Fair Semblances: An Allegorical Fantasy (Chapter 8)

Later that night, as the men were finishing up with the packing of the copiacorns, Mishael left the center of the camp, sat down on the grass, which was already wet with the dew, and looked up into the heavens. He had never really appreciated the stars when he lived in Fair Semblances. For one thing, there was always something of a mist in the skies, and they could rarely be seen with any clarity; and then, they just seemed so far away, so inconsequential and separate from life in the valley. But tonight, when he looked up into the nighttime skies, the stars so captivated his attention that he was almost distracted from the magnitude of the quest that lay before him. There seemed to him to be so many stars that the white points of light almost covered a greater area of the heavens than the black spaces in between; and he imagined that they were all looking down upon him intently, wondering what should become of him, rooting for him to be successful in his wild endeavor.

Hearing a movement behind him, Mishael turned around and saw that Ariel had come up to him. He looked at her, but didn’t say anything.

“It’s almost hard to believe that this is all happening,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “Do you doubt that you did the right thing to come here through the Impenetrable Thicket?”

“No, I don’t,” Mishael said softly, but firmly. It surprised him that he responded with such conviction, but at the same time, he knew with all his heart that, if he had the opportunity to do it all over again, he would have made the same decision.

“We may not make it,” Ariel continued, “but in any case, it is better to die in the service of the King than to live in the bondage of the Enemy. They who died well are now more alive than they who still live poorly.”

Mishael realized, suddenly, that he was truly alive, for the first time in his life. He had been living in a pitifully small and meaningless dream, a deceptive and concocted reality, up until the moment when he had broken through the Impenetrable Thicket. Now, he knew what life was, knew what the world was, understood reality; and even if there was much evil and ugliness in the world, he knew intuitively that the truth, no matter how hard and painful it could be, would always be more valuable and satisfying than the most delicious dream that was dissevered from what was real and abiding. “And besides,” he thought to himself, “there is beauty here too, and much that is good”.

“Do you suppose that what we love, what is good and beautiful, would be as pleasing to us if there were no evil in the world?”, Mishael asked Ariel a few seconds later. “I mean, would we appreciate everything we enjoy now if we did not have to go through difficulty and opposition to obtain it? I never realized how beautiful the stars could be, how full of joy and wonder, until I went through all the troubles of the past couple of days just to be here, where I can sit and look at them. And even the jewelers know that a diamond will shine more enticingly if it is placed on a backdrop of the blackest velvet. Perhaps evil is really just a great, black backdrop that shows us how much good and beauty there is to be discovered. Still,” he continued, a little unsure of himself, “I would be glad if there were a little less evil around, even if it meant that the backdrop would not be quite so black.”

“Someday there will be no more evil,” Ariel responded, “and that will be the best thing of all. Still,” she added thoughtfully, “you may be right. But perhaps it is only the memory of evil that makes the best backdrop for the diamond-mercies of living in the City of the King. Perhaps the velvet is only now being woven, and when it is complete, then the role of evil will be ended, and it will exist no more.”

Mishael thought that, for all his uncertainty, and for all the difficulty he had framing these new thoughts and ideas in intelligible speech, Ariel had understood him perfectly, and he was very pleased at the thought.

For the second time that night, Mishael heard a movement and looked behind him. This time, Gilead had come up to them. At first, Mishael did not say anything to Gilead, either, but the thought struck him that, in so little time, he had already grown to respect him more for his calm confidence, quiet courage, and simple wisdom, than he had ever respected anyone before in a lifetime of observation in Fair Semblances. “I suppose such friends may be found only here, in the real world,” Mishael thought to himself; “and even for that reason alone, it was the right thing to go through the Thicket”. And on that night, after so brief an acquaintance, Mishael really did consider Gilead a true friend, and felt blessed beyond measure to be undertaking this adventure with no one else at his side.

“It is time,” Gilead said, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, but strong and firm. “the copiacorns are packed, and the night is fleeting away. We must leave at once.”

