Date: Mon, 8 Feb 2010 23:21:12 -0500
From: M Patroclus <thephallocrat@gmail.com>
Subject: The Exile, Chapter 15

***Translator's Note: I have labored now for many months rendering the
original manuscript into our modern tongue for the benefit of all, but I
feel some disclaimers and warnings are necessary. Markis writes with
complete and often graphic honesty, depicting mature themes and vividly
describing adult situations between himself and others. While these
encounters are always integrally related to the overall arc of his journey,
those wishing to avoid such content or too young to deal responsibily with
it are therefore forewarned. The work of the translation is mine alone, and
I will object strenuously to any reproduction of it in its whole or in any
part without my express permission.***

THE EXILE
A Gay Fantasy Experiment

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I have not written for many months. This manuscript, its pages heavy with
my writing like a man is weighed down by guilt, has sat untouched for weeks
at a time, gathering dust patiently. A few times I took it out and prepared
my pen to continue with my tale, but I could not. Once I allowed myself to
read over all that I had written, which was a mistake. I was disgusted. I
have not captured the essence of the moments. I have created scenes that
imitate, often poorly, the true events and the memories I have of them. I
found myself discouraged to write again at all.

But I have kept myself busy. There has been much planning and much to
prepare. I have visited each of my kingdoms, and I have set the wheels in
motion. I have readied my allies, and I have groomed my
enemies. Everything, I hope, will be ready when the time comes. When my
reign is over and I bid my final farewell.

But no more of that. I have come to write again at last. I have accepted my
failure as a writer. My words will not obey me, I cannot expect them to
reach you.  I stand behind the words, between them, and beneath them, and I
must hope that you can feel me there.
____________________________________________________________________________________

The first formal meeting of my informal council began in silence. On every
face I could see the desire to speak, mouths twitching with impatient
eagerness to express opinions, to ask questions, to debate and to
persuade. And yet they said nothing, looking instead at me for some sign,
some cue that the meeting had begun. There was no precedent, and we did not
yet know what we were or what we were doing. It made everyone nervous, me
most of all.

I surveyed the room slowly, taking in each member, each group and faction
that made up our number. We sat in a circle, facing each other somberly. To
my left sat Cedrik, representing by default the interests of Fermanagh and
King Valen. To his left was Gavril, flanked by devout Tharonites, and
Stepan. Beyond them sat a man named Burgess, one of the highest-ranking
Broxbournean soldiers loyal to me and their elected representative to this
council. Then came the Veruvians, a man and a woman, anonymous and nameless
as usual – it seemed they sent different representatives whenever I
spoke to them, and one ambassador was interchangeable for any other amongst
them. Next to them were the most unusual of our group, two large giants who
made the rest of us look like children. Golmeir was one of them, and the
other's name, I had been told, was Talmeir, the representative at this
meeting of the interests of his people and of the Headfather of the
clan. That his name was so similar to my giant friends' was, I was to
learn, no accident. Past them was Jelena, representing by self-appointment
the common people of Carmathen, and then, sitting on my right, Alek. His
only loyalty, he had confessed to my deep pleasure, was to me. I completed
the circle, and all eyes were upon me.

Two days had passed since the Archbishop and his garrison had been routed
from the excavation site – two days of confusion and of great
anxiety. We expected a counter-attack with more forces any day. I had been
scrambling to create order and discipline, to prepare defenses while
planning out our next step. It had been difficult to forge unity – the
Broxbournean soldiers had claimed me as their own and viewed the
Carmathens, both Tharonite and Veruvian, with suspicion. The Tharonites and
Veruvians still bickered with each other of course, and all three groups
regarded the giants with fear and trepidation.

I myself still did not fully understand the giants' presence among us –
Alek had explained to me briefly, but in his hurry the story had been
fantastic and confusing. Chance had led him to a party of giants seeking to
free their kin from the Broxbourneans, and quick thinking had helped him to
convince them that their purposes were the same. Whether we could think of
them now as allies, I did not know. My only interaction with their leader
had been brief.

