by B L Barkey
“I have no doubts you’ve been through a lot, nor that your greatest trials are behind you. So imagine what might await you along this path. Can you fathom it? Can you imagine something that wonderful?”
Ammon shook his head, laughing from deep within. “No, I suppose I can’t.”
“So when the old texts tell us to rejoice in our afflictions, they weren’t having a laugh at the future generations who would read it. They were telling us a secret so obvious, so deep within us, that we habitually forget it. They remind us that we are here to grow.”
Ammon had never thought of it this way before. Then he realized, he had thought of something similar, though it had taken a simpler form.
“Just like how great suffering in a mountain climb means the pie at the end will be all the sweeter,” Ammon said, smiling.
Kodin keeled over with laughter. “Yes! Yes, my boy, I imagine you understand my meaning in full.”
They walked on a bit then, Ammon feeling lighter than he had for weeks.
“Master. If you didn’t always want to become a Levitian, what did you want to become?”
“If I answer you, will you answer me another question?”
“Of course,” Ammon said immediately. He meant it, though he also felt a bit nervous at what Kodin might come up with.
“Alrighty. Well, even as a child, I wanted to live in the mountain with my wife and family, to establish a small temple dedicated to mastering the ways of the world.”
“But you have done this… in a way. Your family is in High Forest, and you have the Wayothe, which you teach in the Leviticum. Is that not the way of the world? The way of your dream?”
Kodin smiled. “It is indeed. You know, Ammon, you’re right. Though it looks different in real life than in my head, it is the same dream. Thank you for that.”
Ammon smiled again, hiding the dark thoughts in his mind. At least someone is living their dream.
“Anyways, I was actually hoping to find you this afternoon. I haven’t seen you in my class the last few weeks. I wanted to check up on you, obviously, but I also have another matter of interest.
“It’s rather foolish of me, honestly, for the matter is about a rumor. I heard the rumor before the Trials, though I didn’t want to bother you before then. Now, though, I must insist. Is it true that the wind called to you?”
Ammon was puzzled at first. The event seemed so long ago, he had in fact forgotten all about it. He almost said no, for he felt as if he had seen the performance, rather than being the performer. It was Ammon who had played the song, yes. The wind had called to that boy. But did the wind call to me? To who I am now? No, I don’t think so.
“That’s what I hear,” was the best he could do.
“Hmm,” Kodin pondered, looking up and folding his arms, while stroking his chin with a free hand.
“And might I ask what song you played? I didn’t give much credence to the rumors, as many seemed to vary.”
“It was my own song. I created it from my studies. A story of Stardust and the birth of Proelum. The Greater War between light and dark angels. And finally, it all turned into a romance epic. The lyrics were simple, though I wrote it so the music told most of the story.”
“Incredible,” Kodin mused, holding his jaw with his other arm crossed. “Absolutely incredible. Sounds like a wonderful experience. Perhaps you will play it again someday.”
“Of course, Master,” Ammon said. He then tried to recall the song fingerings for his guitar, remembering only the first three. As it should be, he thought. I’m a different person now.
“Ammon, I’m going to share something with you that you can’t share with anyone else. No more of this rumor stuff. Do we understand each other?”
“Yeah,” Ammon stammered. He had never seen nor heard Master Kodin act like this. The Levitian was hunched over, bringing Ammon in close as if to share something unlawful. Or something sacred.
“Good. Two things. First, you are not the only one here to speak to the wind.”
Ammon was confused at first, before his Master’s words sank in.
“The wind called to you, too?” Ammon asked, his tone still quiet, though slightly more interested.
“Are you that surprised?”
Ammon’s eyes went wide. “No master, I…”
Kodin stifled a smile while shushing Ammon. “I’m teasing you. Yes, the wind has spoken to me. It called to me when I was but one year younger than you. And ever since that day, I have looked forward to speaking to another. Someone else who understands the wind.”
“I wouldn’t say I…”
“Whether you are aware of it or not, one who lacks understanding of the way of wind cannot summon it. You know more than you realize, as do we all.”
Ammon nodded, knowing it was pointless to argue with Kodin.
“Ahh, what a night that was. Do you remember it, Ammon? Do you remember the feeling?”
He thought on it, and realized he did. It reminded him of significance. Like the Whirlpool. Like the phantom storm. Like the Trials. He cleared his mind, trying to focus on the one thing. And it worked. He heard his song floating into his own mind. He then caught a shimmer of that feeling from before. He remembered it felt like seeing the ocean reefs at sunset, or the mountain peaks green with life.
“Yes. There is nothing like it. Overwhelming, almost.”
“I agree, Ammon. It’s like the purest desire. And that desire. That feeling of pure bliss ungraspable? I call it Gen.”