And a few minutes later, after the last goodbyes and parting words of encouragement and advice, the three companions stepped out of the torch’s white light, and took the first small step of what they hoped would become countless thousands, on their desperate flight to the southeast, where the almost illimitable reaches of the desolate Desert of Salt stretched out before them, holding such bleak and lonely vistas as they could not even imagine, and the merest hope of success at the long journey’s end.

* * * * * * * *

At first, the companions had hoped to travel by night and hide away from the burning sun and the prying eyes of the Enemy in the day; but after a few days, they were beginning to discover that this would really be impossible. The desert landscape was much more complex and dangerous than they had previously thought – Mishael had imagined a perfectly level and unchanging sweep of sand and dust stretching out endlessly before them – and they soon discovered that they needed the light of day to negotiate it safely. There were deep, narrow chasms opening up unexpectedly in the ground before them, and a seemingly tireless wind was constantly blowing a fine, white alkali dust along the surface of the ground, which served to veil the land’s finer features. Already twice, one of the companions had very nearly plunged into one of the gaping chasms before them, and one of those times, the only thing that saved Mishael was a very slight projection in the wall of the chasm, which he managed to catch with his foot, to keep himself from plummeting into the bottomless depths below, until Gilead arrived to pull him up by his wrist.

And so, day after dreary day, the sojourners trudged along through the burning sand and scorching winds, delicately picking out a way around all the chasms and rocky outcroppings that broke up the monotony of level sands and barren, windswept alkali plains. Although they were well protected from the sun, the wind was a much more difficult enemy, and it seemed that, no matter how closely they wrapped themselves up with the folds of their long, loose robes, it managed to find a way to coat their skin with the fine, abrasive sands and acidic dust that abounded everywhere. All in all, it was a very unpleasant journey.

Still, the three friends remained in high spirits, and were quite optimistic about the outcome of their quest. Mishael had become so fond of the two siblings that he believed himself much happier in the desert with them than he could have been anywhere else without them. Ariel, especially, had quite captured his heart, and he imagined that she grew lovelier every day, in spite of the harsh conditions surrounding her. He often thought of her as a desert-flower, a spot of matchless beauty in the midst of the most barren place on earth, and supposed that, if men but knew what she was like, they would all be willing to brave the fierce wilderness just for the merest glimpse of her unrivaled loveliness. Of course, he never quite had the courage to say any of that out loud, but sometimes, when he was looking at her, she would catch his eye and grace him with the merest hint of a smile; and at those times, he suspected that she knew exactly what he was thinking, and wondered if it pleased her.

For forty long, monotonous days they continued their journey with no interruptions; and they were finally becoming a little nervous about their prospects. The precious water was running low, the copiacorns were sluggish and parched, and apparently could not survive more than two or three days without water, and there was absolutely no change in the scenery, nor any hint of some hidden oasis or spring. Furthermore, by Gilead’s best reckoning, they were scarcely more than halfway through the vast desert, and they would certainly not be able to survive for another forty days without some rest and replenishment. Mishael was beginning to realize that adventure was not quite the romantic, exciting affair he had thought it would be, but consisted mostly of drudgery and insufferable dullness.

On the fortieth day of their journey, as Mishael was plodding along and thinking dejectedly of how slim their chances for success were becoming, he noticed movement far off to his left, and began to scrutinize the horizon. At first, he saw nothing further, and was beginning to think he had dreamed it up; but then, he saw again what almost looked like one of the great, sand-colored boulders that were scattered about here and there, only it was quite definitely moving parallel with them, at such a pace as just to keep up. Mishael motioned to Gilead.

“There’s something about a hundred yards to our left, moving along with us. I can’t quite make out what it is.”

“Yes,” Gilead replied, nodding; “and there are at least two more of them on the other side. I think they might be surrounding us, whoever – or whatever – they might be.”

They did not have to wonder for long; for very soon thereafter, the men – they did turn out to be men, riding along on camels – drew up next to them, in a circle, so that they were surrounded indeed. Mishael thought, with a bit of irony, that surrounding them was really quite superfluous, for there was nowhere for them to flee anyway. He counted twelve of them, altogether, but wasn’t sure if there were more of them anywhere else.