"I wish to thank you for your aid," I had said to him after the battle,
"Without your people, we could not have escaped alive."

Talmeir had regarded me with a giant's impassive face. He was not as
handsome as Golmeir, I thought, but then perhaps it was only that I had
come to like Gol so much better.

"We came to free our own," he said "not to help you. We agreed to help your
men for this purpose only."

"I understand," I said, "But I thank you all the same. I hope we can be
friends."

"Perhaps. We have not yet decided who you are," he said, and our
conversation was then over.

With Golmeir's help, most of the captured giants had been set free from the
power of the amulets, swelling their numbers. Most expected them to depart
immediately for their mountain homes, but they did not. For reasons they
did not explain they remained, and had presented themselves without comment
to be represented in this council.

Now the time had come, we were all assembled, and I did not know what to
say. Alek gave me a significant look, encouraging me to begin, smiling
grimly but supportively. With this cue I knew I could delay no longer.

"We know why we are here," I said, and the members of my council leaned
forward eagerly. "A plan of action must be reached. We can expect the
Archbishop to attack at any moment."

"Let them come," said Burgess, the captain of my Broxbournean
defectors. "The excavation is easily defensible. Properly prepared, we can
hold it against any force until spring."

"And then what?" Gavril said impatiently, "Even if you are right (and our
very presence here now suggests this place is not as defensible as you
claim), what good will come of us staying holed up here? We must act,
quickly, to fulfill our purpose."

"Which is what, exactly?" asked the Veruvian female, and Gavril fell
silent.

"Independence," Burgess said. "Destroy the Archbishop's might and my people
will be free."

"This is about more than Broxbourne," Stepan said quietly. "All the lands
have a stake in this."

"The Archbishop is a threat to us all," Gavril agreed.

"Then we must be rid of him," the Veruvian male said, "There are many ways
we could arrange for His Excellency to meet his end. Quietly and quickly."

A murmur went around the table as the council considered this suggestion.

Cedrik spoke thoughtfully, "It's not a bad idea. We certainly don't have
the numbers or resources for a drawn out war. Take out the Archbishop, and
we end the war before it starts."

"No," I said.

"Markis, I know how it sounds," Gavril said, "And heaven knows I don't like
it any more than you. But it could save lives in the long run."

"Absolutely not," I said, "I forbid it."

"Why?" The Veruvian asked curiously.

"Defeating the Archbishop is not our final goal," I said, "If it were, we
would be nothing more than insurrectionists or worse – just another
political faction competing for power. We must win the hearts and minds of
the people. We must inspire change. Otherwise the world we create will be
no different than the one we fight against, and all of this would be for
nothing. A knife in the dark, a poison in his drink – all of this would
prove that we are no better than our enemy."

There was pause as the council regarded this thoughtfully. Gavril spoke
first.

"My friend from Fermanagh is correct, though, Markis," he said, "We do not
have the numbers for a direct conflict."

Cedrik nodded. "I know that King Valen cannot commit any forces abroad
while civil war with Valessa still looms. For all we know, that war could
have broken out already."

"And we clearly cannot expect the Council to send aid," Jelena said
ruefully. "There's no place to turn for help."

"More of my brethren will join us," Burgess protested, "I know there is
widespread discontent in our army. Many like me believe that the Archbishop
is not the heir of Alander. It is simply a matter of convincing them Markis
is."

"That may not be so easy," Stepan said, "Many of your countrymen will be
looking for tangible signs before they believe. This is precisely why the
Archbishop sought the crown of Alander. A symbolic relic such as that would
have consolidated his power. It would certainly win many to our cause if we
had it."

"But we don't," I said glumly. "It's not here, and we do not know where it
is or even if it still exists."

"You have the Prince's Blade," Burgess said hopefully.

"That is true," Stepan said, "And that alone may convince some. I have no
doubt we'll attract handfuls of eager young men and passionate believers
– but not in the numbers we would need to really oppose the Archbishop."

