by Tara Omar
The scaffolds glowed orange as the tribesman changed their weapons, lengthening them from both ends into bows. In less than a minute the sky rained metal as the humans shot their arrows at the mers, who screamed and flung their blades with even more vengeance than before. Crispin ducked, just missing a blade as it whirled past his head.
“Sheesh, some days it ain’t great being a peaceful people,” said Crispin, throwing the next sandbag. “They’d better do their jobs up there.”
Imaan shrieked.
“They’ve reached the Kasbah! Cephas, they’re breaching the Kasbah!” yelled Imaan, pointing from the edge of the baobab. Her long hair was wild from the frantic pacing, her eyes fixed on the advancing mers. “The armies on the right are too many!”
Cephas spun around. “Octavites, Elites, double back to right! Defend right!” he shouted, jumping from scaffold to scaffold. “Humphrites prepare the next scaffold! All other tribes aim at their King!”
Norbert dropped his sandbag and ran toward the next row of scaffolds, ducking as a bloodied Aaronite crashed into the waters next to him. A cruel, thunderous laugh echoed behind him; it came from the mer King who stood half-submerged in the great centre wave, bare-chested and laughing. Another Aaronite dove at the King, but he clubbed him with his mace as though flicking a fly. Norbert trembled and ran.
“Bring him down, tribes! Bring him down now!” shouted Cephas, flailing around. He shot three arrows at once, all aimed at the mer King’s chest. They hit their target, but bounced harmlessly away. The King smirked, challenging him.
“Humphrites, again next scaffold!” cried Cephas, shooting more arrows.
The Humphrites poured toward the row behind him. As they ran a terrified scream echoed out; Cephas looked to the baobab.
“They’re breaching the wall! Cephas, the mers are entering the Kasbah!” shouted Imaan.
Cephas roared. Every human not fighting was huddled in the Kasbah, the stone stronghold at the edge of the sky. If they did not force surrender soon, the entire human race would be slaughtered.
“COME ON TRIBES! For Aeroth! For humans! For your families! The death of a king merits automatic surrender! BRING THIS MER KING DOWN!” Cephas shouted, jumping from scaffold to scaffold as he shot arrow after arrow. Norbert stopped dead in his tracks.
Charlie! The mers are nearing Charlie!
“Come on, Norbert, keep moving!” shouted Crispin, running with Loam. Norbert shook his head and followed them, running from the waves as they bit at his heals. As he ran, Norbert looked back, just as the mer King rubbed the corner of his eye with his finger.
Norbert froze, falling forward as a Humphrite barrelled into him from behind. He pulled himself up and looked again, squinting as he focused on the small greyish-black band on the mer King’s wrist.
“Is that our shield? Do the mers have Adam’s shield?” asked Norbert. Norbert bit his lip, looking from the King, to the scaffold, to the wave and back again. Then he changed direction, running straight for the watery wall.
C H A P T E R 2
“Norbert, what are you doin’?” shouted Crispin, watching as his friend shoved his way in the opposite direction of the rushing Humphrites. Norbert waved him on.
“Just go!” shouted Norbert.
Crispin nodded and hurried forward through the muddy sand, while Norbert jumped into the ring of sandbags under an abandoned scaffold. He thrust his shovel as far into the dirt as he could manage, crouching down and clutching it tightly as he prepared for the wave to hit.
“Okay, Melinda, you see what I’m going to do. When the time is right, give me the best weapon you can muster,” said Norbert, closing his eyes tight. He whispered a quick prayer as the ground began to tremble underneath him, while a thunderous rumbling announced the sea’s rapid approach. Norbert took a deep breath. The wave blasted over the scaffold like a battering ram, slamming him and Melinda into the back of the sandbags. A rainbow of colour stampeded over him as the Nephilim charged forward. The ends of their armour dangled in the water, revealing two long fins where their feet and shins should be, one for each leg. Norbert lay under them against the sandbags, trying to look as miserably injured as possible.
