Rise of Primus (The Image Maker Book 1) Read online

  The Rise of Primus

  by Michael Zadai and Connie Cahoon

  Endorsements

  Michael Zadai and Connie Cahoon offer us a fresh mythological peek behind the curtain of origin, fall, and redemption, modestly following Milton’s lead in re-spinning the ancient story. In the style of modern epic writers, and with all the drama of war and battle, they take the reader on a journey through the Canopy that separates the angelic heavens from virgin earth. Once the pages of this story touched my hands, I could not let go.

  Mark Foreman, Lead Pastor

  Northcoast Calvary Church

  The Rise of Primus, explores basic and advanced issues of theology without ever losing its focus as a compelling narrative. The authors weave together poetic language and novel “what ifs” to retell the epic story of the battle between God and Satan and the passionate pursuit of humanity by the Creator. At times the authors offer insightful parallels to the well-known biblical stories, but the book is at its best when they use their creativity to integrate themes of science or to explore motives and other dimensions, adding richness to the world they’ve created and layers to our understanding of the true Story of stories.

  Richard K. Olsen, Chair

  Dept. of Communication Studies

  University of North Carolina Wilmington

  Michael and Connie grab you by the heart and catapult you onto what feels like an already begun roller-coaster ride. This sensory banquet of a tale spins, drenches and thrills as it careens its way to the next stage of this brand-new, age-old story. You arrive at ride’s end breathlessly exhilarated, stunned and . . . profoundly grateful.

  Don Freeman, Pastor

  Peninsula Vineyard Church

  In The Rise of Primus, Zadai and Cahoon have created a truly original framework to communicate the epic battle of good versus evil and ultimately God’s redemptive love. By combining elements of familiar stories from the Bible with a dynamic narrative, the authors have made complicated theological concepts and truths accessible to a wide audience. This fast-paced and thought-provoking tale is a thoroughly entertaining read. Yet, it successfully conveys the message that God is always with us and no matter how far we fall; He loves us unconditionally.

  Leanne Hillary

  Librarian Old Dominion Libraries

  DEDICATION

  MICHAEL ZADAI: To my loving family for their support throughout my journey. To Rebekah Vazquez, thank you for contributing with graphic art designs and technical support. To Doctors Mike and Pat McLean, whose kindness I will never forget. To Dr. C. Baxter Kruger and Malcolm Smith, whose passion to communicate the love of God has ignited a fire in the depths of my soul. To Tammie Adkins, whose administrative assistance has been a life-saver. And to Tim and Blair and the reading group that meets in their home for their critiques and encouragement as we hammered out the story in the earlier manuscripts.

  CONNIE CAHOON: To the memory of my dear parents, Reverend Garland K. Hines, Sr. and Lillie Hewitt Hines; their love was unconditional. To my husband, Roger F. Cahoon, Jr.; his goodness is rightfully his fame. To our children, Josh, Caris, and Jordan, and their beautiful families; our hearts are made tender because of them. And to my dear friend, Lynnet McMillan, who beset by the love of God, threw a lifeline to this soul at sea.

  Foreword

  In your hands is an epic adventure, written with a mythopoeic imagination. To tell an old and familiar tale in a way that fascinates, refreshes, and even inspires, requires an uncommon mind. This is the story of creation, fall, and redemption, told from behind the scenes. Here we enter the unknown universe of the Silver Sea, a place of peace and unimaginable beauty. It is the home of the Image Maker—Abba, Philon and Life Weaver—and of the angels, soaring in breathtaking flight. Love rules, and where there is real love, freedom abounds. Freedom is love’s gift, holding the seeds of tragedy, sadness, and pain, as well as the unspeakable joy and life of sacrifice, fellowship, and oneness.