“Gen,” Ammon repeated, trying it out. Then it struck him. “Yes, I do know that feeling! I’ve been trying to find ways to describe it for years now. I feel it when I look out at the ocean, or at how the sunlight trickles through leaves in just the right way, you can’t help but feel something, or many things, are speaking to you. It’s like a cup overflowing with water.”
“Yes,” Kodin chuckled. “That pretty much sums it up.”
“That’s also my mother’s name for the Creator. She believes in him.”
Kodin gave him a look. “And you don’t?”
Ammon stammered.
“You really are too easy to mess with, young Ammon. You will find your own truth on that matter soon enough.”
Ammon nodded.
“Now, back to my song. I had prepared my own as well, while also mixing clay paint on canvas. Where you told the story with strings and echoes, I told most of my story with brushstroke and poetry, leaving the audience to wonder. As I finished the last note and stroke, the wind blew in, blurring the paint and patterning its own leaves and seeds. I learned much from observing this painting after. I still do to this day.
“Yet the feeling that came with it… it’s not one easily forgotten. There is science in the phenomena of the calling wind, to be sure. Yet that was the smallest aspect of it. The wind had truly come to speak to me.
“The wind whispers to the crowd in these moments too, blessing the entire island with the fruits of your performance. Even so, it’s far stronger for the artist. For the one who creates. The wind appears, attesting to an awoken creator.
“And that is my second secret. I won't even venture to guess where the wind is taking you. But I promise you this. Given a few years’ time, and maybe even less time than that, you will begin to understand. Allow yourself to release control. Give in to chance, and allow yourself to wonder, if the best isn’t yet to come.
“In the meantime, continue to create. Every day, create order and beauty from chaos, to fight as a soldier in this Greater War you speak of.”
Ammon nodded, though confusion still swirled inside him. He smiled on his face, though not in his heart. He wanted to give Kodin a genuine smile, for the man had tried to cheer him up.
He also knew there were probably more than a few grains of truth in what the man said. There always was with Kodin. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to fully appreciate it. As usual, it seemed like the man understood a bit of the issue, but not the main parts of it.
“Thank you, M
aster. I promise to keep watching for meaning. I will… do my best to keep on.”
Kodin nodded.
They walked a bit in silence then, where Kodin soon said, “You know, some believe Gen was a great big turtle, carrying the world on its back. Even great Kings of old taught such things. Could be true. Who’s to know?”
After another few minutes, Kodin slowed.
“Well, I should be going now. Much to do, little time.” He stepped off to walk away, then paused.
“Oh, one more question. I meant to ask you. Did your friend Jonah ever get the book I left for him?”
Puzzled, Ammon shook his head. “I’m not sure what…”
And then he stopped. He realized what Kodin was referring to. The restricted book Jonah had found in the Leviticum, right after their Equilibria game. The one that spoke of true Levitians.
“It was you who left it there?” Ammon asked. He felt surprised, and was grateful to Kodin moreso now than before for giving him a distraction.
“In a sense,” Kodin said, walking away. “Though I’m not sure how much it matters now. The boy is already in apprenticeship directly to Lyon. He should have his own access to the restricted books within his first few years. Tragic about his family. I’ll visit the boy and his sister soon.”
With that, Ammon zoned out. When he came to, he was already at the foot of the eastern steps. His mind drifted yet again as he climbed, as it did often these days.
V
Ammon ate dinner with his family, updating them on the statuses of Jonah, Bastion, and Krystal. Mother was upset that Jonah was not placed in their home for the tender love and care of a mother. She decided that she would speak to Master Lyon about an emergency transfer of the boy the next day. Father had looked at Ammon then before they both started laughing.
They laughed internally, of course, for Mother was clearly in protective mother-bear mode. When in this instinctive mode, she was not to be trifled with. Father seemed contemplative at the mention of the foreigners, though he held his tongue. They ate after that, then sat around the fire as Father played slower songs.
After some time, they each headed off to bed. Ammon cleaned himself up, crawled into his favorite nighttime clothes, then laid in his bunk. He peered down to Mikael’s bed, missing him terribly. It was a good feeling, as it was finally unaccompanied by jealousy. He genuinely missed his brother. Ammon looked up at the stars, knowing that someday he would look up at the same ones as a completely changed man. What kind of man will I become? Not a Guardian. But certainly there had to be something else. No, he thought. There is nothing else.
And that’s when he thought of Sadie. He could be a husband, and perhaps even a father. He could work in the Gardens, perhaps even taking up the mantle of the Arcanums by cultivating the Ansemithum flower. He could create his own family, and then dedicate his life to providing for them.
Living to bring life. This thought brought him the first glimmer of joy in a long while. It brought just enough, in fact, that he was soon lulled into a deep sleep.
