Visitation - Reality (book 1 of 2)

THE GOD BELIEVERS (Continued)

THE SON-OF HAD MARCHED north and in doing so had actually reduced, seemingly, the amount of blackness descending upon his people. The dark grey and black darkness, where clouds may normally be expected to be seen from time to time, were passing straight over the heads of the trudging masses. 

It was probably this that stopped many of his followers running away. When the sound of events, far to the north, got louder in a terrible roaring sound that they all thought emanated from either an angry One God, or possibly the old Gods, they didn't wish to wonder which; they could only stand their ground, not having the will to run away in any direction.

The air was almost breathable and the decision of the Son-of was considered to be good one to have got them this far.

“Stay with him, he knows what he is doing, perhaps,” mumbled several voices.

“We might as well die here as back where we came from,” bemoaned others.

“If the feet are still working and the air can almost be breathed, keep going, don’t stand still to die,” urged the elders amongst them.

The beautiful wife of the Son-of and with his children, had left with a few dozen guards and supporters in the direction of the major city that they had started out from those years ago. They did not wish to be amongst the ragbag of frightened people and former slaves, whatever the Son-of believed in, as it now seemed a certainty that this large body of wanderers must surely be seen.

If this happened, it was also most likely that, despite the catastrophe, they would be pursued and set upon by those who felt deserted and let down by the departure of the Chosen One, as he had called himself then, to build a new city and remove all mention of the old Gods.

The wealth of the Kingdom had gone with him, those left behind barely survived and the memory of the first-born being slaughtered in the flames still persisted. It was his father who had carried out the slaughter, but he was not around any more, and the Son-of may have a revenge exacted upon him by others without a second thought.

His elder brother, a first born who should also have been slaughtered, had first fled to the shelter of the troublesome northern slave tribes and then returned with those of them seeking a violent retribution and when no-one could stop this marauding mob, to pillage anything of value. If the tribes’ people or the local survivors, that were not with the Son-of, knew where he was, they would surely come after him.

If the Son-of marched too far north he would either walk straight into his brother’s camp or would be seen and pursued for certain. There was little time to carry out his intended plan.

As the old cities were passed by in the west, his wife and sons had been allowed to depart and he thought that they might keep quiet for as long as they could about where he was. He knew that he would never see them again, but HE was alive and that’s all that mattered to him in this world.

The Chosen One had become the Son-of but was still in that holiest and most privileged of positions where he could tell of all of his beliefs and understanding, spreading the word of the only true message of the One God. HE had to survive at all costs.

Just north of the Great Sea, becoming visible to their right and before the Salt Lake that stood a little further on, was a land that he knew the layout of with a familiarity. As he marched ever closer to the water, away from the direction of the great river delta, he was feeling more and more secure in his intentions.

This path he was taking was away from where any of the old cities’ remaining people or troops would think to seek him. It was away from the greenery, which was managing to survive in the wetness of the delta out into, it would appear, the bare desolate desert.

He was most certainly not heading any further north into any of the delta areas lest he encounter his brother who, according to rumour was very much alive and still seeking revenge on the family that tried to kill him.

Now the great column of darkness and fire joining the oceans horizon with the heavens was clear to be seen; it was an awesome sight.

The Son-of told those with him that this was the finger of the One God destroying those beneath him who had, in some way transgressed his directions or abused his supreme and almighty position.

This great column of darkness that spread itself out across the highest sky by day became a short column of bright glowing redness at night.

Despite the flowing dark greyness, which was now mainly moving high above them in the opposite direction from where they had just come, the column of smoke and fire could be clearly seen and would serve as a great direction marker by day or night.

The air had become a little clearer and breathing was not as hard, although some were still dying from the exhaustion of the unrelenting march. The Son-of had to succeed, it was the will of the One God; the dead must take care of themselves.

Between the Great Sea and the Salt Lake the land ceased being desert and changed into the reed beds of a marsh edging an expanse of water.

Even with the aid of abundant reeds that grew there to walk upon, this greater number of people were becoming ankle deep in mud and dark brown water the more they ventured forward upon them. Their fear was not assuaged to any great extent by the Son-of telling his people that he knew where he was going as he had been here many times as a young man.

He had watched, in the years previous when he was a young man, as his father’s slaves, a few now his travelling companions, had dug a channel between the Great Sea and the Salt Lake.

This channel has been cut through the natural silting upon which they were now trying to walk. This allowed the royal barge to sail between the two stretches of open water. The channel had not been cleaned out for at least ten years, as far as he knew, and he hoped that it had returned to its natural state as a separating bank of barely shifting sand and silt.

