Changing the Prophecy Chapter Seven Episode 2

 

Chapter 7 The Prophet of the Khoum -- Episode 2

“Reggie. Dad,” Sonjay continued, “Tell me about the High Shaman of Khoum.”

A perplexed look crossed Reggie’s face. “Where to begin?” He paused, thinking. “Well, about two hundred years ago…”

“Two hundred years ago!” Sonjay interrupted. “Please start this story a little closer to now.”

“Patience, boy,” Crumpet said. “We’re not in a hurry to go anywhere.”

“As I said, two hundred years ago, there was a quiet boy who kept to himself. Some people thought he was an intuit at first since he said almost nothing and when he did speak, he spoke only in phrases of few words, often cryptic, much like the intuits speak. But he wasn’t an intuit. When he turned sixteen, he left his home at the Wolf Circle and went to live in a cave in the Amber Mountains.”

Buttercup interrupted to say, “He had started his training as an enchanter by then and he was remarkably good.”

Reggie continued. “Yes. He was one of the best, and his teachers expected him to become a powerful enchanter one day. But he abandoned his training and spent nearly fifteen years virtually alone in the caves. He would occasionally return to the Wolf Circle for supplies, to find out the latest news of activities in the land, and to visit his family. During the time that he lived in the caves, he wrote the Mystical Book. When he emerged from the caves, he had the appearance of one much older than his years. He returned to the Wolf Circle where he invited four enchanters much older than he to study the Mystical Book with him and to learn how to use it.”

“You forgot to mention,” Buttercup interjected, “that while he lived in the caves, he also created the Book of Healing (commonly called the herbal), which your sister carries and your Aunt Alice carried before her.

“The herbal?” Sonjay repeated. Sonjay knew the book that Doshmisi carried contained powerful enchantment.

“Yes,” Reggie confirmed. “He constructed the herbal specifically for the greatest healer in the land and presented it to her when he was not much more than thirty years old. During his lifetime, he trained four Prophets of the Khoum, using the Mystical Book as their guide. I have that Mystical Book in my possession.”

Buttercup’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.

“Here? You have it here?” Crumpet demanded.

Reggie nodded his head.

“But it disappeared a hundred years ago with the last living Prophet of the Khoum, who left the Wolf Circle one night and never returned,” Crumpet recounted.

“True that. I have learned that the last Prophet did not leave the Wolf Circle of his own free will. Someone kidnapped him and placed him in this cell,” Reggie informed them.

“How do you know?” Buttercup asked.

Reggie produced a small, worn book with a maroon leather cover that had gone soft from handling. “This is the Mystical Book. The original. When Sissrath locked me in this cell, I went over every inch of it in search of a way to escape. I checked every brick, and I discovered that one of the bricks moved. When I slid it out, I found the book. The book contains a message written in the front cover by the last Prophet of the Khoum. He described his kidnapping. Sadly, he wrote that if he died in this cell, he didn’t want the book to fall into the wrong hands. So he hid it behind the brick. I began to study the book and to engage in the practices of mystical thought. I’m no enchanter, but I have learned mind and body control and I have gained knowledge of certain spiritual practices. One night, I entered the dreams of Sissrath in the form of the High Shaman of Khoum. Scared the living daylights out of him.” Reggie chuckled at the memory. “It was one of my better moments. They have been few and far between.”

“It didn’t take Sissrath long to figure it out. He almost took the book from me,” Reggie continued. “But Sissrath doesn’t know how to use the Mystical Book and it refuses to open to his commands. I suddenly became extremely useful to him. So we started playing what I think of as ‘The Game’. He would need an answer and I would negotiate for comforts. That is how I happen to have such a lovely den here in this dungeon. We have had many stalemates over the years. Certain things I refused to tell him. Certain things he refused to do for me. But I have survived. This book saved my life. I regret that I could not find a way to free myself and return to my children. I have clung to my faith that one day I would see my children again.” Tears shone in Reggie’s eyes. “Today is that day. Sonjay stands before me. And I have faith that I will see the others one day too.”

“It could happen,” Sonjay agreed. “We got separated during the passage into Faracadar, but I bet they’re in the land somewhere. If we can escape from this cell, I think we’ll find them before long.”

“Escape from this cell? I speak from experience when I say that’s not easy,” Reggie warned.

“We almost just rescued you. Escape is easier now because Sissrath’s Special Forces have gone with Compost to blockade Big House City and Sissrath has made the glorious mistake of leaving these foolish Corportons in charge here at the Final Fortress. They don’t have the power of enchantment,” Crumpet said.

