THE DARK RITE
Four days after the Queen’s burial, King Koral sat upon his throne deep in thought. His grief was hard to endure. He felt an eroding change come over him, one that could not be undone. For his very being grew dark and his countenance fell in that unlit hall.
The shadows of the stained-glass windows gave no comfort to the seated man, “How we have gone astray, Jairus. Dark and corrupt, without even false hope to comfort us as are the dreary ways of men. For everyone seeks his own purpose at the neglect of others.” Then the King looked at the man standing before him, “Where did our fathers lose faith, and their fathers before them lose their confidence?”
The High Priest saw the King’s grief lay troubling on his face, “Sire, to return to the teaching of our forefathers – “
“Our forefathers were smarter than us for they clearly saw their goal ahead, so we were led to believe. We failed to board those ships to the celestial shores and stayed behind on these shores instead, yet in truth, I dare say it was with no clear agenda in mind, but the folly of fearful arrogance.” Koral’s inner struggle surfaced as his words were seasoned with bitterness, “Seems that we have all bought into the drifting sands of illusions, my friend.”
Shaking his head to the contrary, “Sire, ever does the doom of mortal death confront each of us to question our foundations. But it is, that which remains sure, that counsels us to be.” Jairus tried his best to console Koral’s heavy thoughts.
But the King felt he had been deeply betrayed, “We must find that which the Founding fathers once imparted to their children, and yet it somehow seems to elude us. If only we – I, could regain that bearing once more.”
“That is but the journey of all men to walk in growth, my friend” The priest’s words felt hollow.
“Yes, yes, I have heard all these things before, told to others and they fell short there too. Those are only trite words and poorly constructed distractions, given at the expense of the bothersome who weeps. If it is not for your own urgency to find answers, you sloth with bantering words about like sprinkled rose peddles, then heaping praise upon yourselves later for the good deed you have done!” The King took a drink of wine, adding, “I would rather you go off and conduct whatever your business was before than waste your breath on me. Enough of this pretense, Priest! I am full of such useless comfort for it sounds more like empty platitudes, like sand offered to a thirsty man.” Then with a darkening red face, Koral slowed to a whisper, “Consult the dead instead.”
The Priest felt uncertain about what he meant, “My lord?”
The King poured himself another full chalice, “Do not stand before me again until you or your Priesthood has devised a way to communicate with them.” Koral’s words resonated with authority.
“Them, sire?”
“Are you deaf now?”
“No, no, my king,” The High Priest stepped back sounding humble, “I ask only for clarification’s sake, my lord.”
“Then listen clearly to this, Jairus. Devise a method for contacting the dead Founders of this abandoned city, so that I may question them for myself and see my way ahead. For my heart is broken and life is meaningless.” His confidence returned briefly in the firmness of his voice.
The voice of the High Priest responded equally forceful, “Necromancy is a forbidden act that none may perform, no matter the one asking –. “
“It was not a request. I un-forbade it, and mandate it till accomplished,” Koral’s eyes blazed, unblinking in his gaze.
“That path is laden with manipulations and deceptions, my King. We must instead pray that Eru himself would aid us.“ The priest’s words were turned against him.
“We Kings allowed you, Priests, to thrive, and you, in turn, crafted the gods from thin air to control the weak-minded. I say to you once more and then am done, come to me only after you have devised a proven method of communicating with the dead. Tell me in detail about this method and then in one week thereafter show me that it works. I will judge for myself if I am being deceived, and if so, I will revel at your beheading, knowing the manipulations have ended! Now, be gone from my sight.”
Immediately, without a spoken word, the bowed man walked backward leaving the chamber.
Hours later, having confined in those he trusted most, Jairus made it clear that the King’s change of mind was serious and most unsettling, “No matter how this course of action is to be resolved I fear his reign shall be unlike his predecessors with ever dark days ahead.”
The stars, bones and stones, books and scrolls were all consulted, but no answer came. Even secret messengers were sent out in disguise to learn what they could. Weeks went by with no answers.
Then the Shaman, Kaf-anon from the village of Sinjar secretly replied to the Mitharian’s letter. He summonsed the Priest with an invitation. Indeed, a sure and proven method was known, but the last Mitharian King, Nuthcorlan, had placed a ban against what he called ‘The Dark Arts’. Though scarcely performed, it was known throughout their long history. Kaf-anon said,” It was a private ritual that came at a high cost, for the answers always held unforeseen consequences.”
Six weeks to the day after the Queen’s passing, the bells no longer sounded as the formal time of mourning had ended, but not Koral’s loss of her. It was then that the Lord High Priest of the Watchtower came and stood before the King of Eriduah, “My lord.”
“Come,” Koral’s demeanor seemed less grim than the last time they had met.
“You said to come only when a proven method was devised.”
He shook his head, “I am conflicted in my own mind.”
“Conflicted, sire?”
Koral ordered more wine to be brought in, “I am reconciled to remain lost. Foul dreams afflicted me too many nights since my harsh words to you, my friend.” He drained the chalice only to refill it again.
