Schisms Page 4

  Chapter Four

  Ilim stood in front of the assembly of priests and scribes, his brothers of the temple. Lower scribes sat in the lower pit behind him. The priests sat up high on the platform, the higher scribes on the lower level platform, most looking down at him with various shades of disdain, some with unconcealed hatred. They all wore their golden and silver bands proudly, even rolling up their sleeves to show their obedience to the Law of the temple. Such as it was among them. His activities at the temple had lately drawn larger and larger crowds of people, some curious and looking for entertainment, others, looking for trouble. He could feel hatred seething around him like a stoked fire. He looked in all the faces gathered for Eliaz, one of the few friends he had, but could not find him. He said a silent prayer of thankfulness. Eliaz usually managed to avoid involving himself with the most egregious crimes of these men.

  This was not the first time he had brought a complaint against them for ignoring the words of the Holy Aishanna for their own ends. The priesthood was rife with corruption and with the newly elected High Priest, Silam Tybbl-Awat, they had become particularly cruel in their punishments, mostly against their own people. The Tybbl-Awat family had been close to the former Kushigyar and had never forgiven the king for what he did. They despised Ilim for his genuine friendship with the king. Silam sneered at him, his eyes, a near pale, colorless amber, narrowed almost like slits. He reminded Ilim of a cobra. If only he could put his foot upon the head of that cobra. . .

  Just a few days ago a young man was stoned to death by the “law-givers” of the Ainash, the Hatchet Men, good-for-nothing men looking for controversy to occupy the time. The young man was found concealing his sister, a girl of fifteen, forced to marry one of the wealthy patrons of the temple, who was regularly beaten and in one instance nearly beaten to death. She fled from her husband and his family. Both the girl and her brother were put to death. Many of the Aishanna-La were in an uproar over the incident but feared the Hatchet Men. Yet, the priests disregarded the Law in the Holy Writings that such disputes were to be resolved in tribunal. Never was death to be meted out to a husband or wife who could not live together. Any man or woman that abused their mate in such a way that ended in death could be subject to retribution by the victim's family. These laws had long been ignored and derided by the priesthood as incorrectly written and so abuses like these had begun to flourish. Ilim was here once again, like a gadfly, to denounce them.

  “You have among you a wicked man, a devil who is known for beating to death two wives already and yet you do not bring him before the tribunal!”

  “Pestilent man! Here he comes again with his nattering and chattering as if he were a sage of old.” Sneered one of the scribes.

  “Who are you to challenge us?” Shouted one of them.

  “I am one who still has regard for the Holy Writings! Writings you discard like so much refuse when it does not justify your wicked desires! You commit all sorts of enormities with impunity! Do you think that God does not see you? You have the man among you! He has flouted the law and all that is right before God's eyes! Bring him out! Bring him out and cleanse yourselves of this evil! To refuse to bring him to justice is an affront to God and all that is holy!” Ilim's voice coursed through the Golden Temple like thunder but it did nothing to move them. Except to scream in rage at his boldness. Many beat themselves in a show of public anguish and hurled curses at him. Ilim had seen it many times before and wondered why he always came back.

  “Dak Rullak!”

  “May your goah shrivel up and turn black!”

  “This man would counsel us, yet he runs with the savages and the animals of the desert!”

  “Savage! Shut your mouth, Ilim!”

  “You dare to threaten us?”

  “May Airend-Ur rebuke you all! I am one of you and so I dare and more if you do not do what is right! You have a murderer among you and he has shed innocent blood! The family cannot call for justice because they fear what you have become! Corrupt, wicked! Yet, I do not fear my own brethren. I chastise you instead. Do what is right or God Himself will bring retribution! Do you think you can call yourselves servants of the Lord of the Deep Heavens and do this in His sight and He will not become enraged at you?”

  “We already have His approval and always have since the beginning when the Aishanna was given to our forefathers!” Shouted the high priest. “Throw him out! Throw him out!” A great din was raised by the priests, scribes and elders. Some even called for his head.

  “That is enough of you, Ilim! You are no brother to the Ainash! We host no criminal among us but we have allowed a heathen like you to remain too long among our ranks. You have forgotten yourself! We do not need you telling us the Writings, we know them for ourselves! You go back to writings that are old and apocryphal. Any woman who is unsatisfactory to her husband is subject to her husband's law and if he has decided she is found wicked and should die, it is not for you to reinterpret the Aishanna!” Shouted the chief priest. Ilim bristled.

