The Twelve Chapters of the Infinite Night, page 3
She cannot see me. The visitor seems relieved to observe.
‘You cannot see him?’ I look at my student.
She looks to the place of my distraction, eyes glazed in nil recognition. ‘Are you toying with me? There is no one else here.’
I look back to the visitor to find he has fled, foliage swaying in the wake of his swift departure.
‘I stand corrected.’ Limrani draws her weapon and pursues the anomaly through the woodland.
I follow, confident that if the entity can be trapped. Limrani willsee to it.
I join my student at the mouth of a large cave that has served as a shelter during many a wet season.
Limrani stands poised, sword raised and ready to strike, her eyes darting from one side of the cave opening to the other. ‘The spirit is in here somewhere.’ She states confidently, indicating the low lying foliage across the entrance that would be disturbed if the entity tried to backtrack past her. ‘Can you see it?’
‘No. He must be further within.’ The gap in the rock narrows into a natural corridor, then widens into a large inner cavern. I lead her through the crevice.
Our target is inside. He notes our entry, but is preoccupied inspecting the cave wall. This place is known to us. Why haven’t you written your teachings upon the walls here?’
‘My teachings have a way of getting people killed.’
‘Very encouraging.’ Limrani trails me, unsure as to whether I am addressing her, the spirit, or Làoshi.
‘When written down,’ I clarify for all those listening.
‘I cannot write or read.’ My student is happy to be ignorant and immune.
You don’t understand. The teaching that led me here, is not here! So how then can I be here?
I stare back at the fair lad blankly, at a loss for a response.
The piece you carved into this wall. He motions to the smooth stone rock face next to him. You know …. why man and woman? Why a dualistic universe, blah, blah, blah… He scours the wall with a strange glowing stick, as if expecting words to suddenly appear - what a curious being he is.
The visitor exhibits such distress that I endeavour to impart my understanding. ‘I imagine the dualism of man and woman, or any being apart from the self, is the opportunity to love that which is not the self.’
Yes! He clicks his fingers at me. That was part of it.
‘You see him?’ Limrani assumes.
I nod, my attention fixed on the ghostly figure. ‘He believes that one of my teachings should be recorded upon this wall. But I think who he is, and why he is here is a more pressing concern.’
He ceases his fruitless inspection of the wall and turns his attention fully my way. I am Herodotus, a Seeker sent to find you, as your teachings are pivotal to future generations.
My shadow-side is flattered, yet easily bypassed by curiosity. ‘Is this prophecy, or are you implying that you hail from a future time?’ This would explain his mysterious attire, appearance, and tools.
‘Are you crazy, monk?’ Limrani lowers her weapon. ’Or is this a test to gauge how gullible I am?’
Master Tamous, you have to believe me. The visitor is too impatient to allow me to indulge my student’s insecurities. If you don’t write that piece on duality on the wall here and now, we’ll never know you were here, or about the prophecy.
‘The prophecy that you relayed to me during my merge with Làoshi this morning?’
I did? Herodotus frowns. Who … is Làoshi?
I am stunned he does not know. ‘The Inter-dweller who binds all of us together.’
‘So you keep saying.’ Limrani is sceptical of all aspects of the inner path, including our spirit guide.
The visitor is baffled, and now it is he who stares at me blankly. So you know your brother is coming for you? You predicted this event unfolding on the same day that the leader of the Mauryan Empire kneels before a holy man.
‘Ashoka kneels.’ I nod, as this confirms the premonition I had earlier.
Herodotus moves closer to assure me. Ashoka seeks spiritual redemption for all the killing done in his name … his conversion is a well-documented event that has been accurately dated in my time.
‘What do you mean Ashoka kneels? Before whom?’ Limrani’s interest is struck in the conversation that - it must appear - I am having with no one. She moves around in front of me to collide with Herodotus and, startling each other, they both back up a few paces. ‘Your ghost has mass.’ Limrani’s weapon is on guard again.
Please tell her that I mean neither of you harm. Herodotus holds up his hands in truce. In order to be in resonance with your three-dimensional world, my form needs to be of the same vibrational frequency. Thus I can be physically harmed, so I’d really appreciate it if your novice would cease swinging that huge, razor sharp shard of metal about.
