EHYEH-ASHER-EHYEH (I AM THAT I AM): An Elena Duran/Corazon Negro
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@directvinternet.com)
Mon, 23 Sep 2002 10:28:58 -0400
Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh (I am that I am) 23/34
Julio Cesar divad72@prodigy.net.mx
Vi Moreau vmoreau@directvinternet.com
Inside the Dream.
A gush of wind was collecting, but from where he couldn't tell. The entire
world seemed empty, frozen, a tomb. As the wind swirled and thickened before
him, the clouds faded.
Corazon Negro heard the voice of the Dream beside him, disembodied and
intimate. "AS THE WOLF CULLS THE UNFIT FROM THE WILD HERDS, SO SHALL YOU
BECOME THE SON OF THE WOLF... HUNTER... HEALER... KILLER... DREAMER AND
DANCER... COME INSIDE, CORAZON NEGRO... COME AND FIGHT... IT IS TIME..."
The wind blew his clothing and howled furiously above the wasted land. It
was as if the wind's cries were a reflection of the Immortal's pain. Corazon
Negro fell to his knees, and the calmness took him away from his deep Dream.
The warrior rose once more slowly and he blinked inside the darkness,
adjusting his clothes. He watched the shapes surrounding him and his voice
became a whisper. "I am here."
Silence. The wind was gone. Corazon Negro sighed, shaking his head. The
sound of his empty stomach resounded in the night. Behind him, a hill rose,
and in every direction the hard packed earth wanted to reach the sky. "What
direction should I take?" he yawned looking at the twisted immensity, the
fantastic world of the Dream.
He was walking beside a great river, a sensation of evil growing in his
soul. He fought against it, trying to focus on his task. Corazon Negro
opened his mouth and started singing. He forced himself to listen to the
sounds around him to clarify his thoughts, trying to forget the noise of the
people who were chattering far beyond the river. The Dreamer couldn't see
those people, but he could feel them inside his head.
A voice came from nowhere and reprehended him. "DANCE, SEARCH FAR BEYOND
YOURSELF. LOSE YOUR HEAD. BECOME ONE WITH EVERYTHING AND WITH NOTHING."
Corazon Negro shook his head to avoid the self-compassion's mist and
continued his song, singing, and singing... He started to Dance in all
directions, calling the four elements of nature with his movements.
The time passed by and Corazon Negro's song filtered into every corner of
his mind, until he stopped hearing the sound of his own voice. His song
became the Dream, and the Dream was calling him. Once absorbed by the fluid
of his mental Dance, the song was no longer needed, and the warrior couldn't
stop the cadence movements of his body. The time's fluid sprang as a balsam
above his wounded soul. Only his movements existed, mixed with the caresses
of his thoughts, until finally, the warrior felt himself floating in the
air.
Corazon Negro danced weightlessly in the sea of light. Time disappeared
inside one eternal present in which an Immortal called Corazon Negro had
never existed. In this universe, only one moment existed: the present.
His dance stopped.
Corazon Negro melted with the shining light around him as a drop in the
ocean. Then the clarity exploded in a huge and silence explosion, and the
universe he was aware of was bathed in an enormous wave, which extended over
and conquered the darkness.
"YOU MUST STOP YOUR DANCE IN ORDER TO SEE THE DANCER."
Corazon Negro heard the voice inside his head.
"FAR BEYOND THE DANCE'S MOVEMENTS EXISTS THE DANCER, AND FAR BEYOND THE
DANCER EXISTS THE ESSENCE OF ALL-THE THING THAT UNITES ALL LIVING BEINGS.
THE ONLY VOICE; THE ONE."
Corazon Negro's eyes couldn't see through the shining anymore.
"SON OF THE WOLF... WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU... AND NOW LEARN THIS:
THERE'S NO DANCER. THERE NEVER HAS BEEN A DANCER," the loud voice spoke,
filling the space all around. The mountains and the sky trembled with the
grave sounds.
Corazon Negro covered his face with his hands to protect his eyes from the
brilliant light. "WE ARE JUST ONE VOICE, ONE MIND. OUR THOUGHTS ARE THE
SAME, AND OUR MAKER IS THE ONE. THOSE AMONG US WHO WILL JOIN THEIR SOULS AND
QUICKENINGS, WILL BE THOSE WHO WILL RE-ESTABLISH THE ANCIENT WORLD. WE WERE
BEFORE, AND WE WILL BE ALWAYS WARRIOR SPIRITS. SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME
WE HAVE PROTECTED LIFE..."