  “You show me where you have read such a thing!” Ilim countered but they would have no more of him. Bakku sat with the other higher level scribes, with a look of smug satisfaction on his face. Ilim shook with rage. With one accord they rose up and rushed him. Ilim was shocked. They dare not kill him when he had the ear of the king!

  They did not, but they took him and threw him out of the temple. They ripped his robe to shreds until he had nothing but his undergarment and they began beating him. The mob outside joined in. The only thing that stopped them were the guards who knew Ilim and knew that the king might revisit death upon anyone who harmed one of his friends. After the guards broke up the mob, Ilim, now bloodied and only half conscious, still managed to struggle to his feet, with help, and spat in the direction of the temple and threw up dust against it. He still had his leather bands.

  “You are cursed and you will pay for your evil! Not to me but to all the people you have ill-treated and murdered. Their blood cries out from the sand! You will pay and this temple will be cleansed one day.” Vowed Ilim. And it was done. He was now an outcast.

  Ilim sat in his one room house, his manservant Vai tending his wounds.

  “They are nasty wounds master, but not infected, so far as I can see. You will be badly bruised for a while but they will heal.”

  “I do not know why I remained with the Ainash for so long when I could see the filth they cover up. They are even worse than the priesthood of Hec.”

  “You will always be an Ainash teacher, master. It is they who are false.”

  “Be careful how you talk Vai or they will come after you as well.”

  “Yes, master.”

  “Water. I need water. After this week Vai, I shall not have the money to pay you. I will give you your wages for the week and then you must find other employment.”

  “But master, can you not find work at the king's court?”

  “I have not the temperament for court intrigues or court life. No, I shall go into the high desert. The desert will hold my fate now. I will write a reference for you.”

  “Thank you, master.” Said Vai. He put his liniments in a wooden box after putting clean bandages on Ilim's wounds. He drew a cup of water from the cistern by the fireplace and gave it to Ilim who drank it down thirstily. He gazed at the clay cup, wondering what would become of him. It was evening and the sun filled the room with light and heat. Ilim rested himself on his bed and listened. Far away he heard dogs barking. A goat bleated and the women in the neighborhood were preparing cooking fires. He had chosen to live among the working and the poor, and among the tribes when in the desert, himself living simply and desiring hardly any possessions. But where would he go now and what would he do? The Golden Temple was the very life of one who followed the Aishanna-La. Being cast out was unthinkable to most, and he, an old man. Vai's voice suddenly interrupted his gloomy solitude.

  “Master! Someone is here to see you. It is Laita!” Ilim nearly started at the name but he was too
weak to move.

  “Let her in, let her in.” He waved at Vai. A woman, heavily veiled in gray, the colors of an unmarried woman, appeared at the doorway. Her clothing was plain but her carriage and demeanor told Ilim she was not a common woman. In fact, he knew who “Laita” was. Another woman dressed in plain robes stood behind her.

  “Come in. Vai, leave us.” He said. He handed Vai his key.

  “Madam.” Vai said to her, bowing and went on his way home. Laita closed the door behind her and lifted her veils.

  “You came alone, Your Greatness?”

  “It was not easy but I came with my personal guard. Uwain is outside. I can care for myself. You know this.”

  “Do not let yourself become offended at me, my queen, but as you can see, I cannot get up. Why have you come?” She stared at his wounds and bruises in horror. His face was swollen and barely recognizable.

  “What happened, Ilim!”

  “I had a controversy with the priestly murderers at the temple. I will recover.”

  “They did this to you?” Ilim nodded.

  “I will tell the king! Murderers indeed! I will. . .”

  “No! Do not do that! I will recover. There is nothing to be done.”

  “But Ilim. . .”

  “God has always been with me and is with me now. I say I will recover, my queen!” He snapped and then groaned in pain. He softened, after forgetting who he was addressing in his pain and anger.

  “Forgive me, Your Greatness, but it will only cause more trouble in the end. I have washed my hands of them and they of me.” Anyone else who addressed her that way would have had been soundly whipped. She smiled slightly, seeing that Ilim was in a sour mood because of his pain. It would not do to fuss over him for he would not tolerate it.

  “Fine. I will have a physician come to see you.” He waved his hand dismissively at this. She shook her head.