  While the Silver Sea is limitless, there are boundaries and forbidden zones, beyond which lie portals whose magnetic forces can carry one to other dimensions. Raeh is a beautiful angel who loves the edges of freedom, and as one fascinated by that which lies beyond the Canopy, he braves the unknown consequence of crossing into a forbidden world. What he sees there he can never shake. Lured by the hope of obtaining what is in fact already his, Raeh embraces the Netherlife. Innocence and temptation, loyalty and betrayal, blindness, murder, and catastrophic mayhem follow, as does resurrection—and, not least, divine humility and grace. Here I will stop, so as not to steal from you the joy of entering into the tale.

  But, I will say that Zadai and Cahoon are as gifted in discerning the human heart and its secrets as they are at creating new worlds in our minds. As the drama unfolds, you will see yourself, your own strengths and weaknesses, temptations, hurts, and mistakes, lived out in their startling characters. They also know the surprise of the real gospel, so that just when you think all is lost, you discover the story has an eternal ‘frame’ in the endless love of the blessed Trinity. The Rise of Primus, is a tale of tragedy baptized with hope, and it is a tale for us—for there is a frame for all our broken stories. And there is more to come.

  C. Baxter Kruger, Ph.D.

  Preface

  There is a long celebrated history of exploring deep truths indirectly through narratives. Such stories may explore the basic moral development of children through fairy tales and allegories or result in the more complex redemptive fantasies of luminaries such as John Bunyan, Lewis and more contemporary voices such as Dekker, Somers and others.

  We did not set out to write a theological treatise on the biblical account of the Creator and His creation, nor to recount the story as it appears in holy writ. We have instead gathered the threads of that timeless story and taken artistic license to spin them into the fabric of a colorful fantasy.

  The thing about works of fantasy, whether Tolkien’s Lord of The Rings or Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, is that their bearing casts shadows across the footed paths of earth to loosen the laces of mediocrity, so that we might enter other worlds, where fires of imagination blow winds of liberation through our sometimes dusty minds.

  So cozy up and journey with us to Manumit, for imaginary worlds hold powerful secrets, too, ones that can change persons and things for evil or for good—and sometimes forever.

  Michael R. Zadai

  Connie H. Cahoon

  Story

  From time immemorial, whether drawn in caves, carved in stone or scrawled on scrolls of parchment, story has touched the core of humankind, stirring the soul, captivating the imagination, and inspiring dreamers to dream and writers to write.

  The Authors

  Chapter 1

  Prior to the creation of humanity and past the farthest reaches of our cosmos, another universe existed. It was the Silver Sea. Its luminous waters encompassed a landscape of scattered islands, colorful and glinting like gemstones. Phosphorescent waves lapped the islands’ shores, leaving them awash in a silvery-green glow.

  Wind-driven clouds resembling sailing ships of old, floated across the sky where beams of golden light traced their outlines in colors of coral and plum.

  Bursting through the clouds, two dueling figures appeared. Swords clashing, sparks flying, they sliced through the ships’ billowy sails.

  “Yield, Raeh!” declared Abriel—his weapon stilled against his younger brother’s chest.

  “Yield? To my slower opponent?” teased Raeh. “Never!”

  Abriel laughed. “You fail to notice that the slower of us is detained at the end of my sword!” And he adjusted his taloned grip, as if pre
paring to pitch Raeh into the sea. But, a sudden burst of Raeh’s wings and a quick twist of his body sent him rocketing upward.

  Abriel gave chase. “Don’t do it, Raeh! You know it is forbidden to cross the boundaries of our universe!”

  Heedless of his brother’s advice, Raeh flew beyond the Canopy’s limits, while Abriel, unwilling to violate the well established boundary, halted his pursuit. He always pushes the limits, he thought. One day he will be in over his head!

  Raeh had only intended to fly the slightest distance beyond the Canopy, then execute a looping descent to gain the advantage of surprise over Abriel. However, as he slowed to make his turn, a magnetic force drew him up quickly and pulled him farther into the forbidden zone. Panicked, the young Destiner flapped his bristling wings to break free, but was whisked along, tumbling end-over-end, while hearing the thunderous sound of rushing water as he went. When at last he was spit from the portal he landed in the thick of a misty jungle, next to a waterfall.

