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57: The Songmaster
After Arach's disappearance Masterson remained in his quarters, unsure of what to do now. The malak's* instructions had been clear. Adonai had something in store for him – for them all – but what that something was, Masterson had no idea. Perhaps it simply wasn't time for him to know that information, or… perhaps he would never know. Either way, Masterson did know that, at least for now, Desslok was out of his sphere of direct influence.
Instead of despairing, Masterson did what he knew he had not done enough of lately and dropped to one knee before the celestial grandeur of the universe outside of Hadar and called to the One who had just sent His message to Masterson.
"Adonai…" he began, suddenly feeling wholly inadequate to be seeking an audience with the Creator, "It is in the name of the One Lamb that I come to Thee…" he grasped for words, "I… I cannot bear to be silent… here in this place so far from my world… knowing what it faces, what my own family is now in the middle of, what they all must endure now…" he swallowed hard before going on, "Give him a light, my Lord, else he will lose his way, more so than he already has… That is all I ask… one light – one that will glow even in the darkness that is to come upon him."
After those words, he could not continue, so overwhelmed was he by everything, so he stopped speaking.
It was only then that he heard the rustling of leaves very nearby. He slowly looked up, letting his gaze pass over the room.
The sound ceased. Masterson turned his eyes back to the star-field.
The rustling came again, this time accompanied by… music?
Masterson leapt to his feet and let his eyes search the room again. Once more the sound stopped.
There was silence for five long seconds, then a voice Masterson had never heard before said, "You have had quite a journey, Masterson Talan."
Masterson sighed quietly and shook his head, thinking he was hearing things. After all, who wouldn't be affected by being sent out to the middle of nowhere by a dear friend, visited by one of the malakim, and not being able to stop the assault on the very world of Creation?
He started to leave the room, rubbing his weary eyes as he went.
"You would do well to stay." The voice said.
"I've already had my share of surprises today." Masterson said without turning around. "Waking dreams are not new to me either." He started to continue out of the room, feeling silly talking to himself.
"I am no dream, confidant of envoys." The voice said again, this time in a tone that commanded attention. "I am Theron of Ya'ar Jeshurun."
Masterson halted instantly and slowly turned around, searching for the corner he had placed the plant that Queen Starsha had given him upon his departure from Iscandar. It had been a gift to show her appreciation for his time and conversation.
"Here, take this with you." Starsha held out a small plant encased in a glowing sphere. "Consider it a gift from all of us on Iscandar for everything you have done – and will do in the days to come – on our behalf."
"Thank you," Masterson nodded, then accepted the sphere.
"The casing will keep it warm and collect moisture for it as well as providing the light it needs. You need only keep it company." said the Queen.
"I will do that." Talan said, not quite sure of why he was promising to keep the seedling "company."
Starsha smiled, "If ever you find your heart to be dreary, you need no longer worry. There will always be a song from Adonai for you to dwell on."
He remembered those few days on the blue planet vividly. He had seen so many things he had never even thought of during that short stay, not the least of which had been the Jeshurunians. He nearly smacked himself in the face for being so blind to the true worth of the gift he had received. Now he was glad he had brought the sproutling with him on this interminable voyage.
He found the plant's abode and stepped over to it. Unsure of how to address the thing he knelt down in front of it and said hesitantly, "Shalom*, Jeshurunian… I beg your pardon; I did not know of your presence."
The plant gave off an odd sound that Masterson seemed to remember the other Jeshurunians making back on Iscandar. If he remembered correctly, it was their version of a laugh.
"There is a reason my good Queen did not explicitly tell you what she had given you, Masterson Talan." Theron replied.
"And… what might that be?" Talan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"My kin and I are linked one to another in a way much similar to your communication systems. Even though we are far from Iscandar, I can still communicate with my fellows."
Masterson was silent for a moment, not sure of how that was even possible, "So… you can communicate messages independently of the ship's comm channels?"
"Oh, indeed. It is quite easily done. We do it often in fact. I have asked my kin many things about you and your people, and they have been kind enough to answer my questions promptly."
Masterson looked at the floor, suddenly feeling awkward that a plant knew more about him than he knew about – Him? Her? It?
Theron laughed again, "Do not be disturbed; I do not gossip, neither do I spread stories about your occasional inability to match your footwear early in the morning."
"How generous of you." Masterson replied in jest, still wondering why he was talking with a plant.
"But I am much more than a communications channel, Masterson Talan –"
"Please," Masterson stopped Theron, "'Masterson' will be quite sufficient."
"Very well, Masterson. I am much more than a form of communication. There is something else I was sent to you for." Theron's leaves began to rustle lightly and the sound of music that Masterson had heard before began again and Starsha's words returned to him, "If ever you find your heart to be dreary, you need no longer worry. There will always be a song from Adonai for you to dwell on."
The song was unfamiliar, in another language completely foreign to Masterson, though he did catch one word, even though it was pronounced much differently than he was used to hearing it: "Gilead."