  “Have you not heard the news? I am being put aside. The king seeks a new queen.” Ilim spread his hands over his face.

  “You know then?” She asked. He nodded and then looked up at her. There was a sad look in his eyes.

  “It would seem I am the last to know everything these days. Even with Fricka working on my behalf.”

  “I hated to hear of it, my queen.”

  “Do not worry for me, Ilim. I have warned my sisters of what is to happen. They will instruct me on what to do next. I am a servant of God in all this.”

  “As we all are.”

  “It was revealed to me long ago in a vision, the rise of a king will come soon. But that king will not come from me. It might surprise you that I was instructed by the Temple Mother before we were even married, not to bear children for the king. That is why we do not have children.” Ilim looked at her in surprise. He tried to sit up but could not. He grunted at hearing her mention the women of the citadel.

  “But why? I do not understand.”

  “Many ages ago the sons of the last Red King,” she looked around warily as she said it. “were dispersed throughout some tribes in Hybron and of the surrounding lands. Fragments of that line have been preserved and found from what Mother Berenice has told me. She saw it in a vision and later so did I. Even the king himself is a descendent. This new queen, whoever she is, is also of the blood. A child will come from these two, it was told to me in this dream.”

  “I wonder, why did the king choose to marry you?”

  “I have discerned that I am a wall to prevent any other line or seed from coming to the throne of Hybron. What is important, the seed of the paternal and maternal lines is what will survive.” She smoothed out her veils. Ilim looked thoughtful.

  “So you are a seer as well? You should leave the court, Your Greatness and go back to that citadel.” The queen smiled.

  “I have often thought of it. The Mother of the citadel was my mentor for years before I was sent off to be married. Perhaps I will someday but there is work yet to be done.”

  “I mean what I say. Do not stay at court. There are dangerous people there. You do not belong amongst those jackals. And this new one from Egium. . .”

  “I am viewed by all in the kingdom as a barren woman and by all intents and purposes I am a barren woman. I am no threat to this new queen.”

  “You may say that but who knows what any woman thinks? The thoughts of a woman make no sense to me, if you will forgive me, Your Greatness. Still, there is rarely room for two queen bees in one hive. Remember that.” Queen Diti was not surprised that he often angered so many of his brethren but she'd always liked his boldness. With Ilim there was bluntness but no lies. A refreshing change from the atmosphere at court.

  “I must go, Ilim. Do you need anything from me? A position at court or perhaps elsewhere in the city? Your wisdom and knowledge would be valuable to many a school in the land. And the king could use your guidance.”

  “But not my tongue. No, my queen. I do not need anything. Go in peace, my queen.” He said.

  “There is one more thing. How soon will you leave?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I need you to go to the citadel. I had another vision some days ago. A young girl is living among them. Her name is Anet. You must find her, Ilim. In some way she will play an important part in all this.” Ilim felt apprehensive. An order of women was strange and he did not approve of those desert women out there without the guidance of priests to teach them.

  “You are sure of this, Your Greatness?” He asked, doubtful.

  “I have never been more sure of anything in my life. I have the visions only rarely but when they come I know they are true.”

  “I shall think on it.”

  “Please do, Ilim. It is very important. Thank you.” He heard the heartfelt plea in her voice and it moved him. The queen covered herself and left.

  It was the last time he saw her.

  His head was now splitting in pain. He was beginning to feel sorry that he'd dismissed Vai from his service early. He mustered up the strength to get up and he made a pot of boiling water and poured nigella sativa oil into it. Soon the room was filled with its strong, warm, musky scent and it eventually dulled the pain, helping him fall into deep sleep.

  Ilim dreamed a dream. He was walking amidst the eternal fires outside the city. All around him the air swirled and folded with black smoke from the great heat. His own skin did not burn even as he walked through the fire. He approached a monstrous mountain, the largest of the old mountains beyond the ruins of Assenna. The Mountain of God. It rose before him like a waking beast. Then he heard a voice.

  Ilim! I have called you to my holy mountain. Look! Change is coming. The time for the Red King to rise has come again. I have set you as a prophet. I am Airend-Ur, the First Pillar, the First One. Get up and ready yourself for the road is long and after you come to my mountain you must go to the holy women in Gamina.

  But Lord, these women! Why must I go to them?

