Cheilin Saga ~ 13

Cheilin Saga ~ 13 The Abbey at Samishaan 3

By Len Morgan 

  The Abbot rose early, an hour before dawn, his dreams had been troubling so he knelt to pray for guidance.   He could not sleep on account of the man Aldor.   Should they?  How could they release him…  He was different as Ignatius and Constance had both observed.  He could well be the ‘Chosen One’; he was certainly virtuous enough but, if that were so, then shouldn't he be capable of releasing himself?  

Brother Ignatius burst into the Abbot's unadorned cell, panting hard from his exertions, fighting for breath.   “He is gone, reverend father.   He disappeared before my eyes.”

“Shhh.   Calm yourself brother, this place is for prayer and contemplation, not panic.  There will be a simple explanation.”

“B-But…” he stammered.

“Shhh!   Go to the orb, he will be there with Sister Constance.”

“H-How do…”

“Do you think he is the one?”

“I-I…”

“Is he the one?”

“Yes!”

“Then let us go and welcome him back to the world.”  

They stepped into the corridor, heard a crash, and the predawn was illuminated by a dazzling blue flash that lingered for long moments, forcing them to screw up their eyes.  They ran towards the roof garden as the glare slowly subsided.  When they reached the top of the stone steps they saw Aldor and Constance in silhouette, side by side, against the glow of dawn's first light. 

“He smashed the orb,” she cried. “He—just dashed it to the ground…   Now I-I can’t see – I’m blind!   She whimpered in shock.

She heard Aldor's voice in her mind…

‘Use your talent.  You do not need to use your eyes, the blindness is only temporary.’

‘If you wish you can use my eyes’ said the Abbot.

‘Or mine’ added brother Ignatius.

She realised immediately that they were right, and she wept with relief and joy. 

‘Why are you crying little one’ the Abbot asked, like the others he was not accustomed to using this new method of communication.

‘Why do you not look and see for yourself’ she asked, giving permission for them to enter her mind.  ‘We have been suppressing and denying our God-given gifts to no purpose. For it is abuse of, not the use of them this order objects too.’   “The orb is gone forever,” she said aloud as reality crowded into her mind.

“That does not matter as much as you might think.   We have hundreds more, stored in neat pigeonholes, down in the cellars; that have always been off bounds to all but the council of elders and of course myself.”

“Then why have we never used them?” asked father Ignatius with incredulity.

“Can you answer that Aldor, if you are as we suspect ‘The One’ you will know.  Look upon it as a test,” said the Abbot.

Aldor turned to face them. “This Abbey was originally built for a very different purpose.   Originally it was a Penal Institution; a place to house wrongdoers and malcontents.  They were housed in the rows of cells now used as accommodation by the Sisters and Brothers.   The doors were permanently closed, to deny them freedom, their lives stolen from them.   They would be housed thus for a few years or the whole of their lives as punishment for crimes they committed.   Then the emphasis changed, from punishment to re-education, at which time the orbs were fashioned by Geoffe to house the spiritual, nonmaterial person, whilst the body was re-issued to another who had reformed and was ready to be set free again.   This was a very long time ago, before the migration, but you would not have heard of that.   The ‘Standards’ used them to imprison any of the ‘Revisionists’ cult they were able to apprehend.   Then, when the Karaxen came…”

“Who?” the Abbot asked.

“It does not matter now but, it may do so in the future if I said millions of years ago?”   He could see the blank looks on their faces.   “Way back in the dim distant past, creatures, unlike us, arrived here to take Abbalar away from our ancestors.   They succeeded in driving those unable to communicate as we do, ‘the Standards’, underground.   They never found a use for the orbs, or discovered that many still contained the minds of, Revisionists.   We all know what four to six weeks of confinement is like; imagine the time it takes for an acorn to grow into a forest giant, then multiply that by thousands.   Many of those encapsulated, must have gone completely insane.   While others succeeded in extinguishing their own life force, so they might return to the wheel of life, they were the lucky ones.   There were yet others who discovered how to exist whilst retaining their sanity.”

 “The Karaxen made as big a mess of this world as our ancestors did; and they in turn disappeared from the surface, leaving it to us once more or, to be more precise, to the ‘Standards’.   There followed a dark time, when barbarism madness and plague abounded.  This place then became a monastery, hospital, and sanctuary, and finally a place of atonement for the religious order to which you now belong.   The monks strove to bring back a sense of sanity to the world by bringing back a little civilization.   They accomplished it by bringing back some of the elders, from the globes, as teachers.   They returned in the bodies of the dying and the insane, and later they used the bodies of volunteers…”

“My word, it certainly has had an eventful history” the Abbot affirmed.  

“The question is,” Aldor continued, “What should be done with the remaining orbs?”  

“Knowing how they can and have been misused, in the past, should they not be destroyed,” asked Brother Ignatius?

“But, there are still occupants in many of them” the Abbot protested.

“Then we should go down to the cellars and reassess the situation” Aldor said.

 Brother Ignatius shook his head, “This is a strange situation, why were we not told of this before Father, what is wrong?” 

The Abbot fell to the ground; his eyes flared momentarily, before glazing over.  Sister Constance knelt beside him, concern on her face as she checked his vital signs.  His face turned grey, so she hit his chest hard with the flat of her hand.   He coughed and spluttered fighting for breath.

“He was calling the others” Aldor explained, “he is not however too familiar with this new mode of communication.”

“Explain what is happening and why” Ignatius demanded.

“They have been bringing back their friends in place of their captives, they are body snatchers” Aldor said with distaste.

