THE Kingdom of the Web

Chapter 2.

BATTLE WITH OOKMA

 

The Wizard had an especially restful night's sleep in that reassurance

from the owl, his omen creature. The next morning, after he'd eaten his

breakfast of cold gruel, he went to Jom NiMali in the Prince's simple

chambers and reported the results of his mission. As he'd suspected, the

Prince seemed well pleased at Ookma's response. The Prince curtly gestered

and led the Wizard to an open casement window to look through.

The Prince stepped out through it onto a small porch and began

vigorishly ringing a chime bell that hung there. Shantu Ya' watched the

people leaving their work in the fields and artisans leaving their workshops

to gather in the courtyard below to hear their Prince's words. After a short

while, a sizable crowd had gathered and the Prince began his

announcement. His tone was stern, bouncing off the courtyard's walls,

decrying the offense he had suffered at Ookma's hands. He didn't speak of

vengeance, but of justice. The attack was now certain. There were some

shouts of approval and some weary moans. Soon, the NiMali army was

gathering and making preparations, the horses were fed extra rations to

strengthen them for the task of the crossing the Desolates and the standard

weapons were sharpened and polished.

Shantu Ya' remained aloof from all these preparations and attended

to the finishing touches on his new "weapon" device. Then, a few days

before the army was to set out, he called the Prince's Elite Guard to him,

twelve warriors of the fiercest loyalty, and Arik the Master-of- Guards, part

of the King's bequethment. The Wizard explained and demonstrated to them

in great detail how to use his invention and what results should be seen.

Some of the soldiers made whispered comments to each other and raised

their eyebrows behind the Wizard's back. But he was held in such high trust

that, though the "weapon's" process was beyond most of them, no one

questioned him. They knew of his wizardly skills and had trusted their lives

to his handiwork before.

 

"Can you brew me a special potion for these next days?" Jom NiMali

arched an eyebrow, smirked and looked down at his groin.

"You will be visiting some of your harem, m'lord?" the Wizard

innocently questioned. The Prince had a number of women he visited,

including other men's wives. Threat and compulsion kept the husbands in

line.

"While my Elite Guard is away from the Citadel practicing the tactics

you showed them, I am beholden to entertain their women, don't you

think?"

He is a rogue delighting in his darkness, the Wizard thought. But he

clenched his teeth and held himself back not to anger, offended though he

was at Jom's was using the Wizard's inspired creation to serve him better to

whore around. A desecration!

"My Prince might find the time worthwhile spent on practicing with

your Elite Guard. Or perhaps, it would be wise to reflect and plan on how to

rule Ookma's people, once he is overthrown. The Klim are well integrated

into that Citadel. They will require a different approach to your governing.

Their ways are quite different to ours, of course." Not so blindly

acquiescent as our people, the Wizard hoped.

The Prince gave him a lordly grimace and opened his arms wide in

pleasure. "It is here for us, Shantu Ya'. Not to worry about those details."

He paused to reflect a moment. "You know," he admitted, now smiling with

glee, as if looking forward to a feast, "I don't think I've ever had a Klim

female. Well, something to look forward to!" he exclaimed like a

celebrating child.

The world of outer life is a sweet trap, the Wizard believed, a subtle

snare to confound and blind us. The endless fears and confused desires

these phantoms lived by was like clinging mud that kept the Wizard from

soaring and staying in those heights were he belonged. His guides and

mentors at the Hermitage instructed him that the life of the spirit was to

maintain a detached, meditative mind and to act only from highest intent

and purpose. Because of his use of that practice, his consciousness had

access to many ways of seeing that gave him different understandings,

capacities and attitudes. And it opened him to new interests and needs.

Beside all the pleasures of mind and learning gained in his experimentation

in Alchemy, only in that solitude did he feel freed from the illusion and

bondage of the world of human community.

The Wizard downheartedly reminded himself that he hadn't really

known what he was agreeing to in coming to NiMali with King Rega from

the Hermitage. He'd pictured it as a perfect opportunity to develop and use

his skills to better serve the peoples lives. Of course, though he didn't

recognize it at the time, there was the assumption that they would all

recognize and honor his calling. In other words, let him live just the way he

wanted to.

