stories from kala - 1

Stories fom Kala - 1The man entered the room, breaking a flow of conversation

that was starting to reach its peak. All eyes turned to the late

comer. Some angry, some jaded and some curious. He could

never simply enter a room. Wherever he went, it caused

some kind of a stir. From a young age, his peers had always

commented on it. His charisma, they had called it

dismissively. His grandmother had called it by more mystical

names. She would often bring him to the temples of the old

gods to have him cleansed by the Priests. She had wanted

him to become an Oracle, chosen by the gods to speak the

Holy Wisdom. His father, ever the pragmatic, chose to

guide his son towards a life of politics.

For years the grandmother and the father would discuss,

debate and disagree over the little boy’s fate. The mother

never spoke her piece, died in childbirth. It came to pass

that the grandmother went to join her daughter and so this

innocent boy of twelve was quickly sent to the scholars.

1© 2012 Kala Séraphin

These holy men of academia were charged with cleansing

the boy of religious aspirations. He was an eager student

quick to learn the manipulation of numbers, arts, science

and people. And so it was, this boy, now a man that no one

could overlook even if they tried, was part of the Council of

the City of Animus Mentis.

It was called The City Forgotten by the Gods. When the

last king dared to defend his title through temple

declarations of godhood, his retinue demanded physical

proof. This idea inspired them to send the king to his

beloved gods for tangible proof. Over five hundred years

have passed and the king has yet to come back with his

irrevocable Truth.

The scholars of Animus Mentis were quick to accept this as

a new Truth. That if there were such beings as gods, they

did not care for humans. It lead to the slow transition

towards the worship of the mind and all things logical. All

manners of god worship were expelled from the City. Every

temple and altar destroyed or replaced by libraries. The

priests, priestesses and their retinues of otherworldly

fanatics were given a choice, for all fair and logical men gave


choices. They could leave and find their luck in other

whimsical cities or they could suffer becoming fuel for

future bonfires at the celebration of the eradication of

religion.

It proved to be a harsh period. History books in the

libraries of Animus Mentis called it “The Cleansing”. All

other libraries around the world mentions it as “the

butchering”. Yet these passages were so brief, no one dared

to question the humane logic behind such events.

And so it came that the men of the books gathered the

riches of the City and began a new rule where all matters are

to be discussed and passed by a Council for approval. To be

eligible for Council, a person had to fit a certain list of

criteria: gifted with a sharp mind, enough money to dispose

of any naysayers and be male .

Through his father’s connections, much conniving and

cajoling, he had risen to a high position on the Council.

This meant his presence was required at all meetings for any

case to be finalized. These meetings could be called at any

time, day or night. The men of the Council had an


obligation to show up regardless if they were getting

married, suffering an illness or consuming their passions in

the bedchambers.

This is where our story starts, late at night, once upon a

time, not too long ago, in a land much like yours and mine.

“I apologize for the delay”. His voice rang clear in the hall.

He understood at a young age that to gain and keep his

peers’ respect, he must project confidence under all

circumstances. It was the kind of confidence that almost

had a touch of insolence. Too much of it could have the

opposite effect. He had learned the art of convincing other

people of his superiority.

He crossed the hall, slowly yet purposefully, choosing an

empty seat in the center of the semi-circle of council

members. He felt a cool satisfaction from the wait. He even

sensed some people’s impatience and enjoyed it. It was

always easier to manipulate them when their senses were

clouded with impatience.

“Right. To bring you up to date, Sir…Our soldiers have

recently overtaken a caravan. It contained many riches for


our gracious coffers.” Started Cilgo. He was the eldest of

the Council members, the leader in all but title. Publicly

Animus Mentis did not believe in one leader. They were

firm believers in democracy and every man having a voice.

Behind closed doors, it was Cilgo who possessed more

money. Thus, he could buy the other members’ opinions to

fit his whims. Of course, this was never a topic brought to

Council meetings. Only the whispers of shadows that bore

witness. He had, in the past, received a few gifts from Cilgo

in exchange for smoothing out some disputes over taxes and

land ownership. Some things only made sense once you’d

become entangled in them.

