Wind in the Hands (20 page)

“Code is an idea, word, vision, event, or something else. You have a big choice. Do not be afraid! I believe that the Spirit ought to appear in danger to protect you,” the Hermit said enthusiastically.

The Stranger smiled sadly.

“And what about the girl? I’ve called her the Bird.”

“She lost her wings,” the old man replied. “Do you remember a book of poems you brought to me? I liked some of them very much:

‘And if the building’s in fire,

We’ll die without the wings

The wings so precious to me’.”

“Never mind, Hermit, her wings will grow again, and she’ll fly. Let her stay with you,” the Stranger asked.

“Are you going to the City? I’m ready to follow you. Stay here for a while, at least have a rest, and then, let’s go. For your sake, I’m ready to leave the desert,” the Hermit said.

“No, I’ll go alone. Help the Bird. I’m hunted by the great. I put my trust in the Seer, but he let the dogs loose on me. A friend of mine who had trusted in me helped me, but now he is in their hands”.

“People won’t be able to help you, Stranger. And it’s not people whom you should be afraid of. Our war is not against flesh and blood. Oh, Seer, Seer,” the old man fetched a deep sigh. “There’s something wrong about it, Stranger, something wrong. He wouldn’t do hurt to you.”

“What are you talking about, Hermit? We’re not the enemies with him, not we are kindred, though. What did he want? I couldn’t guess. Is it possible that the Seer got a fright?”

“He didn’t want you to come to the City,” the Hermit answered in an assertive tone.

“Why do you think so?”

The old man glanced at the friend wit reproof.

“Sorry, I’m tired; I’m just being thick today,” the Stranger smiled.

“I’ve discovered the Seer,” the Hermit sighed. “I’ve found a puny boy with fiery eyes, seen his gift and helped him be developed. I was a famous telepathist and healer. I had not to stay in this world amongst people. I could hear thoughts and see the true essence of a person, his past, and felt sick. I could see the future: death and pain, and felt like crying. Such capacity brings grief, and my skin was as thin as letter paper. I perceived else’s pain as if it were mine. The patient has a headache, and I have, he’s hung over, and I have that morning after-feeling. He suffers from loss of his loved one, and my heart is breaking. That’s why I’m here, and long ago. And the Seer was able to find himself in the world of hypocrisy, seeking lucre, and violence. He has adopted somehow, gained fame and respect. Yet, people like him try not to do hurt to righteous people. They know the worth of such a crime. I believe, he’s undertaken to take care of you, in a strange way, though. The Seer has his head in the clouds, but he’s got accustomed to this world, even struck his root deep. Sooner or later, he’ll sober up.”

“Why did the Seer refuse aid?”

“He saw danger for people if you come to the City now.”

“Do you believe that I pose hazard to people?”

“You’re the torch. You give light to kind people while burning malevolent ones. You know, the Prince possessed power that not only saved but killed. Once, when he was hungry and exhausted, he was angered by emptiness and unbelief of people and could not suppress the power that arisen in him. Then he directed it towards a tree so as not to hurt sons of men… the tree burst into flames as straw. Believe me, it is the most difficult thing to possess power but not to resource to. And you’ll also find it difficult to refrain; still it is you who decide.”

“Hermit, who is good? Who is bad one?” the Stranger gave in. “Why are you here, not with good people? Where are they, the good ones? Well, they probably exist, but why are they good, have you an idea of it? The answer is simple: biology, genetics… this is their nature, not merit. But what’s about the bad? After all, they are ill, prisoned, with their mind struck blind, their feelings closed. You cannot burn snakes and scorpions! They are no ways to blame for being born with poison! There is military situation, and there is time of peace, both have their own laws and rules. Sometimes a man does well, sometimes he is wrong, it depends on circumstances. Men of God fight not against people, but against human errors. Anyway, I believe, people can change, but under certain circumstances, and this happens rarely if ever. Mostly, people cannot change, even if they’ll change their clothes, bare essence of them will remain unchanged. What can I do, and for whom? It is not rare that I need help myself, sometimes I feel blue, though, I know it’s too silly of me. I’m nothing alone. It seems to me that I’m just a cheap bottle for expensive wine; the bottle will be cast off no sooner than the wine dries up.”