"And Valessa," Cedrik added, "Who is now His Excellency's ally and whose
forces we must count on opposing us."

"Can we expect or ask any help from the giants?" I asked, looking at
Golmeir hopefully.

"We do not interfere in the affairs of little men," Talmeir said coolly,
before Gol could answer.

My giant friend reddened. "There have been notable exceptions," he said,
challengingly.

"Enough, Golmeir," the other giant said, "Your opinion is known. It is for
the Headfather to decide, based on my report."

"Your report?" I asked.

"I will observe you for a time," he said, "Then I will return to the
Headfather."

"And he will decide at that time whether or not to aid us?"

"I will not presume to say what the Headfather will decide," Talmeir
replied, "Or when. I respect his decisions, unlike some." The last was a
clear jab at Golmeir, who flushed further with anger. Only a sharp look
from me kept him still.

I sighed, turning my attention to the rest of the council. "We cannot count
on the aid of the giants. Fermanagh is locked by a civil war, and Carmathen
is too blind and apathetic to care what happens outside its borders. Our
only hope is to win the people of Broxbourne."

"And without the crown of Alander," Stepan said, "I fear it may be very
difficult."

No one spoke after that. The meeting was over.

The council dispersed in a somber mood. Exhausted and discouraged, I
returned to the chamber I had claimed as my own for some rest. Golmeir
followed me, taking his self-appointed role as my bodyguard very
seriously. A detachment of guards from each of the other factions who now
supported me followed - each had demanded the honor of contributing to my
safety. I found such a large retinue tiring. To be honest, I still do. It
was a relief when I reached my room and left all but Golmeir outside to
guard the door.

I had hoped that Alek would join me, that we would be able to spend some
well-needed time alone together, but he did not. He had slipped off
somewhere during the break-up of the meeting. I had seen relatively little
of him since our reunion, but each second we had been together had been
full of joy. His presence strengthened me when I was weak or scared. He had
become an addiction, for I needed him desperately and was afraid to admit
to myself how much. I refused to allow myself to speculate why he had been
so distant. It was likely my new position of authority that kept him aloof,
I thought, and left the matter at that.

I tried to be strong, but I could not hide my disappointment as the minutes
passed and Alek did not appear to visit me. Golmeir could see it, and he
patted me affectionately, comfortingly, saying nothing.
__________________________________________________________________________________

Later, how much later I cannot say, I awoke in confusion and did not know
at first where I was. The room was dark, for Golmeir had extinguished the
torches to help me rest. This deep into the mountain the blackness was
absolute, and yet I was not afraid.

I was not alone. Someone lay beside me, their hands exploring my body,
their mouth kissing at my neck eagerly. By instinct I thought it was Damon,
but as I explored the naked figure absently I soon realized that the flesh
was too real, too flawed to be my servant's. This was a man, then, a mortal
such as I. With a thrill I thought Alek had come to me at last, and in my
excitement and pleasure I almost spoke his name aloud.

The figure prevented me with a kiss, and from that kiss I knew it was not
Alek. The lips were too small, their movement too tentative and
desperate. Kisses, I have found, are as unique as a signature, as varied as
a man's face. There are millions of possible kisses, especially when you
consider that it takes two to make a one (as it does to create life) and
that no two will ever create one that is exactly the same as any other. I
did not recognize this kiss.

"Markis," the figure whispered, full of desire. I knew at once then who it
was.

I broke away from him and sat up. "How did you get in here, Pasha?" I
asked.

He wrapped his arms around me desperately. "The giant admitted me," he
said, "Please, Markis, let's not speak. You need this. We both know it."

He hands slipped down to my crotch. I intercepted it (which took no small
force of will) and pushed it gently but firmly away. I did not wish to hurt
him, and part of me longed to have him, but I knew in my heart I could not
give him what he wanted.

"I can't," I said.

He pulled away from me. "You're still angry with me for speaking against
you."

I shook my head, then realized that in the dark he could not see it. "Not
at all. You did what you had to do to save your life. It would not had made
any difference had you refused, and you would be dead. I regret nothing."

