PART TWELVE (Cont'd)
When light comes on darkness fades away:
Bronid watched his two sons slurp and smack their meal with relish. He felt such rest and near contentment these days. His first son was now gradually on the mend, a state made obvious by the boy's ocassional 'rough-play' with his younger brother. 'Shiny-shoes' still tormented his sleep, though sparingly. It appeared somethings were never over until they were dealt a finishing blow. He also observed there was an obstacle in her way when she came lunging in the dark of the night. Temporarily gone were those authoritave demands and pain-filled projections he was forced to obey and bear. However, he was acutely aware that he was not her detterent. At least for now he was not. But he would keep at any action or inaction that would eventually lead him to a complete liberation. He had tangled with the unknown and its dark ploys and it almost cost him his life and all he held dear. Regaining all he had lost, would also require an untangling as excrusciating and sacrificial as the false pleasure was temporal and deceptive.
It was not coincidental that most of the high priestess' attacks had started being blocked at about the same time his patient was brought into his home. If a comatose state wielded such power, he shuddered in awe to think what a fully awakened state would generate. At the word awakening, the healer's mind went straight to his patient. He had begun to stir, howbeit slightly. Once Bronid had heard him croak deeply and faintly. Any utterance whatsoever no matter how guttural was welcome to the anxious healer. He could not wait to get acquainted with this mysterious mortal. A mortal who though physically inactive and mentally unconscious, had already left a magnanimous impact on his hosts and their surroundings. The healer had his patient under a near 24hr surveillance. He wanted to be on the lookout for any improvements or the lack thereof.
At the thought of closely observing his temporary ward, the healer grimaced. The second and antagonistic hunter would have been happy to hear that the 'sleeping' man was under the radar, though for a completely different reason. He was yet to re-surface as he had promised in his parting threat. All that glittered he believed were his for the taking. Bronid never gave the menacing assumptions any brooding time. But in the event that there was an intent to execute those threats, he had planned to be ready. The first and taller hunter had left amicably, promising to revisit. He had found a friend in Bronid and his family and the healer had left his home open to him in reciprocation.
A bumpy ride away from truth:
"What are you?! Or should I ask; what happened to you?" Ashea managed between sobs induced both by her expectant state and the discomfort of the horse drawn wagon.
"You know who I am," answered Rifra immediately as he tapped the wagon driver on the back. He had to remind that one that the main cargo was still a pregnant woman.
"No I do not who you are or what is growing inside of me," continued Ashea stubbornly and petulantly. "Sshhh!....." Cautioned her husband, pressing his index finger to his lips. "All these strange talk, might scare people away and get us ostracized." Said Rifra as he quickly stole a glance at the wagon driver to make sure he was not listening to their one-sided quarrel. "No!" Countered a hysterical Ashea. "The real scare and ostracization will come when this creature creeps out of my body, that is if it does not kill me first!" Continued the highly emotional woman defiantly as she adjusted her weight on the cracked and slanted wagon seat.
Rifra sighed deeply and settled back into his side of the seat. He was glad to be taking her back to their family. This was only a days journey. He would drop her off and then be on his way back to the palace immediately. He would have to leave right away to avoid detection or slacking in his work output. The conversation the day before with his master had left him shaken and with an even deeper resolve to cast all procrastination out an imaginary window. He trembled slightly as he recalled the housekeeper's face when he had opened the door to his furious banging the day before. Methus looked murderous and aggravated all at the same time.
"Where is your sister, Rifra? Is she still sick? And what should I ask, ails her?" The barrage of questions hit Rifra like a ton of rolling bricks. "I am not quite sure what ails her master, but she is well on her way to our family to seek needed help." Came the servants nervous reply.
"Well just as well," the housekeeper continued with his desperate bombardment. "She can remain there while she is at it. There is no longer a position for her here at the palace." He finished dismissively. "Certainly master as you wish." Agreed Rifra a little too quickly, feeling relieved that this resolution was easier than unearthing a web of deception and lies. The servant even found the wherewithal to muster up an act of feigned sadness. Inwardly, he was glad at the sudden dismissal, it gave him time to clear their tracks. It also rescued him from the need to explain what really happened and then have to loose his job also in the process. The whole debacle had been an unavoidable hoax from the very beginning. Apart from kind Debeh who instantly figured it all out and was gracious not to give them away, he did not think anyone else could have been just as merciful. Thinking of Debeh, the servant thought how they all missed her. The calm and order she had brought to the lives around her. Even Methus though he would not admit it, relied on her peaceful nature when his own eccentric one flared up. Rifra had smiled at the thought of the irony as his master continued ranting.
His smile and joy had been shortlived however, with the housekeeper's next question.
"One more thing Rifra," began Methus contemplatively. "Yes," answered the servant with a sense of foreboding immediately enveloping him.
"Which one of the servants here is called Hanad? I do not know how that name missed me. I have never heard it before and it is certainly not in my roster?" The housekeeper's expression was a mixture of worry and quizzical confusion. When his servant just stared at him wide-eyed, the master assumed he too was confused.
"The name may have missed us, but the queen mother is very certain he works here." Methus stated with assurance.