“No!   You’re wrong, it is not like that at all, you make it sound so cold and calculating” the Abbot protested.   “We have never indiscriminately replaced the spiritual essence of another.   Our intention has always been to educate and rehabilitate.   Only the darkest most evil minds are retained for more than a month.   Then occasionally a Spirit will expire, unable to continue, in the light of what they have done – you all know separation is a testing soul searching time.   Only in these circumstances would an ancient spirit be relocated, temporarily or permanently, and none has ever objected to relinquishing their borrowed form.”

“Then they return to their Orb?” Aldor asked.

“That is correct.”

“How many ancient spirits are here, currently occupying borrowed bodies,” Constance asked.

“Here at the Abbey there are ten, including myself and two others beyond these walls.” The Abbot replied.

“How many are there in total inhabiting this place,” Aldor enquired.

“We are thirty including the good father Abbot” said Ignatius.

A number of the Brothers appeared discretely at the head of the stairs.

“Come” said Aldor, helping the Abbot to his feet, “we go to the cellars.”

The brothers made way for them without comment, following them down to the lower levels.   The tunnels were dark and dank, and musty.   Smoke from tallow torches, in such a confined space, stung their eyes making them smart. 

Aldor rubbed his palms together producing a bright globe he lauched it towards the ceiling, it followed their progress, lighting their way. “You can now douse the torches.”   

They could hear dripping water up ahead.   A pale green florescence reflected from walls slick with moisture. Aldor rubbed two fingers along the wall scraping a channel half an inch deep in a soft chalk like paste, deeper it was firm, but the walls were two feet thick and had stood for countless ages.  

They entered a low domed atrium just large enough to house them all.

“There are decisions to be made that will affect us all,” the Abbot began, “the council of twelve are part of the reason for this.   We are therefore not the ones best suited to make a decision on this matter.”  

He then explain the situation in full to all. Point out the implications for the twelve and their peers.

“I do not even suggest that we are the ones who should survive in the event you decide to destroy the orbs.  It is indeed possible that some of our number would not wish to continue.   In such an eventuality, there are others we should consider as candidates for life, those who have not yet received a remission, and who would prove to be invaluable.   Many who are experienced with machines, a task that had laterly become moribund?   We do not even know if a disembodied spirit can progress to a higher state of existence, without leaving a body behind, we may well be damning them for all eternity; spirits forever destined to roam?”   The Abbots eyes tear’d up, he suddenly looked tired and frail.

 It was a swift unanimous vote, just a show of hands, which decided that the elders had not abused their privileges.   That they should continue for the natural life of their existing body.   And, the ratio should be capped at 1:2, one elder to two natural born.   The inhabited orbs would not be destroyed, and there was a majority vote that all but twelve of the empty orbs should remain here in the Abbey locked safely away, their destruction would be an act of vandalism.   Aldor went along with this, provided that only the present company were aware of their existence.   A venerable brother, not of the council, was charged with the assignment of guarding them.

“If you are truly ‘The One’,” said the Abbot, “our task is complete, for you are amongst us and there is no further need for such devices.”

“That may not be so.   Now the real work begins,” said Aldor.

“You have something in mind, a quest perhaps?”  The youngest council member asked.

“Your name is?”

“Brother Velorix,” he replied at once, eager to please.

“Being an elder, brother Velorix, you will be aware of the havoc the Karaxen could wreak on Abbalar.”   At the mention of the Karaxen, all eyes turned in his direction,” and silence came over the gathering.

 “They are currently housed in a vast underground complex, and are destined to awaken, in five to six hundred years, to reclaim Abbalar as their own.   We will need to raise our level of technology considerably, to stand any chance of surviving.   They are receiving assistance from Bluttland, from the brides of Bedelacq who are their sworn champions.   Your quest, no, your crusade will be to neutralise them or, if possible, re-educate them using the orbs.”

.-...-.

   Aldor was surprised that he was able to speak about the elders and their machines without encountering resistance from the block that had been placed in his mind.   But, he soon realised that Orden was unable to communicate with him and their fire could not penetrate the confines of the Abbey.   He had no idea how long he had been at the Abbey or how far they were from the Eternal city.   He did however know that these cellars were somehow protected from external probing.   He suspected there was a portal nearby, which meant they could travel to almost any location in Abbalar that possessed an active portal.   He looked back at an innocuous dark hand-shaped tile on a nearby wall.   His glance was not missed by the, ever watchful, Abbot. 

"The portal is operative, we use it on a regular basis, it is how you were brought here.   Of course, your mind was shielded from it by the orb; else we should have known much more about you.”

Aldor was silent for some time, carefully choosing his words.   “I will be honest with you.   I do not know if I am in fact you’re promised one.   I do know you could make an important contribution, to the future survival of mankind, by confronting the Brides of Bedelacq.   What do you say,” he threw the challenge out to them all.

“I think this matter needs to be discussed further and at length…” the Abbot began.

“I think we have talked enough,” said Brother Ignatius.   “I think it is time for us to act, to make a decision.   I also believe that Aldor is the one!”

“So do I,” said Sister Constance.

“Then we are of one mind,” said the Abbot looking to the others for any sign of dissent; there was none.   “Then what better way is there to show our commitment than to harvest the enemies of Abalar, re-educate and  assimilate them?”

Aldor smiled.   There was genuine and enthusiastic support for this view, not a dissenting mind amongst them.

“I must return to the Emerald City, there is still, work to be done.   There are, as you must know, many portals on Abalar that could be used to enter Bluttland unobserved, as yet they are not aware those portals exist.  It is possible they may be used against us if Bedelacq or his brides know of their existence, so be wary."

(To be Continued)

Copyright Len Morgan