Transcendence

by Transcendence [lit]

  „Do you believe that there will be such a child, a clear-cut God-Voice speaking the tenets as fluently as our present Chezru Chieftain?“

  Thei’a’hu settled back even farther at the continuing blunt, bordering on heretical, declarations of Yatol Bohl. That was it, was it not? Either they be­lieved that such a creature would be born into their midst, literally as

  Douan had said, or they did not. And if they did not, then perhaps uld do well to find a child whose mother would favor Bohl and friend, if such a child is found, then perhaps we should abandon selection and fall in line with the others,“ Bohl went on. „And if not, hen what have we lost?“ If we find a bright child to elevate, there remains the problem of Chezru an’s choice of Shepherd Merwan Ma as tutor and mentor the „ Yatol Thei’a’hu reminded. „Merwan Ma above all others will help shape the next Chezru, and he is likely of similar mind and heart as Douan, else he would not have been chosen. That heart is not sympathetic for Eh’thu, I am sure.“

  „Merwan Ma is insignificant,“ Yatol Bohl insisted. „He will be a minor player in the future of Yatol.“

  „Not according to Chezru Douan.“ „Who will be dead and buried,“ the other reminded. Yatol Thei’a’hu narrowed his sleepy eyes at the obvious threat, for Bohl’s tone made it quite clear that he believed he could have Merwan Ma elimi­nated, if the need arose, and that he would not hesitate to do so.

  Yakim Douan watched it all with a considerable amount of amusement - for he, too, was in that quiet room in the luxurious northern quarter of Jacintha. Not physically. Physically, Yakim Douan was in Chom Deiru, the Chezru palace in Jacintha, in his meditation room, where none would dare disturb his private communion with Yatol. Little did they know/that^his true communion on that day, as on many, was with a certain hematite, magical soul stone. Using that magic, Yakim walked out of his body, his spirit silently making its way along the streets, following troublesome Yatol Bohl to his temporary quarters in the city.

  How convenient that Bohl had chosen that very day, the same d^y as the speech of Transcendence, to further his nefarious plotting with Yatol Thei’a’hu.

  It saddened Yakim Douan to learn that Thei’a’hu was in on Bohl’s grow­ing conspiracy. He had always been rather fond of the man, and though he knew that Thei’a’hu harbored some resentment about the loss of his north­ern reaches, Yakim hadn’t imagined that his decision had put the man so far into Bohl’s dangerous court.

  Bohl’s last statement, though, hinting at eliminating Merwan Ma, had not surprised Yakim Douan in the least. He understood Bohl well, had over the centuries seen many men of similar impatience and weakened faith. Indeed, Yakim Douan was one of them!

  How could he not sympathize with Bohl? The man, who obviously isn t sold on the specific concept of Yatol Paradise, was merely being ‘ragmatic, much as the disillusioned Yakim Douan had acted pragmatically those centuries before when he had discovered his own secret to immortal­ity, one that made logical sense to him.

  If he had a body about him at that moment, Yakim Douan would have is-sued a revealing sigh. In looking at Bohl, so much a younger version of his own first incarnation, Yakim Douan considered, and not for the first time not even for the hundredth time, that he had the power to offer true im­mortality to others, a select few, perhaps, friends and lovers who could coast through the centuries beside him. His was not necessarily a lonely ex­istence, for in each incarnation as God-Voice, he was able to surround him­self with friends, and certainly the Chezru Chieftain had little trouble in finding the carnal companionship of many, many women.

  But what might it be like to walk the centuries with another? With Bohl perhaps, or Merwan Ma?

  It was a passing thought, as always. For taking such a course would surely invite great risk. A companion who knew the truth of the hematite and Transcendence might speak out to a friend, or might allow himself to fall in love and wish to take yet another on the century-walking journey. Or even worse, a companion might harbor ambitions to become the God-Voice, threatening a position that Yakim Douan did not wish to relinquish.

  For who but a pragmatic, not overly spiritual man might Yakim Douan convince to follow him on his eternal journey. Only a man like young Yakim, or like Bohl, a man who harbored innermost doubts about Yatol, would desire this journey, and a man such as that, Yakim Douan knew first­hand, could not truly be trusted. A man without the true belief in Paradise, and thus, without the true fear of Yatol, was a man who desired to make Paradise his own in this life.

