Thirty - Four

The moon hung in the sky a large orange ball, fat and heavy. The face staring down on them amid the millions of stars in the dark blue, almost black in the backdrop of the desert night sky. Her hand moved softly over his chest and down his stomach. Soft velvety lips briefly touched his ear and then his neck with a searing heat of passion. His own hands moved insistently back and forth over the soft skin of her back, coming again and again to the rich fullness of her buttocks. The heat of their passion pushed aside the coolness of the desert night. Their intense desire eliminated the small rocks and the hardness of the ground beneath the thin sleeping bag that acted as their bed. Her small hand encircled his erect penis, and without thinking he gasped before rolling on top of her. Crushing their bodies together, crushing his lips into hers. Their love, their desire for each other was limitless and would last forever.

Something wet squished quietly between their two heaving bodies. He realized that the wetness was not between their legs. Nor was it the combination of their sweat in the cool desert night. Rising the top half of his body without breaking their union he looked down at her and screamed. The howl of the coyote mixed with the sound of his second torturous scream. Abruptly, standing above her, he stared. Where her two perfectly formed breasts had once been, was now only a mass of blood and torn flesh. The ribs glittered whitely in the moonlight amid the pool of blood that housed her heart. Her heart was missing. Her voice echoed accusingly in his ears, ‘Oh Evan, why did you do this to me?’

The pounding of his own heart mixed with his panting breath in his ears as he ran through the desert night. As he ran, small rocks cut at his feet. His legs were torn by the thorns and needles of the desert vegetation as he passed. On and on he ran. Away from the grizzly of Cindy’s torn and mutilated body. Time and distance washed over him, but all he saw was the sight of her body in front of his mind’s eye. All he could hear was the sound of her voice repeating over and over as it beat upon his brain.

Why had he killed her? How had he killed her? When had he killed her? What had he done with her heart? Oh god he wanted her back. They were going to be married.

A large rock tripped him and he fell forward. He felt like he had been falling for hours, but that had to be a trick of the desert night. Finally the fall was broken by the pile of soft silky pillows to land upon. A cool strong hand rolled him onto his back. Another softer smaller hand brushed the hair at his feverish brow. He stared up into her beautiful face, seeing the gold band which held her hair back. Soft warm green eyes beckoned him to relax and rest. Full red lips smiled down at him, but they never said a word.

“I killed her!” he confessed to the beautiful trusting face hovering over his own. “I don’t know why? I don't know how, but I killed her! Now what am I going to do? I loved her and I killed her!”

“No!” the queen of the Seventh Gate whispered emphatically, as she continued to caress his brow with soft tender strokes. “You did no such thing! Take the time to think. Take the time to remember. Take the time to learn the truth.”

The sounds of the drums beating softly in the night came to his ears, hypnotical in their constant slow steady cadence. Images Of stolen nights of love and passion on the desert floor beneath the clear starry night with Cindy filled his mind. Their marriage ceremony. The sweet smile on her face as she said ‘I do.’ The congratulations of friends and family washed the other images away. Bitter arguments of discontent, boredom followed as he retraced their life together.

Then she was gone. Leaving only a mocking letter dismissing their marriage. It had all been a terrible joke. She wanted more that he couldn’t or wouldn’t give her. He searched frantically for her. Desperately wanting her back. For two years he searched, vowing that he would change for her. She was gone and wanted to remain hidden. Pain, loneliness, longing and bitterness filled his soul.

He turned all his efforts to his magic. Before it was interesting, now he was obsessed with it. What is the ultimate magic? He had to know the greatest secrets. He knew instinctively that for him the truth laid behind the puzzles of magic. He delved head long into a murky pool. The pain and loneliness were pushed aside, but remembered, as he quested for the answers. Dead ancient languages, runes, sigils, mystic symbols passed in an unbroken line before his eyes. He read the mysteries of life and still wanted to know more. Truth was all that was important and too much of what he read was fake, or to vague to contain any truths. The Aethyrs held the key to the truth. The Star Gates provided the path to the truth. “Why did she have to die?”

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“Kismet,” she answered softly, knowing the pain he was feeling. “Each has their own destiny, and none can alter the Ancient Ones plan, not even the Chosen One.”

“But you said I was the Chosen One, and the Chosen One has the power of life and death. I loved her!”

“Maybe a decade ago that was true and you know it in your heart,” she was being gentle but demanding at the same time. “You are the Chosen One. We also told you that there were locks on your powers that you had to release to become the best you possible. It is not true that I or my husband told you that you have the power over death. The fact that you didn’t truly love her anymore could have played a vital role in navigating the key to that particular lock, if you have that power. What attributes that the True Power has was not given to you by us. The Ancient One, blessed be his name, decided when he selected you and touched your soul.”

“Do I have that Power?”

“Perhaps.”

“So I could have saved Cindy if I was just stronger?” he asked desperately.

“No,” and the single word conveyed her own sadness and sympathy. “Why is all of this happening<” Evan asked after a few minutes of silence, and quiet acceptance.

“Because your world needs constant reminding that the Ancient One still exists.”

“I don’t understand?”

“How could you feel the wrenching loss and pain of death for a person unless you also knew the love and joys of that person? How can you know the pleasure and safety of light if you have not experienced the terrors of the dark? It takes evil to recognize good. Sin to recognize redemption. Man only learns through comparison, for without the opposite your world would be maudlin and tiresome.”

“But only a few will know of the struggle if we succeed. If we fail, then the whole world will know the struggle, but not of our fight to try to prevent the Opening. So we are destined to fail so the lesson will drive him to the many.”

“No, the few can teach the many. It is enough that some will remember, and that will allow for growth.”

“Growth of what?”

“Of man, of course. It is only through adversity that man truly reaches beyond his current capabilities to learn, stretch, and grow. Evil or bad spawn new ideas, creativities and ingenuity. You are growing and learning through the adversities set before you. You will teach others what you learned and they will still teach others. The chain grows longer with each link. Still more will benefit from your new knowledge and a new chain will grow around the first, strengthening and protecting the main chain. There is always a reason in the circle of the Ancient One. Sometimes that reason is just not visible to any but the Ancient One.”

“Will anyone else die?”

“Will your world keep spinning around your sun?”

“Will we succeed in keeping the Gate closed? And how do we accomplish this miracle?”

“That answer lies only within you,” the Lord of the Seventh Gate said. “YOU are the Chosen One, Yudril. You have the True Power, and you have all of the keys within you to unlock those powers. If those powers include the ability to grant life, then you would be one of a select few of Chosen Ones. It is not impossible nor unlikely that you would be granted the heroic art, but like all of the powers you must seek the keys. You should meditate during the calm rather than hoping battle will unlock or grant you a key.

“One of the things that the Ancient One has told all the Lords and Ladies of the Gates, is that we can not directly interfere in our world. He also said that we were to obey this Chosen One. So I interpret that to mean that I can tell you things that I know, which might just help stir some creativity.

“In India, built more than two millennia ago is your temple from another time, another age. Four of the great vaults have been opened, but there are only three items that you need from the fifth vault, garuda mantra.

You will have to go to India and prove that you are the true owner of the Temple, the Temple of Padmanabhasway built before 500 BCE. Go to India and claim what is yours. All that the vault contains is yours, but you will recognize what is needed now.

“Now it is time for you to return to your world,” the Lord said. “If ever you need us we will be here to serve, as is true with all of the Gates. Go in peace and with the knowledge that you have done the best you could so far.”

“Thank you for your comfort, but is there nothing more you can tell me?”

“There are no answers to the unasked question. Now return and seek your own Kismet.”