Prophets of the Ghost Ants

by Clark Thomas Carlton

  Eighty men and women grabbed the bow from handles along its back. Anand joined Hopkut and Dwan at one end as they started a chant. The men and women rocked back and forth in what became a dance. As the speed of the chant increased, so did their movement. Suddenly, a white and fragrant vapor arose from the divot.

  “What is that?” Anand asked. “It smells good!”

  “Smoke,” Dwan replied. “No questions, we can’t stop now.”

  As the smoke increased, Hopkut and several others left the line and forked shredded hay on the smoke’s source. The hay caught the smoke and its edges glowed with a brilliant orange that spread to the bottom of the woodpile. Men and women ran over and waved fans of green leaves that spread the glow deeper. The smoke built upon itself, then spread like fog. As the chips caught the glow, Hopkut stared and gauged the moment to call for escape.

  “Now!” he shouted, and the fire builders ran to the ropes and climbed them in a quick but orderly fashion. Hopkut and Anand were the last to go. Anand was captivated by the strange beauty of erupting flames, which flickered like windblown leaves in autumn. He felt a heat that was painful as fire leapt out and licked the air around him. “Anand! We must go!” Hopkut shouted. He grabbed Anand and yanked him toward the ladder.

  The fire spread to the wood on top and the smoke turned an ominous black. Hopkut, Anand, and the others ran to the pit’s rim to push over the barrels. Anand was alarmed to see they were loaded with a great fortune of silver pyrite. Everyone ran from the pit and stood downwind. Only Anand remained behind, astonished that so much wealth was being thrown into this strange and beautiful thing called fire which appeared to be destroying it.

  “Anand,” screamed Dwan. “Get away from there! If you breathe that smoke, you could die!”

  It was too late. The smoke was overwhelmingly sweet and Anand inhaled a sudden thickness of it, then felt suddenly ill and collapsed. He looked at Dwan whose eyes bulged in panic as he held his breath, ran back for Anand and threw him over his shoulder.

  Blackness . . . an empty, soundless void, a place of abject loneliness. Anand was a dead leaf floating on a cold wind. Who had ever felt like him? Who knew what it was like to be a stranger to everyone and at home nowhere? He sensed he had been almost dead for days but was finally returning to the living world. Suddenly, he saw something floating towards him, glowing in the dark: a scroll with the title The Loose Doctrine of Dranveria. He opened the tube and pulled out its thickness of pages, looked at them with awe as they lit up like fire and dispersed the darkness.

  As light filled the void, Anand realized he was in a place of comfort, on a warm mattress, waking from the longest dream. Beside him were Dwan and his parents and another woman who peered in concern. She wore a tunic of bright pink over her red leggings. Anand tasted something bitter that had been squeezed in his mouth while he was unconscious.

  “Drink as much water as you can,” said the woman in pink.

  Dwan raised Anand so he could suck his water. “What happened?” he asked.

  “You breathed in the fumes,” said Dwan.

  “But it smelled sweet.”

  “We told you to run. The smoke was full of arsenic.”

  “Arsenic?”

  “Poison. To all creatures.”

  “And who are you, Holiness?” he asked the woman as she looked through her bag with assorted jars. “I have never met a female priest.”

  “I am not a ‘holiness.’ I am the physician,” said the woman.

  “I don’t know this word.”

  “She’s a healer,” said Dwan.

  “Yes, but what temple are you from?” Anand asked. “Which god has healed me so that I might make an offering?”

  “I am not from a temple,” said the physician with a chuckle, “and I bring no magic potions. I have given you medicine.”

  “Medicine? What is that?” asked Anand.

  “You must be all right if you are back to asking questions,” said Dwan, laughing. Anand noticed Dwan and Hopkut were dressed in tight clothing that was embedded with what looked like beeswax. Their hands were inside bulky mittens and around their necks was the type of breathing filter that Slopeish soldiers used when they fought the Seed Eaters.

