The forgotten stone, p.26
The Forgotten Stone, page 26
“Death, and more death,” the guard replied. “The first is like passing through the shade, and the second is a terror no one who has seen it could wish on their worst enemy.”
Enouim’s eyes widened.
“What is the point of it all?” Canukke demanded. “This Eh’yeh, he is a deceiver and betrayer. His silver tongue tricks all into trusting him, and then he ushers them in to be judged and tortured! Only a monster relishes the pain of others.”
Ruakh gave him a knowing look, and a flicker of shame crossed Canukke’s face but then he masked it with practiced skill.
“Eh’yeh cannot break the code,” the guard said. “Iamwë set the standard himself. Eh’yeh and Iamwë were deeply grieved by man’s abuse of their gift, but even more so were they grieved by what justice demands of man for recompense.”
“He can’t be good. He can’t be, if he sends so many good people to ‘death and more death,’ whatever that means,” Vadik declared.
The second guard spoke for the first time, voice deep and commanding. “The marvel is not that the people you consider good need saving, but that he cares at all to save bad people.”
“So that’s it then,” Oloren said in resignation. “We deserve torture, live miserable lives until the end comes and we die, and then we are handed over to our fate.”
“How long would a man have to pore over old documents to find an acceptable way out within the law?” the second guard said. “But there is a way out, and that is why Iamwë tore his heart in two and wrapped it in flesh, naming it Eh’yeh and sending it among you.”
“I’m not sure I see the point,” Gabor said. “So he ripped his heart out. Melodramatic, sure. Helpful? I think not. It doesn’t change the content of our lives.”
“Under the law,” the sentry said, “someone whom Iamwë deems flawless can choose to offer themselves as a substitute for a guilty party. That person volunteers for torment in exchange for the freedom of another.”
“No one would volunteer for that, perfect or not,” Kilith noted.
Canukke shook his head. “Glintenon, I am the strongest and bravest of my people. I have saved lives upon lives. I have nothing to be ashamed of, and I am not to be disregarded.” He looked at the dais with determination. “Judge me now, and I dare you to find me any less worthy than this sniveling impersonation of a weapon! Who is greater than I?”
Canukke leaped up the steps onto the dais, and on his final step up onto the circular platform, an invisible force blasted him backward, flinging him from the dais. He landed on his back on the ground, wind knocked out of him for a moment.
“The time is not yet come,” the guard said, irritation seeping into his tone. “And though Eh’yeh would not say it, may I say on his behalf, you’re welcome.”
Canukke stood. “I do not need your charity. I can do whatever needs doing on my own, making up for any misdeeds that tip the scale. But there is nothing to make up for in my case. I have had good reasons for all that I have done.”
“You misunderstand,” Ruakh said. “It is not a scale to weigh good and evil, but a test to determine whether any evil has ever existed in any measure within your soul.”
“And the guard says no one passes that test,” Baird said.
“No one but Eh’yeh,” the guard added. “That is why Eh’yeh is here.”
“If he knew me better, he would rescind his offer,” Oloren said quietly.
“He knows you better than you know yourself,” Yadara stated in the simplest sentence she had perhaps ever spoken.
Canukke swore under his breath. “Waste of time. We leave in the morning.”
“To what end?” Kilith asked.
Canukke refused to answer and stalked away. The group exchanged glances, but pulled into their own thoughts, a hushed solemnity had fallen over them. One by one they drifted away, enveloped in torrid streams of thought.
Enouim spent more time with Eh’yeh that evening, but she kept the conversation to herself. The whole matter seemed muddled at best. How could Eh’yeh offer himself as her substitute? Yet he had assured her both that justice required more of her than he could bear to watch, and that his offer would last for as long as breath remained in her body. She had told him that she couldn’t ask him to do that, that there must be something she could do herself, or accept the responsibility of her actions if truly she was as heinous as the standard said.
He told her he’d already been tortured on her behalf, as it was his right to offer himself for her, and that now it was her choice to either accept the offer and live, or refuse the offer and be handed over to torment when the time came. He just wanted her safe, and to be able to stay with him in the meadow when Deliberation came and went. It didn’t make sense, but somehow … somewhere in her soul … it worked.
