Fair Semblances: An Allegorical Fantasy (Chapter 22)

Late that night, Mishael was walking alone through the streets of Lebben-Or, reflecting wistfully on the beauty of the city, the sense of absolute belonging that he had there within its walls, and the sad brevity of this first sight of it, which he had finally attained after so long and onerous a journey. “And can it be,” he wondered grimly, “that I have finally found my true place in this world, after so many struggles – but just to leave it at once and return to the wretched existence I had known before, where all is deception and turmoil and raving madness? Am I strong enough yet to face it all again, when all that should equip and inspirit me is still so unfamiliar? And yet, would the High King send me out if I were still unready? No, I must not be childishly fickle, but for him above all, and for Lebben-Or, and Tobias, and Ariel who remains behind – and indeed, for the conquest of the whole world, which comes as certainly as the dawn, but likewise as red with the courage and sacrifice of the seekers – for this, I must be strong, I must overcome. The path of ease never ends in pleasure, and the path of pleasure ever winds through pain; is that not the way of the world?” With these and many other like thoughts he was stirring up his soul to plow into the task ahead with never a hesitation or regret, come what may. And for those who do not yet know, there is no place like Lebben-Or in which to strengthen one’s resolve and steel one’s soul for the most trying of labors.

The city was pleasantly lighted with the soft glow of the moon and the stars, which danced from the crystal surfaces of the buildings and streets with an agreeable and relaxing ambience, and cast across the whole a sense of everlasting repose that was not dull or stagnant, but ever fresh, ever bringing forth new delights from a ceaseless store of exhilarating gladness. The very stars seemed to leap up in a unity of jubilation, and sang back and forth to each other of the eternal glories of the city upon which they delighted to shine. And the soul of Mishael answered back to this celestial chorus, and leaping up within him sang the same refrain, which he had never learned but already knew in the depths of his being, and had known from the moment he first stepped into Lebben-Or. In spite of the uncertainties of the future, he was at peace.

When he first saw Ariel, it took a moment to register in his consciousness that it was she. Her heart was fully one with the city’s tranquil atmosphere, and she seemed as natural a part of the living soul of Lebben-Or as the beautiful buildings and fruitful gardens all around. But gradually, he remarked that the figure ahead was in fact that of a person; and in particular, as he was immediately aware from the mystique to which his heart was irresistibly drawn rather than the mere delineation of the form, it was the figure of none but Ariel. With the unreservedness of an implicitly trusted and intimate friend he approached her, looked upon her from behind for a moment, and when she did not turn around, observed, “The city is very beautiful at night.”

“Yes,” she replied without surprise, as if she were already aware of his presence; “It has a way of calming troubled hearts.”

“There are many kinds of trouble, but only one cure,” Mishael responded; “And I have now found that cure. And it was largely through your devotion as a friend and faithfulness as an ambassador of the High King that I have found it. It has only been diffidence, and certainly not any lack of gratitude, that has kept me from thanking you as I should.”

“I do love this city,” she cried out suddenly and passionately, as she turned around to look him full in the face; “but to stay here just now, when the end is so close, and to know I have no part left to play in bringing about that cherished end, is more difficult than anything I have ever done. It has been so long, so long since the High King first sent us out as seekers of those who had been lost and imprisoned, sent us out to call them to Lebben-Or, and there to build of them a mighty army before which the forces of Vrak must tremble and fall. And when Vrak is finally defeated, the world will be changed, the vanity and maddening folly of it all finally done away forevermore. Oh, how I long for that day! The weight of generations hangs heavy on my heart, and now when the end is so close, when the ancient prophecies are being fulfilled, and triumph is so near I can taste it on my tongue, I want nothing more than to labor for that blessed, promised end. When all have been gathered, when the last tribe has been freed from darkness, the final battle will be fought and won – and all the misery and struggle and sorrow of myself and a thousand seekers before me will be vindicated and crowned with victory. It is so close, and now must I simply wait helplessly, and contribute nothing to the toils of those with whom I have labored all my life?”

“But your vision is too dim,” Mishael replied gently, “and your thoughts too narrow. All who have struggled will be rewarded, and is your struggle not the greatest of all? Well, then, your reward, too, will be the greatest, and the part you have played, which you cannot now see in the bitterness of your heart, will be manifest to all. You think your staying here is to no avail; but you would not have been wounded if you had not gone across the desert to bring me here; and if you had not gone with me, I would never have arrived. It was your song that sustained me in the wilderness and it was your song that led me out of Lusk. Now I go to my place in the struggle, but all that I accomplish you have accomplished just as truly through me. And besides, who knows what part you may have to play even here, which you may not yet understand.”

