BENE-HA-ELOHIM (THE CHILDREN OF GOD) An Elena Duran-Corazon Negro Story 11/15 by Julio Cesar divad72@prodigy.net.mx Jomhori-e-Islami-e-Iran (Islamic Republic of Iran) Southwest of the Caspian Sea and the Northeast of Qazvin March 21, 2013 Aylon's eyes were closed. He was meditating. Wearing black robes that made him look like an ancient terror from the past, his eyebrows showed the frustration on his bearded face whose cheeks were decorated with bizarre ritualistic blue-tinted, covered-features tattoos. Even sitting down at his desk, resting, he was a huge, fierce-looking man. The coming of an Immortal's presence entering his private chambers interrupted his meditation. Slowly, he opened his dark eyes, fixing his gaze on the man before him. "Forgive me, wise one," the Hashashiyyin whispered. Aylon scowled at the Hashashiyyin, feeling another strong Immortal's presence behind the main door of his private chamber. "What do you want?" he demanded, his voice as cold as the night wind over Alamut. "I left word that I was not to be disturbed." He was angrier than usual. Zarach's mind message had reached him just an hour ago. Among all the Immortals of the Ancient Gathering, Aylon was perhaps the one who hatred Lilitu the most. She had killed his Immortal father twelve millennia ago. "I-I know, wise one," stuttered the Hashashiyyin, sounding confused. "But the lady insisted. She said to give you this note." Aylon's frown deepened. As a member of the Ancient Gathering, he was not accustomed to being disobeyed. Normally, he would have the Hashashiyyin severely disciplined for interrupting his inner thoughts. It was clear to him, however, that the force of his unknown visitor's personality had overwhelmed the assassin's conditioning. The lady had to be an Immortal of incredible mental powers, and he was not expecting any such visitor. His curiosity aroused, he opened the folded slip of paper. Written on it, in elaborate calligraphy, was the single name Naema. Aylon looked at the Hashashiyyin sharply. "Who saw this stranger other than you?" "No one, wise one," said the Hashashiyyin. "She arrived a few minutes ago. I-I brought her here immediately. It seemed the right thing to do." Aylon nodded. He had expected nothing less. His visitor traveled in secret. Which left him with the annoying decision of what to do with the Hashashiyyin who had ushered her to his chamber. His rage emerged through his eyes, and the Hashashiyyin stepped backward. Destroying the messenger, he decided quickly, wouldn't erase his anger. He wanted to kill Lilitu, not the man in front of him. He thought for a moment, and then he decided it was easier to erase memories than disciples. "When you leave this chamber," he said, his gaze fixed on the Hashashiyyin, "tell the lady to enter. Then, return to your post. Then, forget what occurred in the past thirty minutes. No one came to the door of Alamut. You never escorted anyone to my chambers. Nothing happened. Understand? Nothing at all." The assassin nodded, mesmerized by the sound of Aylon's voice. "Yes, wise one. Nothing happened. I understand." "Good," Aylon said finally, fury still in his black gaze. "Now depart." Aylon rose to his feet as his visitor entered the room. The woman wore a long hooded cloak that shrouded her features in shadow. In her left hand she gripped an elaborately carved wooden staff. The presence of the mystic talisman merely confirmed the stranger's identity. "Naema," Aylon said, with a slight bow. "I am honored by your presence here." The stranger threw back her hood, revealing the attractive face of a young black woman. She had high cheekbones and ruby-red lips. Her thick black hair fell in two long braids nearly to her waist. Her honey eyes blazed with an intense inner fire. She was Naema, one of the original members of the Ancient Gathering. "Always the gentleman, Aylon," she replied, with a slight curtsy. Even raised among savages nearly twelve millennia ago, she retained her sense of style. "Sit," Aylon said, pointing to a high-backed wooden chair directly facing him across his desk. "Your visit, though unexpected, is welcome. We have hardly been in contact since that episode when Corazon Negro brought his woman here, some thirty years ago." Naema smiled. "I remember. A glorious night for some. A miserable one for others." She scanned the room with her honey eyes. "However, my old friend, I didn't come here tonight to discuss the past. We need to speak of the present. And the future. I guess you received Zarach's message." "I did," Aylon commented nodding. "Lilitu is free one more time. The time is upon us. You came here in secret. You received Zarach's message too." His eyes narrowed to slits. "Are there new troubles in Africa?" Naema had lived almost her entire live in that continent. It was a difficult area to control. "There are always