Legend of the Timekeepers

by Sharon Ledwith

  Annoyed, Lilith swatted his hand away as if it was a flying beetle, and stood. “Don’t touch that! It’s from Atlantis, my homeland!”

  The boy stumbled. Lilith pushed her coiled snake bracelet back up her arm for what seemed the millionth time, smoothed out her plain white robe, and clenched her teeth at him.

  He laughed. “Your face looks like a date about to pop in the heat. Do you need relief?”

  Lilith’s jaw dropped. “Relief?”

  “Yes, relief. I don’t know what you people from Atcha call it. Pass water? Do a dung drop?”

  Lilith scratched her slender nose before realizing what this pest was trying to ask her. Then, she smirked. “No. Do you?”

  The boy wrinkled his brow. “No. Why would you ask?”

  She pointed to what he was wearing—a white linen loincloth held in place by a simple knot on the side. “Because you’re wearing that baby’s cloth, and by the smell of you, it’s about time you change it.”

  The boy’s eyes—the color of tanned leather—grew large. He raked a hand through his short ebony hair before crossing his arms over his glistening chest. “You people from Atcha are all the same, arrogant and ignorant in the ways of my people!”

  Lilith blinked. “People from Atcha? I’m from Atlantis.”

  “Atlantis. Atcha. It makes no difference,” he said, shrugging. “At least those of your people who arrived here long before the great flood treat us with respect. At least they attempt to understand and adapt. You recent arrivals seem above us, act better than us.”

  “We do not!” Lilith stamped her foot. Her woven palm leaf sandal decorated with pearls flew off her foot and landed beside a pile of broken pottery.

  In a huff, Lilith limped to retrieve her sandal. She kicked at the pieces of glazed pots and shards of ceramic goblets, fishing around the debris with her sandaled foot. A sudden movement caught her eye. It looked like an insect—a white crawler with eight legs, two front pinching claws, and an odd-shaped tail that curled over its back. Lilith squinted. It was almost the size of her hand and seemed to possess a sharp point on the end of its tail. She was about to kick it when she felt a warm body knock her to the ground. The boy was on top of her, his breathing labored, his skin sticky, yet sweet smelling.

  “Are you mad, Atcha-girl?”

  “I was about to ask you that,” Lilith conjured up an appropriate response, “bug-boy!”

  He wiped his brow. “My name is Tau, not bug-boy!”

  “Humph! Well, my name is Lilith, not Atcha-girl!”

  “Do you know what you were about to kick?” He pointed in the direction of the clay debris.

  Still a little dazed, she shrugged. “I’m sure you’re about to enlighten me.”

  Tau grunted. “Maybe I shouldn’t. You Atchas think you’re so smart.”

  “I’m smart enough to know how to rid myself of a pest like you!” Lilith seethed.

  Lilith roughly pushed Tau off her, then stood. Her robe was riddled with dust. She patted herself down while walking toward her orphaned sandal. She noticed that the dumb white crawler with the curled tail had claimed her sandal and was lying on top of it trying to sun itself. Lilith rolled her fingers into the palm of her hands, her long nails beginning to cut into her skin. She was about to raise her foot to stomp on it when she felt one of her hairpins being yanked out from the back of her head. Lilith’s fine, fair hair tumbled down just before a gust of wind blew it up into her face to obscure her vision.

  Taming her tendrils, she glared around for Tau, who had used her finely crafted crystal hairpin to spear the white crawler through its abdomen and into her sandal. It flailed a moment before giving into its death throes. Tau waved his hand vigorously. When he stopped, Lilith saw that his hand was swelling fast. She noticed Tau’s face had changed to a color closer to her lighter skin tone. The hue didn’t suit him. It made him sickly looking, drained of life. He stumbled, almost bringing her down, but she held on firm.

  “Quick, take me to the Temple Beautiful. Find Istulo. She is a healer, especially in the poisons.”

  “What are you talking about, Tau? What poison? Only snakes have poison.”