“Neither do you,” Reggie responded.

Crumpet puffed his chest out and blustered, “I may not be the most consistent enchanter. I admit that I lose control when I get angry. But most of the time I manage rather well.”

“You misunderstand,” Reggie explained. “I wasn’t commenting on your competence as an enchanter. I was referring to the fact that Sissrath has woven enchantments throughout these dungeons to prevent enchanters from using their powers inside the confines of these prison cells.”

“We don’t necessarily need enchantments to escape. We need ingenuity, courage, and luck,” Sonjay insisted.

“What he said!” Buttercup agreed enthusiastically. “And Sonjay, while we think about an escape plan, you can make good use of your time by working on your training. How about the first lesson?”

Sonjay grinned as he sat down on the rug, crossed his legs, and gave Buttercup his full attention. “Bring it.”

“OK. First, clear your mind of all thoughts,” Buttercup instructed.

“What? That’s impossible,” Sonjay complained.

“He has a point, you know. It’s the nature of the human mind to be active,” Reggie reminded Buttercup.

“It would surprise you to discover how clear a mind can get when you begin sweeping it of clutter,” Buttercup said firmly. “Thoughts will drift in, but do this:  examine each thought, make a note of it, and let it pass through. Try not to attach any feeling to it. Just say to yourself ‘yes, well, I am thinking about a peanut butter sandwich and now that thought is passing through and now it is drifting away and now it’s gone’ and then notice what thought comes next and let it pass through. To calm your mind, focus on your breathing. Listen to your breathing, feel the breath going in and out, and let your mind rest upon it.”

“This sounds like meditation,” Reggie noted.

“Correct. We enchanters think of it as freeing the mind of clutter in preparation for inviting in the energy that provides the raw material for enchantment,” Buttercup explained.

“To function as an enchanter,” Crumpet added, “you have to learn how to unclutter the mind and tap into the energy instantly; tapping the energy has to become second nature, automatic. I run into trouble because I can’t set aside my emotions and I can’t clear out my anger. If I could learn to clear out anger at my command, then I would never turn into a cinnamon roll again,” he concluded with a slightly mournful edge to his words.

“Well then I don’t understand how Sissrath became such a powerful enchanter when he’s so angry and vengeful,” Sonjay responded.

“That’s not true anger or vengeance you see in him,” Crumpet explained. “He has no feelings. He is cerebral and calculating. He is reptilian. He has even forgotten why he seeks absolute power. He is empty.”

“He has no humanity,” Buttercup said. “And he has created an inner space for himself that is inhabited by negative energy.”

Reggie put his hand on Sonjay’s shoulder and said, “Sissrath has lost track of love. He deserves our pity, not our hatred. Now focus on your lesson here. Try to clear your mind. I’ll do it with you.” Reggie sat on the carpet next to his son and concentrated on his breathing.

Sonjay closed his eyes and attempted to think nothing. He listened to his breath. Then he felt the rush of feathers as Bayard Rustin perched on his head. He reached up and patted the bird. “How can I unclutter my mind with a bird on my head?” He opened his eyes and laughed.

“Even better,” Buttercup told him. “If you can free your mind of clutter with a bird on your head then you can do it in most any situation. Some enchanters choose a word they use to trigger their preparation. They train themselves to say a word that causes them to instantly prepare their mind for enchantment.”

“Do you have a trigger word?” Sonjay asked curiously.

“Of course,” Buttercup answered.

“What is it?”

“It’s private. I don’t tell it to anyone.”

Sonjay stroked Bayard and decided that his trigger word would be “feathers.” The word made him think of weightlessness and flying and, of course, the crazy parrot he loved. “How do I use my trigger word?”

“You repeat the word over and over in your mind as you try to prepare to empty yourself of thoughts and emotions and allow the energy from which enchantments are made to enter into you,” Buttercup instructed.

“What exactly is that energy?” Sonjay asked.

To his surprise, his father answered before either of the enchanters in the room could say a word. “Spirit,” Reggie said softly. “Everything seen and unseen, living and dead, in this plane and in those planes of existence outside of our grasp, has spirit. All living things have spirit and all inanimate objects carry a residue of spirit. Spirit is a force of energy with an impact. Each person has their own relationship to spirit. There you have the teaching of the Mystical Book in a nutshell. You have to find your own unique spiritual core and your spiritual channels.”

“Precisely,” Buttercup agreed approvingly. “I could not have stated it better than the Prophet.”

It surprised Sonjay when Buttercup referred to his father as “the Prophet.” He would have to get used to having a father with valuable powers. He would have to get used to having a father at all.