That night Enouim slept even more restlessly than before. But this time, she dreamed, and she dreamed so vividly that she would remember it in detail for years to come. In her dream, Enouim stood watching her troubles sweeping toward her in a great unstoppable tidal wave. She saw Pakel, Mereámé, her family, and the mystery of her abandonment as a baby. She saw the faces of the dead she’d seen since leaving Gorgenbrild. She saw Gorgenbrild set to flame and her mother and brother screaming, fleeing the streets in panic. She saw herself, helpless, hopeless, a worthless failure powerless to stop any of it.
As she observed her life, it seemed that suddenly she came to a fork in the road. To her left, the fork sloped gently and she stepped forward. All of a sudden the terrain beneath her feet dropped away, and with a lurch she was pitched forward and felt herself slipping down, down, down. She fell about six feet and landed with a crash. Bars appeared above her, closing her in, and darkness overshadowed the sun. Her breathing quickened, her heart pounded as though it might explode, and her nails dug into the earthen sides of her prison.
She shook, and her thoughts raced. She had to get out, had to get out, had to get out! It won’t work. I’m not strong enough. It’s not working! Kicking, slashing, ferociously throwing herself against the bars, she quickly earned herself bruises and lacerations she hardly felt in the face of crushing hopelessness and powerlessness. Frantic, her antics exhausted her, pulling her deeper into that powerlessness. The tidal wave kept coming, overwhelming, unstoppable.
Just before she was overtaken, in the blink of an eye she found herself standing above the pit at the fork. Down and to her left she saw herself, and yet not herself—she was in her own body, standing at the fork, alive and in control. And yet she could not deny that it was also herself she saw in that pit, the same self that had slid there only moments ago. Standing at her vantage point at the fork, she saw what looked like a deranged woman with unkempt red hair and dark beady eyes darting back and forth, searching, ever searching, and seeing nothing. Dirt began to pile in on top of her through the bars, and she filled the air with a blood-curdling scream, her face distorted into a hideous grimace. Her nails were like daggers, her body slathered in filth, grime, and her own blood, and she reminded herself of an animal gone mad.
Enouim shuddered and looked away, desperate to get her mind off the horrific sight she saw of herself in that grave. Turning from the nightmare of herself, she glanced to her right. Here the road climbed upward, steeply—too steep to climb, she thought. Thick clouds engulfed the road briefly and then she saw herself on a platform. Except this time the Enouim she saw stood tall and serene, unconcerned by the impending tsunami. She stood in a meadow looking with compassion on standing-at-the-fork Enouim. Something behind her caught her attention. Her face lit up with glee, and she turned away from Enouim and she threw herself into the arms of the man who had called to her. Eh’yeh.
Above her, tranquility, acceptance, joy. Below her, blood-curdling screams that made her skin crawl. For a few horrifically confusing moments, Enouim couldn’t focus on either scenario, but both sights and sounds intertwined in an utterly chaotic discombobulation that left her feeling overwhelmed and anxious. Her palms started to sweat; her hands shook; her eyes darted this way and that. An onslaught of stimulus overtook her mind, and she began to scream. The world turned black, and she lurched awake, the echo of her shriek still ringing in her ears.
29
A river of blood poured from Eh’yeh’s body, tortured and torn to shreds. Canukke didn’t understand it. He’d told Eh’yeh not to bother, had told him he wouldn’t accept the exchange. He’d rejected the offer of Eh’yeh’s life for Canukke’s life, yet here he was, that enigma wrapped in flesh, beaten and bleeding. It was so needless. How dare he? How dare Eh’yeh try to die for him when Canukke had so vehemently opposed it! He would stand before judgment head on, look his accusers in the eyes and spit in their faces. Canukke Topothain would take whatever was coming—if indeed it was coming—and die a heroic death. An honorable death. The death of a man willing to accept his own fate, with dignity and strength. It was Canukke’s right to refuse such a ludicrous offer!
And it was Eh’yeh’s right to die.