"I came with the group to save you," he said, "I wanted to help."

"And I thank you for it," I replied, "But that does not mean you will share
my bed."

"Markis," he whined, "You've done so much for me.... My father..." I heard
his voice choke with emotion. "I never dreamed... He speaks to me again,
calls me son. Because of you, I know it."

"I did nothing."

"You didn't have to. Your presence is enough."

I protested that I thought that I was nothing special.

"Don't you see," he countered, "That's why you are! And anyway, you've
never been around yourself, so you don't know what its like. You inspire
people. I've wanted to be close to you since first I met you."

"Pasha," I said gently, and fumbled in the darkness to find him and hug
him, "You will always be a dear friend to me. We will grow close. We will
be brothers. But I cannot share my body with you."

"Why not?" he asked, and when I did not answer immediately, he snapped,
"Because of Alek?" He laughed, a sharp bark of frustration. "Markis, are
you so blind?"

"You can't understand," I began, but he interrupted me.

"You're so loyal and faithful to him," Pasha said, "But why? He is not
loyal to you!"

I did not want to hear what he said, so I rose and began to look for a
torch.

"Must you really make me say it?" the young boy in my bed muttered, "Can
you really not see?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," I said absently, trying to focus
my thoughts on searching the dark room. "Its time for you to leave."

"Jelena is his lover!" The words burst from his mouth suddenly, almost like
he himself had not planned to speak them before they had sounded into the
air.

The dark room grew very, very silent.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, "I don't want to hurt you but... its not fair
that you shouldn't know. You deserve to know."

"You..." I said, but found my throat was dry and my voice weak. "You are
sure?"

"They spent most of the journey here alone together," he said sadly.

I sat in the darkness so long I felt I could no longer tell which direction
was which. I was speechless with surprise - but not, as I had first
supposed, because this information was unexpected to me. What surprised me
was that I had already known it and not known that I had. I had chosen not
to see what was plainly before me, and done it so well that it stunned me.

Pasha left. I did not hear him go. Eventually, Golmeir entered cautiously,
holding a torch and looking for me with concern.

"Why?" I asked. He knew at once what I was talking about.

"He wanted to see you," Golmeir replied, "I thought you could use the
company."

"Golmeir," I said, "He's just a boy."

"A boy he may be," the giant replied sagely, "But he feels like a man. He
loves you."

"He worships me," I corrected, "Love can only exist between equals, and he
keeps thinking of me as something so much greater than himself. He seeks to
win my love, as if love were a prize you can reach out and take. A grown
man would not do such things."

The giant smiled ever so slightly, and at once I knew my hypocrisy and was
shamed by it. I would not allow myself to think of Alek.

"He is simply overwhelmed by his reconciliation with his father," I said
dismissively, "He thinks this joy is love for me."

"To be reconciled with a father is no small thing," the giant agreed.

I caught the longing in his voice. "Has Talmeir brought you any word of
yours?"

Golmeir shook his head. "His anger at me continues. My disobedience brought
great sorrow to our people. But I will win back his trust."

"I'll help you anyway that I can," I said, "I understand how you feel. My
father... have I spoken to you of my father?"

My giant friend drew closer, shaking his head and saying, "Not much."

I sighed. "He is a leader among my people, same as yours. We call him High
Priest. My whole life he prepared me to follow in his footsteps, to take
his place when he died. I am his only son, for my mother died at my birth."

I reclined on the bed, overwhelmed by memories and bitter, complex
emotions. "I was angry at him, for a time, after my exile. I felt he should
tried harder to soften the judgment of the Elders. He could have at least
said goodbye. But I feel no anger now. How difficult it must be for him! He
has no children, and for the first time since the founding of our tribe
there is no heir to the office of High Priest when he dies. It must be a
great burden." I grew quiet and thoughtful.

"It sounds like an important position," Golmeir prompted, for I had fallen
silent for a long time.