  Because they have kept the old ways. The Ainash have left the true path. I shall cleanse the temple in due time and cut off their corruption and their evil. Listen to the queen's voice and go to the citadel. There you shall speak with my servant, Berenice. She will tell you what is to come next. A girl you will meet and you must instruct her in the ways of the prophets and the future king you must also instruct. You are no longer an Ainash priest but you are my prophet and when you get back to the city of Jhis you must denounce the priesthood and all those in the city, for I am sweeping many things away and they must pass through the fire before the king comes. Jhis is full of bloodshed and the innocent blood they have spilled cries out to me. There will be a cleansing for my temple is defiled and is an offense to me. Tell them to come back to the true path and stop my wrath. Come to the Mountain of God and I shall give you a sign and there I shall instruct you.

  When Ilim awoke, he felt no pain. He felt much stronger than he'd felt before, even renewed. He was excited and afraid. He wished he could give Eliaz and Demos a message but there was no time. At dawn
the next morning he immediately packed a sack, strapped on his old, rusted machete, put on his sturdiest sandals, wrote a letter of reference for Vai and left his last wages, a silver coin and a small block of salt in a bowl on the table. He found a small group of Raeanite tribesmen finishing their business in the city leaving for one of the western-most towns in Hybron. They were headed for Rhe.

  “Why do you wish to travel with us?” Asked one of the older men. Ilim had very little money and not near enough to satisfy the cost of traveling with a caravan but he was on a spiritual mission now and trusted God would help him find a way. Still, being broke, he felt foolish. What else could he do but tell them the truth?

  “I had a vision from God, my brothers.” They studied him for a while and began to recognize him as the Ainash priest who lived among the Karig tribesmen some years ago. They warmed to him and became more respectful. The eldest of the group, Kesh'i tied the last of his goods to one of the pack camels and allowed Ilim to travel with them. Ilim was thankful he had found them in time.

  “Where do you go, Ilim my brother?” Asked Kesh'i.

  “I need to go as far west as I can. I shall go with you men to Rhe and then I shall move on farther west.”

  “How far?”

  “To the Holy Mountain.” At this the men were very surprised.

  “The Holy Mountain? But that means you must cross. . .” One of the younger men said, stopping short. Ilim nodded gravely.

  “But why? It is an accursed place. The ruins before you even get to the mountains are full of robbers lurking in the tombs.”

  “And worse!” Said another of the younger men. His name was Nasim.

  “I know my brothers, but would you believe me if I told you I had a vision and it leads me there. There is something important I must see at the mountain and to get there I must cross the ruins.” The others discussed this amongst themselves, then tried to persuade him from his journey but Ilim would not hear of it. Finally they left off dissuading him and told him that any man on a journey from God need not pay them anything but they wanted a blessing before he parted from them. They made their way through the city and after a few hours they arrived at and passed through the West Gate. Once outside the city, Kesh'i began to sing an old tribal song. As they made distance between their destination and the city the air smelled fresher. Ilim felt his spirit lifting. The heavy, oppressive smells and the scents and the decaying spirit of the city was like an invisible cloud that he'd barely noticed, now gone. The other men joined in the song. It was a tune Ilim recognized but did not know the words. A lullaby sung by tribal women to their babies but it was a very old song of the death of the Last Red King and the fall of Assenna.

  “To speak of them is a curse among the people. Many will not even speak to such ones.” Warned Ilim. He himself was hesitant to speak of them.

  “We know, Ilim, but out here in the desert only the insects, snakes and the gods can hear. The animals do not speak our language and the gods do not care.” He said wryly.

  “Besides,” said Nasim. “Ever since the fall of Assenna and the Red Kings we have been living in the dark times. There are many tales of wonderful things that we do not have names for that existed during that time.”

  “I have spent years living with the Karig and I have heard many such stories from them as well.” Ilim did not approve of such tales. The fact was, no one really knew what happened. It gave opportunity for people to embellish and lie in the telling and the next thing one knew it was all of a sudden, history. The Ainash hated even the words “Red Kings” and it was considered an offense to even speak of them. Most people saw it as a curse upon them and their families to speak of the Red Kings. So, no one spoke of them or of the Veiled Age, as it was now called. In that, at least, Ilim agreed with the Ainash.

  The Veiled Age.