troubles in Africa," she replied sighing. "I suspect Lilitu has great influence there, trying to manipulate my actions. Just like in the past." "Many Immortals have disappeared there under unexplained circumstances." "I know," said Naema. She sounded weary. She needed help, but like most ancient Immortals, she trusted no one. "The fact that certain members of our race dislike being commanded by a woman does not make my job any easier. Keeping them in line is not a favorite task of mine." "They are fools then. You are among the most powerful Immortals on this earth." "I do my best," Naema said, leaning forward in her chair so that her elbows rested on Aylon's desk. "At the moment, my proteges can handle the minor problems. And compared to the horror we face, all other difficulties are minor." Aylon nodded, as a strange feeling overwhelmed his senses. For an instant, he felt as if he was sharing his body with another. He and a ghostly, invisible companion absorbed everything he saw through his eyes, heard through his ears. It was an eerie sensation. And as quickly as the sensation had begun, it came to an end. "Did you experience that?" Aylon asked his guest. "Yes," Naema answered him. "Lilitu." "We need to be together, Naema," Aylon spoke in low tones. "Only with the combined force of us seven, can we prevent Lilitu from entering our minds so easily. Should one of us die before we could face her, it's over." Aylon shook his head. "That's why you came, am I right?" Naema sighed. "Yes. Just like you, my friend, I swore too that I'd face Lilitu when the time comes. I heard with great interest Zarach's message. I found his fears frightening." Aylon kept silence. He remembered too that Naema had been a Lilitu's lover. "I sent a letter years ago, one for Zarach, one for you, in order to agree about the place where we should met when the time would come. You did not answer my letter thus. Nor did you support my claim with Zarach." "Just because I agreed with you does not mean I will act like a fool," Naema declared smiling. "I thought it best to contact you in secret, then reveal my suspicions to the others. I do not trust Zarach." Aylon folded his arms across his chest. He did not like the direction in which this conversation was heading. "What do you mean? The three of us are the only remains of the original Ancient Gathering." Naema did not answer immediately. Instead, she rose from her chair, staff in hand, and walked around the chamber. Her voice, soft and sweet, chanted in an ancient tongue as she marched. Every few steps, she raised and then lowered her staff, weaving a complex series of designs in the air. Aylon immediately recognized the spell as a powerful privacy bond from Africa. "You actually think Lilitu could destroy us?" Aylon asked Naema when she returned to her chair. He smiled. "We are the most powerful Immortals in the world, my dear. Lilitu knows she has little chance against the seven of us." "I make no assumptions," Naema spoke, her features grim. "I deal in facts. We both know Lilitu is not going to fight against us alone. Her Headless Children are going to help her. In the past years, I have been subjected to an increasing number of psychic attacks. My enemy remains unseen. Defending myself has become more and more difficult. Whoever works against me has powers equal to my own, and I can tell you is not Lilitu, mark my words." "You suspect a member of the Ancient Gathering?" "Perhaps," Naema stated. "Although I didn't recognize the presence. My enemy is not stranger. He is a Headless Child." Aylon narrowed for a moment. "The implications are not pleasant." "My thought exactly," Naema said. "That's why your letter worried me so much. I've been watched for many years by now. Maybe you too." Aylon scowled. "I do not know. I'm on Holy Ground. Lilitu cannot see inside such places. You, on the other hand, insist in live your life outside consecrated land." Aylon considered his options. "What other member of the Ancient Gathering lives within Holy Ground? Just Myrddin and Heru-sa-aset, I believe." This time, Naema's eyes narrowed. "Maybe Lilitu had been orchestrating our lives like a chess game. Myrddin has great knowledge about our race inside his encyclopedia. I'm sure Lilitu is going to try to destroy him." "No more than any of us," Aylon declared. "The possibility that Lilitu controls my destiny disturbs me greatly. I am not a pawn." "Nor am I. But, how many of the mortals we used to further our plans said the same things, never realizing that we were pulling their strings? How can we be sure that we are free, Aylon? How can we be absolutely sure?" "You are leading up to something, Naema," Aylon said with cold voice. "Stop playing word games with me. What exactly do you want?" "We cannot trap Lilitu on our own," Naema said with anger on her voice. "Not if she has been