  Whatever the cost.

  His body would have sighed again had it been there, as Yakim Douan realized what he now had to do to eliminate this latest threat, to eliminate Yatol Bohl.

  And yes, he realized, Yatol Thei’a’hu, as well.

  How might he do that without causing a major disruption in all the church, a ripple that would shake the groundwork he had struggled so hard to put in place? If it was but one man, one caravan, he could order his Chezhou-Lei warriors out, disguised as bandits. Even if the great warriors were recognized by any survivors of that caravan for who they were, no one would believe mere escorts. But two Yatol priests and two caravans?

  It would have to be orchestrated carefully and over time.

  Over time. Yakim Douan was biting his lip in frustration even as he re-entered his corporeal form back in the palace. He did not want to delay the resolution to this newest problem, did not want to spend the next weeks - even months, perhaps - in executing the deserving Yatols, then waiting for the results to shake out. I might…“ he started to say, but he stopped short, his lips curl ‘ent right back out in spiritual form, leaping through the hematal then soaring across the city to the house occupied by Yatol „If he found the man lying in a bath, surrounded by pretty, scantily ung attendants, both male and female. Yakim considered the scene h pity and amusement. It was common knowledge that Thei’a’hu he´d lost his ability to perform sexually, and so it had been rumored that the man took his pleasures vicariously.

  Pitiful wretch.

  Ignoring those standing about the Yatol, Yakim Douan’s spirit soared right to the reclining man, and right into the reclining man.

  Yatol Thei’a’hu’s eyes popped open wide and he let out a shriek that turned all heads in the room his way. Some of those onlookers started to ap­proach him, but then they all backed off, eyes wide with shock, as Thei’a’hu thrashed about in his tub, splashing soapy water all about the room.

  His mouth opened and twisted as if he was trying to spout out some words, some cry for help, and indeed he was.

  But he had no control. For Yakim Douan was in there with him, two spirits, two wills, fighting for control over one body. Muscles knotted and twisted from contrasting signals. Eyes bulged and Thei’a’hu’s mouth con­tinued to twist and snap, biting into his lip and tongue.

  Do you know me, Yatol Thei’a’hu? Yakim Douan’s spirit telepathically demanded.

  The body stopped thrashing, lying very still in what remained of the bathwater.

  Look upon me! Yakim Douan went on. Let your heart tell you who has come to visit!

  Chezm Chieftain Douan? Thei’a’hu’s mind silently asked.

  That is one incarnation, came the teasing, cryptic response.

  The onlookers in the room, some of them just gathering the nerve to approach the man once again, leaped back as Thei’a’hu’s body jerked in surprise.

  Jtol! Yatol! Yatol! Thei’a’hu’s spirit screamed.

  You are a nonbeliever! Yakim Douan accused. You disappoint me, Yatol Ibei’a’hu.

  No!

  You con sort with heretics who deny the truth of Yatol!

  ei a hu’s call, both telepathic and physieaL, held the inflections of -

  mper then, as he repeated over and ove% „Mdrcy.“ U >rrect your sacrilege, YatotTk^a^hu/This niJht! Now! You have but one f-o again walk the path to Para&eT^akjplDouan ended by imparting - specific visual instructions, and then he departed Thei’a’hu’s physical body, his spirit drifting up to th
e ceiling to observe, and though he was in visible and silent, those others in the room sensed that spirit, or something Yakim Douan was amused again to watch the looks of confusion and fear upon their faces, to see the hairs standing up on the back of their necks, to see the women hugging themselves as if suddenly chilled. The Chezru Chieftain even went back down among them, a cold ghost brushing close heightening the fear. More than one of those attendants ran out of the room, screaming.

  But the show hadn’t even yet begun, Yakim Douan knew, and so he con­tinued to watch, taking great pleasure as Yatol Thei’a’hu climbed out of the tub, pushing past any attendants who moved to help him, or to try to put a robe about his naked shoulders.

