Fair Semblances: An Allegorical Fantasy (Chapter 20)

All that night, Mishael slept very fitfully in Gilead’s little abode, high above the city streets. When he was asleep, he would have strange, vivid dreams, in which the lofty towers of Lebben-Or, the homely dwellings of the happy cottagers, the serenity of Winsome Forest, and the awful, relentless fires of the Chasm of Wrath far beneath the Beautiful City were all mingled together, and passed before him one after another, in a ceaseless parade that left his spirit in a state of breathless exhilaration, until he would finally wake with a jolt, and wandering out to the little terrace connected to his room, gaze out upon the city’s unrivaled splendor. The crystal streets and structures all around caught the light of the moon so adeptly that their reflections seemed to magnify its soft glow; and while there were no artificial lights to be seen, the pale luminescence of the moon and stars alone lit up the vistas below far more gently and thoroughly than the harsh lights of Lusk had been able to accomplish. There, the nighttime city had been a cacophonous mixture of glaring brilliance and deep, Stygian shadows; but here, there was only perfect, mild illumination without stark change or abrupt borders. There, the atmosphere of the night had been tended toward a feeling of desperate, fleeting excess; but here, the feeling was one of eternal calm and an unending joy not subject to the backlash of disappointment or pain.

Although Mishael passed the greater part of the night in this condition, and could not have slept more than an hour or two at a time, he still awoke for the last time, just after daybreak, feeling more refreshed and energetic than he could remember ever having felt before in all his life. All he could think about, as he put on the white linen robes that had been left for him and joined Gilead for a simple breakfast, was that today he would meet the High King, of whom he had heard so much from all the company; and the sort of trembling joy and disbelieving certainty that he felt all this time is unknowable to anyone who has never had the same experience.

“Good morning,” Gilead greeted him, as he walked through the door to the dining room. “I hope you slept well.” Mishael nodded silently in affirmation.

“Go ahead and grab a bite to eat,” Gilead continued, “and then I’ll take you to Celestial Tower, to meet the High King. When you first go before him, you must go alone; and the only place where he will receive you is from the seat Kapporeth, in the room Qodesh. No one may approach him when he is on the seat Dikastes, in the palatial throne room (which you saw for a moment yesterday), until he has first been received from the seat Kapporeth. But take courage, for he always receives anyone who comes to him in this fashion, and will turn away only those foolish enough first to approach him when he is on the seat Dikastes. This is the most important thing for you to remember. Fail on this one point, and your doom is certain.”

“The room Qodesh may be found in the highest level of Celestial Tower. It is a perfect cube of fifty feet on all three dimensions; and in it are only two things: in the center is the tree called Zoe; its roots are in the burning coals which the High King brought back from the fiery Chasm of Wrath, and its trunk burns ceaselessly to its midpoint but is never consumed. Above, its leaves are green, and it is laden with delicious fruits that nourish the body and the soul; and as soon as a fruit is picked, another springs up to replace it. At the top of the tree is the bright star called Ruakh, which fills the room with light; and at the bottom of the tree, in the midst of the glowing coals, is the Knife of Compassion, which the High King forged from the irony boughs of the Tree of Wyrmwood. The second thing in the room Qodesh is only the seat Kapporeth, where the High King receives all who come to him. Beneath this seat, he keeps a never-ending supply of rich gifts, which he gives to all who bow before him there. It is there you must go now, to bow before him on the seat Kapporeth and see what he would have you do.

Soon, Mishael and Gilead were drawing up before Celestial Tower, in the center of Lebben-Or; and with a last farewell, Mishael took his leave of Gilead, and began to ascend the steps of the staircase Mesites, which led to the highest room of the tower, Qodesh. The journey was quite long, and Mishael became more excited and more terrified at every step. When he finally arrived at the highest level, his heart was in such a whirlwind of fierce emotions that he could scarcely breathe. As he entered the highest level, he found himself in a small, triangular vestibule, with a plain white wall facing him, in the center of which was an open doorway, with a sign above it that simply read, “Enter, all who will”. Mishael paused a moment in uncertainty, and almost turned around and fled back again in the direction he had come; but at last, taking a deep breath, he stepped through the doorway.

When he entered the room Qodesh, he found it exactly as Gilead had told him, fifty feet cubed, with the tree Zoe in the center, and the seat Kapporeth just in front of it. The High King was even then sitting upon the seat; and when Mishael first saw him, he was overwhelmed with a sensation that he was looking upon what he could later only describe as “the commingling of utterly diverse excellencies”. On the one hand, he was terrified with a sense of the majestic glory, unconquerable power, and fierce strength of the King, so that he was almost completely overwhelmed for a moment. But then, he immediately experienced a gentle, reviving breeze of deeply sympathetic compassion and mercy, and saw in the glowing eyes of the High King, as they turned upon him, a meekness and surpassing condescension, that lived in and under the piercing wisdom and uncompromising purity of the penetrating gaze. He was at once the most humble and unterrifying person Mishael had ever encountered, and he felt completely at ease in baring before him his entire soul; but he was at the same time glorious and exalted beyond description. A vision flashed into Mishael’s mind of a tender young lamb in the midst of a pack of wolves, which willingly lay down before them, and let itself be devoured; but then, just as its lifeblood was flowing freely from its throat, its form was changed into that of a terrible lion, which sprang up and destroyed the wolves without mercy. The vision ended, and Mishael cried out inarticulately, and fell down on his face before the High King.