Corazon Negro was in the whirlwind of the Dream, and the twister was a
tunnel, but inside it there fell a silence in which he could hear his own
breathing.
As he rose, steadily, without the slightest reference to any sort of
gravity, two things became apparent to him at once. The first was that
thousands upon thousands of individual souls surrounded him. He saw shapes
in the whirlwind, some completely anthropomorphic, others merely faces, but
surrounding him, everywhere, were distinct spiritual entities, and very
faintly he heard their voices-whispers, cries, howls-mingling with the wind.
The sound couldn't hurt him. Nevertheless he heard this strong noise as he
shot upwards turning as if on his axis, the tunnel narrowing suddenly so
that the souls seemed to touch him, and then widening, only to narrow again.
The second thing, which he also instantly realized, was that the darkness
was fading or being drained utterly from his own form. His profile was
bright and even translucent; so were his shapeless garments. His presence
had been replaced by something crystalline and reflective, but which felt
pliant, warm, and alive.
Words came back to him, snatches of scripture, of visions and prophetic
claims and poetry; but there was no time to evaluate, to analyze, and to
seal into memory. He needed to do his job, find Lilitu's soul inside the
Dream.
The sourceless light was utterly penetrating his soul. Corazon Negro
realized that he was once more again amid hundred of other individuals, and
on the banks of the stream and in all directions he saw beings weeping and
crying out. As before, the shapes were in all degrees of distinctness. One
soul was as solid as if he'd run into him in the real world; another
individual seemed no more than a giant facial expression; while others
seemed to be whirling bits and pieces of material and light. Others were
utterly diaphanous. Some seemed invisible, except that Corazon Negro knew
they were there. Their number was impossible to determine.
The place was limitless. The combination of seeming disorder and order was
the mystery. This was not chaos, as he knew it. This was not confusion, as
he knew it. This was not a din. It seemed to gather the sadness of a great
and final gathering, the perpetually unfolding resolution of something, a
marvel of sustained revelation, a growing understanding shared by all who
participated in it. He felt that Lilitu's soul was somewhere nearby, inside
the Dream, and she was growing stronger every moment.
"HURRY... DREAMER... BEFORE IS TOO LATE..." the Dream commanded.
The whirlwind once again surrounded Corazon Negro.
========
At the barn...
Connor had expected one or two Immortals with mortal minions. He had
expected guns, and in fact, the enemy was shooting at them. Although he
didn't have a clear shot, he fired several times anyway, making the enemy
duck for cover, scaring them, and wounding one man at least. He had expected
fire, dynamite maybe, and the breaking of every Immortal rule. What he
didn't expect was an amplified voice from the trees, ordering, "Connor
MacLeod. Kill the Dreamer, Corazon Negro. Take his head, now!"
It was a woman's voice, weak and old with age, but Connor was shaken to his
very core. He left his post by the barn loft window and walked to the edge,
looking down to the center of the barn where Corazon Negro stood in some
sort of trance. Helpless.
Connor leaped down without benefit of the ladder, bending his knees to
cushion the fall, and then leaped up, fully intending to kill--but Duncan
was
in his way, blocking him. "Connor, no!" Duncan said, but by that time Connor
had managed to stop in his tracks, get his head together, take a few deep
breaths, and shake off the suggestion.
"It's the Voice," Connor whispered roughly, just barely in control of
himself.
"I know!" Duncan cried out. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I ... I can just barely fight it off. Duncan, you have to--"
"Duncan MacLeod," came the Voice again. "Kill the Dreamer, Corazon Negro.
Take his head. Do it now!"
Duncan shuddered, then dropped his rifle, turned on his heel and walked
toward his katana, which was resting by one of the boarded up windows.
Behind him, Connor did the only thing he could. He struck his kinsman from
behind, driving him to his knees.
"Elena Duran!" the Voice called out commandingly.
Connor turned to the Argentine, who was looking at him fearfully. "Dammit!"
he murmured. Cassandra had taught him how to control the Voice, but she'd
also told him she was the only Immortal left who knew how to use it. He
should have realized Lilitu or her followers would surely have that ability.
He should have--
"Connor, please help me, I can't ..." Elena whispered, desperate, holding a
hand out to him for assistance, while the Voice finished, "Kill the Dreamer.