"Where did you find this?" Masterson asked, intrigued by the voices of the singers.
"Galera and the Ya'ar have their secrets too, Masterson." Theron replied, "Gamilon is not the only world to send ships into Erats' galaxy – though we never found Erats itself, mind you. Galera sent out ships many years ago, out of curiosity. They found many interesting planetoids, asteroids, moons, etcetera, but they also found a ship, deserted, floating in space with no crew and no clues as to its origin. The Galerans inspected the ship and found that it had suffered a number of hull breeches and was likely evacuated but the original owners forgot to retrieve her.
"The song you just heard is one of thousands that they found in one of the crew's personal data storage units. The technology was rather out of date, but they managed to salvage the entire lot. I was personally intrigued by it and so, just before I left the Ya'ar I requested access to it and copied the entire library. My kin, Adrianna, Silesia, and Bahn also acquired it. The language is a strange one, though there seem to be references to many familiar things and ideas: Yerushalayim, Yisrael, Yeshua, and many others." Theron paused for a half second, rustling his leaves once more.
"Here." He said, "This one seems to reference Yerushalayim." A song began. It was so utterly foreign to Masterson, yet so pure in its spirit that it laid before his mind's eye an image of that blessed New Yerushalayim to come when the world would host the very throne of Mashiach. The voices of the singers – three if he was not mistaken – were so similar that Masterson thought they must surely be brothers.
When the song ended Masterson, now thoroughly intrigued, asked, "Is there no other clue as to what all of these songs say? Is there a translation matrix available that might be able to do something with these – at least provide a line by line comparison of approximately what they're saying? Anything?"
"I do not know." Theron replied, "Shall I ask my kin?"
Masterson thought for a moment, then said, "Yes. Please do."
"Very well. I shall only be a moment." Theron said, then became completely silent for a full minute. "There is one that might do it." the plant finally responded, "Though Adrianna especially cautions you not to be too hopeful as this is an untested language for the program."
"I know." Masterson nodded, "Thank you. Is there any way I can obtain a copy of the matrix?"
"I shall ask." Theron replied, then went silent again. "Adrianna says to ask your mother."
"My mother?" Masterson asked, puzzled at the response.
"Indeed. It appears that Naomi Talan just recently constructed an advanced language translation matrix that is much more flexible than others previously created. It was done specially for Astra of Iscandar's journey to Erats."
"Ah…" Masterson nodded and sighed, "She would help as much as she could… But is it safe to contact her?"
Theron was silent as he communicated with his relatives once more. "No."
Masterson sighed, "Then I shall listen in partial ignorance for n –"
"Wait!" Theron stopped him, "It is not safe to contact her now directly they say. But if you wait until the time of say that the heaviest communications traffic is occurring on Gamilon, you should be able to safely send the request to your mother by way of Iscandar."
Masterson nodded, "By all means, please send my request – and my thanks – to your kin on Iscandar."
"Of course. And I am sure that your thanks will be much appreciated by them." Theron said happily, then spontaneously began a lively song that neither of them could understand the words to, but that seemed to reference one of the prophets from the Torah – Yechezqel* – quite frequently.
"Hmm… such a dreary face for one so young…" the voice seemed to taunt him, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. "Why do you hate me?" it whined, "I only want to help you."
"Get out!" he demanded.
"Oh… you still do not like me…" the voice seemed to pout. "That is alright though. You will become used to me."
"No I will not; leave." He hissed into the darkness around him. Suddenly a black shadow whisked by him, so close that he felt the air it had disturbed.
"But I do not wish to leave." The voice said, now distinctly echoing from behind him. He whirled to face it, hating having an unknown being staring at his back. His eyes bored into the darkness, but he couldn't see a single hint of where the thing had gone.
"Why are you here?" he demanded again.
"Because I want you…" it purred, "You are quite intriguing to me and you will be mine."
"I am no one's." he hissed back, becoming angrier by the second.
"Oh, but you are wrong, foolish man." The voice cooed, "In being no one's, you have become someone's." he felt a breath of cold air on his neck, the thing from the shadows suddenly right beside him, and its voice whispering intently into his ear, "Mine."
Desslok awoke in a cold sweat, wild-eyed; the sense of being watched was still there. The dream haunted him. It was always different, yet always the same in so many ways. Every time he would wake up, hoping to be rid of the phantom presence, but every time his dream ended, reality fell upon him and seemed more wretched and chilling than the dream he had escaped from.
Tonight was different however; this time, even though the dream was gone, the presence was not. He stood up from his bed and took several steps towards the center of the room.
He fought the cold fear that grew in his heart as he realized that one of his worst fears had become reality.
"Come out of the shadows, bringer of terror." He growled into the darkness.
His summons was met with a long silence. Just when he was about to speak again the all-too-familiar voice spoke.
"You think you have power over me, silly man?" the voice – it sounded feminine now, but could, and had in the past, changed without warning to a deep guttural tone – echoed through the dark room, bouncing off of the walls and surrounding the Leader in a whirlwind of evil.