And, he recognized that it was mostly that way under the good King's

rule. He had his own chambers that he need not leave, ever, unless the King

expressly called for him. His chambers were just below the Citadel's roof

and had a grand exposure of the surrounding sweep of fertile, cultivated

land and open sky. From there he could savor the days and seasons passing

and never interrupt the exacting experiments he maintained, nor disturb his

delicious self-absorption.

No, his yearning was not at all towards that realm of mundane action

that so entranced Jom, but towards a state of detached, pure reflection and

awareness. Pure knowing was the Wizard's cherished goal. And there was

Jom, his lord and Prince, an arch example of a willing slave to enticing

worldly entrapment.

"Would you join me in my romps?" Jom laughed. It was pure

sarcasm, as he knew of the Wizard's vows.

"Thank you, m'lord. I have other callings. Of a different nature." he

tried to say it as humor. But he didn't think it came out that way.

"I wonder a bit, Shantu Ya', at your assurance, at your certainty that

the way you follow is superior to mine. That perhaps your dedication to that

"spiritual" way is but another form of self-entrancement. Such pride can be

most difficult to perceive and release. A subtle snare, indeed!" He clasped

his hands and laughed with rough good humor.

"Perhaps this Great Mystery, this "Ultimate Reality" you teach about

is also a product of your own mind, more illusionary than even the sensed

world. You are still in the human form, so even your highest visins must

still be trapped in thought and interpreted in faulty concepts and images.

So, what is it you pretend to honor so but more human clatter?"

The Wizard enjoyed his perceptive, jabbing humor. He smiled and

answered, "True, m'lord, and well thought through. But truly, my goal in

seeking words and images for the inexpressable to not to pretend to

comprehend or describe such states but to awaken their transformative truth

in the hearer, whether it be you, my Prince, or myself."

Though the Prince was, in fact, mocking him, the Wizard felt no

anger. Jomwas truly an innocent and spoke only what he could see. But, it

added to the Wizard's certainty that he 'd had enough! Rather than the

gratitude he owed the Wizard, the Prince prodded at the foundations of his

life. "Attack the other Citadels, my rogue Prince," the Wizard warned him

under his breath, "but leave mine alone!"

When he was at the Hermitage, one of the many skills he was blessed

to learn was the ancient Work of Alchemy. From this training, he derived

his researches into transformation that he was able to attend to over the

fruitful years while the benevolent King ruled. But all that was spoiled

when the beloved King passed on and his tyrant son, Jom took the throne.

And turned NiMali into a center of conquest.

This was always the Prince's implied demand, face shoved at him,

"Wizard, help me conquer and pillage those about me so that I might feel

powerful and worthy. Let us teach those who dare mock me their deserved

lesson. I wish to hold them all here, " he'd thrust out his open palm, "so I

might squeeze them, should they upset me." There had been others before.

Now it was Ookma, by far the largest of Jom's triumphs.

Under the pressure of the Prince's claims on him, the fires in the

Wizard's laboratory went out, the vessels ran dry and collapsed. Years that

had been dedicated to the Work were smashed as he dragged the Wizard

away from his life's real concerns. Only his gratitude and vow to King

Rega, and his Mentor's council to be of good in the world, gave him

patience till he could formulate a worthwhile plan of escape.

Shantu Ya' had been sent to the Hermitage in his youth, before he'd

really tasted the challenge of being socially molded. He had never learned

to live under the pall of that distorted way of seeing life. Orphaned as an

infant in one of the incessant Citadels' skirmishes, he was soon adopted by

the then Wizard of NiMali. Later, he told Shantu Ya' how he'd been

prompted by a strong, guiding vision. He discipled well under the Wizard's

teachings those few years and took easily to the incantations and spells.

For whatever reason, politics or again guidance, at less than puberty,

Shantu Ya' was sent to the Hermitage of the High Malias to nurture his

gifts, and, perhaps, to escape from some dangers at home. His Mentor and

fellow seekers there were respectful of each other's inner lives, and acted

accordingly. There was never concern about anothers' deceit or of ever

being discounted. Whereas here, in the "civilized" parts of the world, the

Wizard reflected with bitter humor, those things are taken for granted. The

stalking wolves of the mountains would be envious.