  Disheveled and aflutter, he collected himself, brushed back his windblown hair and smoothed his ruffled feathers. Expecting the worst, he rose slowly to his feet and looked warily about. Relief rushed over him, delight too, for the jungle, being far from threatening, was strikingly exotic.

  Droplets of dew, like beads of liquid crystal, glistened on outstretched leaves, leaving glimmering trails behind them in their descent to the grasses below. Ribbons of celebratory light sprang about like living beings, and Raeh wondered if they did so with him in mind. He smiled, flared his nostrils and drew in a deep breath. The air was cool and fragrant. It smelled of citrus, gardenia and fresh mint.

  Immediately ahead and high above, a waterfall cascaded down the stony face of a granite cliff, where it emptied into a turquoise river that ran beyond Raeh’s range of view.

  The trees along the riverbank were like giants, lithe and tall, extending their boughs in welcoming gesture. The fall’s overspray shimmered in prismatic colors, like diamonds adrift in the air, and subtle bell-tones hinted of wind chimes playing within the falling waters. Raeh was wonder swept.

  “Where am I? I have never beheld such beauty!”

  A cheerful melody wafted through the air, followed by a resplendent being, her movements light and airy. “My name is Strophe,” she said in tuneful lilt. “Born of the Image Maker’s heart, I am music, and I am dance.” She touched Raeh’s lips, and in a moment of bliss the two sang rapturous rhapsodies and danced without a care. When Raeh fell exhausted to the satiny grass, Strophe flitted naturally into the air; and in her train magenta butterflies performed a fluttering ballet, winding in sporadic circles above his head.

  “Music awaits your future,” she said in melodic inflection, “and in a place beyond your wildest dreams.”

  Then she sailed away light as a bubble, dropping a musical note as she went. It fell like a leaf, gliding to and fro, then landed in whispers at Raeh’s feet.

  “Eat it, Raeh,” called her singsong voice. “It is your wonder gift.”

  He picked up the note and placed it in his mouth. It tasted lemony sweet and melted like snow upon his tongue. Feeling dreamy, he laid back in repose.

  Voices echoing from behind the fall soon roused him from his rest. Listening, he tried to determine the identities of those who spoke, or make out what they were saying, but had no success. He decided to investigate, and headed straight for the waterfall. Padded feet and clawed toes made him a sure-footed candidate for crossing the surging shallows, he thought, but his back side hit the slippery rocks more than once before he reached the fall’s rock wall. Palms pressed against its cold dampness, he inched along sideways until he came upon a cave. Its mouth, yawning wide, seemed an open invitation, or so he told himself, and there he entered.

  A sprawling warmly lit cavern lay in pure opulence before him. Its walls, streaked in veins of colored stone, rose high above a glassy floor of onyx. Raeh had always dreamt of the Sacred Caverns, their grandeur, their whereabouts. He glided a hand across the wall’s exquisite markings and imagined what it must be like to hold membership within the closed society—whose voices he now heard more clearly. He finger-traced the seams of purple amethyst, blue topaz and rich, red jasper. The whole thing seemed surreal. And he fell to the hush of wonder.

  He eased down a narrow corridor, slipped around a bend, and unexpectedly came upon a chamber. A split-second-peek left him both alarmed and thrilled, for it revealed a most rare and privileged sight—one which he was not sanctioned to see. He ducked quickly behind the wall, his heart pounding rapidly, and while trying to catch his breath, thought of attempting a preemptive escape. But the desire to remain in the experience for as long as possible kept him from fleeing.

  Crouching low, and trembling in fear, Raeh observed the seven tribal elders at council with the One who could only be the Image Maker of old.

  He was a radiant figure, robed in sentient light, the outline of His features slightly pronounced. A soft luster emanated from His being and illumined the cavern. Raeh basked in the comfort of its animate warmth. But the moment was short lived when an elder glanced over his shoulder Raeh went numb. Wanting to hide, he knew he couldn’t. Wanting to be seen, he knew he shouldn’t. Time stood still with Raeh held fast in its most precarious moment.

