Fair Semblances: An Allegorical Fantasy (Chapter 10)

The Springs of Elim, which the companions had stumbled upon in so timely a fashion, was the common designation for a very ancient and historically significant location, which had been lost to the world of mankind for so many generations that most men had begun to relegate it to the realms of fabled legend and baseless mythology. Its name first appears in the oldest histories of the Ancient Age, as they relate the terrible fate of the vast and powerful but utterly corrupt city-state of Zoar. According to these histories, when the wicked city was at the very height of its influence, the entire Desert of Salt was green and luxurious. But one day, a meteor fell from the sky into the midst of those green plains, dissolving on impact into a fine, acidic dust, that completely destroyed all the vegetation, and made bitter all the waters for hundreds of miles around. At the point of its impact, on the western edge of the city of Zoar, it opened up a chasm in the earth which was so vast that it quite swallowed up the entire city, with all its inhabitants, and buried it far beneath its acrimonious dust.

Only one man, by the name of Tol, survived this destruction. He had been away from the city and was just returning when the meteor struck, and he saw the cataclysm from afar, and immediately began to flee from the city. The poisonous fall-out of the meteor was destroying the green plains behind him, and closing in on him most rapidly, until it had almost destroyed him as well; but finally, seeing that he could not outrun the wave of desolation radiating out from the meteor’s impact, he made his last stand in some protected spot, and cried out in his despair for relief. According to the histories, a troop of phosphors, seeing him in such desperate straits, spread their wings out over him, and so shielded him from the poisonous dust which was falling all around. In this manner, he survived the destruction of the green plains of Zoar, and after several weeks, when the dust had settled, he set off from his life-preserving oasis, traveled across the scorched and ruined landscape, and made his way to the nearest habitation of men that had not been destroyed by the meteor.

The only other mention of the Springs of Elim, in the ancient histories, is the account to which Gilead referred in his conversation with Lebbaeus, of Reuel’s crossing the Desert of Salt with a small band of seasoned warriors, to bring assistance and victory to the sons of Eliakim. But the location of the Springs must have been forgotten very shortly after this event, and it had been unknown for so long now, as we have already observed, that most people looked upon the place as a mere fairy tale, invented for the amusement of children. But as our three heroes found out, standing at the hidden entrance to Elim and looking over its rich foliage, the Springs were in fact very real, and even greener and more beautiful than all the old legends made them out to be.

What the travelers saw, as they stood surveying the gorgeous vistas of the hidden oasis, was rendered all the more beautiful by virtue of its stark contrast with the bare, yellow rock walls surrounding it. The basin before them was perhaps three quarters of a mile across, and almost perfectly circular. The sandstone cliffs rose up to a dizzying height of some three or four hundred feet all around it, and they were so smooth and steep that it would have been unthinkable to attempt to scale them anywhere; if it hadn’t been for that narrow corridor winding its way through the base of the cliffs in that one hidden location, the Springs would have been utterly unapproachable from any direction.

The valley itself was beautiful beyond description: the grass grew thick and green, and was in most places at least as high as a horse’s withers. In several dense, crowded stands, a different type of grass towered high above the thick grass below, each stalk of which spread out in the shape of a palm frond, and arose to a height of about fifteen feet above the ground. In addition to these palm-grasses, there were seventy tall, stately palm trees scattered throughout the valley, all full of coconuts of a very prodigious size; and there were likewise fruit-bearing plants of every variety springing up plentifully from the moist, black earth, but no other trees of any kind.

The valley was thoroughly saturated by twelve springs of clear, sparkling water, welling up from underneath the base of the surrounding rock wall, and meandering in slow, limpid streams to the center of the oasis, where a pool of some twelve or fourteen feet across lay glinting in the sun, with its bed of soft, white sands sparkling underneath like the rarest of jewels. All three of the friends stood for a long time, utterly taken aback, and thinking they had never seen anything so beautiful anywhere upon earth. Then slowly, rapturously, they made their way down into the wet, grassy meadows, and kneeling down at the first stream they encountered, drank insatiably of its crystal contents. They had never tasted anything so sweet and refreshing.