“My poor friend! Love has cooled down in your heart. I’m afraid you’re not ready yet to go to the City. You’re over the hill. I can see it is not wine to soothe and cheer up that you carry, but a sword, and you are eager to unsheathe the sword. The Prince was not like you.”

The Stranger stood up. He felt sharp rage of the Wind. He didn’t find the reason that drew to power, but noted, “Wine, sword. Remember another code. Maybe, it’ll work one day”.

“The Prince was pierced, and I’m a sword now. The world keeps on killing him every day,” the Stranger was under the influence of the Wind and didn’t understand what he was telling about.

He turned away trying to calm down. Then he came up to the old man who was keeping head down, and offered his hand,

“Thank you for everything, my friend. I’ll be pleased to see you in the City.”

Coming to the edge of the cave, he jumped down, flied over several meters to land softly onto the sound. Then he stood up straight and stepped out not looking back. The Hermit was looking at the Stranger’s figure moving away, heavy tears running down his seamed face to vanish in his white beard.

Part two

The City

Chapter 30. The guardians of the tunnel

The desert was freezing cold. In a hurry, the Stranger left the bag with the possessions with the Hermit and, light-handed, was now walking quickly. He was not thinking about anything, he only wanted to melt into the desert. Sometimes a strong wind started and threw sand at him. When the Stranger got tired he stopped and looked at the huge bright stars shining from the bluish black sky. With the dark the desert started to wake: the yellow eyes of predators flashed here and there, jackals howled, animals and birds hooted and chawed. The desert was now filled with the sounds that drove mad the ancient travelers who at night climbed the branchy heads of trees to avoid being caught by the wild animals, spread their cloaks and waited for the dawn. But he had no time to wait as he no longer belonged to himself. He had no fear: on the contrary, there was a desire to fight.

He remembered meeting with the three wayfarers dressed in black, the mask-like face of one of them who deigned to look his way, the scorn that flickered in his inhuman eyes and could feel the Wind that helped him to survive.

The Stranger drank in the Wind and felt protected: without water, weapons, even without a stick to frighten away the beasts and throw off the snakes. He could only rely upon the Creator.

Early in the morning he reached the tunnel and found the entrance covered with stones. Without hesitation the Stranger began to turn the rocks and throw them away. He could barely finish the work when he turned his head to see two stout armed men with beards. At once, he understood they were the adepts of some religious order and talking to them would be hard.

“We are the Guardians of the holy gates. A stranger shall not enter the tunnel. Get out of here or we’ll cut you to ribbons!” said one of them and slowly, as if posing, took out a thin knife.

“Wait,” said the second guardian and, gazing at the Stranger asked him, “how do you know about the tunnel?”

“I know about the tunnel. You have no right to hold me off. The tunnel belongs to everybody. You are like a snake guarding its gold.”

The guardian held a knife to the neck of the darer, but saw no more than a sneer in his eyes.

“Put down the knife, quick!” ordered the second one, staring hard at the Stranger. “Who are you, man?”

After this question the Stranger felt the breath of the Wind: the anger that was suppressed with such a difficulty still hasn’t passed.

“You’d better not know this. Help me or get away, or I’ll crush you!”

The man with the knife trembled, lowered his head and sank to his knees.

“Forgive me, Prince, I haven’t recognized you. Forgive me!” he looked at the Stranger with admiration and devotion.

“I am not the Prince, I was only sent by him,” the Stranger lifted him. “Help me.”

The guardians exchanged glances and willingly nodded their heads. Altogether they started to clear the entrance.

“Careful! We’ve put a trip wire,” warned one of the desert warriors.

The mine was placed with one branch of the trip wire, attached by pegs and rose about 15 centimeters above the land surface. The guardian took his sharp knife and quickly cut the strained strip, removed the camouflage layer around the igniter set and out pieces of wire into the openings of the pin slapper rods. Then he picked the side of a small mine with his knife and, turning the igniter set counter clockwise, carefully unscrewed it.

“Who are you?” asked the Stranger with hardly concealed irritation. He could hardly have expected that the tunnel would be full of such surprises.