As the tides of the Great Sea and the Middle Sea well to the north which connected to the Salt Lake, moved in a gentle, lapping unison, it had the effect of heaping ever more silt upon the hidden sand bar.

Now almost knee deep in the water, where few reeds grew and being guided by the Son-of, they dare not stray from his path lest they fall off the narrowness of this indeterminate path. It had become dark and the Son-of had kept the slow, wet march going.

Darkness could be an ally if running away from troops, even if mounted in their chariots, and he had to take as much advantage of this as possible.

Those slaves who had been present ten years previously told those around them that as long as they kept to the hidden, submerged path they would be safe; if they strayed, the deep waters would take them.

This kept the panic from surfacing too much although when a small group of the elderly did wander sideways slightly, the edge of the sand bar gave way beneath their feet. To much screaming they fell beneath the darkness of the gently lapping waves to a deathly and impenetrable silence.

None dared venture from where they stood and none dare turn to go back for fear of the watery death that may greet them. In a rising panic, which had to be controlled, they could only follow the madness of the Son-of.

Even in the darkness of this its catastrophic night sky, where the stars could not be seen nor had they for a very long time now, the finger of red was there, glowing ominously.

Its reflection to their left and behind them on the apparent vast body of water, in which they now were thigh deep, reminded them most sorely of just where they stood and on whose words and guidance their very lives now depended.

Dawn was breaking, with a gloomy greyness barely replacing the dark, as the water became shallower. After the terrors of the dark night and equally deep water, it reached now to a depth below their knees; it was becoming shallower.

Land could be glimpsed not too far away, safety was at last close by and the trembling fears could start to ease. Perhaps safety really was at hand. Tired cold legs had to manage to struggle on a little further only; hearts had to keep beating steady. A final effort was needed beyond the struggles of the night to reach the dry land that beckoned before them.

The brother of the Son-of had received word from his agents in the cities, in those areas where he dared not venture himself. The Son-of’s own agents, after fleeing for their lives, had caught up with the exodus, being much younger and fitter than the straggling dying mass. Spotting its trailing tail end of stragglers, they soon passed them to race ahead to cross the deadly bar.

They had plunged into the murkiness of the cold waters, pulling cold feet out of the sifting silt to move forward as fast as possible, passing the straggling bodies wherever it seemed safe to do so.

They reported to the Son-of that his beautiful wife had told of his whereabouts, as she knew them, when the torture had become too much.

Her belief that in revealing where he may be would take the pain away and allow her to live, was a mistaken one; the old priests had their ways and it did not take very long for her to succumb and depart life unpleasantly.

Word of this had also reached the brother and it was his wish, with madness in his mind, to be the first to reach the worthless collection of simple-minded slaves and an even more stupid younger brother to exact the revenge he dreamed of.

His first sortie into the delta area, where he believed he must have been heading, had proved fruitless and this mistake had bought time for the Son-of.

He had then chosen only those troops that could be carried in all the chariots he could muster and drove off to follow a path between the great river and where he knew the small lakes were. If he had to go further south he would still be in desert and must surely gain a sight of them even in this murky light.

They could only be moving slowly, they were all on foot, the Son-of was a fool, and he would soon encounter them to take his revenge; complete slaughter was in his mind. The flesh could rot from the bones left in the desert, who cared any more, the old ways were gone.

The tail end of those still crossing the treacherous water path looked behind them and even in the gloomy first light saw the dust rising in the distance as the hooves of horses and the wheel of the chariots tore into the cold sand and rock.

The Son-of was already onto the higher land on the far side of this water and had also seen the dust clouds and knew immediately what they meant.

He urged HIS people on and called for the great artefact that had been so carefully carried from its last resting place in his palace, on a makeshift wooden cart, in the wraps of old woollen blankets.

He had seen its full power once as a young man when his father had allowed him to talk to and learn from, the priests of the old Gods in the old city. Because of his appearance, he was clearly descended from the Gods of the skies, with his odd shaped body, long pale face and that distended skull shape.

He had, therefore, been shown all the secrets kept by the priests for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. He had been taught well, too well, because of his God-like appearance, but the priests had dared not take any chances with him.

He had also remembered very well, what to touch, what to say to make this magic machine, left by the Gods the priests said, to do many powerful things.

Before he had set out to occupy his newly built city, he had first entered the inner sanctums of the old priests. Having ‘retired’ them all in the name of the new and only belief, his belief, the only one to be allowed, he confiscated the powerful machine. Along with it, the great staff that accompanied and was required to make it work as effectively as possible was also taken.

This had not been stealing, he rationalised, merely placing into the possession of a direct descendant of a Sky God, in whose image he was, what had been given to his ancestors as a gift for their use.

