Rise of Primus Read online

  Picturesque surroundings at the path’s end provided the perfect ambiance, and a rustic table-setting presented an assortment of indigenous fare. Pomegranates, dates, figs and cheeses, along with flatbread and delicacies drawn from the sea, provided a mouthwatering feast for the eager nominees.

  Dining with Natriel, they listened attentively as he spoke at length of the Image Maker and His plans for them in the new universe. As their time wound to a close, an animated retelling of Raeh’s encounter with Life Weaver—how he had crab-crawled backward at his appearing—brought Natriel to coughing laughter. A sense of comradeship grew between them that morning. It was humble, gracious and strong. When all was said and done, the brothers were ready to face the future.

  The Empyrean Hall was reserved exclusively for the seven elders, and on rare occasions, for those whose admittance was sanctioned, for one reason or another, by the powers that be. It was the door to other dimensions, to infinite worlds and wonders and to knowledge beyond all telling. Having been escorted there by Natriel, Raeh and Abriel stood at the door’s threshold, beside the highest ranking elder, awaiting entry.

  Beyond the door the two would be commissioned and expedited, by way of portal, to an awaiting universe. To think of it was as daunting as it was exhilarating. The door slid open before them, retracting upward. Natriel allowed the honored guests in ahead of him.

  The ceiling was high and made of sculpted glass. It depicted sweeping silhouettes of glorious looking things and, perhaps, beings. Muted pastel shades of light stood in columns around the room, giving the ceiling’s images a buoyant, flowing affect.

  The elders stood encircled around a small fountain of floral-scented oil, and Natriel, Abriel and Raeh immediately joined them there. Each elder dipped a forefinger into the fountain’s basin, and touching the chosen pair, left the oil, serene and sparkling, upon their foreheads.

  The elders spoke in turn, “May the wisdom of the Image Maker rest upon you,” said the first.

  “May your hearts’ purpose be one with His,” added another.

  “May you bless and not curse,” advised a third.

  In this way they continued until, lastly, Natriel issued a charge: “Resist the pride of privilege and serve the Image Maker well. It is He who has called you, and it is to Him you belong.”

  Then Satrina, fellow elder and portal keeper, ushered the chosen pair toward the aura of violet light that was the portal’s entrance. “You will lose consciousness during transport,” she informed, “but upon reaching your destination, you will awaken as Sons of the Image Maker, members of His esteemed Chayil!” At that the elders applauded.

  They stepped into the open portal, and through subtle shades of violet, left the Silver Sea behind.

  The meeting was adjourned, and Satrina, pulling Yenna aside, asked to speak with her privately, in the orchard of Linnia.

  Sitting in their customary corner, where leaves of jade grew large on trailing vines, and clusters of grapes were plentiful, purple and plump; Satrina confided in her long-time friend.

  “I am troubled,” she said. “The cycle of the blue moon is upon us, and I remain companionless.”

  Yenna patted Satrina’s hand. “I am sorry for your pain, Satrina, although I do know you are not easily pleased. Have you no prospects at all?”

  “Well, I have no illusions about meeting one as illustrious as Natriel,” she said dreamily. “But what if there were prospects beyond the Silver Sea?” she dared to venture.

  “Why, Satrina! What kind of talk is this?”

  “Oh, really, Yenna, what would be the harm in poking my nose into a portal here and there?”

  “You are willing to take such risks?”

  “When so many possibilities exist? Yes!”

  “Oh, do be careful, Satrina. I fear wisdom would not applaud your undertaking.”

  “You be careful!” she quipped. “Unless you’re suggesting that wisdom would sooner applaud my loneliness!”

  “Satrina, please,” replied Yenna, apologetically, “I meant no such thing. My cautionary statement arose only out of concern for a dear friend.”

  “I know, Yenna. Please do forgive my outburst. I can be overly sensitive and quick of tongue. I know your concern is valid.”

  Later that evening as moonlight floated milky blue atop the waters of the Silver Sea, Natriel and Yenna strolled leisurely along the cool white sand at its edge.