“My good men, why is it the Council even bothers

convening before sun rise? This is a small matter to

celebrate over our next meal. Not an urgent case to wake us

from our slumbers.” He responded, nonchalantly leaning

back in his chair. A rush of murmurs crossed the room.

The energy of it was enough to dissipate the lingering

sleepiness that remained clouding his mind. As he gained

lucidity, he felt the excitement in the air. There was a

tingling on the right side of his head. He knew it was no


ordinary caravan they had intercepted. The tingling became

a whisper and his heart started racing ever so slightly faster.

He tried to keep calm and logically assess the situation. But

the whisper at the back of his mind persisted. No, it can’t

be, he thought.

“My good Sir, it is indeed quite troublesome for all of us to

gather at such a strange hour. I’m certain you have, by now,

deduced that it’s no ordinary caravan that we’ve

apprehended.” Exclaimed Nelo, a lesser Council member.

The sarcasm of his tone was unmistakable. He carried some

bitter feelings regarding his lack of power over his peers.

Too many mistakes were made in the past for them to

respect him. Among them, his choice to marry out of love

was quite enough to let the others know that Nelo was a

man easily swayed by his heart.

“Thank you Nelo. I’m quite confident my fellow Council

members will grow weary of this little game and reveal this

extraordinary event soon enough so we can all sleep

peacefully.” He replied, leaning lightly forward on his chair.

There was an exchange of glares. His grey eyes bore into

Nelo’s cool brown eyes. The tension was brief, almost


missed by the other members. Nelo was too passive to

make anything of this brief challenge. He shrugged his

shoulders and looked away.

“This caravan caught our guards' attention with the number

of horses that surrounded them. These were no ordinary

riders.” Cilgo started. As he spoke, a guard came in with a

young man in chains, one of the riders from the caravan.

He wore a dirty tunic, his chest bare. His skin was a dark

shade of brown, his muscles strong and taut. He was

obviously a wanderer, living on his horse, traveling from city

to city. Though he was well adjusted to a hard life of

uncertainty as a wanderer, he was obviously not accustomed

to beatings, such as he received from the guards. His right

eye was swollen shut, dried blood covered his left temple.

His right shoulder was dislocated and hung loosely at his

side.

Watching the youth crawl off the ground, he felt a fleeting

moment of pity. This youth probably barely enjoyed the

mysteries of life and now he was going to die.


“You are charged with trespassing, stranger. What do you

have to say for yourself ?”Bellowed Cilgo, as he raised

himself from his chair. His voice echoed a mock formality,

dripping with sarcasm.

The young guard reeled a bit, trying to focus. He spat blood

and seemed hypnotized by the sight of it on the ground.

“We were merely crossing the lands to the next city my

lords. We were not intending to step by your gracious City

of Animus Mentis. We would never dream of imposing on

your famous hospitality.” His voice was weak from the

beating and lack of water or any sustenance. Yet one could

hear the strength of his spirit. This was a youth who

believed in something greater than himself. He had a goal

beyond his basic survival.

“You are a man of faith.” The man claimed. He knew their

kind from his own upbringing when his grandmother was

still alive.

The rider spat once more and gave a rough nod.

“This boy seems to be unable to withstand the taste of his

own blood. Maybe we should help him put an end to his


discomfort.”Exclaimed another Council member with a

sleepy voice. Clearly they were all bored of this spectacle.

All except Cilgo. He approached the wounded rider and

whipped the blood from his mouth, using his bare hand. In

a soft voice he asked “What was it that you and your filthy

godlovers were trying so hard to protect?”

The prisoner refused to talk. He stubbornly stared at the

blood stain on the ground.

“What is your name, boy?” Cilgo asked, trying another route

to get what he wanted.“Serenos” Finally he looked up with

the fire of defiance in his eyes slowly dying out.

