“Those fools,” Doubter
gloated. His unspoken thoughts tumbled down into the tortured mind of the
Shepherd. “How can you love that pathetic
rabble – those mindless bags of bone and skin?”
The Doubter scowled in disgust at his human puppets. “If they only knew they branded their king a
LIAR.”
He tight-roped his way across the cables that stretched the
King’s arms and legs to the limit.
“I have won,” he
sneered in the tortured man’s face. Doubter bounced on the cables to make his
point, increasing the pain of his victim. “How
does it feel . . . “ he toyed with him one last time, “to have the sheep shear and sacrifice their shepherd?”
Doubter then glared unblinking into the fading eyes of the
dying king.
“I’ve gotten you to
doubt the outcome of this little experiment of yours. You thought, if they got to love the shepherd, they would
know the king. How’s this love for the
sheep working out for you now?”
Beyond the shoulder of the Doubter, the seeker saw the
broken hearts of two Keepers of the Code. These secret members of his flock
were standing in the shadows weeping, watching their hope dying before them.
“They shall see,”
came the whispered breath from the shepherd. “Then YOU shall see.”
Sucking in his last breath, the seeker locked eyes with his
nemesis. He managed a smile as the sun went black.
The earth shook violently.
The shepherd was dead.
* *
* * *
The rack lay in shambles. Oaken beam had snapped like
matchsticks. Steel cables lay curled and frayed like broken strings on a
song-less lyre. Residents passed by as workmen, hired by Code Keepers, searched
in vain for the seeker’s body. The rubble proved as empty as the hopes of the
human flock now scatted in fear of the Keepers.
Rumors swirled like autumn leaves round the Ancient City.
Some told of seeing the shepherd . . . ALIVE
in the town. Others insisted the scattered flock could find him in the
countryside.
The keepers of the Code spun their own rumors like the webs of a spider and tossed the into the winds of gossip. The sheep had stolen and hidden the shepherd.
This miracle of the missing seeker had to be stifled at all cost.
More troubling now, when the earthquake destroyed the Rack,
the book barrier to the king’s chamber had exploded, as if from behind. This
revealed the palace gates had been standing open all along. Try as he could, neither
Doubter or his witless agents could force those doors closed again.
Despite the protests of the code keepers, visitors to the
court no longer needed complete some religious work detail nor royal escort to gain audience with the Ancient King. The shepherd had been right all along; one
had to only acknowledged they were the king’s subject to find favor. Upon
invitation from a seeker’s friend, anyone could walk into the king’s presence
with full acceptance.
* *
* * *
The king smiled down from his window high in the palace
wall. Bruises and wounds from the rack were almost healed. The words LIAR and
TRAITOR, branded in his forehead, had almost faded. The stretch marks on his
wrists and ankles persisted, a reminded of his sacrifice at the hands of angry,
driven, religious men.
“A proof of my quest
for their friendship,” he whispered, his fingers tracing over the marks on
his left wrist. “Now it is time for the sage.”
* *
* * *
Watch for the conclusion . . . . The Sage . . . in this selection from my upcoming book:
No comments:
Post a Comment