It was only a few moments after Onan and Zimri left me that the Munams
arrived, for they had run, spurred on, apparently, by their great desire
to meet me. In appearance they were like I had seen from afar: hairy and
stooped, almost using their arms as legs, but not entirely. Their skulls
were large and oddly shaped and their mouths were pushed out from their
faces like an ape's. A limp, furry tail hung down from their lower
backs, and their hands had a tough, leathery appearance.
There were eight of them, and when they drew near, the foremost hailed
me with an eager gleam in his eyes, like one who has long hoped and long
been denied. His voice was low and gravelly, but not at all uncivilized
sounding, as one would have expected by his appearance, and his facial
expressions were equally as livid and distinctly humanoid. He began:
"Hail, the White Eagle, sent by the gods to deliver us! Hail the
redemption from paradise, coming to bring us home." With that he held
out his arms and embraced me in a very warm, heartfelt manner.
"Hello," I replied, somewhat embarrassed by my lack of authority.
"I am Ramma, leader of the Munams," he told me, "And I welcome you in
the name of us all."
"Greetings, Ramma," I replied, "I am Jehu."
"We are joyous at your arrival, oh Jehu of the White Eagle."
When he said this I had a flashback, a moment of memorial deja vu, when
the present and the past are morphed together by one thought, when one
idea from the past and the present exists in such a way as to connect
the two times around it, forming a nexus between the two moments. I was
brought back to two separate times, the first being my initial meeting
with Onan, when I saw the muraled dome, the genetics of history, and its
depiction of the events which were symbolically representative of Daem:
the deformed man, the warring races, the worshipers of the White Eagle.
The other was my arrival in the Temple of Time, when the King showed me
the altar to Temis, the God of Time, depicted as a great White Eagle,
wrought in diamond and grasping the altar in its talons. There was
something about the White Eagle that connected itself to me inseparably,
something that converged us into one form. I had a sense that it was
somehow a key to the mystery of the end times, but I could not make the
connection. I thought back to what Onan had said to me just a few
moments before, that he and Zimri were close friends, and not enemies at
all, while those on earth believed their rivalry was a serious conflict.
Yet while I had two separate memorial deja vu's, I could not make the
connection between them to figure out what they meant.
"Tell me," I asked of Ramma, "What do you mean when you call me the
White Eagle?"
"The prophecy said that our kinsman redeemer, who would bring us out of
the lands of desolation and into paradise, who would come to us like a
giant eagle, soaring high above the sea. Across the ocean there," he
said, pointing to Daem, "Is Daem, the paradise land, wherein dwell our
enemies the Zards and Canitaurs. They keep us off of the island and on
the mainland by force, and here we have suffered ever since the great
wars, in these desolate and barren wastelands, where there is neither
life nor death, but only a hazy in between. An ancient one with wings
like an eagle was to come and rescue us, the White Eagle, and under his
guidance we are to be led to victory against our enemies.
"To them he would be sent first, humbly he would come to redeem them
from the woes of their own causing, but they would receive him not.
Instead they cast him away, and he was to come to us, to bring us to the
promised land. What a blessed sight it was when we saw you soaring
through the sky on your white wings, and now you have come, my dear
Jehu, you have come at last, in the hour of our greatest need. Come, oh
White Eagle, and let us go to Kalr, our city. Tonight is the Feast of
the Hershonites, celebrating the night that the prophecy was received,
and on the same day shall it be fulfilled!"
With that he turned and set off with a step of exuberance to the
northwest, the other Munams and myself following him. He walked quickly,
and it was all that I could do to match his pace, so that I was left
without breath enough to ask any more questions. From what I saw on our
journey, the landscape was the same across the whole mainland that was
near to the coast, and there was neither change enough nor any landmark
conspicuous enough for me to take any bearings. Without the Munam's
company, I would have been lost.
Ramma led us on a straight course for about half an hour, there being
nothing to steer around, and when that time had elapsed, we found
ourselves in a small, battered city. There were no great buildings or
infrastructure like in Nunami, nor any complex labyrinths like the
Canitaur's military base. Instead there were only weak, unsound huts,
built with a framework of oddly shaped driftwood and covered with a
thick layer of insulating sod. A road ran through the center of the
city, only distinguishable because it was packed down by constant use,
and on either side were groupings of the huts in semi-circular patterns,
with no space between them left unfilled by soil. This created a wind
barrier, preventing the strong winds that whipped across the desert
lands from harassing the inhabitants as they worked and played in their
communal yards. Each such grouping had a field of a strange, potato-like
plant that spread across the back ends of the houses, where the fierce
winds piled up loads of nutrient rich top soil from miles and miles
around. In the center of the protected areas, each of the communities,
for such they were called, had a well that reached hundreds of feet
downwards, bringing them almost unlimited supplies of fresh water. Using
these two major systems, they were able to live in a comfortable manner,
not comfortable in a sense of comparison with the Zards or Canitaurs,
but comfortable in the sense that they had food to eat, clothes to wear,
and shelter to protect them. Under such conditions humanity can thrive,
for happiness is not found in the accumulation of excess comforts, but
in the accumulation of excess love. This the Munams had plenty of, and
from that point of view were more the evolutionary form of humanity than
the devolutionary.