“Serenos, you have very little options here. Every living

creature from your party has been killed. Tell us what we

want and we may let you live to tell others about it.” Nelo

revealed. He was half dozing in his chair, trying hard to

have a nonchalant superior look. However, it came off as

exceedingly comical for the man.

The man who arrived late let out a loud sigh. He wished for

the exhibition to end sooner rather than later.


“That is a lie and the poor kid knows it!” He yelled, then

turning to the bloody rider, he continued:

“You are going to die regardless. It's in your benefit to tell

us the truth though. Because the difference lies with what

we'll do to your body. If you keep your tongue, we will kill

you painfully then throw your body to the carrions.” He

took a moment to let the reality of it sink. Serenos

swallowed hard and a stronger fear started to emanate from

him. He looked at the man, sitting cooly and vibrating

confidence.

“If you do choose to share with us, I will personally make it

that your body is delivered to the priests of your gods, thus

ensuring your eternity in peace, as your religion dictates.”He

concluded. Serenos played both scenarios in his mind. The

man knew his choice before anything was settled. He smiled

triumphantly, gazing over at Nelo.

“We were....charged by the high priests of our holy land.”

Serenos started. Cilgo took a step back, listening attentively,

glad to be getting what he desired. It wasn't the story itself,

for he already knew the secret behind the midnight traveling


caravan. What Cilgo enjoyed was breaking the spirits of

these men of faith. Serenos was the fifth one he inflicted

this torture on, demanding secrets that would change

nothing of the poor man's fate. The look of crumbling

despair as they easily and honestly revealed what no outsider

is permitted to know was pure enjoyment for Cilgo. To see

a man break such strong vows was a reminder of why he

chose the road of academia. Knowledge gave power and

faith gave weakness.

“We were sworn to protect our charge til the final

destination. We gave our lives for the mission.” Serenos

explained, as he tried to keep his composure. The thought

of having betrayed his mission and religion started to weigh

on him. The man scrutinized as he sensed the change in the

air around Serenos. All the while, Cilgo relished every word.

He crossed his arms over his chest, licking his lips and

carelessly said:

“You mission has failed, so why are you still alive?”

“Coward” whispered someone in the background. Serenos'

eyes grew wide. He was speechless at such a small word. A


small word that carried so much pressure for the receiver's

ego.

“Where were you instructed to accompany your charge?”

The man asked, eager to find out for himself what this

nocturnal trial was all about.

“The Holy Land of Bodhisattva. We were urged to reach

the land before the next full moon.” Serenos croaked.

“Ask him about his charge! You'll enjoy that one!”

Exclaimed the Council member to his left. The man started

to have trouble following his cohesive thoughts. The

whisper in his mind became a strong sand storm entering

every crevice of his mind. It was a struggle not to succumb

to it. Run away! It whispered. We want no part of this!

The man rubbed his temples and forced himself to follow

the linear questioning that he started. He must follow

through with what he started. There was no option to turn

back or change his mind for he had no logical reason. The

Council would quickly lose respect for him if he answered

“I didn't feel like it.” or “I just changed my mind.”


“What was it you were so eager to bring back to your holy

lands?” He finally asked.

“That's not the right question.” Cilgo whispered. His bright

blue eyes were on fire with a mania. Soon would come the

greatest surprise. A shiver of anticipation crossed over his

spine.

“Very well, maybe you can help me question the prisoner. I

don't perform very well when I'm sleep deprived.” The man

intoned. Nelo chocked momentarily on the words as Cilgo

wrapped a fat arm around Serenos' frail shoulders and

approached the boy closer to the Council. He bent down to

his good ear and whispered:

“Tell them.”

“We...we were...escorting...the Oracle. She is with child and

it is the desire of all parties that the child be born in the

Holy Land.” Serenos let the words escape in a staccato

manner which can only be brought about by fear.

The man ceased to breathe. This Oracle was the most

worshiped figure in the religion of the gods. She was the

one human born with the gift to heal and communicate with


the gods. Her name alone brought worshippers to their

knees, as Serenos was quick to do. Some of the guards that

used to follow the religion of the old gods were tempted to

do as much. The knowledge of the punishment they would

receive kept them on their feet.