  “Why are you dressed like that?” Anand asked.

  “To protect ourselves when we walk through the ashes today and gather the arsenic,” said Dwan.

  “I want to gather arsenic, too,” Anand said.

  “No,” said the physician. “You are to lie in bed and recover. That is all.”

  “Perhaps we can bring you something to read,” said Belja.

  “I dreamt of reading The Loose Doctrine,” said Anand. “I should like to read that.”

  The silence that followed had a majestic richness as Dwan’s family looked to each other, then back at Anand.

  “We would be ecstatic to bring you a copy of The Loose Doctrine,” said Belja. “And paper and pen to copy it.”

  “You’ll need to make your own red ink,” said Dwan, “and add a couple of drops of your own blood.”

  “Blood? Why?” Anand asked.

  “Because our history is a bloody one.”

  CHAPTER 29

  THE LOOSE DOCTRINE

  As the Dranverites’ troopers rolled toward the latest incursion on their distant borders, Anand read and copied The Loose Doctrine. The preface of the book reminded the reader that the history of any people was slanted by the views of the writers and nothing was to be completely accepted as fact. The first chapter of the Doctrine apologized in its heading for being a long and monotonous list of the thousands of peoples known to have inhabited the area currently occupied by the Collective Nations. One tribe of people would establish a kingdom, a republic or a military state that was absorbed, chased off, or destroyed by invaders.

  In the last five thousand years, converging nations attempted to share the land with borders that respected racial, religious, and linguistic divisions. The vast majority of conflicts were over territories and their resources, but their causes were attributed to demands on humans from their deities. The deities never stated their desires directly to the masses, but chose prophets to speak for them. Problems arose when different prophets of the same or different gods presented different messages. Some prophets called for peace and tolerance, some for holy wars, and some presented gibberish that was interpreted by others for their own purposes.

  Most prophets sought converts for their religions, but some tribes hoarded their gods and neither proselytized nor forced conversions. These tribes saw their own races as descending from gods, or they believed they were chosen by a god to fulfill a mission. These racist tribes had periods of ascendancy in which they enslaved other peoples they deemed inferior. The slaves broke away to rally around their own prophet whose goal was to destroy the over-class and obtain their own slaves.

  The last two thousand years of Dranverish history was little different than the previous. Waves of monotheistic religions swept over the land with conversions made at the points of swords. Implementations of a single idol were subverted by internal movements to resurrect old gods. Saints of one universal god were eventually worshipped as new gods. A single god or goddess eventually called for a different sexed counterpart or an alternate demon that ruled from a punishing netherworld. Tyrants came to power who banned all religions but ended up being worshipped themselves.

  The Unholy War of Near-Annihilation ended with the Destruction of the Idols, which marked year one of the modern era. In the center of the Dranverites’ plain was the Great Holy Rock, which had been warred over for ages. The Rock was a massive dome of pink quartz and its magnificence inspired religious awe. Five nations laid claim to it as the center of their faith.

  An ascending power, the Koozhi Nation, believed the Rock was an egg laid by their Red Ant Goddess and at its center was their warrior-savior, Ebwum. A Koozhi prophet demanded the destruction of all temples and their idols on or near the Rock and then the destruction of the Rock itself. It was
a massive labor that chiseled the Rock into glittering rubble in order to release the Third Coming of Ebwum and commence The Thousand Year Peace. No savior was inside the Rock, and instead of peace, a conflict was ignited that pitted all the nations against each other. Hundreds of millions died.

  A council of interfaith clergy from the five nations convened during a truce to urge the re-forming of the Rock. They demanded that all who had stolen its shards and fragments return them to be pieced back together or face death. Others, including a coalition of scholars, wanted the Rock to remain destroyed so it could never inspire another war. They suggested its fragments be used in the creation of a five-sided Hall of Peace.