dominating us for millennia. Finding and destroying her is impossible for a single Immortal. What we must do instead is persuade Zarach to do the job for us. He can be the bait." Aylon's gaze narrowed. This was a bad idea in so many ways... "Betray Zarach? Why?" Naema stood again. The fire was reflected in her eyes. "Don't tell me you trust him, not after all he has done. He is a liar, Aylon. He and Methos are the worst scum." "We made an oath, Naema, whether you like it or not. And we will fulfill such bonds." Naema sighed, calming herself. "What about Corazon Negro? We could sacrifice him instead." Aylon shook his head. "Out of the question, again." "Then we can convince other Immortals." "How?" Aylon demanded. His lips curled into a sneer. "Appeal to their spirit of cooperation? I don't think that will work. Most Immortals hate each other and with good reason-they are each trying to become the last one to rule this world. Lilitu did a great job convincing them of her lie about there can be only one. Why would any other Immortal besides the ones in the Ancient Gathering agree to help us find Lilitu?" "They will do if they feel it is in their best interest." Naema answered him. "Greed and fear motivate the Immortals. We merely need to persuade them that Lilitu threatens their safety." "I assume you have such a scheme?" Aylon said. He appeared amused. "I must admit I am amazed. You never struck me before as being so devious. It is an entirely new side of your personality." "With my existence threatened, I rise to the occasion." "What is your plan?" "We need to join the other members of the Ancient Gathering. The sooner it is held the better." "Such meeting was agreed five hundred years ago." Naema nodded. "We are the Ancient Gathering, it is our right. Moreover, as in this case we are going to serve as both judge and executioner, we are supposed to take our responsibilities very seriously." She chuckled. "Such serious-minded Immortals are the easiest to manipulate." "We are seven Immortals in the Ancient Gathering, Naema. None of us is a fool." "We need only to convince a few," Naema said laughing. "It will be easy, especially now that Lilitu's threat is so real." Aylon closed his mind for a moment. He knew maybe Naema could read inside it. "An excellent notion. Except for one small detail. How do you intend to convince the Ancient Gathering to follow your plan?" "It is all quite simple, my dear Aylon. We shall tell them that Zarach is working with Lilitu." "What!" Aylon roared, half-rising from his desk in shock. "What proof do you have?" Naema smiled. "Calm yourself. I have no proof. To the best of my knowledge, none exist. We will have to manufacture some. It can be done." "Zarach and Lilitu as one again," Aylon whispered thoughtfully. "You think the others will believe you?" "I am convinced they will. All of them are terribly worried about Lilitu. Her attacks in the past frighten them. They are fearful of that which they cannot understand." Aylon sat silent for a few minutes, mentally reviewing the notion in his mind. Finally, he nodded his agreement. "The best lies are the most outrageous ones. They might swallow it." "Good," Naema said, rising from her chair. "It grows late. We must join the others soon. I want to take a shower, if you don't mind. Tomorrow, we can decide what proof the Ancient Gathering will demand from us. Manufacturing a few clues shouldn't require much effort." "Good night, then," Aylon said, escorting Naema to the door of his chamber. "Be careful. I'm sure Lilitu is behind the attacks against you, and she will not take kindly to this new offensive." Naema nodded. "We are on Holy Ground." "So was Quetzalcohuatl when he died," Aylon answered. "Yes," Naema said, and left him. Along again, Aylon stroked his chin thoughtfully. He had not said a word to Naema about his feelings for Zarach. Nor did he intend to do so when they spoke again. Some secrets were best kept concealed. Instead of mistrusting Zarach, he now mistrusted Naema. Her sudden personality change bothered him. Plus, she seemed totally unaware of the old ties that bound them closer than most Immortals. Some bonds were never forgotten. This was a nice move. So, Lilitu had a traitor inside the Ancient Gathering. But just one? Aylon planned to cooperate with Naema's scheme for now, but he vowed to be prepared for any treachery she might be planning. Very prepared. ======== MYRDDIN, THE MAKER OF KINGS "After this I besought the angel of peace, who proceeded with me, to explain all that was concealed. I said to him, Who are those whom I have seen on the four sides, and who words I have heard and written down? He replied, the first is the merciful, the patient, the holy Michael. The second is he who presides over every suffering and every affliction of the sons of men, the holy Raphael. The third, who presides over all that is powerful, is Gabriel. And the fourth, who presides over repentance, and the hope of those who will inherit eternal life, is Phanuel. These are the four angels of the most high God, and their four voices, which at that time I heard." Book of Enoch 40: 9,10 Caer-Myrddin Today Carmarthen, on the South Coast of Wales 520 CE The rough, water-colored blue sky, with white clouds and distant horizons hung around the creation. The boy was running between the woods, hearing the life around him, incapable of understanding why the tress, the birds and the rocks, seemed to sing to him. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He never knew he had been a foundling child. He never suspected it. His mother, Niniame, a Celtic Princess, had never told him. Found at his birthplace, as so many Immortals were, his stepmother had named him Myrddin-pronounced mur-thin-because she thought that he had been conceived in the legendary Crystal Cave where she found him. So he grew up as a bastard prince. In the same way, Niniame, to avoid any question, decided to pose as a single mother who never revealed the name of her child's father to anyone, not even him, and she told everyone that a 'spirit' conceived him. So this made him 'no man's child'. He had been always a solitary kid who never played with other children. Since he had learned to speak, the other brood had been afraid of him because of his gift of 'the sight' as the holy Druids in his tribe called it . Sometimes, if he concentrated enough, he could read other peoples' minds. He sighed again, trying to focused his mind. The sweat covered his young face. For an instant, everything seemed to turn around him. His long run in order to escape from the high Druid who instructed him in languages and geometry had taken him far beyond the forbidden forest. Then, like a whisper in the beginning, like a yell at the end, he heard his name carried by the wind. "Myrddin," the wind's voice said. "Myrddin." He wide-opened his eyes, rejecting with fear the sounds that were carried on the breeze. Shaking his head, he started to run again. "Myrddin." the wind whispered one more time. Running like a deer between the woods, he felt the way the branches tried to stop his sprint. Like giant's hands, the twigs touched his arms and legs, whispering soft words inside his soul. Suddenly, he came into a clear inside the wooded area. Opposite to him, a cavern opened its mouth like a huge bear. "Myrddin." the voice called again. For a moment, Myrddin stood facing the cave's entrance, and he saw that hundreds of bouquets of flowers had been laid at the base of the rock, their little blooms barely showing any color anymore in the gathering shapes. "Come, Myrddin." the voice spoke again within his psyche. In the wavering light Myrddin seemed a helpless creature, unable to move his limbs, though his heart brimmed. He knew now the barest glimpse of the wonder that had shaped him and enflamed him, and was utterly humbled and baffled by its origins. But from within the cave, from the darkness beyond the rudely doorway, there came the silent voice one again. "Come with me, Myrddin." Hypnotized, Myrddin started to walk. His legs had movement of their own. When Myrddin stepped through the cave's entrance, he realized that he stood at the top of a long stone stairs. It was a configuration he was to see over and over again in the centuries that followed, the steps leading down into the mother earth, into the chambers of the unknown. The chamber was low; a supernatural light glinted on the rude marks left everywhere in the stoned-walls, but the thing that called him was at the bottom of the stairs. And again, it spoke to him. "Come, Myrddin. Do not be afraid." But Myrddin was afraid. He was exhilarated beyond his wildest dreams. He was descending to a mystery that was infinitely more interesting than he had ever thought it would be. But when he reached the bottom of the narrow steps and stood in the small stone chamber there, he was terrified by what he saw-terrified and attracted by it, the loathing and fear so immediate that he felt a lump rising to suffocate him or make him uncontrollably sick. The cave was huge. Its black rocks seemed almost crystalline. For a moment, he looked at everything around him, the majesty of the cave, the wisdom emanating from it. The beauty of his discovery delighted his eyes, by the immense peace that invaded his young soul. But then, the vision came like a windstorm. The images filled his mind like a nightmare. The world was on fire, millions of souls crying for an absolution that never came. The Mother Earth was dying. And he saw the source of all that pain. A red-haired woman was commanding the ultimate pain of the planet. She was the mother of lies, the mother of hate. And Myrddin understood. She was his enemy. Forever. ========