To have the Oracle as their prisoner was indeed the greatest

of accomplishments for a city that abhors religion and

wishes to eradicate it, for the good of humanity. Everyone

in the room understood this. There was such a mixture of

feelings in the air, the man's head reeled at the force of it.

Yet it was Cilgo's sense of triumph that vibrated clearly for

all to feel.

“Yes, that is correct. A very pregnant Oracle is residing

within the palace of Animus Mentis. I am ever

so...honored.” Cilgo savored the words as he would a lush

dinner, lingering on 'honored' as he would a fine wine.

The intensity of the revelation stunned everyone. No one

noticed Cilgo taking a dagger from the folds of his cloak

and stabbing poor Serenos in the throat. The boy lingered


on the ground, suffering as the gift of the gods escaped his

open wound.

“So much for the laws of peace within Council meetings”

Sighed Nelo, ever the passive aggressive. Cilgo chose to

ignore the comment as he would a fly in the summer heat.

“And there you have it, my fellow scholars.” Standing over

the body, Cilgo spread out his arms, a manic smile upon his

swollen lips.

“The war is over and the ways of the mind has been won.”

“Would you really have us butcher a pregnant woman?”

Nelo intoned, weakly trying to be the savior of the innocent.

No other Council member spoke up to help him. They

averted their gaze. Cilgo drew confidence from the silence

that lingered. He stepped over Serenos, who was still

twitching in agony, and sat back in his chair.

The man saw Cilgo was bubbling with anticipation to

pronounce the death sentence. The vibrations were

distracting and the storm in his mind was raging. All he

wanted was time to regain control over himself and the

situation.


“I want to verify the authenticity of the claim.” He blurted.

Everyone looked at him in disbelief. They wanted the

matter closed and forgotten yet here he was, prolonging it.

“For crying out loud! Cilgo questioned over a dozen of the

survivors. They all had the same story. And we have the

woman!” Exclaimed a tall skinny Council member.

“I want to question her.” The man declared in a flat tone.

Cilgo stared at him, slightly disappointed, slightly curious

and very much amused.

“Alright. You can have your own pleasure from our victory.

You're only prolonging the inevitable.”

The man nodded to a guard who quickly shuffled out of the

room to get the Oracle.

In a short moment, the atmosphere of the room changed.

The wild whispers in his mind went mute. The summer

humidity ceased to suffocate the men. A cool breeze wafted

through. Each individual embraced it by sitting up in their

chairs or adjusting their weight as they stood more erect.

The tension also seemed to have faded with the humidity.

Suddenly, a quenching rain started, and she was now in the


room, flanked by two guards who wore a curious expression.

Where they usually projected intimidation, there was a sense

of peace. She stood tall and erect, her dark gray eyes gazing

off into another reality, with a smile dancing upon her lips.

Her long auburn hair was tied in a braid down her back,

woven with silks. She wore a light green dress that hugged

her swollen belly. She carried the new life within her with

grace. Her beauty shone through, even in the dire

circumstances she was in.

The man kept his face impassive. She walked up to the

gathered men and inclined her head. He could see the sweat

on her brow and smell the incense that clung to her. She

still looked very human to him.

“Please, most gracious lady, tell us who you are.” He asked,

clearing his throat and trying hard to keep his voice steady.

It was a futile question. He knew all too well who she was,

more so than any one else in the room. He had last seen her

carried away by the priests over fifteen years ago when she

was sold to a temple in the holy land to become a sacred

dancer to the gods. She was a shy wisp of a girl back then.


Now she stood before him, a strong woman and wearing the

holiest of titles, Oracle.

“You know who I am.” She replied. There was no contempt

in her voice. It was very serene, as if she were talking to a

room of little boys as opposed to a Council of grown men

who thought her foolish for her beliefs and ready to take her

life for it.

