Wind in the Hands (24 page)

The Stranger took the Bird by her arm and started counting steps aloud.

In thirty eight steps they stopped. The Stranger lied down and crawled forward, knuckling the floor. The sound changed, and he guessed that it was a stretched cloth. Having founded the point where the cloth disguised as the floor relief was attached, the Stranger overburned the cords and pulled the cloth vigorously, it was attached by one side only. Then, he lied down the floor again to light the gap. A stone thrown down plumped. By the length of the cloth, he could define the gap’s length: about three meters long.

“What’s next?” the girl asked.

“Leap,” the Stranger tried to seem as calm as possible,

“But I cannot make such a long jump. Maybe, I’d rather make it down, and then you’ll pull me out?”

“There is a deep pit down. I think, this is a fatal trap, you cannot make it down, we’ll jump it over.”

“Jump alone, I’ll stay here. Go,” the Bird uttered sadly.

The Stranger stroked her hair.

“Once upon a time, I was in the army, and my commander used to say: the most important thing is to preserve the staff, and let things happen as they will. The man was absolutely right, though there were few who understood him. We will over jump, be sure. But you’ll have to jump without your shoes.”

“Do you believe that I’ll be able to leap it over?” the girl asked in a hollow tone.

“No, I don’t,” and taking a pause he added, “I’m sure.”

“Who jumps first?”

“I’ll have to. I will spot for you,” the Stranger said cheerfully.

“You will snatch me, will you?” she was still guarding composure.

“Provided, that you won’t make a complaint against me about sexual harassment later,” he tried to joke.

“It is what I’m dreaming about!” the girl huddled up to him.

“I’ll kiss you on the other side,” the Stranger felt abashed.

“Jump now,” the Bird thrust him forward.

He took off her sandals to put them into the bag. Then, he burned paper near the gap edge to mark the line. Thrown the bag over and leapt over the pit easily: he used to clear obstacles no match for this one.

“Step back a few meters! Take a run! Go ahead!”

The Stranger moved to the edge of the gap and turned sidewise, his knees half-bent. The Bird was falling short of just some centimeters. He felt this, opened out his arms, caught the girl up, and swung right around. Feeling that he is falling, he threw the girl rather far from the gap, and flailed his arms to keep balance. One leg slipped down, but the Stranger managed to carry weight onto the other leg and jump far away. His heart was beating heavily, his knees trembling. The Bird jumped up to him and burst into tears, hugging him tightly.

“There, there… don’t overdramatize,” whispered the Stranger taking the girl to breast. “That was not the last obstacle. Let’s go.”

“You promised something,” the Bird wept out. He bent over to kiss her on the lips.

“I love you,” the girl said softly. “I like to be with you.”

“We have to go,” the Stranger took her by the shoulders.

They were following the tunnel corridors for a long time. The Stranger did not feel danger, yet his inner tension was developing, and when reaching the climax, replaced by indifference and apathy. “You mustn’t relax. You ought to set yourself up for struggle, be ready for fighting, be cautious and concentrated.” The Stranger vigorously went off, the girl staggering heavily behind exhausted. Suddenly, he stopped squinting into the dark.

“Don’t you see anything?” he asked his companion.

“Where?” she tossed head looking around.

“Ahead.”

“Nothing. What have you noticed?”

“Nothing special,” he tried to listen to his feelings: uncomfortably, yet not too anxiously to make a stop.

In a few meters, they saw some contours. The Stranger moved the girl behind his back and started slowly for the silhouettes. He had come across cave drawings and ancient scriptures not once, but, as far as he knew, there was no picture in the tunnel; however, archeologists had no time to investigate it thoroughly.

“What is there?” the Bird whispered not daring to look from behind the Stranger’s back.

“Perhaps, a phantom.”

“Excuse me?”

“Pictures drawn to put the wind up the tourists,” the Stranger was trying to speak in jest, as he decided that the danger has passed.

“They have performed a mission. I’m scared,” the Bird was speaking in a level voice.