VI
It was watching him. A dark humanoid form, immoveable. It did not breathe. It did not blink. It stood directly behind his body, looming over him. Ammon knew this darkness meant him great harm.
He tried to wake himself, but he couldn’t. He felt as if trapped in a collapsed cave, buried in boulders. At the same time, he stood outside of his body, looking for a distinguishable feature of this dark being. He tried to yell at it, to command it away from him. Yet no sound left his lips.
Ammon rushed to his own body, and suddenly was back inside. His eyes were glued shut, his limbs immovable. He could feel the emptiness of matter, the void the dark being carried with it, pulling away all peace and comfort, ripping it to shreds. He tried to calm the panic rising within him, all while striving to just wake up. It would go away if he could just wake up.
He would open his eyes. In three seconds.
One, two, three.
Nothing. Again.
One, two… three.
Nothing. He felt like he was sinking, deeper and deeper, while suffocating as real pressure built on his chest.
Ammon tried to move one finger. He felt the signal leave his brain, telling his body to react. Yet each time, the signal was interrupted, then dissipated. This thing is unnatural he thought, though his voice echoed aloud, for thoughts and dreams are closely intertwined. It rips apart matter and energy into nothing. That’s not possible.
He was losing control of his own body. Suddenly, his arm moved on command. His eyes fluttered. And then, he rolled over on his back and opened his eyes, gasping.
He was panting. The figure was gone. He was awake. He stood out of his bed, confronting the darkness. Moonlight shined into the room, illuminating every corner. He wanted to wake up his brother. Then he remembered. His brother wasn’t there.
“Ammon,” a soft voice called, so gently that it seemed to be an echo of nothing.
“So alone and afraid. Ammmon.”
His body drifted to the window at the back of the room. He looked out over the tops of the trees, seeing no signs of sunlight. Then, a subtle glow was born at the foot of the trees. As the green light grew, so did the volume of the voice. Then he saw it. The beast from the phantom storm.
“Ammoonnn!”
He fell back, terrified. “I am the messenger Master Lyon spoke to you about. Come to me, and I will tell you of your path.”
VII
Ammon awoke in bed drenched in sweat. He had never been so physically affected by a dream. He held his breath then, only to feel his lungs scream that he was alive. He was really awake this time. The green glow. The voice. Should he go out? It was only a dream. But what would it hurt to check?
Ammon threw on a sweater and slippers before walking to the same window in his dream. There was no green light outside, and it was too dark to distinguish a figure from the trees.
He crept downstairs as quickly and quietly as possible. He knew what he was doing was foolish, yet he was too tired to care. What’s the worst thing he would find out there? Pinecones?
He ran out the back door and towards the tree in his dream. About ten feet away, he stopped. He still couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. He took a few steps closer.
“Ammon,” came the same voice from his dream. He was instantly petrified, flash-frozen. Yet somehow he remained motionless and calm.
“Who are you?” he asked the stranger.
“I am the messenger spoken of by Master Lyon. My name shall not be revealed unless you choose to become my apprentice.”
The voice sounded of a woman who had experienced life with great joy and pain. The confidence and stillness in her voice was unlike anything Ammon had ever heard. Her figure was hooded with a full-bodied robe which emanated dark green shimmers. She was seated at the foot of the tree, blending in until she moved.
“Where do you come from?” he asked.
“Another question of which I will reserve the answer, unless I deem you worthy as my apprentice.” He had heard this voice before. Recently, it seemed, and not from previous dreams.
“Are you one of the Monoruin foreigners?”
She was silent, and then, “No.”
Ammon waited for her to say more. She remained quiet and still, though he could feel her eyes upon him. Her look did not feel like one of admiration or idleness. She was sizing him up. Judging him. But for what?
“You have chosen wisely to trust your dreams, to seek me here. Though this was a small trial, you have proven successful. It shows that you may have a chance, albeit a small one, to enter my apprenticeship.”
Ammon held back his scoff. She remained silent. Who does she think she is?
“Why would I want to apprentice with you? You still haven’t told me who you are.”
Suddenly, an image struck him like a punch to the face. He saw the storm beasts swooping down on him. One sought to consume, while the other shielded him. He fell back into reality, panting. He was lying
on the forest ground with pine needles in his back. He sat up, wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked at her.
“Now, you will awaken tomorrow and prepare for your final trial. Should you pass, you will be leaving your home for the next five years. I would suggest preparing as if you will succeed. However, it is likely you will fail. Which is something you’re accustomed to, I hear.”
Her words struck him hard. He felt ashamed that this stranger held such power over him. Yet at the same time, he was impressed. Intrigued. She obviously had power.