Copyright c 2008 Ross H. Carnes, Jr.
SAMPLE
Murmur the Whisper
A full moon shone brightly
upon the reflecting pond in front of the master residence, the nucleus of
Moriah. Cush stood for a
moment enjoying the view toward the north and the great city on the horizon.
Across the distances he could just make out the ley lines of power that ran in
every direction and converged here at Moriah. Tonight they actually seemed to
glow, but then maybe it was just a trick of the moonlight. From the great oak
trees in the garden, the peacocks wailed and cried; their voices blending into
a harmonious, although weird, overture.
Cush presumed
that this would be the climax of the day’s proceedings, but what was about to
take place was beyond his imagination. He made his way toward the eastern edge
of the garden and was immediately escorted forward; up to the dais where the
master waited.
Enoch called the crowd to
order. A gentle breeze began to blow; cool and fragrant. All noises suddenly
ceased, and Cush noticed the
trees and shrubs were full of birds; quietly perched, but not roosting, as if
awaiting something notable. The branches hung heavy with leaves, which upon
closer examination were not leaves after all, but a multitude of moths,
butterflies, and all sorts of insects. A chill ran up Cush’s spine and
his face flushed red.
Enoch took a small gilded box
from an assistant; placed it on a prepared pedestal, and said softly, “Thus… a
new miracle begins.”
Taking an object from within
the box, he held it high overhead. It was an orb that was just a bit smaller
than a chicken’s egg. Enoch began to chant softly at first, and then gained in
passion and volume. With a flourish of his hand he waved the object to within a
few inches of Cush’s face. It
was an oak gall, a plaything of children that fell along with acorns from the
many oak trees in Moriah; this one seemed larger than most.
The crowd now started to
chant a verse that Cush did not
recognize. He noticed a distinct pattern forming on the gall, a weaving,
interlocking line that encircled the entire orb. Enoch smiled at him. His chant
became louder until a sudden flash of blue light drew all attention to the
gall. Gradually the knot pattern began to take a dimensional form on the
surface of the orb and at one point; started to detach and unravel, floating
away and upwards in a twisting vortex that disappeared into the tree branches
above. In synchronization to the chanting, small insects and fireflies
fluttered around Cush, who was now bathed in the light emanating from what
remained in Enoch’s hand. It was a newborn Knockturn infant. Enoch offered it
for Cush to take, “It
is now your responsibility, my malokan. I know you are worthy of the honor; now
be worthy of the blessing also.”
Cush accepted the
tiny creature. He held it close to his own breast as if to keep it warm;
everyone broke into a loud cheer that must have been heard across the valley. Awkwardly
the Knockturn’s miniature wings flapped and stretched, and its goat-like legs
kicked against Cush’s chest. He
did not fully understand why, but tears welled up in his eyes and trickled down
his face as he looked at Kera; then looking down at the small toy-sized infant,
he wept and laughed at the same time.
*