 

When the troops put on their armor and caps of heavily quilted cloth

padding and mounted their horses and mules, Shantu Ya' declined to join

them. He explained to Jom that he knew the scenery well enough by then

and had full confidence in the outcome of the engagement. The Prince

paused only a moment, then accepted the Wizard attitude with a

noncommittal nod, and guided his troops down the main dirt road and out

through the Portal.

The Wizard watched them ride on through the surrounding cultivated

fields then out across the arid lands that surrounded those, the Desolates. A

huge billowing cloud of dust followed Jom NiMali and his army that Shantu

Ya' watched from his High Tower's window long after loosing sight of

them. He pulled and gnawed at his long beard and muttered to himself,

Enough. I have had enough! Bad enough serving in the Court, and that done

only at the insistence of my vow to Jom's father. But now more and more of

this war mania. And all of it taking me away from my real wizardly

interests.

Shantu Ya's knew the Prince was sure to take more and more of his

time designing weapons and battle strategies. And now he was called to

serve as an errand boy at the young rascal's whim.

He felt himself hopelessly trapped and his deepest uncertainties

exposed. What am I even doing around them? He once again drowned in

bewilderment. I really don't know. Like, I can't know. They make no sense to

me and I never know what's going on with them.

Mostly, it seems I'm in some kind of pretense with them. They pretend

they know what they're doing and I pretend, as the Court Wizard, to help them

realize their pretends. Sometimes my pretend spells and magick even seem to

work. So I'm always sure that I wear my Wizard's cap when I'm out with then.

To help remind of us both about our pretends. This was the pit of his self-

bewilderment, the home of his fears.

"But this pretend is too much. This is not what I dedicated my youth in

study for, nor what my soul yearns for," the he muttered aloud, as if taking an

oath. "I do not intent to let him make a warrior of me. This is not even the realm

of being that much interests me."

He paced the wooden floor of his atelier, his slippers keeping a floppy

rhythm to his ruminations. At one of the windows, he paused to release a bit of

his torment to savor the soft breezes. For some moments, he warmly admired

the midsummer, full-blossoming trees in the small courtyard below. But he was

just barely distracted, still preoccupied to devise a plan to get away from there,

soon. For a while, at least.

He leafed through the precious tomes of wisdom he'd manage to gather

over the years. Here were the teachings on transformation that had always

drawn him, references he had on the Work of Alchemy. One treatise focused on

transmuting a common substance into gold. Another ancient wisdom text spoke

of changing water into wine and feasting masses of people with a few fish and

loves of bread. Since watching caterpillars become butterflies one childhood

summer, that type of wizardry fascinated him the most.

Beside the bookcase covered walls in his otherwise simple room, there

were several work tables were he carried out his studies in the Work. There

were several experiments he'd been at for years, involving endless repetitions

of a process till the involved substances were sufficiently rarefied. A small

chamber was next to the atelier, his shrine room. It was hung round with

symbol-embossed tapestries, dark but for the candle on his altar. This was

where he did his inner studies of the Work as compliment to the outer ones.

This was his cocoon where the metamorphosis into butterfly could happen.

During his training, his mentors had woven into all their teaching that

how a wizardly gift is used determines its value. It was obvious that in order to

fulfill his vow to King Rega and remain the Court Wizard, some transmutation

in the situation was called for. This grew more certain as he prayed and

reflected, though he wasn't sure what the chosen "substance" was to be taken

through the Work.

He was deeply immersed in these reflections when a familiar squeaky

chirp took his attention. He opened the heavy wooden door to the outer hallway

and an orange-colored lizard some few hands in length scooted in to him. He

happily picked it up, cooing to it as he held it across his arm and stroked and

scratched its ears and the ruffle that ran along its spine.

"So, my chipta, you've had enough romping around for a while." The

creature looked up at Shantu Ya' with its slanted, reptilian eyes and arched its

back at his touch.

"Clever little beast." He stroked the creature crouched on the sleeve of

his cloak as he paced and pondered, hoping for a plan to ferment in his mind.