I motion with my hand for Limrani to back down. ‘You will not need the sword, we are in no danger.’
Limrani replaces the weapon in its sheath, frowning all the while.
Thank you. Herodotus relaxes.
‘So, my friend, I feel quite sure that you’ve not come all the way from the future just to warn me that my brother is coming for me today.’
‘Today!’ Limrani is horrified and appeased in equal measure. ‘He will not take you. We can fight him together.’
She must not be here when the Sangdil arrive. Herodotus warns. Your student is the channel for your legacy.
I look back to Limrani, so suddenly that I alarm her.
‘What did it say about me?’
‘You must leave-’
‘No. I’ve waited too long to confront the Sangdil.’
‘You are not ready.’ I am sorry to say it, but it is the truth. As hardened as Limrani is, I can see my opinion cuts her deeply. ‘It is my fault, I should have taught you the inner path sooner. I should have insisted! Now we are out of time.’
Something bites into my neck and reaching back I find the mite gone. Only a small bloody puncture wound remains, as evidenced by the tiny drop of blood on my fingertips.
‘You’re wrong, monk.’ Limrani counters. ‘We can win this fight.’
‘I will not fight.’
Jaw clenched, my student glares at me in disbelief. ‘You cannot just let them take you.’
Especially not before you write on this wall. Herodotus’ panic is telling.
‘I do not expect to survive custody.’ I advise Limrani, and as Herodotus makes no attempt to correct me, I assume I am correct.
‘I do not understand you, monk.’ She tries to cover her hurt with anger, but her voice cracks to betray her dismay.
‘One day, you will.’ I glance to the Seeker, who nods. ‘Conflict will never lead to inner peace.’ My attention reverts to my student. ‘Loving the self … true self care, means not creating anymore catastrophes in this life. I trust the path being presented before me, because I know better than to question the way. ’ Limrani opens her mouth to argue, but not knowing enough about the inner path, she cannot debate me. I turn my attention to the Seeker. ‘Even if I was aware of the teaching to which you refer, it would take months to inscribe this stone.’
Herodotus pulls from his multifaceted suit a small, slim object. This will engrave this stone as easily as ink marks papyrus. Moving back to the wall, the Seeker taps one end of the tool and the opposite end turns fiery blue. He crouches down and with the illuminated end, begins carving a foreign text into the wall.
As symbols appear in the stone, Limrani is awestruck. ‘What does it mean?’ She looks to me for answers, but I can only shrug.
Tamous Satura was here. Herodotus enlightens me, then stands and offers me the tool. Don’t touch the shiny end.
My interest exceeds my fear in this instance and I take possession of the item.
To Limrani, the shiny slender object magically appears out of thin air and she gasps at the oddity.
I write upon the stone in the text of my grandfather’s people. It is immensely nostalgic to have a writing implement in my hand; it has been far too long. This tool is a delight to wield and in only moments I document the first two lines of the piece just as Herodotus conveyed it. I pause to dwell on the question, whereupon I consider that my earlier response was not complete.
The sound of numerous horses rumbling towards us snatches our attention.
‘Sangdil.’ Limrani looks beyond the crevice through which only men in single file can pass. ‘This shall be easy with you as bait.’ She unsheathes her sword, knowing that only Sangdil have horses in these parts anymore.
I hand back the amazing tool to Herodotus and when it vanishes into his possession, I realise. ‘You can get her out undetected.’
Herodotus holds his hands up and backs away. I’m not supposed to get involved or change anything. You are not even meant to know that I am here.
‘There are no accidents, Seeker.’
‘If your Seeker friend comes anywhere near me, I’ll kill him along with the Sangdil.’ Limrani whirls her sword in a figure eight motion around her body to prevent anyone getting close. When horses are heard entering the outer cave, she moves to one side of the inner crevice and raises her weapon, ready to smite anyone who enters. Herodotus holds out the stone writing device to me once more. Please finish, I can tell you exactly what to write.