"It is," I said, "The High Priest is the spiritual leader of our people. He
stands at the head of the Elders and the lesser priests, and guides the
entire tribe. He alone may enter into the heart of our temple, for his duty
is to protect the sacred relics buried there."

"What sacred relics?" Golmeir asked.

I sat up in my bed at once, unable to speak, my breath shallow. My hands
trembled. I looked at Golmeir in shock. The revelation came so abruptly and
heavily that it struck me dumb, like I had been hit on the head. My body
quivered and even my toes curled at the force of it.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned by this sudden change in my demeanor.

I struggled to answer him, but though my mouth moved, no words came out. At
last I found my breath and whispered to him as best I could.

"I need to go to the tomb," I said, "immediately."

Golmeir was wise enough not to ask questions. He nodded and prepared a
torch immediately. In silence we left my chamber, passed my retinue of
guards (who Golmeir ordered to stay put and who, after some murmuring,
obeyed) and swept through the tunnels of the excavation site towards the
door to Alander's tomb.

A shadowy figure loomed in the tunnel before us. Golmeir commanded them to
stand aside, and as we passed I saw in the light of the torch that it was
Alek. He saw me and stepped forward eagerly, asking to speak with me.

"Not now," I said with great difficulty, "I have something important to
do."

"May I join you?" he asked. "I won't get in the way."

His request was so sincere and humble that my heart melted. I nodded and
continued on my way, eager not to show him how much his presence was
affecting me. The three of us arrived at the tomb and I quickly placed my
hand against the stone and spoke the keywords from the Sacred Tongue.

As the entrance slowly revealed itself, Alek grew bold enough to ask, "That
language is beautiful. What did you say?"

I turned to look at him. His eyes were indescribable in the torchlight. "It
means `seek we to enter, though unworthy.' It's what my people say before
entering into a sacred place."

He looked thoughtful, and said again that it was beautiful. I thanked him
and asked Golmeir to give me the torch, which he did without comment. I
then asked the giant to stay there to guard the entrance and ensure I was
not disturbed, which with his usual politeness he agreed to do. I told Alek
(as casually as I could) that he could follow me if he wished, and headed
into the deeper darkness of Alander's tomb.

There, in the light of the torch Golmeir had provided, I found the
inscription that Stepan and I had spent so much time trying to decipher,
the one we felt sure held a clue to the location of the Crown. In vain I
looked for some new piece information that we had missed, some sign that
would suddenly become clear. I studied it again and again, needing to find
some proof that my suspicions, that my instinct was correct. It was
unnecessary, and I knew it. The truth was plain, now, and I recognized it
by its startling simplicity. The answers seemed so obvious that I felt
absurd that I did not see it earlier. My frantic study of the ancient
writing, therefore, was merely a distraction that kept me from dwelling on
the frightening implications of this latest revelation.

I could not hide forever. I ran from the room and vomited. Returning
slowly, and on weak and unsure footing, I found Alek still waiting
patiently, looking so anxious to speak he might explode at any
moment. While I had been in meditation, Golmeir had brought blankets and
more torches – a touching display of concern. Alek had laid out a few of
the former, and sat upon them now. He met my eyes and seemed to decide that
the time was now right to speak.

"Markis," he began, drawing a deep breath.

"I know where the crown of Alander is," I said suddenly.

"Jelena and I -- wait, what?"

I repeated what I had said. He blinked at me.

"Oh." he said, shifting his tone dramatically. "That's good. That's
wonderful! ... Isn't it?"

I could not answer him. I could not look at him. My head was spinning.

"Where... er, where is it?" he asked.

"The one place in the entire world," I replied, "where I cannot go."

He studied my face in the silence that followed. "You're afraid," he said
at last. I admitted freely that I was. "I've never seen fear in you."

"Then I've merely hid it well." I shook my head slowly. "I do not know that
I am brave enough for... for this. I finally know what I'm supposed to
do. I know where I'm supposed to go -- but I don't think I can do it."

"Markis," he said "Wherever it is, wherever you must go, you know you will
not go alone."