He fixed a cup of ginger tea then sat and mused, absentmindedly, but

through the channels of many years practices and meditation. He pictured the

troops of NiMali crossing the Desolates on towards their encounter with

Ookma's Citadel. He was confident that his device would win Jom NiMali

victory with little or no need for bloodshed, especially after his visit to

Ookma's armory. Even so, there must be something that would bring the Prince

all those victories he craved, perhaps even without resistance. But it woul turn

out to have a completely different result than Jom fantasized. That was the

intuition that finally stayed with him.

His eyes half closed in this musing, the Wizard was startled alert to see

the owl he'd seen the evening before, now fly up past his window. As it did, it

passed through the beam of full moon's light pouring through. The shadow it

cast down on his lap superimposed with the chipta's form on his lap. In the

caldron of his psyche, they swirled and synthesized. With visioning mind, he

saw them merge. An Imago, an archetypal seed of being, had been created in

his lap by the chipta and his omen bird. Urged on by his desperate need for

solitude and shaped by knowledge of Jom's drives and fancies, Shantu Ya's plan

took shape --a peaceful, beneficial means of the fulfillment of the Prince's

desperate longings. And his own!

 

* * *

 

It was late noon when Jom NiMali and his men-at-arms at last arrived at

Ookma's Citadel, roasted and parched from crossing the Desolates wastes. As

expected, Ookma's army surrounded the Citadel's outer walls at the Portal.

Ookma himself sat astride his giant stallion at his troops lead, the reliquary

vase under his arm. He offered Jom NiMali a sneer from the distance and

nodded over the rows and rows of his sword and lance bearing mounted and

foot troops. He raised the vase and held it high for all to see, as a taunt, as a

dare. Jom NiMali calmly glared back at him for some long while till Ookma's

expression began to reveal a suspicion that perhaps he was up against more than

he'd planned.

Jom NiMali called his Elite Guard to him in a nearbye wooded copse

mostly hidden from the others. The procedures with the "weapon" device were

already familiar, so few words were needed. Jom uncoiled a rope made of

copper strands from his saddlebag. As he unwound it, each man affixed it to its

place on his shield. These had been wrought by the Wizard of special design

and alloy to serve this purpose. Though Jom NiMali had never troubled to try

the device himself, he had utmost confidence in it. He knew that the Wizard did

not make promises lightly and that he understood his lord's nature well enough

to assume that, should this device fail his promises, his dying would be a

leisurely and anguished one.

When the copper rope was properly in place, the Prince's confidently

announced to his men, "I do not care to have anyone injured over this

imbecile's folly," and nodded in Ookma's direction, "especially you, my

stalwarts. But the Wizard assures us that in this battle, you will not need to

even lower your lances or unsheathe your swords."

Then he took a large many faceted crystal from his other saddle bag and

gave it to Arik who was midway in the formation, six warriors lined to one side

and five lined to his other. They were linked by the copper coil that ran from

shield to shield, the bright strands of copper coil glinting in the sunlight. At

Jom's signal, Arik placed the crystal in its holder in his shield and shifted it

about to catch the sun's full rays. Some shuddering power unfurled from the

radiant crystal and hurtled down the copper cords to suddenly bring the Elite

Guards' shields to life with a trembling vitality, as if to tear themselves from

the mens' grasp.

A deep sigh of relief escaped Jom. Then a full, contemptuous smile

graced his face. He knew with certainty the day was his.

His Elite Guard, aligned in a spearhead formation as the Wizard had

directed with Arik at its leading point, rode into the mass of Ookma's troops.

The rest of Jom's troops held their line, face to face with Ookma's troops,

simply to restrain them so that they could not interfere with the plans. As the

spearhead formation entered the mass of Ookma's men, their shields held

before them, Ookma's iron weapons and shields near the formation began to

quiver. Soon, they were flying off in all directions. Their eyes wide with

confusion and terror, Ookma's warriors tried to back off from the oncoming

repelling wedge, their moans and cries piercing the air.

By the time the full formation had advanced, the body of Ookma's

troops were in a demoralized and bewildered frenzy, the ground littered with

their weaponry. And those that clung to their arms by main force were

themselves flung to the ground. Some pulled their horses down with them, their

frightened whinnies mingling with the soldiers' cries.

Soon a pathway was cleared through the sea of Ookma's frightened,

helpless troops. Jom NiMali, with theatrical leisure, a satisfied smile warming

his face, rode up to Ookma, rage bound as he watched Jom NiMali's approach.