‘Coward!’ My brother's voice is heard in the entry passage. ‘I know you are in here, I’ve had trackers following you.’
I see Bào entering through the crevice, his weapon already drawn. Despite my signal to Limrani to back down and take cover, she will not budge from her ambush position. ‘Stay where you are, brother.’ I attempt to ward off the confrontation.
Bào laughs as he enters the inner cave, eyes fixed on me. ’You will not harm me-’
As Limrani brings down her sword, Bào senses the movement and deftly blocks her blade with his own weapon. ‘But I will.’ She grins.
They thrust apart, each viewing the other as prey.
‘A woman!’ Bào jeers. ‘Why am I not surprised that you need a little girl to defend you?’
‘Who are you calling little, short man?’
It is true, Limrani is taller and lankier then either my brother or myself.
Bào ignores the taunt. ‘It is against the law for a woman to possess a sword.’
‘Then why do you have one?’ Limrani baits, using Bào’s massive outpouring of angst to deflect him backwards - it is gratifying to see my instruction in motion. ‘Do you think I care about the laws of the Sangdil?’
The warrior in my brother is quietly impressed by her skill and defiance, I can tell. ‘You do know I have an entire battalion with me? Whatever happens, you leave this place my prisoner.’
‘You are all walking corpses,’ Limrani baits him again, ‘and you will pay with your lives for serving the oppressors of our people.’
Bào’s sights shift my way a moment. ‘I find being the oppressor preferable to the oppressed.’
Again there is a clash of swords, and as the sound echoes through the cavern, more Sangdil begin to head down through the passage.
I look to Herodotus for aid. Finally accepting that his verse is not going to be written, he turns the writing tool off and tucks it away in his attire. He pulls out another small object that he pushes onto his finger like a large upside-down ring.
‘You will pay the price for your crimes against the innocent.’ My student threatens Bào as Herodotus sneaks up behind her, and with a touch of his strange ring, Limrani turns invisible and falls unconscious into the Seeker’s arms.
Her sudden disappearance disturbs my brother, who swings his sword about in a frustrated search. ‘What trickery is this?’
Herodotus struggles to carry Limrani’s unconscious form out of harm’s way, and is forced to duck around Bào’s free-wielding blade, which grazes the luggage that the Seeker carries on his back. Agh … damn it.
‘I believe you came for me.’ I draw my brother’s focus.
The Seeker lays my student down and is forced to duck down himself. He presses Limrani hard against a wall behind him, and breathes in to avoid being stepped on.
‘No one threatens me and gets away with it.’ Bào continues slashing about.
‘Circumstance disputes that.’ My observation compels my brother to swing the tip of his blade to my throat.
‘Who is she?’ Bào demands to know as a battalion of Sangdil come to stand at his back.
‘A victim of Anik’s hostile takeover, just like the rest of us.’
‘Lie.’ The steel tip of the sword pierces my skin. ‘Ordinary folk don’t just vanish. Is she one of your evil spirits?’
A warm trickle of blood runs down my neck and pools in my collarbone. ‘I do not know any evil spirits.’
‘Sure you do … I’ve seen you pull a really good vanishing act before today.’ Bào grips me around the neck. ‘But not this time.’ His forehead smashes against mine and I make no attempt to block him or protect myself - karma is at work and must be served.
The pain penetrates deep into my skull and is so intense that my vision blurs. Head throbbing, I fall to my knees. I could withdraw into my subtle form and feel nothing, but I would lose control of my physical form in the process. I could rebel and reclaim control of my fate by using my knowledge of vital life force to deflect the aggressive energy back at my attacker. But the test is to remain in flow and not resist what is. This is my brother, who took on the life of a monster to spare me that horror and allow me a life of idyllic self-examination. If he still wants to kill me for our trade of fates, I would consider that a fair thing, but first we do have some final business to attend to.
‘Now I get to finish you.’
‘I have some vital news for you about your warlord.’ The comment stalls a fatal blow from Bào’s blade. ‘I shall tell, but only you.’
‘You don’t make demands.’ Bào clutches my throat, squeezing the air from my windpipe.