Decapitate Corazon Negro. Now!"
Elena's eye glazed over slightly. She took a deep shuddering breath, put her
rifle down, then picked up her sword and walked toward Connor. In the
meantime, behind him, Duncan had risen to his feet and, katana in hand, was
taking the final steps toward the Dreamer.
God help me, I can't fight both of them! Connor thought, as he turned,
cursing under his breath, and buried his katana to the hilt in Duncan's
back, immediately pulling it out. Duncan moaned once, arching his back in
pain, and fell forward onto the dirt of the barn floor, just beside the
Aztec. Connor rushed to block Elena's blade as she brought it down to behead
her prone lover. "No!" Connor exclaimed as steel met steel and drops of
Duncan's blood spilled onto the Aztec's face. Connor knew better than to try
to reason with the Argentine. She was going to kill the man she loved, just
as the Voice commanded her. He pushed her blade down and to the side, then
hit her hard in the face. She fell back but not down.
Connor took a gun out of his pocket.
"Connor MacLeod! Kill the Dreamer! Decapitate Corazon Negro!" The Voice
insinuated itself in Connor's head, trying to fill his being with its
malignant message. Once again he was forced to concentrate, to shrug it off.
He placed himself in front of the Aztec, covering Corazon Negro's vulnerable
head with his body, while he took deep breaths for control.
Duncan was slumped on the floor, bleeding out, but Elena came at him again.
It was a good thing that she was going for Corazon Negro and not for Connor
himself, as she tried to merely push Connor out of the way instead of
attacking him. Connor put his gun barrel against her chest and fired. Elena
screamed and crumpled to the ground, writhing while her heart desperately
and futilely tried to keep her alive.
"Duncan MacLeod! Elena Duran!" the Voice called out again, but both of
Connor's comrades were beyond hearing. Elena was still in her death throes,
making pained sounds, and Connor looked at the pool of blood under his
clansman. Connor knew he had to do something fast before his enemies came
in, expecting the MacLeods and Elena to be under the influence of the Voice.
He could tie the other two up, but they would still be taking orders from-
Then he remembered what Duncan had told him, how he'd managed to fool, then
defeat, Roland. There was no electricity in the barn, so they had brought
flashlights-and then he remembered the box of candles he'd spotted on one of
the shelves. If he could melt some of it and put the wax in the ears of his
comrades-turned-enemies .
He lit several candles, getting them going together, hoping the troops
outside wouldn't rush him right away. They'd probably be waiting for a
Quickening, and that would give him some time. Hopefully. Maybe. Using the
fire of the bonfire and the heat of his hands, he spent some feverish
minutes burning his fingers while molding the wax, then putting it in Duncan
and Elena's ears, pushing it in, hoping it would keep out the Voice. He
didn't know if the others would come back still under the compulsion of
their previous order, so he dragged them back as far away from the Aztec as
he could. Then he ran up the ladder to the loft and saw two armed men, not
Immortals, rushing toward the barn. Damn confident of them, Connor thought,
as he picked up his rifle and cold-bloodedly shot the first one in the head.
The second man threw himself on the ground, but he was too close and there
was no cover, so Connor shot him, from above, then ducked to avoid the
return fire from the trees.
The trees covered the barn, but the defenders still had a clear field of
fire for approximately twenty yards on all sides. Connor rushed to look out
the boarded-up windows on all other sides, but his enemies were nowhere in
sight. Good. As he came back, Duncan groaned and started to move. Connor
sent a small prayer upwards, but when his kinsman raised his head his eyes
were clear.
"Connor?" Duncan asked.
Connor sent a second prayer skywards, this time of thanksgiving. "It's the
Voice," he articulated carefully, then pointed to Duncan's ears.
Sitting on the floor, still unable to rise, the younger Highlander felt in
his ears, nodded, and then finally got to his feet. "Thanks," he mumbled,
touched his sticky chest gingerly, and then stripped off his blood-soaked
shirt. He noticed Elena on the floor.
Connor signed Elena was dead by holding up his pistol, and Duncan nodded
again, then picked up his rifle with telescopic lens and went to check the
windows.
While they waited for a target, there was another round of commands from the
Voice. This time Duncan was ordered to behead Connor, Connor to behead
Duncan, and Elena to kill both MacLeods. Every time Connor was issued a
command he flinched and was really tempted, but he knew he could fight it
and didn't want to block up his ears. Someone had to know what was going on.
========