For a long time she stood looking at him, and while her lips remained silent, her eyes confessed the truth of his words. Finally, she took both his hands in her own, and holding them up to her bosom she said, “I must remain here, but my heart is in your hands; where you go, my heart travels with you.”

“And my heart remains with you in Lebben-Or,” Mishael murmured back to her. “But soon, we will be rejoined, and I pray we will never again be made to part.”

And clinging together as two lovers in a storm, they made their way back along the path from whence they had come, to the place from whence Mishael alone would set out the very next day, which was already beginning to arise in the East.

* * * * * * * *

It was just a few minutes later, in fact, when the company set out westward from the Beautiful City. There were just seven of them in the group, and to all who knew of the immense trials awaiting them, the high mountains they must cross, the fierce battles they must fight, and the desperate feats they must attempt, they seemed pitifully small. And yet, there was about them, and throughout all the city, an air of unwavering hope in the soon and triumphant return of them all.

The seven riders were mounted on seven white mules, the tallest and best from the stables of the High King, to whom the bitter cold of the mountain glaciers was as nothing, and the treachery of the rocky crags and icy slopes a matter of no great import. In addition to these mules, three of the riders were leading a wooly white sierran cordillera, the long-necked, cloven-footed mountain creatures who derived their very name from the ranges they inhabited. The cordilleras were all outfitted with large and rather unwieldy packs, beneath which they pranced along high-spiritedly, as if laden down with nothing but phantasms woven of fish’s breath and spider’s silk.

At the head of the company was Lebbaeus, the Keeper of the Light, with his ever-present torch strapped to his back, and his beard so long and white that he looked like nothing so much as one of the cordilleras following after. Behind him rode Ethan, whose beard was as black as Lebbaeus’s was white, and whose massive, two-handed sword rose up above his head in a very intimidating attitude. He was followed immediately by his cousin and inseparable companion Tahath, whose deadly bow was as renowned as Ethan’s sword; and behind them were the unperturbable Elkanah and his wise and brooding son Azariah. Finally, bringing up the rear, Gilead and Mishael, who had become friends almost as inseparable as the cousins ahead, were trotting along side by side. The whole company was attired in white, in anticipation of the snowy mountains among which their painstaking inconspicuousness would first be required; but the cloaks of each were on the inside the usual mundane earth tones worn at all other times, and intended for the rest of their journey, when (and if) they succeeded in crossing the high southern peaks of the imposing Draconian mountains.

For three days they traveled along at a pace as rapid as Lebbaeus deemed prudent, and by the end of the third day, they had already begun to ascend the highest foothills before the mountains. The whole company was in a very light-hearted and optimistic frame of mind all this time, and the privations of the coming quest seemed so far off to them as scarcely to cast a shadow on their present merriment. The next day, however, would be concluded with a series of misfortunes sufficient to sow a seed of doubt in the sturdiest hearts of them all, which would soon blossom into a gloomy outlook of despair that would not finally leave them for the remainder of their journey.

First of all, about midway through the fourth day, the back hoof of one of the mules slipped into a crack between two rocks and was stuck fast; and in struggling to dislodge it, he slipped with his front hooves off another smooth rock and fell to the ground, shattering his trapped leg in the process. Of course, there was no option but to put a merciful end to his life, and continue along as best they could manage. After a little deliberation, it was decided that they should travel along with six of the company riding and one walking, rotating through the ranks so that everyone should walk on foot throughout one part of the day. The mule that suffered this luckless accident happened to be Mishael’s, and so he had the dual misfortune of enduring the hardship of negotiating the mountain terrain on foot when it was his own turn to walk, and also of feeling guilty whenever it was anyone else’s turn.

Then, in the late afternoon, just when they were about to conclude their crossing of the first truly difficult ridge, a rock slide, from which they narrowly escaped without losing the whole company, overtook the last animal in the train, one of the cordilleras who were carrying the necessary supplies. This one in particular had been carrying, among a variety of other small items, a collection of swords and daggers, which Lebbaeus had hoped to distribute among the company when they were closer to enemy territory, a considerable portion of the food, and worst of all, every one of the reserve supply of arrows for Tahath’s bow, so that he was left with none but the few he had with him in his quiver. From that point on, and quite uncharacteristically, the usually confident and impetuous cousin of Ethan became brooding and depressed, and a bitter light, which was almost malignant, glowed in his eyes all the time.

Finally, when they were about to stop for the night, they realized they were not alone. They had not expected to meet any resistance when they were still this near to Lebben-Or; but in spite of their hopes to the contrary, they all suspected that the company beginning to surround them was not at all friendly. That night they would find out just how right they were.

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