  The demand for a Hall of Peace was clear. Rising up in all the lands was the idea that the gods were dead and it was pointless to worship them. Others posited the notion that the gods had abandoned mortals. Stronger still was the growing belief that there had never been any gods, and if they did exist, they did not intercede in the affairs of humans. The Koozhis’ prophets had been wrong. So were those of the other religions who predicted the end of the world with the destruction of the Rock. The conclusion was accepted that all prophecies originated within men and women, not from a god.

  As new conflicts threatened to break out, a Great Consortium gathered to create an edict. The following laws were enacted:

  No one may kill another human under any circumstance other than in self-defense. All those who have killed must be removed from the fellowship of humans so they may never kill again.

  All individuals must be held accountable for their actions. No one is allowed to take the defense of violating another to honor the requests of a god or gods or the creeds of his or her god or gods.

  All men and women must be allowed to worship as they please. No one may force his religious beliefs on another or persecute a worshipper of different beliefs or persecute one who worships his god or gods in a different manner. The decision of those who choose not to worship must be respected.

  No one may steal from, cheat, harm, or enslave another, especially when these actions are justified as being permitted by one people to do to another with the permission of a god or gods.

  No man, woman, or child will be restricted to a permanent status or occupation because of the circumstances of his or her birth.

  All men and women are not created as equals, but all must be treated equally.

  Anand needed twenty-eight days to copy the book. He was devastated by its contents, excited by its vivid descriptions of wars, confused by its jumble of information. Dwan and the scholars watched Anand as he set down his pen and capped the ink-mixed-with-blood.

  “You have finished, Anand-shmi,” said Dwan.

  “I have.”

  “And what do you think?” asked Babwott.

  Anand paused. “I think I should like to become a citizen of your Collective Nations and join in your latest defensive effort.”

  “Not permissible. You are not trained as a soldier. And you must be inducted in a rite before becoming a full citizen.”

  “But I wish to help.”

  “Certainly. You can prepare food. Or bandages. There are many other things you can do, but for your own safety, you will not be allowed near the battlefields.”

  Though it filled him with dread, Anand knew exactly what he wanted to do. “Who will take care of the prisoners?” he asked.

  CHAPTER 30

  THE DEFENSIVE MEASURE

  A few days later, Anand became a sworn citizen of the Collective Nations. He completed the rite before Dwan and his parents, Babwott and the Learned Ones. On a dais set under a blooming, blood-red poppy, it became his turn to read aloud the daily passage from The Loose Doctrine. He promised to abide by its laws and swore loyalty to its principles. Afterwards, he took his copy of the Doctrine, tore it to shreds, and then plunged it into a basin of water where its ink dissolved.

  “No idol, book, word, place, or relic should ever be held sacred,” he said. “Only human life is sacred.”

  Next, Dwan and his parents presented Anand with three deities he had selected to be made out of candy. They were Madricanth, Goddess Bee, and Goddess Ant Queen. Anand took a mallet and smashed them into pieces. “Today you are a Dranverite,” said Dwan.

  The congregation stood and clapped and the candy was distributed. Afterwards was a feast and the opening of gifts. The first gift was a compact version of The Loose Doctrine that Anand could keep on his person along with a magnifying glass he could use to read its fine print.

  The feast came to an early end when flying-scouts on locusts returned to camp with detailed reports of the invaders, who the Dranverites had taken to calling the Sand Tribe. Anand was given a printed agenda describing the invaders that came from a device that could manufacture as many copies as desired. He was amazed by the amount of information the Dranverites had already accumulated on the Sand Tribe without making contact.

  The assault on the Sand Tribe was nothing like the maneuvers on the Cajorite pioneers. Sand people were bizarre in appearance and fierce foot-warriors that herded ants too small to ride. The sand ants were half the size of men, but they were quick and could overwhelm insect or human prey with their poisonous stings. Like the humans who had domesticated them, they were covered in glue, then fine sand, which allowed them an effective camouflage. Opponents would wander into an ambush to see clusters of sand suddenly rise and hurl tethered spears that were jerked back to be hurled again.