Coming closer, the Stranger heard: “It is not a phantom.” He stopped dead. The girl bumped against him.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Do not come up, do not touch them and, the best of all, do not breathe when passing by.”

“It is stalky,” he thought. “First, you are frightened of a fluorescent picture, but when the fright is defeated, you think it blank to fall into a trap invented with a view to human curiosity…What’s next? The Voice warns me, but I’m not sure it will do it always, that I’m armored. I am just an instrument…”

“What are you thinking about?” the Bird asked, breaking his thoughts.

“About life,” the Stranger was short-spoken.

“You have ransomed me. Where was the gem coming from? As judged by your getup, you are not a rich man, only your boots are solid.”

“Never judge by appearance. Moreover, if wealth does not serve good purposes, it is a trap more fearful than trip wires and mines.”

“But why? After all, money is needed to live, and it gives a lot of comfort.”

“I mean treating money not as a means to purchase goods but as an idol. It is awful when people believe in money as in God who can rescue them from troubles. It is awful when a rich man boasts his wealth and holds in scorn those poorer. Who can see the deprived suffering and starving but does not help them. It is awful when excess money provokes nice people to get pleasures that kill both mind and body. You know this better than I: that was the weak point you used to call dupes on. Sometimes, I can hear what people think… The greatest dream that seizes even the rich ones is to have money as much as possible. Mankind lives according to the formula: money can buy everything.”

“All dream of money?” the Bird smiled ironically.

“Not all, but most of them. Some dream of fame, popularity, or power. Romantic girls dream of love. Then again, those sick dream of health, not of wealth.”

“But could you redeem me without money?” the girl resented.

“Money is a neutral thing, it’s up to a person how to earn and spend it.”

“I see,” saddened his companion. “For family life money is vital.”

“Well, you hitch your wagon to a star,” the Stranger burst laughing. “When the time comes, money will help nobody.”

He felt a distance appearing between them.

“I had three gems, and I gave the last one. I have no savings, but can earn crust and shelter. God never left me alone,” he went on stubbornly.

“And what had you done before? Did you have a family?” the girl inquired.

“I did have a family,” the Stranger responded dryly. “Now, I am alone.”

He cleared his throat, smiled and sang:

I’m free as a bird in the sky.

I’m free in waking life.

I’m free, I forgot what fear means.

I’m free like savage wind…

Chapter 37. The City

The Hermit knew about another secret tunnel leading to the City. He was the only one who knew – nobody else. He reproached himself that he had not time to share the discovery with the Stranger. There was a chance to avoid collision with the warriors of desert so as not to play their game. They turned their distorted and absurd interpretations of prophecies about the Messenger into fact. They cannot see the evident, for their hearts hardened. They cannot hear with their ears, for they do not want to hear the voice of the Truth. Their eyes are closed, for the light of the Truth hurt them.

The old man remembered that once, in the early morning, while gathering healing herbs, he found some clay grout hardened into stone of apparently artificial origin. By knocking the walls with a cane, he could hear a hollow sound. He immediately returned to his hermitage for tools, and went full tears back. He moiled the clay brick masonry to reveal a very tight breach, switched on a lantern and started moving along the gloomy tunnel corridors. Though having a difficulty in breathing, the sturdy weathered old man was going on and on, dragging the heavy moil.

In about four hours, he hit a wall, broke it easily to find himself on the skirts of the City.

Now, the Hermit decided to make use of the secret pass. It was likely the very same ancient tunnel cut through the mountain by order of the kings for besiege. But who cut the tunnel his friend is now moving along, and when?

The old man entered the tunnel, put his palm against the wall, and feeling cold and wet stone, closed his eyes to see… The paved narrow street lit with night lanterns was meeting a lonely tired wayfarer dressed in an old, old as could be, dark sweater and jeans worn to the thread in some places. His nut-brown hair is cut short. As judged by his step, a youth. The old man tried to look in his face, but made little of the feature, and, most essential, he failed to see his eyes. That made the Hermit very sad, and he lied down the wet uneven floor. The vision froze hard.

“Why?” the old man whispered.