  Thei’a’hu did have a blanket wrapped about him as he exited the house more to ward the chill than out of any modesty, for it was obvious to all looking upon him, Yakim Douan’s spirit included, that the man was sud­denly obsessed and single-minded.

  That blanket also conveniently hid the tool Thei’a’hu would need to find his way back to Paradise.

  The visiting Yatols had all been quartered in the same area, and so Thei’a’hu did not have far to walk to get to the house of Yatol Bohl, push­ing right through the two soldiers standing guard at the door and banging on it loudly. When it was opened, by yet another soldier, Yatol Thei’a’hu did not wait to offer an explanation, but just forced his way through, screaming for Yatol Bohl.

  The man came down the sweeping staircase at the back of the foyer a moment later, dressed exactly as he had been when Yatol Thei’a’hu had left him three hours earlier.

  „Thei’a’hu,“ he said, obviously stunned at the man’s appearance. „What is wrong?“

  Thei’a’hu stormed up to him, Bohl holding his arms wide, his expression incredulous.

  That look grew even more incredulous when Thei’a’hu’s knife jabbed into his belly.

  „Heretic! Unbeliever!“ Thei’a’hu cried, pumping his arm repeatedly, and with the strength of a man possessed and with the determination of a man who truly believed that his own salvation was at stake.

  By the time Bohl’s stunned soldiers could restrain the intruding Yatol, Yatol Bohl lay curled on the floor, his lifeblood pouring out into a widening puddle that already took in more than half of the foyer.

  Hovering above the entryway, the spirit of Yakim Douan watched it all, with a bit of regret, but in truth, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. He con­sidered his voyeurism there and felt a twang of guilt, wondering if he was no better than Thei’a’hu, taking his pleasure vicariously. tiered not, he decided, and he retreated back to his waiting corpo-eparing himself, for he knew that Yatol Thei’a’hu would soon „ before him to answer for the crime of murder. ^Douan decided to play this delicately, and with ultimate contempt se around him. He would hear Thei’a’hu’s story, then would retreat >S k with Yatol, then would return and proclaim Thei’a’hu a hero of

  The old Chezru Chieftain was still chuckling at the beautiful irony of it 11 vhen Merwan Ma rushed into his meditation room to tell him that he was*needed in the audience chamber immediately

  chapter *9*

  Dark Solitude

  he Path of Starless Night offered a darkness beyond anything that Brynn had ever known, deeper even than the blackness of the peat

  JJL cave. Walking the tunnels, descending under the mountains beside Juraviel and Cazzira, Brynn began to understand a second element to the darkness, a profound sense of brooding, a quiet so intense that it numbed the ears and made her retreat within herself. She tried to consider the goal ahead, tried to find strength and determination in the realization that this dark path marked the end of her journey home. When they exited the Path of Starless Night, they would look upon To-gai, the grassy steppes of her homeland.

  Brynn couldn’t hold the thought against the pounding silence, stifling and seeming almost hungry.

  They had lamps, those curious glass-and-wood creations of the Doc’alfar, all glowing bluish white. But even the light seemed uncomfortable there, di­minished and out of place. Given the limited range of the glow, it occurred to Brynn that their lamps served to highlight them to predators more than they revealed any predators to them.

  The air was warm and still - so still that it settled about them like a heavy blanket, weighing down their steps. The tunnel was broken and uneven, so that even they, two elves and an elven-trained ranger, had to take care with every step not to stub their toes or trip and fall. Similarly, the walls were broken, with jags of stone all about, casting ominous shadows in the dim light.

  „How much worse are these shadows in the flickering light of a flaming torch,“ Cazzira said suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness so starkly that both Juraviel and Brynn jumped. „With each flicker, the shadows come to life,“ Cazzira went on. „Many died in here in times long past, before we learned the secrets of the fazl pods. Those who traveled these paths became so numbed to any danger from the repeated dancing of the shadows that when real danger presented itself, they were caught unawares.“ R nn regarded her glowing scepter, its carved wood handle and the d class ball set at its top. The light was fairly constant, but in looking 1 * the ranger did note that there were some things moving about rtthin the frosted sphere.