The Munams all wore a sort of close fitting frock, a plain colored one
piece suit that displayed their practicality and modesty. It is a hobby
of mine to observe the clothing worn by different groups of people and
compare it to their characteristics. As I have said before, clothes do
not make the man, but the man certainly makes the clothes, and it is
possible to judge a person's character by the type of attire that they
wear, in that it is an expression of their tastes. The Munams were shown
by their clothing to be a very friendly people, for their frocks were
hung gently about the body in a manner that was at once both carefree
and conservative. This is perfectly analogous to their personalities.
When we came down through the center street, which was really the whole
city, for there were no other roads, the people rushed out to meet us,
and when they were told that it was the White Eagle, they began to dance
joyously about in the streets. There was laughter and play going on all
at once, and it was like a great burden lifted from my heart to see them
rejoicing, for it almost reconciled their sufferings with the Zard's and
Canitaur's ease of life, in that they seemed to be much more happy, in
spite of the circumstances.
Ramma gave a short speech to the people, in which he detailed the
prophecy and its fulfillment and, in general, encouraged everyone to
hope for what was to come. When it was over, he and I retired to his
home, which was rather larger than the others and formed its own
semi-circle, containing as it did both his private quarters and the
official offices of the government, which, while extremely limited in
number, were well outfitted. The door of this building opened into a
short hallway that had several doors adjacent to it. He led me down
one of these and it proved to be a dining hall, though it was not as
commodious as most, with only a round wooden table with a few chairs
around it and some cupboards and cabinets.
Pulling my chair out for me to sit in, Ramma went through all the normal
duties of host with great ease, and within a few moments we were eating
heartily from a great dish of boiled potatoes that had been brought in
by a servant, or rather, a deputy minister of state, for such was his
title. We did little talking before we ate, because I was greatly
famished and as such was ill-inclined to be jovial, not that I was
sullen, but I found it hard to be completely relaxed without a full
stomach. Yet when that was remedied and I found myself satisfied and
comfortable in a warm dwelling, I opened up to Ramma and we had a long
and entertaining discussion, some of which I will record here, as it
shines a little more light upon the mysteries of my story:
"So, my dear Jehu," Ramma began, "I trust your stay on Daem has so far
been enjoyable."
I chuckled quietly and told him, "No, not entirely, for there is a war
afoot on Daem, or at least there seemed to be, and it made quite a bit
of trouble for me."
"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied, "But also gratified, for it will
help us in our offensive if they are against each other as well as us.
Still, it will be hard."
"What offensive is that?" I asked, my interest being perked.
"Our jihad, to capture the lands which were meant for us and reclaim
them from the filth that now inhabit them. You are our kinsman redeemer,
Jehu, but it is not with your presence alone that we will be brought
victory, for we also must act. Ever since the prophecy was given we have
been preparing for a strike that will catch the Zards and Canitaurs by
surprise, for those are our only advantages: time and surprise. The
carrying out of the surprise attack is the hardest part, and we decided
long ago to dig a tunnel under the sea to bridge Daem and the mainland,
for if we had made a fleet of ships, or attempted anything on the
surface, they would have seen and known what we intended to do. The
tunnel is very long, and it was an arduous task to undertake, but with
much patience we prevailed, and now it is complete. In fact, it was only
completed yesterday, though it was started more than 500 years ago."
"How is it that you started so long ago and only finished just before I
arrived? I asked.
"Fate," he answered, "All the happenings of the world are controlled by
a force much greater than us, and it brings everything into completion
when it is needed, no sooner and no later. Many civilizations try to out
wit fate, but they cannot, and in the end they do its bidding. Not,
however, in the way they had planned, and with more consequences than
they would like, at which point they try to change fate again and undo
those consequences, and soon they are in a downward spiral of such
deeds. We recognize that we are controlled by fate, and instead of
fighting it, we go along with it. We know that things will happen as
they are meant to happen, and we knew that 500 years ago, so it was no
great trial for us to work at our task for so long and not to know when
things would be brought to completion. You see, if we had worried about
it and attempted to change to course of events that history dictated,
than we would have only given ourselves more work for the same end.