  Sweat rolled off Tau’s temples. His face had now gone gray, and he was having trouble breathing. “The…the serqet, its tail is full of poison. Quick…take me to the…”

  Lilith didn’t let Tau finish talking. She propped herself under his arm and swiftly dragged him to the building with the tall marble columns and large palm trees planted in the front—the building Tau had called the Temple Beautiful. Cutting across the market place, Lilith huffed and puffed until she reached the solid gold doorway. It was etched in symbols foreign to her. She hoped this Istulo, or whatever name Tau had muttered, was inside. She banged on the door, once, twice, three times before someone answered. A boy—correction—a man with sea green eyes, golden hair, high cheekbones, and skin like hers answered the door. He was dressed like an initiate—in a pale green robe and matching headband. He smiled at Lilith. She shyly smiled back. Then, she remembered why she was there.

  “I…I need Istulo. Now!” Lilith commanded. “Tau’s been stung by a ser… a ser…” She tried to remember what Tau had called it. Her mind was fluff, and she shook her head to clear it.

  “Do you mean a serqet?” the handsome young man asked.

  She nodded her head vigorously. “Yes, that’s it! Please, he needs Istulo to heal him!”

  “Take him over to those embroidered benches. I’ll tell Istulo. She’ll bring the appropriate antidote.”

  Before Lilith could ask him for some assistance, he sprinted down a marble hallway with odd-shaped, colorful pictographs of foreign gods and goddesses drawn across the walls. Flecks of glittering metal—much like the color of orichalcum—were embedded in the tiles on the floor. Strangely, this place felt like home to Lilith, even though she knew that that part of her life was gone forever. It was hard to believe she and Father had landed in the Black Land almost six moons ago. It had been a dangerous, harrowing journey traveling away from the dark, ash-filled sky, trying to find land, drifting for many moon phases while relying on fish and whatever supplies the ship had for sustenance. Father had told her the Children of the Law of One had foreseen the rain and the darkness, and that they should be prepared with enough food, clothing, and supplies to endure the trip. All would be cleared up, Father had shared with her, and the lands would be revealed soon. Then, Atlanteans would be given a second chance at a new life in new places throughout the Earth.

  She sat Tau down on the soft bench cushions and propped him against the elaborately decorated wall. His whole body was now dripping wet, his lips were dry, and his breathing ragged. “Stay with me, Tau,” she whispered. “Istulo is coming.”

  A group of priests and priestesses passed by them, seemingly in quiet debate. As in Atlantis, all were dressed in the appropriate colored robes—some in pale green indicating they were novices like the young man who greeted her at the door, and some in light blue, distinguishing them as more advanced in their training. Lilith noticed no one in that group wore any white silk garments, which were reserved for only the highest ranking orders of priesthood. From a corridor down the opposite way, Lilith heard the musical sound of crystal bowls being played. The harmonious pitch was enchanting, making her heart beat faster and chest open wider. Suddenly, Lilith could feel her crystal hairpins vibrate to meet the higher frequency, and her whole body started to respond to this wonderful resonance.

  Tau moaned something incoherent—maybe a phrase from his culture—then started to choke. Lilith’s mouth went dry and she stood up to run, almost smacking into an old, wizen woman standing in front of her. Lilith grabbed the woman by the arms, hoping she didn’t break any of her brittle bones, to stop the old woman from falling. Their eyes locked. A gauzy film, the color of curdling milk, coated both the woman’s eyes, wh
ile a mass of wrinkles seemed to be the only thing keeping her eyes in their sockets. Lifeless, white hair was held in place by an orichalcum headband, hair Lilith thought that must have been thick and luxurious at one time.

  “Do let me go, young Lilith, I won’t break, you know,” she wheezed.

  Startled, Lilith let go, and the old woman straightened up as best as she could muster. Her gown was of the finest silk, all white and radiant, and smooth to the touch. Robes of a Priestess of the Highest Order, Lilith thought.

  “Move aside, so that I may attend to your friend,” the old priestess said.

  “Um, Tau’s not really my friend, he’s just a…”

  She held up a bony hand to silence Lilith. “You must care about him. You brought him to me.”

  “Yes, but, it was an accident. You see, Tau killed this…ser…white crawler with a stinger tail using one of my hair…”

  “A serqet, Lilith,” the old priestess corrected as she pulled a small ceramic vial out of the metal-flaked pouch attached to the white sash around her thin waist. “And there are no accidents. All is as it should be.”