Please don’t anybody notice me, please, please, please, prayed Norbert. His lungs burned for want of air, but Norbert held still. As the last mer ran over him, Norbert floated forward and kicked hard toward the surface, grabbing a flat piece of broken scaffold as he burst through the top of the sea.
Well, praise Avinoam for that, thought Norbert, arching his head back as the sea swelled over him. Norbert looked around when the sea receded, readying his stance. As the water swung forward he thrust the plank under his stomach and paddled with all his might. He pulled himself up onto a wave, surfing through the Nephil army, his body aimed at the back of the mer King.
“Here we go, Melinda,” said Norbert, flexing his fingers. He moved himself past a mer and into the perfect position just as the wave underneath him crashed downward, collapsing into a small puddle at the centre of a marble floor. The entire Nephil army shrunk and fell into a heap, with the now tiny Norbert sprawled on top. A fluffy cloud appeared above them, flashing a title message, The Biography of Norbert Bransby: A Herbal Epic, now paused. Norbert jumped to his feet atop the pile of mers, staring up at the giant, long-haired woman who had just clicked a large remote.
“Hey, what’s the big idea, my Lady Imaan?” squeaked Norbert. “It’s not like my bum’s made of rubber, you know.”
“Apologies,” said Imaan. She sat behind a large wooden desk in the magnificent crystal-domed classroom known as the Temple Learning Centre, its stained glass windows now darkened with the night. A group of girls in pale pink veils sat in desks around the puddle, playing with shrunken shells and Nephil blades from the recent scene. Of the twelve maidens in her class, two had their notebooks open.
“Maidens, maidens, please pay attention. The events in this film are vital for your training,” said Imaan, rubbing her eyebrows.
“But the Great War happened almost three hundred years ago, and we all know the story. Can’t we watch something more recent, more relevant?” asked a girl toward the back. She fiddled with her pile of shells from the 4-D movie, arranging them in patterns on her desk. Imaan shook her head.
“How can you ever hope to learn, Mary, if you do not study?”
“But Gabe says—”
“Mr Silbi is not to be mentioned in this class,” said Imaan, aiming the remote at Norbert. “He is a snake that has poisoned your mind.”
“Liar,” said another girl under her breath. Imaan set down the remote.
“I beg your pardon, Beatrice?” asked Imaan.
Beatrice sat up straighter, trying to look important.
“I—I called you a liar. Gabe has done a lot for this country with his inventions and all; you going on about him being a reincarnated snake is crazy enough as it is, but I cannot stand for you telling Mary her mind’s poisoned when there is no proof in the Sacred Memories of any such poison, only hearsay clues in the apocryphal legends.”
“Beatrice, you cannot talk to Lady Imaan like that. You forget your place,” said Liza from a seat in the corner. Liza was Imaan’s assistant and successor. Beatrice rolled her eyes.
“Pull out the Sacred Memories,” said Imaan. “We will discuss Maiden Beatrice’s concerns.”
“Aw, Lady, can’t we just finish the movie?” asked another girl, slumping into her chair.
“That is quite enough from all of you,” said Imaan, tapping her desk. “Pull out the manuscript now.”
The class groaned as they rummaged through their sacks, searching for their copies of the Sacred Memories. Imaan pulled out her own copy, which was worn from much reading. Given the text’s importance, the pages of her book were filled with exact replicas of the original scrolls, complete with all their tears and holes. She turned to a particularly ratt
y page.
“Ah. Here we are. Chronicles of Qoholeth, First High Priest of Humans, in the Days of Adam and Eve,” said Imaan, smiling. “Now before we begin, let us first establish the facts in which we are all in agreement. We all agree that Avinoam formed the humans from clay and set them in Paradise?”
“Yes,” grumbled the girls mechanically. Imaan nodded.
“Good. And we all can see the existence of Paradise Island in the middle of the Oceana? Or is it some sort of mirage or other such trick of the eye or mind?”