* * * * * * * *

Later that night, just as dusk was beginning to obscure the sharp edges and fine lines of the trees and grasses in the valley, casting the whole landscape into a kaleidoscope of mellower hues than the broad daylight could accommodate but livelier than the pale moon could sustain, and all the soft breezes and chirps of the insects were wafting across the oasis in a mellifluous chorus, which seemed quite in keeping with the colors of the declining day, the three wanderers found themselves quite at rest, both in mind and body, and clean and refreshed for the first time since they began their long journey. Mishael and Ariel were half-reclined around a glowing bed of coals, upon which was roasting the sweet inner meat of one of the gourds that grew so plentifully in Elim. These gourds were a pale yellow, spotted and streaked with green, and made up of two spherical extremities, each about the size of a human head, joined together by a much narrower, cylindrical middle portion. The meat, which could be scraped out quite easily, was a deep orange, very aromatic, and a little bitter when raw, but quite delicious after it had been roasted. Up until a minute before, Gilead had been reclining at the fire with the other two, but he had just been struck with an idea of a different sort of use for the abundant supply of gourds, and had immediately set out to gather up as many as he could, and see if his plan would work. Mishael took up a charred stick lying beside him and began to stir up the coals, not that they needed it, but just because he had discovered long ago that some simple, repetitive physical motion could often clear his thoughts, and facilitate a more fruitful season of contemplation. He continued in this manner for awhile, staring into the coals and poking them around listlessly, and then finally broke the silence:

“Have all of you – I mean, you and Gilead and Lebbaeus and all the rest – have you all personally spoken with the High King?”

“Yes,” Ariel replied, in a tone warm with feeling; “when the High King sends anyone out as a seeker, he always commissions him personally, in a private audience.”

“When you met with him, were you frightened?”

“Oh, of course I was! Everyone is. But there’s a sort of fear that’s crippling and debasing, and another sort altogether that’s thrilling and strengthening; and this was definitely the strengthening kind of fear. And then, even though you’re scared to death at first, by the end of your time the fear has turned mostly into trust, although there’s still fear, too.” Here, she paused and thought a little, realizing that this last sentence must not have made much sense, and frustrated that she couldn’t find the words to describe what seemed so clear in her thoughts. “I guess, if someone is so great that you have to fear him, you’ll have all the more reason to trust him when you find out he’s for you. But someone that can’t be feared can’t be of any help, either, when you really need him.”

“I’m already scared to meet him,” Mishael confessed candidly, “and yet I want to anyhow. But I keep thinking, if he’s so good as everyone says, what could he see in me except a ridiculous mass of faults and weaknesses? And if he’s so great, why would he need anyone at all, especially someone so weak?”

“But I don’t think he’s for us because he needs us, or that he wants us because he sees something good in us. He’s for us because we need him, and he sees something good in us because he wants us first, and so he’s willing to make us good. If a celebrated chef wanted to grace you with his finest meal, would you honor him more by coming with all your spices, and trying to add something good to the dishes he places in front of you, or would you do better just to enjoy what he’s made, and bring joy to his heart by your own joyful appreciation of what he has done so well? Of course, if the chef cares for you, he’ll just want you to enjoy yourself, and not bring anything to try to help him out – and I think it’s the same way with the High King. We try to help him out by bringing our skills and talents, but that’s just offensive. All we really should do is rejoice in what he has given us, and realize that he can help us, but we can never help him, at least not in the same way.”

“What exactly has he given you that you can rejoice in?”, Mishael wondered, and then, thinking the question a bit rude, he blushed.

“Well most importantly,” Ariel responded promptly, not noticing his embarrassment, “he rescued us from Vrak, and purified and healed us from the deadly effects of wyrmwood, and brought us to Lebben-Or, where we finally found the real beauty we had been missing. And then, when he sends us out as seekers, he always gives each of us a gift, that turns out to be just the thing we need as we travel along.”

“What kind of gift?”, Mishael asked.

“There are all sorts of gifts that he gives, and none of them is ever quite the same, for each one is perfectly designed for its recipient. Tobiah has his horn, for instance, and it’s been the most useful thing for him, because he can use it to call for help when he’s in trouble, or sound a warning when he sees anyone else in any difficulty; and he can sometimes even use it to summon phosphors. So it’s just the sort of thing he needs, as he’s always charging off on his own somewhere, trying to rescue this or that stranded traveler, and finding himself more often separated from the company than anyone else is likely to be. Then, Tahath has his arrows which always fly straight and true, and if there should be any chink in the enemies’ armor, no matter how small, they will strike just the right spot; and as he’s always hanging back a little behind Ethan it works out quite well – I don’t know how many times Ethan has forged ahead into a very bad spot, and an arrow from Tahath has struck down a foe that’s been about to do him in. But the gifts are not always just things you can see and hold: for instance, Elkanah was given the understanding of the Ancient Tongue, which has provided us with much wisdom and guidance in our journey.”

“Is the torch Lebbaeus’ gift, then?”, Mishael wondered, trying to piece this all together.