“Have you got a writ of permission to be traveling through our kingdom?”, inquired the rider whom Mishael had first seen, in a scornful, mocking tone. He was attired as the rest of them, wrapped up in a loose, sand-colored robe, with only his eyes and the bridge of his nose, which happened to be very red and pockmarked, exposed to view. His eyes were small and close-set, and gleamed with an unveiled malice. A large, evil-looking scimitar was strapped to his back, with the handle reaching just above the level of his head; and glancing around, Mishael noted that the rest of them were also armed similarly.

“We did not realize that we needed one,” Gilead replied calmly; “but we are willing to do whatever is necessary to obtain one”.

“In that case,” the camel-rider said sarcastically, “you must return to our office at the edge of the desert, fill out the paperwork, and bring it back here to me. Or perhaps, if you are willing to pay a very modest fee, I might be willing to overlook the irregularity, and guarantee a safe-conduct.”

“This is the only thing we have of value,” Ariel said, removing the clasp of her belt, which was beautifully fashioned in the design of two eagles, who came together to fasten the belt. “It is solid gold, and is worth quite a lot, I should imagine.”

“Well, well, well,” the rider chuckled scornfully, taking the proffered clasp, “I suppose we can allow the lady to continue, for such a price; but what of the other two? Surely, you don’t suppose I can allow you to go for free? Not that I wouldn’t love to help you out, but policy is policy, after all. So, what do you have to offer?”, he asked, looking spitefully at Gilead, whom he supposed to be the leader of the group.

“As the lady has already noted,” Gilead replied with an air of unruffled self-possession, “we have nothing else of value. However, we would be glad to offer payment, in exchange for any services you could provide, as soon as we reach our destination.”

“Unfortunately,” the unpleasant rider sneered, “I can no longer accept credit. Too many bad experiences, you understand. And I think you might be rather more valuable than you think, after all. Shema!”, he barked out commandingly, turning to the rider nearest him, “why do you suppose anyone would be traveling through our country, on foot, and ridiculously under-supplied?”

“It seems they might be running from someone,” the rider called Shema responded with a laugh. Apparently, he already knew where the conversation was headed.

“And do you think whoever that someone is should be glad to see them again?”, the dominant rider continued.

“Oh very glad, indeed,” Shema answered again, still laughing. He seemed quite amused by this whole exchange.

“Do you suppose that he should be glad enough to see them all safe and sound, that he would be willing to pay the very modest debt they seem to have incurred, by traveling through our land without a writ of permission?”

“Oh, I suspect he would be more than willing to accept the responsibility of so nominal an expenditure.” He was still giggling, almost like a schoolgirl, and the effect was absurd and rather disgusting.

“Or perhaps,” the leader continued, “we could just sell them at the slave market in Lusk.” It was obvious that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. He seemed to be one of those people who delight to torment others, and to rub it in whenever they happen to be in control of a situation, because they suppose it proves their essential superiority. Mishael was beginning to suspect that they made their living by kidnapping and selling others, and that the desert was their safe retreat, whenever they were pursued by any authorities.

“Or maybe,” the spiteful man continued, with a suggestive sneer, “Vrak himself would be interested in our new friends here. I hear he’s been in quite a mood lately. Seems to have lost something of considerable value to him.”

At this, Ariel paled visibly, and the rider, who was likely a very cunning and observant man, in spite of his coarseness, noticed immediately, and almost squealed in glee.

“Yes, so that’s it after all!”, he shouted, obviously delighted. “It’s just as I suspected! Vrak will be willing to pay very dearly for our little refugees.” For the first time since he began this conversation, he was speaking without sarcasm, and the debased and perverted pleasure of his twisted soul glinted in his eyes, entirely undisguised.

Still chuckling, the rider’s dull-witted assistant dismounted, and very soon thereafter had the three travelers chained securely to each other, with the end of the chain tied off to his saddle. Then, clambering back up awkwardly (he was a large, unwieldy sort of fellow), he set off behind the leader of the caravan, who was traveling westward by this time, very nearly in the opposite direction from that in which the companions were hoping to go. They trudged along silently, and tried not to jerk each other unnecessarily, which was a difficult enough task to keep them occupied, as the chains binding them together were vexingly short.

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