A girl coughed awkwardly as the others sat still.
“Beatrice, would you please confirm?” asked Imaan.
“There is an island at the centre of Oceana,” said Beatrice, her face reddening.
“Very good. Would you also please confirm that neither man nor mer can set foot on that island, as it is guarded by the fierce cherubim?”
“That is correct,” grumbled Beatrice.
Imaan smiled. “Excellent. So we all agree that much is correct; Avinoam did form us from clay and set us in Paradise. We also agree that presently we are no longer in Paradise, for Avinoam split the land in two and banished us from the island, which we can all see still exists at the centre of Oceana. But what happened that we were banished? Do you have any evidence to offer, Beatrice?”
“No, Lady,” said Beatrice, clenching her teeth. She stared at the floor as though she wanted to burn it. Imaan sighed.
“Of course not. We must go back to the texts written by the people who were nearest to that event, to the ancient memories of the high priests in the past. It is unfortunate the text is so badly damaged, but I trust we have no issues with its validity. If you do, please do not hesitate to stop us.”
Imaan turned to her assistant in the corner.
“Would you read for us, please, Liza? To refresh our memories…”
Liza adjusted her veil and read between the holes.
After many a month of sleepless nights searching, I have finally managed to track the wretched creature… already the first events of our beloved parents have become muddled in popular understanding. At times, even I find it difficult to believe such a low creature was once… I fear, above all, the people will forget the presence of these Sea Peoples, especially now that the Nephilim have been forced to remain hidden from our sight in the depths of the sea. Though the Almighty Lord Avinoam has forbidden them access to dry land, I fear we may meet them again, for it cannot be denied that their jealousy of humans still rages like the torrent, and their ultimate end is our extermination.
“Stop there, Liza. Thank you,” said Imaan. “Let us now review the legend lest we forget that as well. Unlike the Sacred Memories, the legends do not come from the priests and may therefore, as Beatrice has pointed out, be suspect. However, we all know that the priests’ memories were almost completely lost during the reign of Eli, and our history nearly wiped out. We must therefore examine the legends and glean what we can from them, in case they hint at important truths that were lost. I feel this particular legend—about our minds being poisoned—has much to offer. Liza, would you please recount the legend for us, lest we’ve forgotten any details?”
“Lady, I’m sure you would tell it much better than would I,” said Liza, smiling. Imaan shook her head.
“Come, come, Liza. As my successor, I could not think of a more fitting person to tell it.”
“Very well, Lady, if you insist.”
Liza walked to the centre of the room in front of the puddle. She cleared her throat and stiffened, her eyes widening a little too far. A bellowing voice poured from inside her as she began to recount the legend.
In the days of old when the mers were bold,
King Neph with envy was filled.
“Send a mer who’s bold to the land untold,”
Said he, “We’ll have them killed.”
And so a mer went with his mind thus bent
To Paradise ready to kill.
He found an old flow’r whose fruit had the pow’r
To work as a poisonous pill.
Now when Adam ate, for he took the bait,
Did mer laugh, “What a man so dense!”
But oh did he err, this murderous mer,
Ill fate caused him great offense.
Lapsed time was great, lapsed life came late.
Lo, soon not was Adam left mute.
In time Avi asked, with glory then masked,
“Who did eat the forbidden fruit?”
Adam did all confide, for his guilt could not hide.
Sea and land then heard Avi roar,
“Encase that mer in a slith’ry snare.
Let foul works be now no more!”
Naught stopped what began though, for none pitied man;
Soon the poison worked its ill toll.
Mem’ry went bleary and good became dreary
And mischief tainted man’s soul.
And though Adam survives in many new lives,
To death all his children now go.
For Leviathan waits with a mind full of hates,
Ever willing to fill men with woe!
Liza paused as she finished her recitation. Her veil slipped backward and her eyes looked glassy, like she had just been told the most dreadful news. The whole class gaped at her, transfixed by her unexpected performance. Even Beatrice stared. Liza shook her head and replaced her veil.