The silhouette once frozen up came alive again; the young man gave a weeny nod, and said in a low but mighty voice, “Follow me.” The old man opened his eyes, struggled to feet slowly and bent his neck to pass under the very low ceiling. He went giddy, his eyes shaded with pain, blood hammering in temples, but, having recovered his breath, the traveler moved on. It seemed to him that he got the reason for his friend’s hurrying to the City.

The Hermit believed that the Stranger would escape all traps without his help. The Hermit only had to pray for the Stranger and pass him the old man’s capacities at least for some hours. In an hour of wandering in the tunnel, the Hermit weakened, feeling his vitality leaving him, yet not disappearing but going to the Stranger. A meeting is reserved for his friend, to which, maybe, the old hermit who had left the earthly world for lonesome places has been also invited. But now the Hermit was returning back. He answered the trumpet-call of ancient prophecies penetrating the world. He was walking in anticipation of the greatest meeting that was promised by the greatest man.

Coming to the City, the Medium explained the Soldier and the Seer, how to reach the tunnel, and got home. Strained and concentrated, the Seer was keeping silence all the time. The Soldier, to the contrary, was in good spirits. He seemed not to feel any danger, resembling a battle hound ready to jump down throat of an enemy. The Seer hoped to solve the problems without blood on the floor, so, skewing at the Soldier, he tried to harness his willpower.

The Seer knew: the desert warriors are unfriendly to any aliens, especially to him whom they considered to be the evil force, because he derisively compared himself to ancient prophets, disrespectful both to the order, and to any religious authorities. The warriors of desert and adherents of militarized religious orders wished to destroy him and, despite being prohibited from leaving the City and the vicinities, tried to perform the act of revenge. The Seer felt danger well in advance and could prevent it, but he was bored to death with the necessity to hide and wait for attempt, so he offered apologizes in public and refused from mocking and rude statements addressed to the believers who could use not only a word, but even explosives as an argument.

The adherents have their passports stamped with a red mark testifying to their being in a militarized religious order or to their disloyalty to the system. And that stamp in the certificate forbade them to leave the City. Some people accused of disloyalty were brought here against the will, but the majority was rushing to the City ready and willingly. Here, they felt comfortable, for they could afford to perform their rituals, not exposed to mockery and insinuations, wear their uniform, and, ultimately, they had no risk of encountering worldly population so as not to be subject of its alien influence.

The City was overcrowded with prophets, magicians, fortune-tellers, healers, hypnotists, and mere miracle mongers, divided into enclaves represented by numerous ethnic groups, religious communities and militant orders.

Almost any district had community defense volunteer squads generally comprised of former military men with fighting experience. The soldiers of fortune were granted with the right to bear arms certified by a special document. In the City, there also were located government army patrols that seldom interfered with the conflicts between the competing religious orders, but preferred to take a detached view. The policemen avoided visiting some quarters as they might be attacked by young aggressive adherents.

The citizens took up arms in secrecy. The government was losing the reins of power.

The Soldier saw the City turned into a new arena for soldiers of fortune, mercenaries, feeling their significance and importance here, though they were the reserve officers who went through the war and defended the country at the expense of their life. But after the victory, the motherland did not recognize them, forced them out, and threw into the embrace of religious orders.

Tense and combative atmosphere of the City was necessary for the Soldier’s lungs. But above all, he was eager to prove the Stranger that he was not afraid of death and ready to fight with any available methods: shooting, blasting, breaking arms and legs of those getting in the way.

The Seer, in turn, felt uncomfortable, especially because of his mate, with his hands bloodstained. Danger flies to such people like a fly to dung, and, is sure to befall those besides.

On the skirts of the City, the taxi driver refused to keep on driving. Getting out of the car, the Seer carefully examined the place.

“There must be steps over this hill, these’re abrupt, some of them missing, and it will be difficult to climb them, but you will help me. When we descend, we’ll see the cave, three armed warriors of deserts at the entrance waiting for the Stranger, and not with flowers. I’ll try to neutralize them, but you must interfere only if the situation is beyond control.”