The rest of the encounter passed as a dream; visions and realities were all mingled together, so that Mishael did not know for sure when he was dreaming and when he was utterly awake. But the events which transpired, in dream or reality, were like this:

At first Mishael could not lift his head, but only cried out in terror; but then, the High King left his seat on Kapporeth, stooped down, lifted up Mishael’s head with his hand, and holding it to his bosom, he tenderly comforted him, as his mother had done when he was just a child. Then, drawing the Knife of Compassion from the roots of the tree Zoe, he seized upon Mishael’s right wrist and pierced his veins, which at once began to flow freely with his lifeblood. Mishael then swooned, and found himself in the midst of a deep, terrifying dream.

In his dream, Mishael was falling facedown into a deep, fiery pit; and he could hear the screams of the accursed, and feel the heat of the flames on his face. Just before he plunged into the swirling, flaming lake beneath him, a dragon of immense size and terrible features sprang up and seized him in its jaws, and was about to thrust him down into the depths of the Chasm. But then, before he had dragged him under, the High King appeared, and laying hold of the dragon by the jaws he forced his mouth open, snatched Mishael out, and flung him back out of the pit. Then, still entangled, the dragon and the High King plunged together beneath the surface of the lake, and disappeared.

For a long time, Mishael wept bitterly; but then, suddenly, he saw the High King arising out of the Chasm, with the head of the Dragon in one hand, and the Knife of Compassion in the other. The King looked sorrowfully at Mishael for a moment, then said sadly, as if to himself, “The poison of Wyrmwood is now in his veins.” A tear dropped from his eye, as he raised the Knife above his head; and Mishael cowered in terror, awaiting the blow.

It never fell; but just as Mishael opened his eyes, he saw the High King plunging the Knife into his own heart. He then drew it out, took Mishael’s right hand, which was already pierced and gushing blood, and held it to his bosom. Mishael felt the life-giving blood flow back into his veins from the heart of the King, and he regained his strength, and awoke.

When he came back to his senses, the High King was seated on the Seat Kapporeth, and gazing at Mishael with eyes of fierce compassion.

“You are mine,” he said in a voice of softness mingled with unbreakable strength; “and As I have called you, so you have come. I have a task for you which will be beyond your strength; but when your strength all fails, then you will find you are strong indeed, and the very armies of Vrak will melt before you. To assist you in your journey, I have chosen for you as a gift this mirror of discernment. Keep it always with you; for as long as your heart is pure, it will show you what is true and what is false; only be sure your heart does not become corrupt, for then it will lead you further astray. He that is pure will grow ever more pure; but imposters will be found out. Now return, and meet with your friends in my company; they will make clear the task to which I have called you, and assist you to complete it. To him who is victorious, the rewards are everlasting. Farewell for now; but soon we shall meet again.”

Mishael bowed low to the ground, and stood back up; and when he arose, he felt a strength and courage flooding his soul, and the depths of joy into which he then plunged, just as in his vision he had plunged into the depths of fiery terror and despair, can be known by none but they who have seen the High King face-to-face.

With his gift, the mirror of discernment, hanging from his neck, and a radiant hope and certain joy burning in his heart, he made his way back down, from what he had supposed was only a vision; but suddenly, remembering the tainted blood which had flowed so freely from his mutilated wrist, he glanced down, and saw there a deep scar, already fully healed, where his skin but an hour before had been smooth and unbroken.

* * * * * * * *

From that day on, Mishael was as a new man. Before, he had wavered in uncertainty; now, his conviction was firm and immovable. Before, he had thought always of himself, and even his remorse had been vain and self-gratifying; now, he knew deeply and experientially what it was like to feel for others the same compassion that the High King had shown him, a compassion which was unchanged by the failures and treachery of others, the same sort of compassion that Gilead, Ariel, and the rest of the company had shown to him so inexplicably before. Now, this is not to say that he never doubted or withheld compassion again; but he was fundamentally different, so that the whole course of his life and tenor of his being moved irresistibly toward those very different qualities, albeit with many a check and reversal; whereas before his whole life had tended in the opposite direction, with only a few rare and short-lived exceptions. In a word, as Gilead had mentioned the day before, Mishael was now fully one of them. His heart was one with theirs, and their struggle had now become his. And he and they alike would need the mutual strength and encouragement of one another for the task that lay before them, which would prove to be difficult indeed, and would almost swallow them up entirely. But of that task, and how they entered into it, and what became of them in the end, I will now venture to relate in some more detail, if the reader will be so gracious as to bear with me through the second part of our tale.

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