“In other words, the legend says an evil mer tried to assassinate our first parents by tricking them into eating the forbidden fruit in Paradise,” said Liza. “Adam and Eve ate the fruit, consuming a horrible poison that makes humans seek their own deaths. When Avinoam discovered what had happened, the ground broke into two; Avinoam protected Paradise from both humans and mers, and the land from the mers by forbidding them access. Avinoam then punished the assassin by imprisoning him in the body of a snake or water snake, which became known to humans as the Leviathan. The whereabouts of the Leviathan have been lost throughout the centuries, though the Lady believes he has disguised himself as none other than Mr Gabriel Silbi. People do not see this, though, because the poison he gave to our first parents makes it nearly impossible to discern. This poison, according to the legend, has been transmitted to each one of us, making us forget what is good and want what is bad, which is why the aforementioned gentleman is so popular. Have I left anything out?”
Imaan shook her head.
“Thank you, Liza. That was a most original telling,” said Imaan. “So the humans have been poisoned. This makes them forgetful, and therefore they desire wrong things. That is why the High Priest shuns all desires—to keep her mind clear so as to give an accurate record of history for the people, so people do not forget. The High Priest leads with her memories as Qoholeth is now leading us. I think he has offered clues in his memory which give a strong case for the validity of this legend. Can you find any such comparisons?”
The girls stared at her.
“Anyone?” asked Imaan impatiently. Several hands reluctantly went up.
“Yes, Sarah?” asked Imaan.
“The shield. How would the mers get Adam’s shield if they did not try to kill Adam?”
“Very good, Sarah, that is an excellent use of the film. The mer King was wearing Adam’s shield when they attacked, so they must have had previous contact. Anything else, maidens, particularly in regard to the text?” asked Imaan, looking around.
“Low creature,” said another girl, raising her hand. “Qoholeth describes a low creature in his memory, and snakes, like the one in the legend, are low to the ground. Qoholeth also mentions ‘wretched,’ implying it was cursed by Avinoam.”
“Excellent, Sandra,” said Imaan, clicking her heels as she paced with her book. “How about in regard to our minds being poisoned? Think now.”
The girls paused.
“Already become muddled,” said another girl. “The phrase in Qoholeth’s memory imp
lies forgetfulness, and the poison is supposed to make you forget.”
“Most excellent, Catherine. If you keep to your studies, you may soon follow Liza as Liza follows me.”
The girl beamed, hastily scratching more notes into her already-crammed notebook.
“If we follow our desires—like not wanting to pay attention in class, for example—we succumb to the poison and begin to do dangerous things—like forgetting the meaning of wars,” said Imaan. “The priesthood and the priests’ memories are gifts from Avinoam, to help counteract the poison and to keep the humans safe. Not everyone can fight the poison as we do, so we must protect them. The priests are the protectors of humanity.”
“Lady, if we find an anecdote will we maidens still have to be so miserable?” asked Mary, swirling a shell around with her finger.
“Antidote, Mary, not anecdote, and we are disciplined, not miserable,” corrected Liza.
“We should find an anecdote,” said Mary.
“I have been searching my whole life for both anecdotes and antidotes, my dear. I hope you will someday have better luck,” said Imaan. “For now, we must make the best of what we have and avoid our suspect desires, for the good of the people.”
“This evidence is still inconclusive,” said Beatrice. “The separation of the island from the mainland could have been coincidental, and the shield acquired through other means. And there is still no evidence about Gabe—Mr Silbi—being the Leviathan. I think it’s dangerous to make up things, whether you claim to be the High Priest and Divine Mediator or not, especially if you make accusations.”
“Hush, Beatrice, you are being impertinent,” said Liza.
“I am simply saying that I do not see how you can teach with such confidence about a poison when it’s only vaguely implied in the Sacred Memories,” said Beatrice. “It says nothing directly about any poison as far as I can tell.”