The machine was being placed simply into the secure possession of a pure descendant of a Sky God, as far as he was concerned. A descendant who had now seen the truth and knew he was always destined to be the Chosen One of the One God.

The powerful machine was set atop of the bank next to the Son-of as he directed. Everyone was told to stand away in case they were killed by its power as the Son-of connected the staff to the machine.

This staff had the general appearance of the type that the old shepherds may have carried if it was not examined too closely. He knew how this connection should be carried out and where to touch, carefully, the correct place on the casing of the machine.

It hummed and vibrated, the staff grew warm, the Son-of felt the power building in him, even as he waited for the correct moment.

The last of his people were reaching the dryness of the desert on this side of the water as the chariots approached the far side.

The chariots halted, they knew they could not pass through the water as those on foot could. The older brother knew the path as well as the Son-of, but he also knew that he could not take chariots through.

Before the brother could make a decision, a great roar hit everyone’s ears. The sound came from the direction of the great column of smoke, which grew denser if this was possible, away on the horizon.

The sound was louder than anything anyone had ever heard before and it was painful to many. As the sound became a tremendous thumping explosion, the shock waves hit everyone.

The Son-of stood firm, he was confident in his belief of doing his God’s work as all around him cowered in fear. Then a strange thing happened as the ground began shaking once more.

The waters of the Salt Lake drained away from the sand bar in one direction and the level of the waters of the Great Sea in the other seemed reduced; the sand bar became a causeway fully exposed to view, and moreover available.

The brother had long since lost his fear of anything or anyone and charged forward in his chariot, taking the moment strongly. With the courage and style, perhaps, of the foreigners from where this great destructive noise was coming, in their bull vaulting displays as had long been the practice for their young men, perhaps now no more, he urged his horses forward.

The silt and sand bar may still be soft but there was barely any small puddles of water remaining to cover and, with the aid of the bent reeds still in place, would likely provide a support for his chariot and horses.

The brother charged on recklessly and his troops followed the example set, immediately. In some places two and three wide they came at breakneck speed towards the gathered people of the Son-of now all upon the higher ground.

Their progress was suddenly halted as the central section of the causeway started to drain away into the receding waters. The brother urged his horses forward and with the chariot wheels becoming immersed deeper in the muddy mess made slow, but a nonetheless, forward progress.

His army behind him could not turn round, going forward was becoming very slow but this was the only option. They feared the loss of the causeway path as they could see that more of it was slowly dropping away from the edges into the depths of the water.

They had to get a move on, panic was starting amongst them, the brother had to go faster or they would all be trapped.

The Son-of had remembered well. He pointed the dull insulated staff towards the body of water to the left of the sand bar and let the energy flow. He called loudly upon his One God to assist so that all around would realise when the power was released it would be by his grace as bestowed upon his Chosen-One.

They cowed in a dreadful fear for the thought of what was about to happen if the brother reached them and in the strange behaviour of the Son-of which appeared not to be making any sense. Then an inexplicable thing happened.

A body of water lifted itself from the Great Sea and came charging towards the chariots that were had become almost stationary at a position nearly all the way across the few miles of the flooded causeway.

The Son-of had remembered well and there had been enough energy left in the machine for this last great demonstration of its power that would destroy his brother and save HIS life.

If this was not impressive enough, the roaring sound from the distance suddenly eased and at the same time (the Son-of had no explanation for this in his mind save that the one God had heard his call for his assistance) a wall of water moving down the Salt Lake could be seen surging towards them from the opposite direction.

This was matching what he was doing with his machine and staff as if in a mirror image. He could not reason why this may be happening but he knew that he had to take as much advantage of the situation as possible.

Both walls of water struck each other across the sand bar at the same time. Ten, maybe fifteen feet high walls of raging water from two directions struck the entire charioted force and they disappeared rapidly from view in a mighty foaming turmoil.

Silence fell as a strange but frightening comfort. The turmoil of water before them eased and the danger was simply gone, not present any more. These people, who had seemingly been on the edge of slaughter after such effort and tribulations, lay stunned at the impossible, silent view.

The Son-of turned off the machine.

He had felt the energy draining from the staff as he used it and knew that its last supply of fuel was exhausted. The old priests had not been able to obtain more, although they knew the place. They did not have the influence or power to commission an expedition to obtain from that distant place what may be required, so it had not happened.

The machine had not seen any use nor had it served any function for many years and had been kept only as a great item of the Gods’ beneficial acts so many thousand years ago. It had become more of an item of strange worship than a working piece of equipment.

The Chosen One, while he held that title and after the machine's appropriation, had made some low power use of it during the building of his new city. This had served the additional purposes of him finding if he could remember correctly how to make it function while moving some of the heaviest blocks into place.