  “The light in your eyes still thrills me, Yenna,” said Natriel. “Having been with you so long, I find I love you more and more.”

  She beamed with youthful brightness and kissed his cheek. “Then shall we dance?” she whispered.

  “I should think so,” he replied, smiling.

  Her lips brushed his ear, and whispering still, she teased, “Then you shall have to catch me.” Elusive as a butterfly, she evaded his grasp, her soft feathery wings swimming the sky in graceful backward strokes.

  I love this about her, he thought; and he counted, “one...two...three...” in hide-and-seek fashion, before lifting off the beach in search of her. “Yenna...where are you?” The sound of her sultry laughter led him from place to place, until at last he saw her elegant silhouette in the moonlight. Sneaking up from behind, he enfolded her with his wings, and she fell to his sturdy, yet tender embrace.

  A display of aerial choreography, had the lovers flying in and out of figure eights until, enfolding one other with their wings, they fell toward the sea. Without a word, yet in full communion, they came together, entering one another’s souls, entwined and fearless. Flying by instinct alone, with never a downward glance, they swooped low to the sea’s shimmering surface. Pulling up, they flew off into the night, romancing moonbeams of blue in the season of Yahlu.

  Chapter 4

  Deep within the recesses of measureless space, among a myriad of outlying stars, the Nucleus Orb, through gravity and motion, sustained the cosmos in totality. There, in the Land of Ever Loving and Being Loved, the Image Maker resided. It had long been said that His radiant countenance brought about daylight’s warmth, and expressions of rest at eventide came with the blink of His eye.

  Harvest had never known wither from summer’s scorching heat, and autumnal leaves never fell from trees to foul the ground with decay. Winter winds, all frigid and scathing, were thereby prohibited reach, while springtime remained in perpetual bloom.

  Yet, far to the North, the Emerald Mountains, jutting into skies of cobalt blue, allowed snow to settle in dusty banks upon their wizened peaks. Auroras of green, trimmed in scarlet flame, topped the snow-capped heights.

  Abba, Philon, and Life Weaver, entertained by purest beauty, looked on from a distance, discussing the forthcoming creation of the Chayil, while in the Valley of Zoë, a celestial city lay unoccupied, awaiting the arrival of its citizenry.

  “I am concerned for Raeh,” Philon confided. “He wrestles so. His eyes reveal the conflicts of a troubled soul, and discontentment leaves him always reaching.”

  “Yes,” agreed Abba, “but shall conflicts of the heart stay the blessings of our hand? To disallow Raeh’s wrestling would be to tamper with his freedom. In remaining true to the creatures we have given life, we must allow them all to choose, though in doing so we take love’s greatest risk.”

  “Should he find the grace bestowed, a gift too great to bear,” added Life Weaver, “he need only draw strength from the inclusion which that same grace affords. For only within shared life will he find completion’s rest.”

  They passed through one another in transparent unity, melding into the essential community of One, which was the Image Maker. Ablaze with creative power, they burst into blue and white flames. Whirring and whirling, a high vortex formed, and a host of winged beings strode from it in processional pageantry. They were dressed in white linen tunics, and their hair, in autumn hues, shimmered with newness of life. These were the Valiant Ones, the Image Maker’s Chayil!

  At last there emerged one tall and sleek, skin glistening bronze. Long e
bony hair framed his chiseled face, and ornamental gems adorned his vested chest.

  Raeh—for it was Raeh—spread his wings to the fullness of their glorious expanse and lifted himself high above the others. The shining throng marveled at his magnificence. He hovered over them thinking, I knew I was destined for greatness!

  The vortex subsided, and Abba, Philon, and Life Weaver stood together. Abba called to Raeh, who came down like a shooting star to present himself before them. “Here,” announced Abba, “you are Conductor of Music, Singer of Songs, Star of the Morning! Raeh, behold your choir!”

  Raeh turned toward the thousands, who under his direction, lifted their voices in vigorous song as if they had always done so. The chorus rang out in the highest heavens, proclaiming the wonders of the Image Maker—its harmonies clear as a cloudless morning and crisp as a winter’s night.