“Regardless. Look around you. You are our prisoner, at our

mercy.”Cilgo chimed in. The Oracle was unfazed by the

threat. Once again, she inclined her head.

“I am the Holy Oracle Of Bodhisattva.” Her voice was soft

and measured. It was not lofty or overly confident. She was

simply stating a fact.

“What is your function as the Oracle?” The man asked. A

sweet smiled appeared on her lips.

“The most important for any living being. I give hope.” The

men of the Council exchanged looks. The guards looking

on shuffled their feet. The way she spoke made them all feel

uncomfortable.


“Hope? Does hope feed the hungry? Does hope heal the

sick? What good is hope when an army is killing and

rapping your people? Women...they're such weak, senseless

creatures.” Cilgo's voice boomed for all to hear. His rage at

her comment flared quickly. He leaned forward on his chair,

ready to pounce.

She remained impassive, standing serenely and letting the

rage pass her.

“Hope gives strength to find a way out of the darkness and

into the light.”

The man watched her, yet saw the scared girl he had last

seen. He knew he must regain control of the conversation.

Cilgo was likely to let his disgust of the gods get our of

control.

“You are right. We are all fully aware of the role you play

within the world of your faith. I know that you are said to

converse with your gods. Did they warn you that your life

would soon come to an end?”He asked. Rage started to rise

within him. He was uncertain if it was his own or Cilgo's

rage pouring into him. He simply could not believe she


would risk her life and the life of her unborn baby by

traveling so close to Animus Mentis. People of the faith

knew that the city and its people were openly hostile to their

kind. He wondered about the wisdom of her actions.

“I do have the privilege to hold council with the forces

above and beyond.” Was all she replied. She kept her serene

composure yet something rippled briefly over her. His

anger did not go unnoticed.

“It is whispered in the shadows that the gods are the father

of your child.” Nelo commented, a mocking smile plain to

interpret that he did not believe it for a moment.

“Intueri, you will show us your gods. If they prove too shy

for our company, you will be sentenced to die. If, by some

miraculous fancy, they do show themselves, we will let you

go to your holy city and have your holy baby.” He

pronounced the sentence before properly thinking it

through. He surprised himself even more by using her

name. It went unnoticed by the other Council members.

Thoughts ran through her mind as she stood before these


men, powerless. She thought only of the child growing

inside her. Instinctively she covered her abdomen.

“If that is what the Council wishes.” She whispered, holding

strong to the feeling of calm within her heart. Now would

not be the appropriate time to let fear take over. It would

create a greater distance between herself and the gods.

“It is our strong wish to be witnesses to such an event.”

Cilgo had released his rage and replaced it with excitement.

He knew that as a none believer, witnessing such a holy

ritual would add insult to injury to all that followed the old

gods.

“I will require a day to prepare myself. Such an event does

not simply happen like a chance meeting in the market.” She

kept her gaze leveled and her breathing even and slow.

“Very well child. Make a list of all that you require. We will

provide you with the best our resources have to offer.

Tomorrow we will have a feast. You, Oracle, will be the

guest of honor.”Cilgo declared, dismissing her with a lazy

wave of the hand. A guard quickly took her away to her cell.

As she left the room, the rain ceased. The whisper of dawn


crept on the horizon. Every member of the council looked

five years older, feeling heavy with fatigue and the thoughts

of the impending execution. Though their contempt for the

religion of the old gods was strong, none of them wanted

the blood of a woman with child on their hands.

Slowly, each member slipped out of the room to go rest

their weary minds.

The man sat in a daze. He would finally win this war with

the faith. Yet there was not an ounce of joy in the

knowledge of his impeding victory. It was bittersweet and

at such a high cost.

Cilgo gave him a pat on the shoulder. He fully supported

what the man had started. No words were needed. Cilgo

walked out, head held high as any man would when they

believed a victory to be their own.

∞

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stories from kala - 1

Documents

city of animus mentis

libraries of animus

logical men

beloved gods

old gods

scholars of animus mentis

kala sraphinchoices

innocent boy