This low power use of the machine had made a great impact on those who had witnessed its use but it had not generated any signals to its rightful owners as far as the Son-of was aware.

Now he had brought it back into life for a short period at full power, if only for one last time and if only for the purpose of taking life. It had served the Son-of well but now needed charging with a new supply of fuel. Only the Son-of knew this but he was not about to disclose it.

Let those around him stand in awe and terror and what he had achieved. The Son-of was truly chosen by the One God, how could any have doubted him, and if they did they were terrified to say so.

As the raging waters subsided towards a more normal appearance, eyes were strained to see what had happened to the pursuing force that, only a short time previously, had been so close behind but there was not a trace of them. They had just disappeared so completely that not even a spear floated to the surface, not a piece of wood, nothing.

The Son-of was triumphant and declared that his One God had been with him all the time and when needed in a moment of great danger had come to HIS rescue and saved all those who had followed him. He truly was the Chosen One but he must keep the name he had adopted, the Son-of, as the majority of those now worshipping and prostrating themselves at his feet knew him only by this name.

He was a survivor and he must make it his life to leading these people to even greater triumphs, to his own glory, against whatever adversity and wherever it may appear. He knew, as no one else did, that there was a desperate need of replacement energy fuel for his machine and without it, his power, like that of the machine, would simply disappear.

After such a demonstration, these people would follow him anywhere and he knew where he was going, into the desert again on this side of the Great Sea, but not too far. They would follow him, of that he was now certain.

The Son-of was determined that the history of this event had to be recorded to keep the mystery and the worship of his One God and himself, alive.

He could write, but not in the language of the majority of those with him. They kept their history in verbal tradition and so it must be for now. He would ensure the telling and retelling of the stories of these events. He could add, he could elaborate, and he could tell of the time that he was in the court of his father; who would dare challenge him?

He could build a legend. That was how all great stories were passed on by the victors of events. He was a great person now with a legend that must be told of the One God and his chosen son.

Tauria explained that the use of the machine at full power had triggered the signals that the base had received.

She was directed, however, that it was not to be recovered but left in the possession of whomever it was that could clearly make use of it. That person would now have the responsibility for the survival of a great number of people.

They had survived the great natural disaster and also the possibility of being slaughtered by pursuing forces and would need all the help they could to survive.

Ok, so this meant the inclusion one of these God myths but so did most of the groupings of these emerging human civilisations. It did no harm, it helped their development and ultimately, when they were clever enough, they would work out the truth.

Based upon what he heard, Philo decided to issue new instructions.

“Tauria you are now to rest. You will stay here in our main base until you have recovered sufficiently to continue our work. Thank you for what you have achieved and my condolences on your loss. We have all lost someone and we understand how you must be feeling. Please leave this meeting; we have further matters to discuss.”

His show of concern amongst his strange blunt style did not impress Tauria but what else was to be expected from these stay at home ‘manager' types who never got their hands dirty. She nodded politely, turned without a word and left the room.

Philo turned to the third person sat alongside him who had been listening carefully to what had been presented.

“Vadiv,” Philo announced, “take a craft and head for the location of the fuel depot that these people once set up on the mountain top.”

“Take the appropriate smelting equipment with you, call this leader, whatever he is calling himself, up onto the mountain top in a great spectacle and have him bring all the gold that you consider will be needed to convert into fuel for the machine.”

“It is my understanding that it is available in significant quantities both with himself and amongst those people with him.”

“He knows the significance of this requirement, considering where he really came from, but does not have the understanding of how to process it. I think food in exchange for gold will go down fairly well with these starving people.”

“They won’t challenge him, go, see to it,” Philo directed bluntly.

“Oh and make sure the software instruction set in the machine is brought up to date, provide him with a new one, tell him to tell his people that what he has really received are directions for their survival, a way to live properly, or some such story.”

“In fact, let’s go one better. Make up the new instruction set but make sure that it also includes specific rules for living in the manner we think they should. Ensure that the new software can ‘speak’ through the machine in the languages they understand.”

“Hang on a moment Vadiv,” Philo continued, not seemingly able to conclude his thoughts.

“Give him the necessary guidance on how to insert the instruction set into the interior and how to re-boot the machine once loaded. Don’t join him on his return down the mountain but observe until you are fully satisfied that all is working properly and there are no last minute hiccups, like dropping the provided instruction set into the desert sand.”

“Better still,” he added, “take a spare copy with you; you never know what might happen with these cross breeds.”

“Go for it Vadiv, try to enjoy the trip, keep away from the volcanic action, it might subside but we can’t be sure for a considerable time yet, stay safe.”

Philo dismissed Vadiv with a casual wave of his arm in the direction of the exit.