The Prince came to stare into Ookma's frenzy widened eyes, put out his hand

and told him simply, "My vase!".

Ookma handed it over with a reluctant bow. "Do you steal it because it

is precious to me, or to show the strength of your Wizard's spells?" he growled.

Prince Jom NiMali tucked the crystal vase under his arm and stared into

Ookma's frustration crumpled face. "What I desire, is mine. I take what I want!

And if I can belittle you in the process, all the better," Jom advised. As he

turned his high-stepping horse around and rode back down the pathway through

the troops, his men cheered him and chanted with fervor, "The Prince. Jom

NiMali, Jom NiMali." Soon, the volume of the call doubled as Ookma's troops,

relieved at the peace, joined in the chanting, "The Prince. Jom NiMali, Jom

NiMali."

He held his regal pace and acknowledged the praise with simply a few

nods to the cheering troops. He would take nothing else now, but he knew the

Citadel had fallen to him as surely as if he had pulled its walls down and sat on

Ookma's throne.

He was very pleased with the Wizard.

As he and his army rode back across the Desolates to their own Citadel,

Arik came to the Prince to confirm his feelings. "That was truly a heroic battle,

with no blood drawn," his General commented, a man ripened through many

battles led by King Rega. "Much to my liking. Victory, clean, without harm or

vengeance. Before, I had questioned the Wizard's bloodless weapons. But now I

am convinced of their value. When you are of a mind, m'lord, I do not doubt we

can return and make Ookma's Citadel our own. After today, his troops would

not defend against you,"

 

* * *

 

The celebration banquet in the Great Hall of NiMali the next evening

was crowd filled with feasting peasants and courtiers alike. A sliver of moon

and bright stars danced across the high arched windows as the musicians played

and sang and the long table was reloaded with food time and time again.

Jom told and retold the gathered people of the exploit, especially

relishing telling of Ookma's total submission. Shantu Ya', sitting by his dais,

watched the Prince bask in the grandeur of his mood. The aura of power was

luminous. And, in his own unrestrained, self-important way, he praised the

Wizard and gave him gifts. "You have brought me glory. I wish to honor you,"

he proclaimed.

With the applause and cheers at Jom NiMali's words, Shantu Ya'

ealized, Now is the time to present my plan.

"You can honor me by letting me honor you even more glory," he told

the Prince. "I have been given a seed knowing. Imagine creatures as bright and

responsive as the chipta, but large, larger than your greatest war-horse." He

attentively watched the response on the Prince's face. Curiosity and skepticism

played over the young man's persisting drive for power.

For a moment, Shantu Ya' shifted his focus to look deeper than that

drive. He saw, within the light blue eyes and not-quiet matured features, Jom's

inner being. There was a wise sensitivity there, beyond the grasp of the youth's

present awareness. One day, perhaps, after the rush of his lusts had run their

course, he might be awoken and responsive to other realms of interest. Till

then, the Wizard knew, he was best off out of his lord's reach.

"What I propose, sire," Shantu Ya' explained with broad theatrical

gestures, to arouse the enthusiasm of those around as much as Jom's," is that I

gather the best specimens of chiptas and take them on retreat, to the Hermitage

in the High Malias where I was schooled. There is certain equipment and books

there that would be of great help with this project."

The Wizard wondered how convincing his plan might be, but hoped

Jom's recent taste of glory would make him greedy for more, no matter how far-

fetched the possibilities seemed.

"With such creatures in your force, you will not only be invincible but

the mere sight of them will bring all the Citadels to their knees, without need to

do battle at all," the Wizard assured him in very positive tones. "It will be like

having dragons in your corps."

The Prince studied the Wizard, a calculating look on his face. At last, he

raised his hand in a gesture of benediction. "I desire what you speak of and trust

your skills. I give you my permission to go to that far land to carry out your

hopeful plan. My best wishes on your quest and safe journey."

There were some kind comments as the Wizard wended his way though

the gathering. "Good venture to you, Wizard," several bid him in true courtesy.

Well, the Wizard felt in his heart while his mind still thinking only of

escape, if all this is to protect the well being of these creatures, it will be worth

it.

 

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Copyright Nathaniel Schwartz 2010