“Yes, my lord,” Jairus remained quiet trying to read his friend’s mood.
“Ah now I recall the terms, but you said a method was devised?” Koral sat forward on his throne with squinted eyes reading the man before him in turn. “What were the results?”
“The Sinjarian Shaman shared a long-used ritual and the details of the properties needed, which are many, sire.”
The King sat back, and waved his hand dismissively, “Let us forego the boring intricacies, for they can be used as easy distractions. Have you done this - thing?
“After a private messenger returned with news, I seek out this Kaf-anon for myself. I gave him thirty pieces of gold and your King’s pardon from the ban. Only then he did perform it in my presence.
“A woman of his village had many husbands, and each, in turn, had died leaving her to the next brother in line. She sought from the Shaman to know if her first husband approved of all the following marriages, and where his hidden gold lay. The Shaman-Witch called for a goat to be slain and its ashes poured out upon a naked child who was severely beaten, and unrelated to the woman. After many rounds of drumming, the child fell to the ground in a horrible, frightening fit, my lord. Then, with a man’s voice, the child told the woman where her first husband had buried their household goods. He had sworn his brothers into caring for her. The first husband was most pleased that she had born a son to each of his following brothers.”
The King sat for a moment and then, “So, you need a goat and child, then?”
“Sire, such cruelty must not,” the priest’s words were cut short.
“Are you able to perform this challenge in my presence, and to my satisfaction or not?” The King’s words demanded a reply.
“Sire, the mechanics of the ritual – yes, my lord.” The High Priest saw Koral desired only one answer, and it, without excuse or delays.
“Well done, Jairus. Bully for you indeed, my friend. Set it all in motion for me to observe in – say, four days’ time. Remember, priest, longtime friendship or not, your neck remains in question. Do you understand me?”
“Clearly understood, my King. In four days shall you witness it and question the Founding fathers for yourself. My neck has always been yours, sire.”
Three days later a summons had been sent out to each one of the seven major cities throughout the realm, hand delivered by Guardian Overseers themselves. It was to be opened precisely at the noon hour. The mandated invitations were addressed to the Key Elders alone, with strict reminders of their sworn oaths. Within that very hour, they were accompanied by the Guardians for a return trip to Varlendur. None were told the purpose of the trip, not even the Guardians were made aware. The Seven Elders summonsed were: Nadan of Mithar, Dollenshan of Elosh, Giladon of Mishvek, Saha-ishden of Uruk, Ba’Nashma of Sinjar, Bollo of Kathos, and Gil’galashman of Lindol. Each of the men came wearing the Tome-Key about their neck.
The market of Mithar was lined with city guards, and when the call came the streets were cleared for the seven wagons as they followed one after the other, rushing toward the Watchtower of Varlendur. The Guardians escorted the Key Elders to an empty throne room. From there a single Knight lead the Elders alone through the staircase to the Round Chamber, just below the topmost deck where there burned the eternal flame of the Watchers.
Three other Knights, of the King’s private guard, stood in the hallway. The Key Elders saw that their chosen ministerial servants had been summoned ahead of them. They stood silently along the wall, in order, and each one held out a folded black, and gold trimmed robe for the Elders to don. While they dressed, the Knight reminded them to remain silent, “I will knock on the door, only after you hear three knocks in reply may you enter in silence.” The Elders waited. The Captain of the Guards knocked, then resumed his station.
A long while passed.
Three knocks came, loudly and slowly.
Opening the door and acting as their guide was the messenger of the Lord High Overseer, Gelos. Upon entering the chamber, they immediately saw his majesty, the King sitting in a chair, and his female scribe, Lydia beside him on a floor mat. Scribes never left their King’s side and were ever writing on their tablets, even the most insignificant of things. Those who entered realized this was to be no small event as even royalty had come to preside over the secret ritual as a witness.
Without a word, Gelos gestured for the men to follow him. Seven high candle stands were lit, and a circle of salt had been drawn on the floor with the lamps just outside the line. Silence and candle flame thickened the mood as the door was shut behind them, well-guarded. Each of the Key Elders had their names drawn before the lampstands and were directed to stand in place. Beyond where they stood were two more circles, also drawn in salt. In the middle of the chamber’s triple circles there stood a stone table, mid-chest high, with a strange multisided box in the middle.
After the Elders had taken their station, Minister Gelos spoke, “Gathered here in the sacred space let our hearts plead to be heard, that the smoke of this incense is as those prayers ascending unto them who listen to all things.” With that, he took the oil lamp from the alter and lit a bowl of incense. Its sweet aroma pillared up in a thin stream.
It was then the Lord High Overseer spoke for the first time, “Welcome Key Elders from each of the seven cities of the realm. This is a summonsing rite by which the invocation of the ages may be heard.
“Brothers, one after another and by your sworn oaths, come with the key in hand and turn the lock denoted by its icon.” The seven-sided box resembled an upside-down gemstone. Having done so they returned to their station as before. “The locks of this chest were designed by the same smith who crafted those of your Tomes.” When the final key of Lindol had been inserted and turned serval clicks were heard, and its lid opened.