  The old priestess was starting to creep out Lilith. No accidents? All is as it should be? Lilith’s stomach started to ache. She couldn’t stop the dark memories searing through her mind, reliving the destruction of her homeland, watching everything she knew disappear from the safety of their southbound ship. The loud bang. Thick, dark spiraling smoke. A brown-black sky. No moon, no stars, no sun. Cold, sour air. The relentless rain. The roaring gales. The flooded lands. It was all too much. They had gotten away by the grace of Poseidon.

  Her fingers curled into her palms, and she winced at the tender spots she had recently cut into. Lilith cleared her throat. “How can you say that? What happened in Atlantis was not how it should be. Those people, my people, shouldn’t have been made to suffer and die like that!”

  The old priestess made a sound like a small animal dying. She wiped the sweat from Tau’s brow, his ebony hair now flat and damp, and opened his mouth with two spindly fingers. She pulled out the wooden stopper from the vial and carefully poured the liquid into his mouth. “You’re naïve if you think your fellow Atlanteans didn’t deserve what they got. You give out, you get back. The only people left on Atlantis when it crumbled into nothingness were those who went against the teachings of the Children of the Law of One. In your heart, you know this. The Sons of Belial deserved worse for choosing to worship ease and pleasure over love and kindness.”

  Before Lilith could reply, Tau moaned, coughed, then lunged forward. The old priestess held him by the shoulders while his breathing became easier. She giggled—almost sounding child-like—and then gently stroked the back of his neck. Then she checked over Tau’s hand. Lilith noticed the swelling had gone down considerably, leaving only a small, red puncture mark to attest to Tau’s misfortune. “You’ll be fine, Tau. You are lucky you have a friend in Lilith.”

  Tau snorted. “She is not my friend, Istulo. She’s as vengeful as the serqet.”

  Lilith’s eyes widened. So this broken-down old woman was Istulo? Somehow, Lilith felt mildly disappointed, like she was expecting someone grander, more auspicious-looking. She frowned.

  Istulo pinched his neck and held firm. “You need to decide who you would rather be stung by—a creature of habit or a creature of nature?”

  “Do I have another choice?” Tau asked, gritting his teeth.

  Istulo raised a grizzled brow. “There are always choices, Tau. You need to remember that you must live with your choices and no one else’s. But before you make your choice, remember habits can be broken, but nature is one’s true essence. So, who do you choose—the serqet or Lilith?”

  Tau smirked. Lilith rolled her eyes. He must be feeling better.

  “Perhaps he needs to feel the sting of my tongue,” Lilith said curtly.

  Tau grinned. “Believe me, I already have.”

  Lilith’s whole body straightened, then she threw back her head and laughed. It was the first time she had laughed like that in a long time. She didn’t even care if her long hair was unbound, it felt freeing, like she had given herself permission to be five years old again.

  “Feels good doesn’t it, Lilith?” Istulo asked.

  Catching her breath, Lilith nodded greedily. Then, she straightened. “Hey, how do you know my name? We’ve never met before, have we?”

  “Have we?” Istulo asked Lilith, a trace of a smile chased her lips.

  “I’m sure I would remember you,” Lilith replied, shrugging. “Are you from Atlantis?”

  Her bristly chin moved slightly. “Yes, once, long ago. Another lifetime I suppose. I’ve moved to many places, learned many things, especially in the healing arts. This is where I have decided to root myself and teach what I know. This is where I will die.”

  There was a hint of sadness and maybe regret in Istulo’s voice, but she still hadn’t answered Lilith properly. She decided to dig deeper. “Do you know my father, Segund?”

  Istulo fell silent for a moment before she answered Lilith. “Your father is the Keeper of the seventh Arch of Atlantis, yes?”

  Lilith raised a fair brow. “Yes.”

  “I met with him almost three moon phases ago. Your father has been very worried about you since you’ve arrived here. He told me you haven’t made a single friend or even picked up a scroll to read. So I suggested to him that I do a life reading for you to help you move forward with your new life.”

  Tau guffawed. “I would love to see what occupation you come up with for her!”