The blood ran down toward Canukke and pooled at his feet. So much blood. More blood than any man contained in his earthly vessel, surely. More blood than a hundred men. Eh’yeh’s veins were a fountain of crimson that never seemed to end. A wave of nausea rocked Canukke at the sight of so much blood, the first time he had ever experienced such a reaction to gore. As he watched the river of blood, he saw the heads of all the men he had ever murdered flowing toward him, their faces frozen permanently in their final expressions: fear, horror, anger, hate. He saw a vision of himself, always thirsty, never satisfied, exacting revenge on those he had deemed in the wrong, destroying those who had dared cross him. Canukke heaped the bodies on Eh’yeh’s slumped form, and as Canukke’s eyes watched the vision of himself, he saw Eh’yeh looking back at him with piercing eyes that saw the depths of his soul.
Canukke wanted to run, wanted to hide. He did not want Eh’yeh to see his soul. But it was too late. He felt the retching of his heart as it seemed to vomit up every evil thought he had ever had, every depraved thing he had ever done or considered doing. The hate was black, deep black, as never ending as the blood in Eh’yeh’s veins. The jealousy, lust, selfishness, and greed was thick like coagulated blood trying to keep from emptying a body of its life. No clot could stop his soul’s outpouring. No bandage was strong enough to restrain the force that had broken down a dam somewhere inside him where all wickedness had been hidden away from prying eyes.
He saw Edone with pain in her eyes as he gave attention to other women. She unhooked the sleeves from her thumbs and pushed them up to reveal bruises all over her arms, bruises he had put there. Canukke was not honorable after all. He had allowed himself to express his anger physically toward another person, someone he said he loved, someone he should have loved. Edone, beautiful, smart, incredible Edone! Remorse seeped into his mind, unbidden.
A flurry of images passed before his eyes: pairs of people, couples, filing by at lightning speed until finally it slowed and he recognized his grandparents, his parents, himself as a child. Canukke hit his brother on the head to take a toy that he wanted, and Canukke saw that he had hurt others to get what he desired for many years. He had even stolen, in years past. Emotions came out of him like colored smoke as events in is life beginning at his earliest memory cycled through before him, and he saw darkness in it. Green jealousy, black hatred, purple lust, red selfishness. Canukke’s soul was laid bare. Its deepest cravings, desires, regrets, maliciousness. It was seen by Eh’yeh and known fully.
Blood rose to his neck, and he gasped as he was stripped from his visions. Canukke’s arms and legs tried to tread water but the sticky blood was like mud, slowing his progress and impeding his effectiveness. The familiar, metallic smell of blood filled his nose but brought with it a panic like Canukke had never known. He was stained by this blood. Condemned by this blood. The blood knew everything he had ever done, ever thought. The blood was choking him. He had to get out. He had to be free. How many dungeons he would prefer over this blood!
Suddenly he saw. He was drowning in this blood that Eh’yeh claimed was his salvation. It was Eh’yeh’s right to die for Canukke, and Canukke’s right to refuse that gift. Yet Eh’yeh’s torment was complete, the exchange approved by all relevant governing authorities. Canukke’s refusal didn’t keep Eh’yeh from sacrificing himself on Canukke’s behalf, but only kept Canukke apart from the benefits of that promised salvation. Canukke was choosing to drown in Eh’yeh’s blood, because his pride was too great.
Only Eh’yeh could satisfy the requirements of the charge against Canukke, only Eh’yeh could pay the price for Canukke’s head with his own and yet live. The choice to accept was still Canukke’s. This kind of sacrifice demanded something from him. If Canukke gave in to Eh’yeh, if he accepted the gift of life from Eh’yeh’s hands and the blood from his veins, Canukke would owe him more than he had to offer.
Canukke locked eyes with Eh’yeh. Soft brown eyes looked back at him knowingly. Loved him. No other love could be compared to this love, and Canukke felt drawn to it while simultaneously squirming under the pressure of it, the vulnerability of that love. Eh’yeh’s love demanded something from him. Eh’yeh wanted nothing from Canukke but Canukke himself, yet Canukke knew that to give himself over would be complete and total realignment of his loyalties. Receiving Eh’yeh’s gift would be to acknowledge that Canukke could not pay the price for his own head, and to be forever indebted to Eh’yeh. Canukke would owe his sword, his allegiance to a king not of his own making. Canukke would either surrender his life to Eh’yeh or die in his stubbornness and pride.