I swallowed my emotion and spoke in a flat, controlled voice. "Thank
you. But you do not understand. You comfort me with clichιs, but you don't
know anything of the situation that now presents itself. What I must face
now I must face alone. It could not be otherwise, though I was surrounded
by a hundred loyal friends like you. Yes, I am afraid. I am terrified. So
much I had given up as lost, so much I was finally beginning to
forget... Wounds just beginning to heal will be opened again. How can I do
it? Merciful heavens! Can I do it?"

"You can do anything," he replied, full of sincerity but aware, I think,
how empty his words sounded in the face of my despair.

"I cannot," I countered, "And to believe otherwise would be insanity. I
cannot change my past, and I cannot ignore the path that now lies ahead of
me. The seeress was right. I must become either the man who embraces his
destiny, or the man who runs from it."

"Markis," he said, and there was guilt in his voice, "There's something I
have to tell you."

I turned to him, shaking my head and silencing him with a gesture.

"We can't change what has happened." I said, smiling sadly, "I know about
you and Jelena. I know now that I can't have you, not completely, not
forever. I know I can't change it -- but I don't know how anything else is
supposed to matter, now that I know it."

He tried to speak, but there was nothing to say.


We kissed instead, with a confusing mix of emotions. We sank onto the
blankets and let nature take its course. Slowly, as if part of a ceremony,
we stripped ourselves of all worldly trappings and pressed our naked flesh
against each other. The air in the room was bittersweet. I knew it could
very well be the final time I would have him. We kissed more, and rubbed
each other, and stared in each other's eyes. He lay on his back, and I sat
astride him, staring down at him in wonder and losing myself in the
contours of his face. I could feel him beneath me, erect and full of
desire, pressing against my backside, rubbing against my opening. I knew
what he wanted, and I knew I wanted it to. I did not hesitate. I did not
think at all. The moment seemed as unavoidable as birth and death. It was
what it was, and to imagine otherwise was impossible. I prepared myself to
receive him,

He pulled me down, bringing my ear to his mouth. "Seek we to enter, though
unworthy," he whispered. I wept silently.

Like so many things that are good, it hurt a little at first. We were
inexperienced. I had coupled with Damon many times, but never like this. I
found at once it was not as easy as my servant had made it appear. But we
were determined, and Alek was patient. At long last instinct taught us the
way, and we were united in the way that only lovers are. Slowly I enveloped
him, and our eyes grew wide by the power of it. I cried out, for both
literally and symbolically I felt myself touched in a place that I did not
know existed, and which filled my body with energy and light. We rode our
love-making like a mighty wave, building slowly towards the
shore. Somewhere in the frantic motions and inept maneuverings, I forgot
myself. I could no longer recall who was Alek, who was Markis, whose hand,
whose lips, whose heart belonged to who. There was only us, a single being
that felt as timeless as the mountain that loomed above us. I looked into
his eyes and saw myself staring back, and knew that I was him and he was me
and we were beautiful.

It finished at precisely the moment it should. We called out in unison,
importuning the heavens with the audacity of our very existence. We
exhausted and emptied ourselves while replenishing each other. At last,
when the last pulse had passed, we lay against each other, gasping for
breath and sweating heavily, sleepy and happy and regretful and
relenting. I knew his future was with another, but for this moment he was
mine, and I was content. I felt that should my life end right at that
moment, I could have no cause for complaint, for I had in a handful of
moments experienced more joy than any man could expect or deserve in a
lifetime. I curled myself up against him and drifted into the half-sleep of
a satisfied lover.

What happened next cannot be written. Words, my constant enemy, are too
small to express it. But I must try, for without it nothing that I have
written will matter, and nothing I can tell you of my life is worth the
time it takes to hear it. Listen then, my dear friend, my mysterious
read. Listen with all your heart.

It started with a dream, a dream that was at once familiar and entirely
new.

