by J Seab
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The Three-Stripe Pastor jerked back into physical awareness, jarred by a piercing scream. Denrel lay collapsed on the floor, blood trickling from his mouth and nose.
The others, looking confused, slowly rose to their feet and pivoted their heads about.
The Pastor rushed over to Denrel, barking a command to a young Cap, “Wistle, bring the physicalist, quickly now.” Wistle, eyes wide, stared at Denrel. “Run, now,” the Pastor urged. Wistle staggered back a step, then turned and ran down a side passage.
The Pastor beckoned to another. “Help me turn him to his side.”
Gently, they rolled Denrel over and the Pastor placed her ear against his chest.
A timid voice issued from the group, “Does he yet live?”
“Quiet, a moment.”
The Pastor listened for several seconds, sighed, and then sat back on her heels.
“Yes, he yet lives but Denrel’s Death lurks closely within this chamber. Come, we must gather about, shield him with our prayers.” She knelt before him and the others joined in a tight circle. “Pray for our brother. Ask that Death go elsewhere tonight, that it has already fed well, that it needs not this young body.”
Together they prayed, a few low murmurs accompanying their supplications.
After a few minutes, they heard the crunch of running feet then the voice of Wistle, pitched high in excitement, urging on the physicalist.
The Pastor stood and indicated that the others should close the gap and continue with their prayers. She faced the arriving physicalist. Bowing her head, she signed the spiral over her heart. “Peace, Eldest Cren.”
“Peace, Pastor. Tell me of this,” he commanded.
Turning, the Pastor swept a hand toward the circle and explained Denrel’s return and revelations. “I was deep into my own dowsing when I was pulled out by a scream. His scream,” she said, pointing. “He lay unresponsive upon the floor, a trickle of blood about his mouth and nose.”
“No other physical damage? Perhaps something that happened topside?”
“None that he told. I know not if he screamed from temporal or spirit cause.”
“And the prayer circle?”
“I sense Death reaching to consume his body. We supplicate to dissuade its reach.”
Eldest Cren stepped up behind the circle and peered at Denrel. Then, glancing back at the Pastor, he said, “Open the circle.”
“Eldest, I fear this. Death hovers nearby.”
“I must examine him. Open the circle enough so that I can get inside.”
Obeying, the Pastor moved beside the nearest Cap, put a hand on his shoulder, and, raising her voice, said, “All of you, move back a pace so that the physicalist can examine Denrel. Maintain your vigilance and your prayers.”
Eldest Cren squeezed into the opened space and stooped to examine Denrel. Other than the crusting stain of blood about the young man’s mouth, he found no injury. Straightening, he exited the circle and rejoined the Pastor. “Naught is there physically to explain his swoon,” he said. “Yet, say you, Death reaches for him?”
“It is so revealed.”
“Why? What matter of Spirit calls forth Death?”
Before she could answer, Denrel awoke, spitting at the foulness in his mouth. Lifting himself to one elbow, he turned his head to the ground, gagging in dry retches as if he struggled to clear his mind and body of a vile substance.
Turning again to Wistle, the Pastor said, “Quickly now, bring him water.” Wistle ran off. The Pastor closed her eyes for a moment and dowsed the chamber. Sighing in relief, she said, “Death has fled. Our prayers are fulfilled. Blessed thanks be to OneGod.”
Eldest Cren immediately stepped back to the circle and pushed at the nearest Cap. “Move aside,” he ordered. The Cap stood and stepped back. The others followed and huddled nearby.
His face softening somewhat, Cren looked down on Denrel. “What matter of ailment inflicts you, forager?”
Sitting up, the waxy sheen on his face fading, Denrel licked dry lips and replied, “It be the dowsing. I felt a raw edge in the oneness. Thinking it be the one of the high-scream, thinking to soothe it, I reached to it,” he said, shuddering. “It rebuked my reach and instead fetched me a Vision.” Denrel looked down, clenching his lips while he struggled to contain a new tremor in his shoulders.