  Just as the One lifted His gaze toward him, Raeh felt a tap on the shoulder. In an instant he was standing outside the cavern, face to face with a being whose unmistakable aspect of nobility suggested he was a ruler of sorts. Raeh was puzzled, for the being carried no saber, wore no belt, and had hands without talons. His body appeared to be wrapped entirely in flesh—much like the faces of Destiners—though less weathered. As for wings, they were either hidden or missing.

  “What are you doing here?” asked the cavern’s apparent guardian.

  “I was in contest with my brother, Abriel, when I stepped into the forbidden zone. I was dragged here by a force I found impossible to withstand. Why are you here?”

  “I live here, Raeh.”

  “Then how do you know my name?”

  “Oh, I know the Destiners well, and you in particular. Born of the Aeton tribe, you are swift of sword and wing. You remain ardent and battle-ready. But today your strategy, having taken leave of wisdom, has led you to a place where you should not have come. To step beyond the Canopy is forbidden, and for good reason.”

  “Tell me, then, what is that reason? The Seven Elders are here,” he lowered his voice and leaned in close. “And He is here!”

  “Raeh, you were fortunate to have entered a portal that brought you here, for there are others that lead to less accommodating places, even regions from which you might never have returned.”

  “Yes, and just as I was enjoying my good fortune you removed me from the cavern. Don’t you understand? The Image Maker would have seen me!” Exasperated, he lamented, “I was so close...so close.”

  “The Image Maker sees you already. You will stand before Him soon enough, but not until the appointed time. For now, you must return to the Silver Sea. Given your love of adventure, and fondness for risk-taking, I invite you to look behind you.”

  Raeh turned around, and to his astonishment, found two portals in full spin before him. One was yellow, the color of goldenrod, and the other, metallic red.

  “Pick one. It will determine your route home.”

  Raeh pondered the offer and reasoned aloud, “If the choice before me is a trick question, and I have little reason to expect otherwise, then the best choice is the one I am least likely to make. Still, I must remain true to myself. I choose the irresistibly red route home.”

  “By all means, then!” said the enigmatic host. With a telling grin he gestured toward the selected portal.

  Raeh placed a foot inside the portal, then glanced back. “Who are you?” But the same magnetic force that had dragged him through the first portal ride now sucked him down the second.

  “Whoa!” he cried, as he swirled down the portal’s lengthy drain.

  “I am Phi
lon, the Image Maker’s son,” echoed the stranger’s voice in reply.

  Raeh’s transport brought him to a clumsy drop at portal’s end, and he hit the ground with a thud.

  “Ouch!” he yelped. Eyes closed, he rubbed his aching head. “Ugh! I should have chosen goldenrod…”

  “Well, look who we have here,” came a gruff, familiar voice.

  Raeh’s eyes popped open to see two hefty Xcelenes standing over him. “What’s the matter little fly guy?” goaded the bearded one. “Lose your way?”

  The Xcelenes were a tribe of Destiners within the social strata of the Silver Sea. Dominant by nature, and highly competitive, their sect was the primary element of disturbance within an otherwise peaceful climate. They delighted in the annual Tribal Games, for which they rigorously trained. It was there they flaunted their strength, crushing the competition time after time. However, complete victory had eluded them, since Raeh, Abriel, and a fellow companion named Domitias, had remained undefeated.

  “Let me help you up,” offered the taller one. But when Raeh accepted the gesture, he was snatched up in a roughshod manner, and shoved down again. In this way they harassed Raeh until he was livid.

  I could fly circles around these dolts and have them boxing one other!

  A skirmish ensued, and Raeh sprang to his feet. As predicted, he baffled his adversaries until they came to blows. A timely departure being vital to his plan, so he caught a good gust of wind and winged away. However, a sudden shock of pain, in the socket of a wing, slowed his progress. Soon his aggressors were upon him. Blindsided by a blow to the head, Raeh plummeted into the sea.