‘You can kill me, but my news will change everything!’ I force out the words.
Bào reluctantly loosens his grip, and shoving me backward, I draw breath. ‘If you have something to say about my warlord, then you say it in front of him.’
Bào waves a finger in my direction and moving out of the way, men from the battalion grab hold of me. As they drag me towards the crevice - some in front and several behind - my sights drift to Herodotus, bewildered on the floor. I would have liked to speak with him of the future, but I knew as much as I needed to. ‘Oh to be home in our little village Desa Ulat Satura.’
Herodotus frowns, curious about my parting words, but he holds up a hand to bid me farewell as I am hauled away.
‘All you would find there now is forest.’ Bào assures me.
I guarantee grandfather’s mulberry trees and silkworms still thrive. A thought best kept to myself. Some unsuspecting locals would stumble onto a very profitable business there one day. I hope Herodotus will see Limrani there. If any of my people survived my brother’s revenge, my student will find herself a safe haven and be welcomed as family.
Bào backs into the passage to guard the flank on the way out. ‘I don’t trust this place.’
I feel certain my long-lost sibling would like to drag me behind his horse all the way to our destination. Instead, my hands are bound and I am slung over the mount of one of his soldiers - arms one side of the horse, feet the other - to be stomach hammered by the horse’s pounding movements for the entire journey. I would have been surprised to be provided the luxury of a transport, but I am not the only man taken captive by the Sangdil this day; two other men are bound and slung over horses in this fashion. I suspect my sibling is very eager to have the obstacle to killing me resolved.
Most of the journey I spend in a meditative state, listening to the reassurances of Làoshi, who tells me that it is good that I follow my own instinct; intuition is the compass to seek the divine. I no longer fear my mortality, seek safety or peace - these are just concepts created by humans to aid us in the exploration of this material construct. I do not fear abandonment for I have found solace in my own company; and as all are one, who is there to miss? I have nothing to hold me in this existence, nothing to protect; I do not claim ownership of anything in this world or beyond. I am honoured to have been able to learn and co-create in this existence, but there are many other expressions of being in creation that are equally amazing. So I am ready to detach from here and now, to experience, explore, and learn from other existences. Every being who ever lived and would ever live has a unique experience to contribute to the one great being of which we are all part, and I await my new assignment with great expectation.
By dusk we reach the capital of the Sangdil at Boran Maon - ‘the Mount of the Ancients’. I wonder whether it is coincidence or quite deliberate that Anik Bodi chose to base himself here, as our people have long considered this place to be an abode of evil. Like attracts like, and thus the warlord would no doubt be attracted to the resonant frequency of this place.
I emerge from my trance state. The ache from the battered trauma I have sustained down the front of my body seeps into my conscious awareness. So intense is the pain that I almost retreat back into my incorporeal state. The other prisoners endeavour to repress their moans of pain as their Sangdil captors beat them every time they release a sound. Instinctually, I soften my breaths. I focus my qi on the afflicted area and my suffering eases.
It was in my fourteenth year that Bào and the Sangdil destroyed our home and I fled into the wilderness, and so it has been over half my lifetime since I visited a village. It is plain that civilisation has degenerated since the Sangdil came to power. Bào and I used to accompany our father to the local marketplaces in our youth. The once vibrant, jovial, thriving trade market I remember is no more. The dilapidated streets and dwellings are now littered with starving children, old and sick people, and young women carrying Sangdil offspring. The forced recruitment of our menfolk had come at the cost of the collapse of our family life and business that had been driving our culture and commerce.
All able-bodied people flee to hide as the Sangdil enter the main thoroughfare leading to the elevated, walled sandstone fortress where Anik Bodi bases himself. The streets reek of excrement - both human and animal - rotting food, fear, and death. The squalor and oppression here is surreal to me - do the people not realise that they have but to walk away from this place and into the forest to obtain a far greater quality of life? Have they been so brainwashed that they feel they have no choice but to stay in this misery? Several of the unfortunates, too debilitated to flee, are randomly lashed with Sangdil whips as we pass. All hope is gone from their eyes; they are just awaiting death now, like me.