“Oh, no,” Ariel responded, “the High King sends the light with every company of seekers, and it’s always had in community, never the responsibility of one person; although one person is designated its keeper, yet it takes the whole company to preserve the light of the torch, and put it to good use.”

Mishael continued his questioning: “So what gifts do you and Gilead have?”.

“Gilead has a vial of the healing balm of Lebben-Or, which never runs dry, so long as it’s used for good purposes. It has healed many wounds of the body, but its chief value is its ability to heal maladies of the spirit, and to restore hope and faith, when fears and doubts abound.” Here, Ariel made as if she would continue, but then stopped speaking.

Mishael was unsure whether he should ask again, but his curiosity proved to be too strong, so he reminded her, questioningly, “And yours?”.

“Mine?”, she said softly, almost pensively; “I have a song”.

This answer rather surprised Mishael. He had expected something a little more concrete, and could not fathom just what its usefulness would be, in practical terms. He couldn’t bring himself to put so blunt a query to her, however, so instead he asked a little more artfully, “And what are its words?”.

“They’re different every day,” Ariel replied, with the merest hint of a tranquil smile playing across her otherwise sober features. When I am doubting they are bold and energizing, when I am weary they are calm and peaceful, when I am dull they are beautiful and stirring. Only sometimes, the words and music respond to the condition of one who is near to me, and then I sing for him, and he is refreshed.

“And what of tonight?”, Mishael wondered, a little bashfully; “what would you sing tonight, with the desert behind and before us, and only a tiny little spot of beauty to sustain us along the way?”.

Ariel stared into the fire for a long time, then slowly began to sing, with a voice sounding far away and yet surpassingly near, in tones that grew and swelled, and then, seeming to faint of their own sweet loveliness, trembled and waned for a time, only to leap up and dance in an ecstasy of delight a moment later. Mishael felt as though his soul were wafted up on the tones of her melodies far above the high rock walls surrounding them, past the dreary, desolate desert, down to the rich plains of the south – and for a moment, he almost imagined that he could see the seven high, gleaming towers of Lebben-Or, and thought it the most beautiful vision he had ever caught sight of. The words of the song were simple enough, and had no obvious, overt prescriptions for their plight, nor any rallying cries to press onward in hope; and yet, when he heard them, the effect upon his spirit was the same as the effect that the oasis had had upon their parched tongues and faltering bodies. In a moment, he was refreshed and made whole, and readier to press on through the second half of the desert than he had been to enter the first half so many days before. The words, as well as he could remember them later, went like this:

“Then come away, my love,
Let the world rush on by;
While the heavens are fleeting above,
Come away, you and I:

“For the light fades on the plain,
And the lark flies to her nest,
And the fox seeks out his den, –
And I long for your breast.

“The night was made for rest:
I am aweary of day,
And would faint on your soft breast: –
My love, come away.”

As the last note died away, Gilead returned to the camp fire, dragging the fruits of his efforts behind him. Mishael heaved a deep sigh of peace and contentment, then turned again to the camp fire, where the gourd-meat was sizzling energetically, impatiently calling out its readiness to be eaten. Gilead settled down by the side of the fire, and the three of them enjoyed such a meal as they had not experienced in a very long time.

The travelers remained in their rejuvenating oasis for two weeks, gathering and smoking dry all sorts of fruits, and strips of meat from the yellow gourds. Gilead’s idea for these gourds turned out remarkably well, and they spent quite a bit of time cutting them in half, at their narrow centers which adjoined the two spherical portions, and scraping out the contents. Most of these shells they then filled with water, and a few with their provisions of dried fruit; and they soon discovered that the stalks of the palm grasses could be pared down on one end, and used to stop up the opening of the prepared gourds. After being in place for a few days, the stalks absorbed enough water that they swelled up and made a very close seal, quite watertight. Gilead also designed a travois, made of two sturdy stalks of palm grass, bound together with a net woven of the shorter grasses that abounded everywhere in the valley. This travois could be drawn by either one or two people, and was supplied with two cords of woven grass, ending in shoulder loops, which enabled them to drag it along behind them through the sand with a great deal of facility.

Finally, after their preparations were complete, the companions set off again from their temporary paradise, and entered the burning, merciless wilderness once more. They still had a very long journey to make, and they had no copiacorns to help them as before, but their morale was nevertheless quite high: they had already weathered so many difficulties, and they were so refreshed and energized from their season of rest, that they could not help but look on the hostile desert with an air of triumph and disdain. And so, very soon, they were trudging along as they had at first, day after dreary day pressing on through the scorching sands with visions of Lebben-Or and glorious success always goading them on, and fueling their high hopes.

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