Stress is the only thing that is created when you try to alter fate, so
it is our philosophy to take things as they come and trust to the powers
that be. You may think it unsophisticated, but that is just as well, for
what matters is not appearances, but reality, and we have the two things
that matter most in life: peace and joy."
I agreed with him, for I had found the same to be true in my own
experiences. I then asked him, "When will this grand offensive be
undertaken?"
"Tomorrow," he said bluntly.
"Tomorrow? Isn't that rather soon?"
"Why? Fate has been fulfilled so far, why wait when it is time to act?
Maybe you misunderstood my meaning: it is not our philosophy to simply
let things go as they will. Instead we relax and let things take their
course when it is not in our power to do anything effective, but when
the time comes to act, we act swiftly and do not delay. In a word, we do
not force fate, either by forcing action where patience is needed, nor
by forcing patience where action is needed."
"That sounds well enough," I said, "But the difficulty lies in the
correct classification of the situation, or in other words, deciding if
patience or action is needed."
"Yes, of course, but in this case it has been decided to attack
tomorrow, and there is nothing left to do but to attack tomorrow. But do
not yet let your spirits be dampened by the onset of war, for tonight is
the Feast of the Hershonites, and there will be great celebrating and
rejoicing this evening. Forget about the troubles of tomorrow and enjoy
the celebrations of today, as I always say. And it is now time for the
celebrating to begin, so let us be off."
And with that we both rose and took our plates into the kitchen that was
connected to the dining hall on the opposite side as the hallway and
deposited our plates to be cleaned later (for even the leaders of a
society must do their fair share of the work). Then we walked back
through the dining hall, down the hallway, and out the door.
Outside we found that the people had already began to assemble on the
road in front of their communities and were preparing for the festival
by chattering with one another as loudly as one would think possible. A
hush began to fall upon them like a descending fog when we came out,
though, and within a few moments it had died down to a ghostly silence,
for all that could be heard was the wind's constant blowing. Ramma took
the head of the procession of Munams that had formed on the road, and I
took the place next to him. With a sort of quiet anticipation of the
joys to come, there was little movement, and what little there was, was
hushed by a sense of subdued excitement. Then, with a somber gait, Ramma
began the parade down the road, in the opposite direction as we had come
from, that being northwest, and all followed him as he did.
The sun at that time was just beginning to set, and once we had crossed
one of the larger hills we came face to face with the coast, the sun's
great red form half sunken beneath its surface. A faint cloud layer
floated by and was illuminated by the twilight so that it stretched
haphazardly across the face of the sun. Never have I seen so profound a
scene as that which then presented itself, with the desert sands and the
ocean's still surface reflecting the last agonies of the sun's descent
into the underworld with such a subtle emotional undertone so as to
render it a subconscious delight. Its recognized superiority to mortal
life forms left us all mute and somber, but at the same time the freedom
felt from the same gave us joy beyond reckoning.
The march to the sea was slow and steady, and when we finally reached
its shores it was just at the change of day and night. Several large
bonfires were lit and by their light a great communal dance began,
everyone jumping around, running, and doing whatever their lighthearted
desire may have been. Under stars that shone like the twinkling in a
newborn's eye, we had such a joyous time that it can hardly be
described. We were no longer within the reach of civility or social
duty, but without it we were not mean nor hurtful to one another, but
were playful and joyous, like children without a care in the world. Our
little games and frolics cannot be described with any accuracy, because
outside of the moment's happiness, they cannot be understood, as it was
a spiritual happiness, existing only in the spiritual realm. All that
could be described is the physical actions that were taken because of
that spiritual enjoyment, but that would do nothing to describe the
feeling of the night. It was one filled with more joy than anything I
have known as an adult, because we became as children in our trusting to
fate, and it was natural, befitting to our natures. Man is not meant to
worry, man is meant to be free from all boundaries, inward and outward,
man is meant to be ruled by only one desire: love of others.
As the night dwindled away, we grew tired, but instead of returning to
the city, we laid down wherever we were when we felt that we could
remain awake no longer, and fell to sleep instantly when we did. It was
not at all uncomfortable, for the sand was soft and a warm breeze blew
in from the water, and though as an adult I would have feared sleeping
so openly in the unknown, I was not at that time an adult.