My father was kneeling in prayer when I entered the outer room of the
temple, so I could only stand and wait. He looked regal and wise in the
robes of his office, every inch a High Priest my people could be proud
of. As usual, the air in the temple seemed charged with energy, and my
nostrils were filled with the sweet holy incense that burned in the
corner. I knew it to be a dream, and I knew that I had dreamed it once
before.

"You are a Priest of our people, Markis," my father said, his voice
booming, "In you the magic blood flows strongly."

Yes, father. I know. I know. Forgive me. Guide me. I don't know how to go
on.

"You will know true union of mind and body," his voice continued, "You will
be reborn."

Father, I'm afraid. I'm afraid to see.

"The truth of many things will be revealed to you."

I can't. I'm not strong enough. How can I do what I'm supposed to do?

"It is your birthright, Markis," the voice said, echoing in my head again
and again, "It is your birthright."

I awoke, and yet still I slept. A strange feeling of warmth began in the
pit of my stomach, in the center of my body, growing rapidly until I could
no longer feel Alek dozing next to me or the cool stone floor of the
tomb. It grew into a burning that was exquisite and terrible. The feeling
was so hot and so violent that I felt my fragile body could not possible
contain it all. It began to leak from me, slowly at first, and then faster
and faster. Finally I seemed to explode and light, dazzling and
incomprehensible, poured out of me and filled the world.

I lost myself, or rather I left myself behind, for I could see myself, tiny
and naked and intertwined with Alek. I moved away rapidly, and saw the two
of us grow smaller and smaller until I could see the whole mountain, then
all our lands, and then the whole world. I beheld the darkness, the void in
which our world spun. The blackness was so empty that it frightened me, for
it seemed we were all alone in a vast sea of nothingness. But as I moved
further still away, I saw that this was not exactly true. There were other
bodies in the emptiness - countless burning suns, spinning masses of gas
and rock, uncountable and unknowable. I saw them all, the empty space and
the objects in it, the formless and the forms. It stretched on across
distances unimaginable and incomprehensible. The affairs of our lands, a
small corner of a small world, were utterly insignificant. I saw the
creation in its totality, and knew it to be endless, and knew it to be
magnificent.

And then, abruptly, I was hurtling back towards myself through the void,
until with a gasp I was inside myself again. But I did not stop, but
continued onward, growing smaller and smaller. And I saw with horror and
amazement that most of that which I had supposed to be hard, solid,
immovable and definite was made mostly of emptiness, precisely like the
dark void through which our world danced. I was made almost entirely of
empty space, within which spun bodies as uncountable and indescribable as
the bodies the soared in the heavens.

And I saw, and I knew, that the emptiness, the no-thingness, the space that
dwelled within me was as infinite and as deep as the immeasurable distances
between the suns. And as I delved even deeper and deeper, I beheld that all
the particles that swirled within me were indistinguishable from those that
burned in impossibly distant stars and which made up other worlds. And even
these parts, at their core, were mostly nothingness, until I saw that all
matter was merely energy, a vibration, an endless note emanating from the
mouth of God.

I knew then that the world I had lived in all my life was an illusion. I
was more than all that by which I had for so long identified myself, for I
was part of the eternal song of creation, along with all else that
existed. All that is and all who live, and all that has existed or ever
will exist, are inseparably connected, are one and the same - and the
illusion that there is a difference between things is the source of all
that men call evil on our world.

With a gasp I awoke, and sat upright in the tomb, not understanding where
or who I was. Alek jumped up when I did, concerned, and at first I did not
recognize him. I felt I had been away from myself for ages, but Alek told
me we had been laying together for only a handful of minutes. He saw me,
and he could not speak, for he said my face seemed to shine with something
he could not recognize, but felt was holy. I rose to my feet, and I drew
him up with me.

"Come," I said, "We must prepare for the journey."

"Where are we going?" he asked reverently.

"Home," I said, and lit the torch, filling the cavern with flickering
light.

Alek gasped, and stared at me in wonder. I saw where he was looking and
brought my hand slowly up to my head. I ran my finger across my scalp,
feeling the soft pricking of the small, short hairs that now were growing
there and laughed.
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