“We are the warriors of the desert. We have a contract with the governors who have given us the right to guard the tunnel,” answered a guardian with great dignity.

“Why do you need the tunnel? And what has happened with the entrance?”

“The tunnel is one of the main sacred places, according to the prophecy: ‘Give the Prince the entrance and give his messenger the exit, and no strange person shall pass them or tread the bullets of our God, as no evil man will walk along His roads and anyone plotting evil will die’. We do believe that the Prince or his messenger will get to the City exactly through this tunnel. And this is where his ascension to glory will begin.”

“So you’ve decided to fulfill the spiritual prophecy this way, by making so many traps in the tunnel, and you think that if a sincere person goes here, nothing will happen to him, and one shouldn’t be sorry for a sinner, right?”

The Stranger understood: he won’t be able not only to destroy the traps, but even to spot them. That was the thing the Soldier was needed for. He sat at the entrance and started to pray.

“The sons of Men make it all so much harder. They kill others and themselves without understanding the sense of the ancient prophecies, and the pastors use them in their interests disorienting their parish. And now, do try to clean up all that mess! I cannot go through the tunnel. If only a messenger of God was here with me, as the legend about the young men who were thrown into a boiling copper trap said it. I’m in the same trap now. What shall I do? Return? Take a train? But they’re looking for me. I can go over the mountains, but it’s a long and dangerous way, and I should be quick. If I don’t arrive in time, it’ll be a trouble. So, what can I do?” the Stranger turned his thoughts to Heaven. And inside his head he heard a voice: “The help will come, wait”.

“Do you know how to go through the tunnel avoiding the traps?” the Stranger attentively looked at the guardian.

“No. Nobody knows it now. The one who put them is no longer with us.”

“I get it,” the Stranger saw that the desert warrior was not lying. “I heard a voice that told me to wait here. The help will come.”

The guardian looked at him with disappointment and regret. An experienced warrior of the desert liked this newcomer and it even seemed to him that he possesses some divine power and spirit, but he still had to be killed if he refused to go through the tunnel.

The Stranger felt the fatigue only then. He closed his eyes trying to take a nap, but he could not: every time he fell asleep, he was overcome with fear. Where was the Wind that gave courage, confidence and bravery? He had to search the codes.

He remembered the courtroom, the charge of illicit possession of the ancient artifacts, and with a difficulty his speech: at some moment, he lost control of himself. The Wind took over him, and he started to predict sorrows to all those who were in the room. Later on, the Stranger was horrified by what he had said but comforted himself by deciding that he was not inflicting miseries, he was just foretelling them. After all, a news presenter is not guilty for the bad announcements, he only reads the text displayed to him.

Chapter 31. The bitter decoction

The Hermit had made a healing decoction and was patiently waiting for the guest to wake up. Soon it happened, she half-rose from the bench, saw the dozing man and yelped,

“Where am I?”

The Hermit opened his eyes.

“I am the Stranger’s friend. You didn’t feel well, and he asked me to look after you,” he explained.

“Why am I here? Where is he?”

“The Stranger has brought you to me and left for the City. Now I am responsible for your life,” the old man answered coldly.

“I must catch up with him! Which direction has he taken? I will not stay here without him,” the Bird said determinately.

The old man stroke the beard with his hand.

“I need to speak with God and will give you my answer soon,” he rose and put the healing decoction to her lips. “Drink! It will give you the energy.”

The Bird sipped a little and almost got sick.

“How terrible! How bitter it is!”

“If you don’t drink it all, I won’t even ask. It will take you too much time to get better, and you will stay here for long.”

She looked at the clay cup with a great doubt, then pinched her nose and drank the bitter liquid smelling of herbs at just one swallow.

“Don’t you dare vomit this!” the Hermit said sharply. “Endure it!”

The eyes of the girl filled with tears, she jerkily tried to inhale. The old man understood that she was not going to bear it, remembered the taste of a sweet ripe apple and threw the impression to her. She calmed down practically at once. The taste of the decoction, as bitter as wormwood, was exchanged for the taste of apple juice. The girl felt a surge of energy, vivacity, a desire to move and even some kind of delight.