Eldest Cren demanded, “Tell me this Vision.”
Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Denrel relaxed his body and then pushed to his feet, swaying only slightly. At that moment, Wistle raced up and offered him a bowl of fresh water. Taking advantage of the break, he sipped at the water while he mumbled a calming mantra of OneGod. His composure returned and he continued.
“It be a Vision of horrors,” he said, and then described the great beasts and the screams of the tribe, the torn and broken bodies. His head drooped in shame. “I tried to flee but I could not escape.”
A stunned silence enveloped the group. Even Eldest Cren stood transfixed, his face twisted with whirling thoughts. “Not in recent memory has there been a Vision such as this.” He turned to the Three-Stripe. “Tell me now, be this Vision or be this imaginings growing from topside stresses?”
“It speaks to Vision,” the Pastor stated.
“You, forager, also believe this to be Vision?”
His head still lowered, Denrel replied, “Aye.”
“But you admit,” he insisted, “that you feared for your life from the long-knives?”
“Aye.”
After a moment of reflection, Cren commanded, “All of you, speak naught of this. It’s a Temporal issue that must be judged by the Council of Elders. Complete your service here, Pastor. I must speak with the other Elders. You will join us later.” With a dismissive wave, he walked into a dim tunnel leading to the Elders’ council chamber.
The Pastor made no attempt to suppress her irritation as she watched Cren disappear into the tunnel. Denrel’s Vision was clearly a matter of Spirit, a matter that could not be fully embraced without the counsel of the tribe’s Pastors. Eldest Cren too readily dismissed them. The Elders knew no more of Spirit than any other Cap did. Their concerns were with the Temporal—with food, shelter, and healing of the body.
Although she was still early in her journey into Spirit, her thoughts sprang from the oneness shared by all three of the tribe’s Pastors. She had given up her identity, even her name, to merge heart and soul into the fullness of the unity within the trinity of OneGod, Spirit, and Temporal.
A Horror Vision such as Denrel’s couldn’t be so easily dismissed as an aberration of body brought on by stress, a trifling to be soothed away by a cup of wine and a day of rest as the Eldest seemed to imply. She must get more information from Denrel then take this to the One-Stripe Pastor before the Elders tried to suppress it as a disruption of Temporal.
Her resolve firm, the Pastor faced the group. “Now, let us return to our labors of heart and soul that we may fulfill the benevolence of OneGod to bless our Elders and Pastors, our tribe, and our family.” In unison, they signed the spiral over their hearts and began to shuffle from the chamber, their voices soft as they began to discuss the events just concluded.
The Pastor spotted Denrel trying to blend with the other departing Caps. He didn’t make it more than two steps.
“Denrel, stand before me a moment.”
“Aye, Pastor.”
“What of these five, then? What tribe of toppers were they?”
“I have never seen these toppers before. I know naught of their tribe.”
“How were they dressed? And what of these long-knives they carried?”
“Pastor, please forgive my ignorance of these things,” Denrel said, hunching down before the Three-Stripe, eyes on his feet. “It was late, the sun already high enough to brighten the forest. I could see little but the glare bouncing from their long-knives.”
“What then of their aura? Did they carry ugliness within?”
After briefly glancing into her ey
es he jerked his gaze back to his feet. “I know not, Pastor. I think I feared too much, that I hid too much, did not think to observe these things.” After a moment, he continued, “I sorrow for this, Pastor.”
Reaching up a hand, she gently placed it alongside his head. “These things you saw, Denrel, were things to fear. Do not also add your sorrow for things that could not be.” She dropped her hand. “Go now, remove those rough bindings from your body and rest within the cleansing waters of the pools. Do not dwell on the things you saw topside or in your Vision. The Trinity must discuss these things in Unity. We take the burden from you.”
“Thank you, Pastor, for sharing your wisdom with this one.”
“Go with peace,” the Pastor said making the spiral of unity over her heart. “You’ve done well by the tribe this day.”
“Peace, Pastor. Thank you.”