received were twenty pairs of eyes looking calmly at her, resolved to carry out what they had determined earlier. Theirs was the responsibility for finding Sam in his world, and so, hopefully, to convince him that Maunga-Atua needed every ounce of his being to believe it existed.

  “Ngaire,” said one of them softly. “You have led us these many years. You have nurtured us and healed us and cared for us like a mother cares for her young. Now it is our turn, as adults, to care for you, and, in turn, care for our beloved world and people. What we do is a small thing in comparison to being able to bring Sam to his senses. We must go, if only for him to see, believe and so, to act.”

  Fastana interrupted them. “Ngaire. If you want to get his attention, short of summoning the Anahim themselves again, this is the only way by which you can enter his world. These, your people, are willing to do this, for you.”

  Ngaire was too stunned and saddened to say much else. Inside, she knew that Fastana spoke the truth, but she, Tensa and Hauka were unwilling, now that they were actually at the crossroads, to actually commit to that which they had started the journey for.

  “How?” she asked simply.

&nbs
p; At this, Fastana gripped the staff tightly to his chest and uttered one word.

  “Watch.”

  Fastana closed his eyes and, once again, started a low, deep, thrumming chant that reverberated through the gathered people’s bones. They could all sense that some deep untapped magic was occurring in their very midst. Ancient strengths, emanating from the rocks themselves, older than time, older than existence, flowed through Fastana and out, under his feet and into the walled surfaces around them. His chanting captured the hearts and minds of those around them and they stared at him as his voice became deeper and stronger and “older”, reaching back into the roots of the ancient mountain, calling to the very essence of nature itself.

  Slowly, the people were aware of distant responses to the chanting. The noise at first seemed to be coming from the rock face itself in a few locations, growing in intensity. As they looked, in three equidistantly spaced areas around the perimeter, the blue hued walls appeared to lose their solidity and instead, forms could vaguely be seen within the depth of the rock wall. Forms which slowly became more solid as if a focus button was being turned, until, behind the three locations, the people were amazed to see three identical scenes.

  Within the solid rock face, these three areas had become as one looking through glass. Beyond, and with their backs to this new window, sat three people, their robes covering their bodies and heads.

  These were three of the new monks of the Anahim. All alive, all safe within their own demises, all communicating with each other in a language deep with agelessness. Beyond each of them stood a solitary candle in a silver stand, flickering brightly. Beyond that, and similar to the room in which the crowd stood, the walls of the chambers of these three monks were also completely reflective such that the gathering could effectively look through their windows, beyond the seated monks, over the candle and then see their own reflections in the walls within the monks’ chambers.