  „Fazl pods?“ Juraviel asked, as if reading Brynn’s mind.

  „Small centipedes of the deep peat,“ Cazzira explained. „They make the though it normally dissipates into the air like a glowing mist. Encased airless globe, they glow for many weeks. Without them, we would , a chance of crossing under the mountains, for we could not carry enough wood and I doubt we’ll find any down here! „

  The conversation died at that, and the trio went on. They came to many forks in the trail, and intersections, and crossed a few wider chambers, some -hat had many exits. But Cazzira went on in seeming confidence that she knew the way, and it took Brynn a long while to catch on to the secret: all choices in the path had been marked, subtly, in flowing elven script deli­cately carved upon the walls.

  „Your people come down here often,“ she said, and she winced, for her words sounded as an accusation.

  Cazzira looked at her hard, as did Juraviel, the Touel’alfar silently signal­ing for Brynn to tread cautiously.

  „You know the way, because the passages have been marked by Tylwyn Doc, I mean,“ Brynn stuttered, trying hard to keep her tone nonconfronta-tional. „Your people are not strangers to the Path of Starless Night, I would assume. „

  „We used to come in here quite often,“ Cazzira answered after a long pause. „Once, many centuries ago, Tymwyvenne was comprised of two settle­ments, the one you have walked and one in here.“

  „Why was the second abandoned?“ Juraviel asked before Brynn could, the elf apparently past his trepidation at broaching the subject.

  „The reasons are many, but in truth, this is not our place. Dark things crawl along these corridors, and after a few more days in here, you will understand why we prefer the open air.“

  „I understand it already,“ Brynn remarked, and Juraviel laughed in agreement.

  They walked through the rest of the day - to the best of their estimation - and set a camp in a small side chamber, placing their glowing lamps strate­gically in the corridor outside, so that whoever was on watch would see the approach of a threat before it saw them.

  Ihe next day went the same way, with brief conversations punctuating the silent blackness. The second day, Cazzira showed them some moss and rang! that they could eat, and some other mushrooms that they would be wise to avoid. On and on they^wallted, and oftentimes crawled in corridors too low for even the two elwes, and th«n set a similar camp.

  ihe next day was much the same^and the next after that, and the next after that, where the only highlight was the discovery of a small stream where they could refill their waterskins, and even bathe a bit. Brynn was glad of that, very glad, but despite the clear water, every day they got a bit dirtier and a bit smellier.

  On and on they walked, and the paths were so
winding, left and right that they had to wonder how much progress they were really making to the south. At times, the trail before them ascended at such an angle that they had to climb hand over hand, struggling for finger- and toeholds. At other times, the path dropped so dramatically that they had to take out the fine silken ropes Cazzira’s kin had provided, and slide down.

  None of them complained; they just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

  So many wondrous things did Brynn, Juraviel, and Cazzira see in the days to come: a wide underground lake, its water gently lapping at the shore, dis­turbed somewhere out in the darkness by something unseen and unknown; an underground waterfall, tumbling noisily, echoing like tumultuous music in all of the caverns and corridors about; strange and beautiful formations of crystals squeezed from the rocks, twisting and turning into exotic, shin­ing shapes as they became pushed out over the eons.

  The trio were walking through another wondrous place, a three-tiered plateau of gigantic mushrooms, thicker of trunk than a large oak and thrice Brynn’s height, when they came to know, for the first time, that they were not alone.

  It came as a flicker of movement, a subtle brushing of darker shadows at the edge of Brynn’s consciousness. The woman couldn’t react defensively, couldn’t get her staff up to intercept the rushing creature as it ran past her, but she did let out an alarmed yelp.

  His muscles toned to their finest warrior edge, Belli’mar Juraviel dove immediately to the side, launching himself into a somersault. As he came around, easily finding his feet again, he noted the shiny line of a thick blade, slashing through the air where he had just been. He started to call out to Cazzira, but saw that the Doc’alfar was already exploding into motion.

  She came around on her tiptoes, her arms out wide, her small, golden-wood club flying at the end of one extended limb. She whipped it past the dark attacker, too far away for a strike, but with enough of a whipping sound to freeze the creature in place for an instant.