"I have whatever power I choose to have." Desslok replied.
The voice guffawed. "You have no power, except that it is given you from on high."
The Leader's brow furrowed, "You do not know me then."
"Ha! I know you better than you know yourself, oh great Leader Desslok of Gamilon, liberator of the oppressed of Deun the Usurper. I know that you seek to end your people's suffering – to find them a new home – but I also know that you will kill millions to see it done."
"And what of it?!" Desslok challenged, "What does it matter? The only thing that I care about is their survival," he said, his eyes flickering towards Iscandar, hanging majestically above him, then back into the darkness.
"Ah ha… and you lie." The voice purred, "I have seen what you desire, son of my Master." The thing whisked by him, just as it had in his dream.
Desslok turned to try to follow it with his eyes, but could not.
"I know that you too desire to have her – the one who is enthroned in the light of the Enemy – the one you call Starsha of Iscandar." The voice chuckled, "Such a desire drove your own brother mad. It drove him to murder her people, so insane was he that he decided that if he could not have her, then no one would."
"He was wrong." Desslok replied flatly. "She will have me. Of that I am sure."
The voice laughed, even more loudly this time, "Are you so convinced? She would not even come with you to Gamilon for consultation. What has so deluded you into believing that she would be joined to you? Please, do tell." The thing guffawed again, quite amused.
Desslok, now more angry than he had been since the death of Sasha, exploded into a rage-filled string of curses and did not stop until he was overwhelmed by the feeling of the darkness hemming him in and closing in on him. "Leave me!" he snapped at the thing once more.
The dark presence laughed jovially, "Oh no. It is too late for that, son of my Master." The voice seemed to giggle with glee, something that, more than anything else the voice had done, sent a chilling shot of utter terror through Desslok. "You see… you sent away the ones who could make me take my leave."
Desslok's eyes widened in horror as he realized what he'd done; Masterson, David, all but two of the followers of Adonai who lived within the palace were far, far away at the galaxy's rim, sailing endlessly through the stars.
"Celestella!" Desslok tried to raise the woman on the communications line, but he found that he could not. "Krypt!" he tried another of his advisors, but again, he was unable to connect.
"Oh no, no, no." the voice tsked, "We can't have you calling your little pet Christian back, now can we."
"We'll see about –" Desslok began, pulling out Mintra'el so that he might bypass the room's computer interface, but was interrupted by the presence.
"Summon that leech and I will personally see to it that your assault on Erats comes to a sudden and painful halt," the voice chuckled, "Oh, and I'll see to the killing of your friend – this Masterson Talan."
The Leader gripped the tiny device so tightly that it bit deeply into his palm. He looked at Mintra'el, then at the floor, the faces of everyone he had ever held dear flying through his tortured mind. Ever so slowly, he unclasped his hand and slipped the device back into the pock from whence it had come.
"Ah," the voice – now much deeper than it had been before – said, "A wise choice. Perhaps you may yet save your people from the damage your brother caused."
Desslok clenched his jaw, for the first time holding back the retort he wanted to let fly at the thing.
"Do not push me too much, mortal man." The voice said, "I am, after all, much more powerful than you." It laughed again, that disturbed, insane laugh that nearly drove Desslok mad every time he heard it. "Sleep well, foolish one. The night is still young."
Without warning something flew through the darkness and plowed right into Desslok, tossing him aside like a stick in a hurricane. His world started to disappear and the corners of his vision blurred and blackened, then he felt himself falling, but was helpless to stop himself.
The last thought he had before he lost consciousness was, "What have I done…?"
He awoke hours later. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, spreading its golden light over the city.
He sat up, annoyed to find that he had spent the night on the cold, hard floor, then he remembered why he had ended up there. He fought off the sick feeling that settled in his gut and reached into his pocket to withdraw Mintra'el. He held out the device and stared at it, briefly considering calling back the Hadar anyway. Then the words of the phantom in the night began to haunt him again and he swiftly pocketed the thing. The fear of suffering more loss was more painful than the fear of being used by the thing he had conversed with in the darkness.
"It must not fail. My people must live on." He clenched his teeth and tried to hold in his rage, but try as he might, he could not stem the tide of anger and his wordless roar could be heard from many levels below his lonely quarters.
* Malak – singular of "malakim" – an angel
* Shalom – a greeting
* Yechezqel – Ezekiel, one of the "Major Prophets" found in the Old Testament of the Bible
Chapter 57 References:
- "There Is a Balm in Gilead" written by Helen Griggs arr. by Shelly Hamilton
- "In Heaven's Glory" written by Joe Zichterman arr. by Mac Lynch
- "Ezekiel Saw the Wheel" a traditional Spiritual, arr. by Tim Fisher
Chapter 57 was inspired by:
- "There is a Balm in Gilead," found on the Majesty Music CD, "Alleuia"
- "Trust Him," found on the WILDS CD "Holy, Holy"