The blood rose up and engulfed him completely. Hemmed in all around, limbs exhausted from fighting, mind drained from the mental battle, Canukke knew he didn’t have long. His energies were spent, all resources depleted. The time was now. He had to choose. Canukke woke with a weary, desperate cry.
Eh’yeh was a great catalyst, like a lit fuse left to each person to bury, to smother, or to allow to burst into a great and unquenchable flame. For Enouim’s part, she was ready to let the flame burn. As for Canukke … well, Enouim assumed he leaned heavily toward the first or second option. Still, something had happened to Canukke in the night, and he was less anxious to leave when morning came. He was also even moodier than before.
The company stayed with Eh’yeh for days, and days turned into weeks. Eh’yeh himself came and went, but Enouim found that whenever she really wished to see him, it wasn’t long before he would appear.
Canukke was in a bind. He did still want to return to Gorgenbrild, and had begun trying to convince his companions to leave the meadow and head back home on their own. Although the company knew they would have to return home eventually, no one was quite ready to go.
One afternoon, Enouim came across Canukke, Kilith, and Ruakh speaking with Eh’yeh and overheard part of their conversation. Canukke was having a heated conversation with Eh’yeh. She concluded without much difficulty that the point of contention was Eh’yeh’s being a man with the power, divinity, and code of Iamwë rather than a mythical weapon that could be bent to the will of anyone in possession of it.
Canukke’s face was hard as flint. “This is not what I was looking for.”
“I am exactly what you have been looking for,” Eh’yeh said. “You have simply decided, now that you have found me, that you do not like the truth of what it is you have found. Many look for what they do not want, and many do not recognize what they need though it slaps them in the face, and they go on looking until they exhaust themselves.”
Canukke closed the distance between them, face full of rage, eyes blazing, and stood nose to nose with Eh’yeh—who, for his part, remained soft and calm. “I need a weapon to destroy my enemies. If you cannot produce this for me, you are worth nothing.”
“Careful, Canukke,” Ruakh cautioned. “There are ways to seek weapons that do not come at the cost of your humanity. Remember who you are.”
“Humanity!” Canukke spat. “What is humanity, anyway? Are you better than I am? Is anyone? Humanity is rotten to the core. The cost of my humanity … what is that worth? Can a being sink any lower?” Canukke had no weapon to protect him from this, no experience to prepare him for such an encounter. He’d been undone and was unraveling from within. He stomped away to sulk.
Enouim wasn’t sure how long they stayed in Eh’yeh’s glade. Time felt as though it passed differently there, but she thought perhaps it was a couple of weeks. At varying points during their stay, almost all of those in the company came to accept Eh’yeh’s offer to be their substitute and subsequently spent their time sitting with him, talking, learning, and soaking up like sponges every word he spoke.
The fact that Eh’yeh had accepted her was mindboggling, and she considered it often. Sometimes she diverted herself because her mind simply couldn’t fathom what that might mean, but at other times when she sunk into its truth she was able to marvel in it all. She felt not special and elevated by Eh’yeh’s affections, but low. Humbled. And she rested in the glory of being safe before the face of perfect purity.
As Enouim was pondering this one morning, surrounded by her friends, Canukke came storming through, considerably hot and bothered.
“Practically begged me to join him, he did,” Canukke said, with the air of a king too high and mighty to hear the plea of a peasant. “Begged,” he muttered again under his breath, passing beyond them into the brush.
Kilith’s eyes followed him as he went. “Eh’yeh? He did nothing of the sort,” he said softly—but danger coiled in his tone. “He’s not the begging type. No, Canukke was unwilling to accept what Eh’yeh offered, and refused to give his allegiance to any but himself. It will be his downfall. No greater offer will come. In Canukke now stands a man tormented, in sight of what he wants most, but separated from it by a great chasm of his own making.”