  Satrina, having slipped through the portal, had watched the entire event unfold. As an elder, she had been apprised of the roles Raeh and Abriel would assume in the new universe, but nothing could have prepared her for the spectacular train of events she witnessed. Taken aback by his stunning appearance and prestigious position, she whispered beneath her breath, “Oh, Raeh…how stateliness becomes you!” Then she ducked into the portal and returned to the Silver Sea, telling no one of her escapade.

  It wasn’t long afterward that Philon addressed the Chayil concerning the complexities and uniqueness of their design.

  “There lies within you a potent pool,” he told them. “It is the seat of your passion, the place of your dreams, where creative thought finds its origin. But its waters fluctuate, becoming, at times, more turbulent than placid, more troubled than serene. It is vital, therefore, as you exercise the freedom given you, that your heart maintain its orientation toward home. Beware of the Netherlife, the antithesis of true life. Its alluring enticements would draw you away from reciprocal love and leave you trapped in the confines of solitary self.”

  He placed his open hands upon his chest. Directing his listeners to do the same, he had them repeat after him,

  “Compelling waters

  Surface and reveal

  The seat of passion

  In all its zeal.”

  When they spoke, the phrase resounded throughout the vast assembly. Withdrawing their hands, a circle of silvery water lay in the cup of their palms.

  “Though passions rise and fall,” said Philon, “in choosing, you must learn to master them.”

  With that the pools dissipated, and Philon brought the initiation to a close.

  “Having been designed just so, you are impeccably suited for the excellence of life given to you here. As for the cosmos, while it is not tame, you will find its handiwork spectacular and its profundities limitless. By all means, enjoy!” And he released them to do so.

  Raeh found great pleasure in being numbered among the Chayil, and took pride in the titles conferred upon him. But he eventually wandered off in search of a planet called Zenith, for he had heard talk of it being the viewing sphere of the Image Maker. Additionally, its ‘off-limits’ status made it all the more appealing.

  He flew along, marveling, as always, at the panorama before him, and at length, became dizzied by the vastness of the starry host. Innumerable galaxies defied his calculations, and the insatiable maw of black holes left him awestruck. Raeh was lost within the immense span of the cosmos, feeling small, though still exceptional. Enthralled, he yearned to possess it. All of it. But he knew that the riches of the cosmos remained in the hands of Philon.

  “The notion that Philon should have it all is simply preposterous!” he ruminated aloud. “What if I could procure even a small portion of these abundant assets myself and exploit them—I mean utilize them— and put them to good use? Because really,” he went on, “to take a mere slice for myself would not be the least bit unfair. Besides, Philon should learn to share!”

  He dipped and swooped about, contemplating the prospect, when a ripple of violet light caught his eye. Hmm . . . he wondered, have I chanced upon a portal? Then entering it, he burst into flight down the mystical pathway.

  Satrina sat alone in an alcove there, studying the science of creation, when Raeh’s sudden presence took her by surprise. Startled, she gasped, “Raeh! How did you get in here?”

  “Please forgive me, Satrina,” he quickly said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was out exploring when I practically fell into your portal! Might I suggest you keep it closed?” Satrina chuckled. She found his charm engaging and his good looks nearly irresistible.

  She arose from her chair, took a long evocative look at him and said, “Well, now, aren’t you the handsome one?” Then mindful of her Elder status, she took a more suitable tone. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but whatever it is, I cannot allow your passage through this portal. You know that.”

  “Ah, Satrina, fairest of Elders, I have no such intention. But do tell, how is it that one as lovely as you should remain here all alone?”

  “Oh, you flatter me!” she blushed. “But while I am quite the mathematician, it requires only the simplest of equations to see that with you here I am hardly alone.”

  “Beautiful and smart!” he teased. “Suppose I quizzed you? Do you think you could answer correctly?”

  “No doubt. Quiz away.”

  “Very well then, does your level of proficiency allow you to locate any star or planet, regardless of its reach?”

  She grinned confidently.

