Tales of Midbar: Secret Priest

“But he wrote new scriptures,” objected one of the younger priests.

“No, his followers did but they had to record his life and teachings and some prophecies of theirs,” said Tom. “Anybody can say, ‘I’m a prophet’ or ‘I’m an avatar’, as Nuhar did, but to have others recognize you as an avatar is another matter. They never rejected the old scriptures, at least not officially, unlike Nuhar who claimed Yohoists and Winemakers had corrupted their scriptures so Nuharas mostly ignore them.”

“Basically you’re just saying what Winemakers have been telling us for centuries,” said the old priest.

“I’ve never heard about his community or his defense of our scriptures before,” said Dwendra, “but I have met followers of his who keep Yoho’s festivals and other laws Winemakers normally ignore.”

“We’re still left with the fact that Yoho’s avatar still relies on a story about a man who lived on a planet thousands of light years away three thousand years ago,” said Frawnnil. “How can we possibly believe that?”

“You believe in Kindras,” said Dwendra, “who lived on the same planet twenty thousand years ago.”

“Nobody claims Kindras lived in a secret low tech society that mysteriously survived a nuclear war,” said Frawnnil.

“Well I think I’ve heard enough,” said Dwendra. Then she turned to me and asked, “Anything you need to know?”

“Yoho’s basically a figment of your imagination?” I asked.

“Of course not!” said Frawnnil. He turned to Dwendra and said, “He isn’t worthy ...”

“It’s just you said you could outvote him,” I said, “how exactly does that work? Is he a real god who’s democratic because none of the others are?”

“It’s not just anybody voting, it’s scholars,” said the old priest.

“What makes somebody a scholar?”

“Er, well they’re very learned.”

“Well I get higher marks than most the other kids at my school and I’m also an anav from your future so does that qualify?”

“No you must have spent years studying the Book of Scholars.”

“Dwendra then?”

“No she’s a woman!”

“That’s sexist! I have a lot of problems with Trulism but one thing I agree with them about is that women and men are equal and women should be treated well.”

“Trulist scripture advocates rape,” said the old priest.

“But only Briad worshipers follow that bit.”

“What is it you want to know exactly?”

I thought for a few seconds and then asked, “Yoho controls everything right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“So if a bunch of scholars got together and voted the law of conservation of energy was no longer in effect, could we then have perpetual motion machines?”

The priest turned bright red and the others looked horrified.

“You presume to marry Dwendra!” screamed the priest. “Then you make a mockery of Yohoism!”

“No, you’ve made a mockery of your religion,” said Tom, towering over Frawnnil, “by claiming your scholars have authority over your god.”

“You weren’t here when we talked about that,” said Frawnnil. “Unless, no I’d have felt you.”

“I think we agree on this,” Dwendra said to me, “so we don’t need to discuss it with them.”

“You expect us to breed an anav priest for you if you’re going to reject the Scholars!” said the old priest.

“I’m your only hope,” said Dwendra. “Anyway, it’s too late. You did it, will do it and now I know that, I can’t change it. Let’s go!”

I was rudely awakened by somebody shouting, “Any magi here!”

Where was I? Vineyard dog house!

“I’m a mage,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “Well only just.”

Breeze had been busy with the conference the previous day but she’d given Dwendra and myself enough associates to make us level two magi and given us training we could do without her. We’d also had some sleep to catch up on as well as trying to reconcile our religious views (we both agreed that we couldn’t accept Trulism, Nuhara or Rofari).

The door of my room opened and an anav entered. “We’re possibly under attack! Get dressed and report to the car park as fast as possible!”

I got to the car park and found a small group of anavim. Some of them looked like Vineyard residents and I recognized Mountain, and Dwendra was also there.

“We’re being attacked by an unknown enemy,” said Mountain as I arrived, “so we’re beefing up security. How much experience do you have?”

“Well I was equipped to level two yesterday,” I said. “And only learnt to teleport a short time before that.”

“Go up hill and find Kerdac!” said Mountain, poiting up the hill. “He should be about where the Opuntias end and the Echinocereus start!” He turned to Dwendra and a couple of other anavot and said, “We’ll put you girl’s on support. Go to the boundary and rotate to your right. Try to keep quiet and look for anybody coming in from outside!”

I knew Kerdac was a son-in-law of the apostle.

Opuntia is a genus (the Semic scientific name has been translated as the Latin scientific name) of cacti, more-or-less synonymous with prickly pears. Echinocereus is a genus of small cacti, mostly with clumps of sausage shaped stems. They produce fruit that tastes like strawberries.

As a Paxian and a Trulist, I’ve always thought that war was bad and battles best avoided. I’ve never understood people who wanted to join the military and anyway, I thought I was the sort who’d probably be killed by guys he was training with before even reaching the battlefield. Although I had problems with Nuhara and felt its followers got unfairly favorable treatment, I was uncomfortable with the nationlistic, racist and religionist sentiments that often accompanied anti-Nuhara arguments. Then I also knew that to some extent this was propaganda to supress verbal and literary attacks on Nuhara.

The battle of Minris was horific, many people were killed and quiet a few others injured. Some people I knew thought bravely in it; Breeze, Ice, Eleprin, even Egrindreth (who’d had a lot more training in using psychic powers and magic than I had) and Vrenloa. However, it was also the sort of thing that people would later be proud to have been involved with and would look forward to telling their grandchildren the story. If my grandchildren are reading this, sorry, I spent the battle using my magic to defend myself against Opuntia glochids and looking out over a field of Echinocereus for an attack that never came. Instead I just watched insects visiting Echinocereus flowers which mostly looked blue with green stigmas as it was the third day of the light cycle in summer, and therefore blue day. Every so often an anavah, sometimes Dwendra, would come round to check on me and provide me with snacks and drinks. Maybe the enemy detected me and thought me too formidable an opponent to fight but I doubt it. I suppose I can proudly say that I was obeying orders.

I’ll also apologize to my readers, grandchildren or not, but I will say that at least one person who was in the battle has written an account and suggest that you read that.

Glochids are those small hairs that get stuck in you when you come into contact with an Opuntia or one of their relatives.