  Lilith glared at Tau. “Be careful. I’m sure I can round up more of those ser…white crawlers.”

  “How hard is it for your people to say ‘serqet’?” Tau asked in exasperation.

  Lilith ignored him and turned to Istulo. “What is a life reading?”

  Istulo pulled a small ceramic disk from her metallic pouch. “This is called a life seal, Lilith. Right now it is blank, but when I’ve had a chance to assess you based on your karmic development, this will help you decide on your lifetime occupation.”

  Lilith stared at the disk as if it were a white crawler. She wrinkled her nose. “How?”

  Istulo reached out to touch Lilith’s cheek, just as a sudden, sharp twinge rippled across the old priestess’s face. She withdrew her hand and said, “Through the inscriptions I write on this disk during a self-induced trance. I listen to the internal guidance given and record this advice. The results of this transaction then become your life seal.”

  Tau grinned. “It’ll probably still be blank after the trance.”

  “Have you ever had a life reading, Tau?” Lilith asked, curling her fingers.

  “Yes,” Istulo answered for him. “He received his life seal before the great flood made us take refuge on higher ground until the waters receded. Tau proudly wears his seal around his neck.” Then Istulo picked up the empty ceramic vial and deposited it in her pouch. “I must take my leave and attend to my new students. Lilith, I trust I will see you on the next new moon for your life reading. Do not be late.”

  It sounded more like a demand than a request to Lilith. She nodded in response.

  Istulo trundled down the hall toward the area where Lilith had heard the crystal bowls being played. Confident that the old priestess was out of listening range, Lilith screwed her full lips to one side and turned to face Tau. “So, what’s your lifetime occupation supposed to be, Tau? A farmer? A baker? A dung-ditch maker?”

  Seemingly unfazed, Tau reached for his life seal, held it out like it was a piece of sweet fruit to taunt Lilith with, and said, “I am to be a special scribe to an important emissary.”

  Lilith pushed her creeping fair locks off the side of her face, but it seemed a losing battle. Her hair was starting to feel like straw. She sputtered her lips and said, “The only s
cribes I’ve seen around here record the farmer’s crop share. Correct me if I’m wrong but that doesn’t sound very special to me.”

  Tau’s face fell. “No. But you wait and see. Istulo’s life readings are never wrong!”

  Lilith stamped her foot against a polished tile with enough force to knock her remaining sandal off. This time the sandal smacked a man across the top of his back as he attempted to leave the Temple Beautiful.

  Lilith covered her mouth. So far this day, her sandals had gotten her into nothing but trouble. First the white crawler, now this. She removed her hand and flashed him an apologetic smile. “I…I am so sorry,” Lilith stammered. “It was an accident.”

  The man turned around and stared at Lilith. His body was draped over a golden walking stick decorated with pearls and various gems. The man appeared old but not as wrinkled and gaunt as Istulo. There was still life in his wild, white hair, which stuck out every which way and needed a good brushing. His eyes were the color of the desert sand, and his skin the color of alabaster. The gown he wore was deep blue, marking him as a sage. He smiled at Lilith a good long moment, making her feel as if she was being assessed by a hardened teacher. Slowly, he reached for her sandal by his bare foot, picked it up, and held it out to Lilith.

  “Young lady—” he said smiling “—there are no accidents.”

  2

  The Temple Beautiful

  Lilith nervously tapped her palm sandal against the shimmering tiles outside the entrance to Istulo’s chambers in the Temple Beautiful. She had arrived early, as requested, catching the lingering scent of perfumed incense and hearing the methodic tones of priests and priestesses in morning mediation. A pair of entwined serpents, carved out of black marble and trimmed with gold, adorned the top of Istulo’s doorway in a threatening manner. Both serpents stared down at her, their sculpted tongues and fangs emerging from open jaws as if ready to consume whoever dared walk past them. Lilith shuddered, feeling like she was back in bed with the snake her uncle had attempted to give her. She stopped tapping and took a few steps back, almost knocking over a crystal vase on a white marble pillar. Turning, Lilith grabbed it in time before it fell. Taking a deep breath, she placed the vase back on its shining perch, then wiped away the strands of hair clinging to her forehead.