  “Would you think it a stretch if I were to claim that after a few centuries of dabbling in physics I have picked up a little geography too?”

  She slid a small scroll off an upper shelf and unrolled it, revealing an ordinary-looking map.

  “This can be fun,” she said playfully.

  She placed her finger upon their present location and a view of the Silver Sea, in microcosm, bloomed at the spot on the map.

  “You need only select the place you wish to find,” she explained, “and the location’s image, complete with coordinates, will appear. Upon selecting a different location, the present image dissolves, allowing the new one to take its place.”

  “I see… so given your knack for know-how, it seems it would not be too difficult to locate the Planet Zenith, would it?”

  “Hmm . . . I am afraid I cannot do that. Zenith is off-limits, and I expect you should know that by now—or is that expecting a little too much?”

  “Ah, you toy with me, Satrina. Come now,” he assured her, “I’m only curious. I would never think of going there!”

  Satrina rolled her eyes cutely and flung her fingers deftly across the map’s surface until Zenith popped into view. When its colorful image appeared, she said, “Whatever treasures lie within this planet, I am unaware, but it is a most spectacular orb.”

  “It certainly is!” agreed Raeh. He paused for a moment, sizing up both her and the situation. “Satrina, would you be willing—if I promised to come right back—to lend me that little parchment for a while?”

  “Now listen, this has all been very pleasant,” she answered soberly, “but that could get me into a lot of trouble.”

  “But in returning it so quickly, it would cause you no trouble at all.” The map lying between them, Raeh leaned an elbow on the high standing table. “Besides, you wouldn’t want me stumbling into any other portals for lack of a good map, would you?”

  Satrina met his posture and raised an eyebrow. Searching his face, her eyes went dreamy.

  “I suppose I could lend it to you—if you were willing to meet certain conditions.”

  “Oh, conditions, you say? I can’t help thinking compromise is what you really mean.”

  “I find your observation surprisingly astute,” she said, maintaining her position.

  “And I find your proposition surprising!” He grinned.

  Satrina snatched up the gadget she had tightly rolled, and zipping past Raeh, flew to the portal’s entrance. “Want it?” she teased, waving it before him.
/>   And in the blackness of space the Elder of Destiners and the celebrated Singer of Songs had their ignoble tryst.

  Raeh, having met her demands, picked up the parchment with not so much as a backward glance and headed straight for Zenith, reward-in-hand, leaving Satrina to await his promised return.

  Alighting atop the Image Maker’s summit, he was more than pleased, and in self congratulation he declared, “Again, Raeh prevails!”

  The next instant found him plunging headlong into his darkening pool, a euphoric song on his lips. Spurious colors dissolving into muted grays, attended his fevered descent. On the surface of his muddled imagination he could see himself. He stared, captivated.

  Ambitious thoughts swirled about in his egotistical head and he corralled them into one gratifying conclusion; I am the Creator’s perfect specimen!

  He went down a mental checklist. Design? Flawless! Appearance? Impeccable! Potential? Unlimited! I wonder if He realizes what He has made...”

  His narcissistic celebration was interrupted by Abriel. “You’re a hard one to track down, brother!”

  Without turning around, Raeh growled, “Yet you do so again!”

  “Well, if I didn’t always have to keep my little brother out of trouble!”

  Raeh swung around, his expression crazed. Arms thrashing the air, he pointed at Abriel. “You! You are not my keeper! And the brother thing ended with your betrayal. You are not welcome here! Go!”

  Abriel was shocked at Raeh’s bizarre behavior, and lamented the unsoundness of his mind.

  “How is it that you have strayed so far? And so soon? Whatever is wrong, let me help you.”

  “I do not require help, Abriel, especially from you! And I will not tolerate your condescension. Need I remind you of my status?”

  “I’m afraid your thirst for status has been your undoing! The more you are given, the more you want! To what height must you ascend before you are satisfied?”

  Raeh went for his saber. Abriel stood stout and readied himself for the impending assault. But Raeh stayed his aggression. As if coming to his senses, he relaxed his demeanor.