  The Dranverites had surprises of their own, though. On top of their red ants were hollow dummies stuffed into armor. The legs and arms of the dummies were filled with beetle maggots to give the appearance of moving limbs. The deception was only needed for a moment, for it roused the Sand Tribe and their ants into battle mode.

  The Sand Tribe were facing the fake warriors when the Dranverites converged in overwhelming numbers on their rear. In less than sixty breaths, their blow-darts found every target. Anand was called in with others to gather the paralyzed. He marveled at the efficiency of the Dranverites, of the thoroughness of their plan. As he spaced the captives throughout the wagons, he looked at them with pity and wondered, who were these invaders? Were they forced to emigrate by cruel rulers? Maybe they were a band of criminals who had been expelled by a people as just as the Dranverites. Whoever they were, each and every one of them was suffering the Living Death.

  Dwan, smelling the breath of a small girl, said, “Apparently they eat their own ants.”

  “And other humans,” said Babwott, noticing that most of them wore necklaces of human teeth. “This loincloth is made of human leather.”

  Anand became less sympathetic when he learned they were cannibals, but he was impassioned about bringing relief to them on the trek back. With a piece of parchment, he ticked off the thirty days and showed the marks to the glazed eyes of the paralyzed. Each night he fell into bed ragged with exhaustion.

  On the eighteenth evening, Dwan was in his own bed when he heard Anand enter the wagon, drop onto the mattress and moan.

  “Will you spend all of your time with the captives, Anand? We have missed you. The scholars want to know when they can resume their exchanges.”

  Anand was silent. As tired as his limbs were, his mind was active.

  “I swore to Madricanth I would massacre those responsible for sentencing me to the Living Death. It was thirty days, but it felt like thirty years.”

  “I know your agony,” said Dwan.

  “How could you?”

  “I have suffered the Living Death, too. It is a part of every soldier’s initiation—the worst time of my life.”

  Anand was silent for a moment. “But you knew that after thirty days you would have your limbs back and live. We suffered not knowing . . . not knowing how long this spell would last, or if we would become the dinners of cannibals.”

  Anand writhed as he recalled his torment. It was Dwan’s turn to be silent.

  “It is a horrible thing to do to anyone, but that is precisely why we do
it.”

  “Why?”

  “To put fear in invaders. This is how we have avoided wars with the outside for over five hundred years. The Slopeites will be very reluctant to wander north again. If they do, we will repeat the process until they stop coming.”

  “There must be an alternative,” Anand said.

  “There is. We could have killed you.”

  Anand was aware of the crickets chirping. Their noise cut his ear like a blade.

  “Dwan, I’ve been told that at some point I will be sent back. When?”

  “You can go back at any time. We would prefer you went back as our informed emissary.”

  “And to tell what to whom?”

  “Two things. First, you will warn their leaders not to bring themselves or their tree destroying ants into our country. Slopeites, like all ants and humans, have what we call a territorial instinct, an innate desire to expand, to conquer new territory. Ants cannot be dissuaded from their instincts, but humans can be. The Slopeites must accept that they cannot expand here. Nor should they do it elsewhere.”

  “And the second?” asked Anand.

  “The second mission is more complex. We wish for you to spread the ideas of The Loose Doctrine.”

  “They will not consider your ideas. The Slopeites are certain they are the only civilized nation on the Sand. And they do not read.”

  “Very likely some do. Perhaps the priests . . . in secret. Every people, including your Britasytes, believe they are a divine race. Most believe their country is at the center of the world . . . until they are conquered.”

  Anand had heard this all his life from both his tribes. “And what if the Slopeites spurn your advance?” he asked. “As a half-breed, I would be killed before they allowed me an audience with priests and royals.”

  “We can provide you with some impressive trappings, some well-trained troopers, and gifts to make them receptive. More importantly, we hope you will bring our message, not just to the enslavers, but to the slaves. It is among them that our ideas will take deepest root.”