The Lord High Priest Jairus slowly opened the lid removing it altogether. Within it was a smaller chest made of dark mahogany, inlaid with silver vines and leaves. It was then Jairus removed a key from within his own shirt and opened the smaller box. Opening it he then removed yet another box that was the size of his hand, from tip to heel. It was very ornate and shaped almost like a huge oval. The Lord High Priest Jairus announced, “Behold! The Almond Seed. Within is all that remains of the Holy Dead, the ashes of our most beloved founding fathers.” He then slipped off the cover and carefully sprinkled a delicate portion into one half of a white shell that sat on the altar. From a brilliant brass bowl, the High Priest used the side of a knife blade to take a portion of powder and pour it onto the ashes, “These are the ashes from the spent, funeral incense mixed with new.” Then he poured from a jade vessel blood mixed with olive oil, “The blood of the High Priests before me, and the virgin press from the King’s tree. These we mix together, the old and new, from them to us, unto the here and now. By the unspeakable name of Eru-Illuvatar, I thus invoke their voices through time to be among us now!” Everyone in the room, except the King and Scribe covered their faces in their hands. It was then the High Priest ignited the incense mixture using the flame of a lamp on the altar. The herbal smoke streamed upward and dissipated. Jairus glanced over at King Koral, then up at the ceiling above the alter, and said,
“Unto you ancient Fathers, Mothers.
come now you Watchers before these others,
manifest your voice before our eyes,
prick our hearts with solemn cries,
that we plead our gravest needs!”
It was at that very moment the flames of the seven lampstands blew out. Yet its ascending smoke took on the radiance of a pale moon’s light, as did the incense smoke on the altar table. Everyone watched in awe as the smoke formed a great dome over those gathered within the salted-protective circle. They remained with wide eyes even as the indistinct voices of several people whispering could be heard. From the streaming smoke of the incense, a rotating pillar began to form and grew in stature. Its light pulsed with the whispering words. The many voices blended to become the single voice of a woman, “Wh, wh, why, why have you so conjured us back to this side among the living? Why have you disturbed the grace of our serene peace in unimaginable bliss with Him? Who hath done this crime against the reward of our bliss?” The smoke was undecided on how it should appear, as a male or female. Then the body and face of a woman took shape and resembled the beauty of the ancient Lady! Her voice and tone grew in reproach and scorn, “Come forth, you instead, and reveal thy form and explain the abomination of this mockery you have shamed us into becoming! Know well that we will not be your slave, beck, and call! Speak, why?”
Jairus tried to sound confident, but everyone heard the dread in his voice, “Nay sacred mother, Lilikiss! Forgive this intrusion upon your favored reward, our only boon is to know where falls our next step in the goal of your vision for your children, we prayerfully ask?”
It was that ancient mother, in all her glory! Yet miss shaped as a whisp of glowing smoke. Her beauty had succumbed to her wrath with a face admonishing in terror, “Shame on you for this defilement of what remains of that shell wherein we once walked, in that now passed away realm! Forbidden such matters are, unthinkable to conceive, yet I will not bow unto your demanded request of us. When in our living state did, we not leave words penned for you to recall? Did we not live lives by which examples were laid? Yes, on both accounts, and if you disregard them, this mode will do you none the better good. You are but a heedless lost generation, vile among yourselves in having thrown away all that we once were for a world turned upside down! Foolish children bother us no more as these seeds shall see what befalls you now. Be gone and study what has left you or forget us altogether, but in all things leave us to our time.”
It was then King Koral stood up, “But my Lady!”
She shouted, “NEVER AGAIN!” A tremendous wind rushed down vanquishing the dome of smoke. The windowless chamber went black, then echoed with noise. A breath later and all the lamps and candles blazed to life once more. Bodies lay strewed about, moaning. The seven Elders had been thrown backward, landing on the floor and up against the walls with bleeding heads. The salted-protective circles were blown away, littering the floor in disarray. The Ministerial Overseer and High Priest lay toppled on one another. Even the King himself lay on his side with the collapsed remains of his broken chair beneath him. It was only the nine-year-old girl who stood, uninjured beside the King’s feet.
Koral called out, “Guards!” The four knights instantly burst through the unlocked door with swords drawn. “Kill all the priests leave none, alive!”
But it was the soft voice of Lydia who disarmed them all, “Stop - being the man, and be the king.”
All were frozen where they entered, Koral looked from the girl to the startled soldiers, “Belay that command.” At which they complied, sheathing their weapons and began helping the robed men to their feet. No one spoke a word as they heard Koral’s voice crack, “I have my answer now, and I – your king, was wrong in his asking. Forgive a foolish, grief-stricken old man. But I am sorely afraid that I have brought down wrath upon us all. The very walls themselves shall not go unchanged.” Gathering himself off the floor Koral nodded to the High Priest and then left the room. His Scribe and private guards followed close behind in silence.
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