The vengeful side of truth:
The woman heaved a sigh of relief. After two days at the palace gates, she would indeed eventually have court with the crown. The senior guard had related that consoling piece of information to her with what appeared to have been a fleeting look of pity in his eyes. It was a seeming compassion so temporary, it might have just been her imagination. If what she had to say personally concerned the king, then he would hear her. She shuddered briefly at the impact of such an invitation or rather at the acceptance of her application. It was just as well, because the information she had was equally powerful. The two days and some hours which she had spent at the palace gates, had given her enough time to re-think this decision. She still had time to recall her request and return to her curse and calamity infiltrated existence. But the thought of all that she and the rest of the innocent ones had gone through, prevented her from balking now.
Besides the sheer acceptance of her request she knew was a kind and gracious gesture and she intended to honour that. The essence of true royalty was not to be meddled with. Many would acquire and bestow upon themselves, merely to feed a darkly imbued soul. But majesty in its purest and truest form, does not exude guidelines. It exudes an unquestionable aura of authority that announces itself howbeit silently. Then just as inaudibly, that presence commands an unquestionable respect. An aura sourced by an innate power that must be reckoned with. She thought of all the ills and devastation that had invaded her father's house, as he lay deteriorating and languishing in debilitating despair. For so many nights he had begged for death to take him, but it even the hollowness of a dark abyss was unattainable.
Anguish upon torture in all its elements plagued him for every announcement of a daughter rejected and scorned in her marriage. He had six of them and the horror was thus magnified. However, the most excruciating and heart wrenching of all the sorrows he must bear was that of his grand-sons. Six of them had died as infants. All six were the first-borns of their mothers.
The princess and the predators:
Reinah wriggled constantly on the make-shift bed of hay and soft leaves until the blunt edge of a jutting branch pricked her awake. Rubbing her eyes, she squinted up into the still smiling half-moon and wondered how many hours she must have slept already. Looking towards her feet, she saw that the lion was still sitting there as before. Obviously unperturbed by her nightmare. Looking up also at the branch right above her head, she saw a white dove sitting there. The dove's wings were slightly raised as if ready to fly. But just like the lion, it appeared equally undisturbed and dignified in its perching stance. Then Reinah suddenly heard a startling and sharply unnerving hoot. A jarring noise that annoyingly pierced the serenity and calm of the silent night.
When she turned to the far left from where the sound came, she saw an owl scowling at her. It hopped agitatedly on the branch, as if wanting to fly towards where she lay. When the princess looked at its feet, she saw they could not lift from the branch on which it perched. It appeared stuck to the branch, and a red string had been wrapped around its talons several times. The red string wobbled like it was filled with liquid. But however wobbly it seemed, it held the obviously distressed owl in place. Reinah looked away and adjusted her self near comfortably on the make-shift bed. She would go right back to sleep, knowing that it might lead right back into the nightmare....
Steps, snakes and scorpions (the stomp fest):
They crawled out from everywhere, the ground, the trees, the rocky stones lying around. As the girl made any attempt whatsoever to advance, they pushed forward in hostile droves. Snakes and scorpions, scrambling forward for the prize of the prey. Each clawing and writhing in the utmost and prideful display of vileness and uncontrollable bloodthirstiness. She began to step backwards in horror and suffocating terror. Exhausted not just from the grisly sight of hideous serpents and their counterparts, but also from her various and initially defeated efforts. Her very fragile and youthful resolve had been weakened even if for a temporary while. Feeling appalled by the onslaught from the horrifying creatures and completely revolted by the unsightly aggression. She hastened her backward slide, increasing the momentum, until she heard the Voice.....
"Where are you going? Why do you retreat in fear? Move forward and step.... Step on them, you have been given the power to stomp them all out. Do not be afraid of their truculent aggression, for so is their nature. Like I told you, you have been given the power to step on them and keep moving. They cannot harm or destroy you. STOMP ON THEM!!"
To kill a hating bird:
Reinah woke with a start, almost rolling off the pile of hay this time. The moon was still beaming a smile with its subdued glow, as it made ready to give way for the breaking of day. The lion had not moved an inch, his head was held straight and in territorially awareness. The dove's wings were still slightly raised as before but unhurried to fly anywhere. The owl was now hanging upside-down, when the princess turned to look at it again. It was hanging on merely by the tip of a rapidly breaking talon. Nevertheless, it hung on long enough for the princess to see it plunge head first to an awaiting demise. Drowsily, she rolled herself right back to sleep. This time, with yet a couple more hours left before day break. Her dreams were sweet and restfull.
The case of the curious and the cornered:
The iniquitious intern crept surreptitiously through the mass of black flowing cloaks. Fumbling and falling his way through an excessive display of ceremonial garb. As he reached what appeared to be an opening, an outlet of freedom. Another pile of velvety and pitch dark apparel smacked him right back to the floor, closer to the lower-middle of the huge mirrored slab. He was dangerously trapped underneath. He had snuck in earlier to observe the monitoring system. Few of his kind were allowed near the great mirror and certainly were not to touch it. He had been carried away with the captivating, enrapturing and intoxicating power of the surveilling object. He was only snapped out of this beguilment by the sudden diffusion of thick black smoke and the rustling of heavy clothing materials. The crypt's stony exits had already been slammed shut. And the lone flickering candle began to cast its spectral shadows on the six hooded and bent heads. The Monitors were now in session.....