  The time in history that was lost. No priests or teachers spoke of it unless it was to say that it was a time of great evil and darkness in Hybron which even spread to other kingdoms. But tribal people saw it differently. Most city people assumed that they had odd, superstitious notions. It never occurred to them that the tribal people had knowledge others did not, which amused tribes people to no end.

  What everyone agreed on was that a great destruction rained down on Assenna, the ancient capital and the fires from that terrible time burn down even to this day. They destroyed the city and all the towns and villages surrounding it. These fires stopped just outside of the walls of Jhis, the next largest city in the land. The eternal fires, which were no longer seen as holy, were still fear inspiring in a terrible way. Many saw it as the gate to the realm of dark gods. Or at least that is what heathens believed, as Ilim saw it. Whatever the mysticism that surrounded it, the eternal fires was a huge plateau used as a garbage heap. Everything that needed to be destroyed was thrown there and vultures circled above the fires ceaselessly.

  The fires were northeast of them in the distance as they approached. Three black-clothed figures stood away some paces from the city's northern wall on a wide built ledge of stone. They were carrying staffs and pitchforks, tending the fires outside the city. One of the lowest vocations in the land, dealing with the dead. Other men were throwing refuse over the wall which collapsed into a pile. A body was heaved over the wall.

  “We must pass by the fires for some time before we can make toward Rhe. A foul place!” Said Kesh'i. As they passed, Ilim could feel the heat pushing against his skin in waves. He rolled up his sleeves and wiped the sweat away from his forehead and neck.

  “Please! Wait for me, my brothers. I must see something.” The others consented. He rode his camel toward the wall. A morbid thought came to him.

  “You men!” He called to the men in black. One of them looked up.

  “Greetings! What is it you want from us?”

  “The body thrown over the wall. I need to see it.” Ilim had a sense of dread in his belly but he had to see the face. The man shrugged and helped Ilim up the ledge. Ilim went down the ledge toward the body. The other tenderers parted and allowed him to examine it. It had not yet been thrown in the fires but was among a heap of other bodies and trash waiting to be thrown in. It was the body of the young man executed days earlier by the priesthood. They could not even give him, one of their own people, a decent burial. Ilim was enraged. So enraged he began to shake. His eyes looked upward to the sky as if to shout at God. Only the bodies of criminals of the worst sort were thrown into the fires outside the city. But he knew better. If the Ainash decided one was a criminal, no one could answer back.

  “Do you know the man?” Asked one of the tenderers. Ilim was silent for a long time as he stared at the mangled and bloodied body. Then he opened his mouth to speak.

  “He was innocent of any crime.”

  “So why is his body here?”

  “Because Jhis is a black pit full of wicked men.” The man blinked at him as if he did not understand. The first tenderer, a much older man approached.

  “What is the matter.” It was more a statement than a question.

  “This man says the body of this one should not be here, that he was innocent.”

  “The bodies of innocent men are not thrown here.” Said the third man. The first one gave him a wry look then turned to Ilim. His skin was deeply creased, leathery and colored burnt bronze from his long years at his station. He had a symbol branded into his forehead. The flame. These fires were not a mere vocation but his lifelong devotion. Ilim felt this man was a brother-priest in spirit if not in actual religion.

  “I know of what you speak. I'd heard of the whole controversy. But there is nothing we can do, less we be executed and thrown into the fires ourselves.”

  “I know. I am not blaming you.” Ilim said despondently. He turned and walked down the ledge. The first man hailed him.

  “My friend,” he called, “perhaps there is one thing we may do to ease matters. You men of the Golden Temple, you bury your dead whole in the ground, do you not? I will dig a grave for th
is one and bury him. I will not allow his body to pass through the dark fires.”

  “You will not be punished for it? You do not have to do this.” Said Ilim. The man shook his head.

  “I am the guardian of the first gate of the fires. That much I can do for him and for the honor of his family. Whether men do evil or good in life, it will all be sorted out before the Lord of Heaven in the end.” Ilim turned and faced him. He did not know if this man was once part of the Aishanna-La or just knew something of his religion. He thought on it. He was going to the Holy Mountain, based on a voice in a vision and he knew in his bones it was divine. And like Nagilla the sage, he might meet friends in strange places. Like this man. Ilim nodded and bowed to the man.

  “You are right. I thank you. Ellah Kaifah.”

  “Ellah Kaifah.” Said the man and he turned and called for the shovels.