No ratings.
The rewriten version of the Pheonix, the first novel I ever came up with. |
Mary was troubled. Her son, James, was too soft. I am putting the cart before the horse. Let me set the situation up for you. Mary's husband, Paul was a noble and landowner under King Gregory and Pope Lawrence I. Paul was ill at health, and everybody knew he was not long for this world. He had but one son, thought at his birth to be a blessing from above, as they had been long married without children. This son now was set to inherit his father's wealth. However, this son of theirs, James, was obviously more interested in philosophy than running a family. He was not at all prepared to fight for his land, though he was probably the best swordsman in England. He simply would not injure. That's not to say, he would not kill, he would, but the deaths he dealt out were quick and painless. He was not ready to fight a horde of people rushing at him that he could not guarantee he would kill with one stroke. And so Mary was troubled. She was even more troubled now. There was a man among the peasants that was going into solitude to become a monk. He has said he will take one other with him, and they will find the voice of God in the wilderness. And that was good and all, but for the slight fact that James had expressed interest in abandoning his father's house and vieing for that position. That didn't make her happy at all. The idea that her son would leave her and his family got her so enraged that she would be willing to do anything to make him stay. But here he came now. The elated-yet-peaceful look on his face made her even more worried than she already was. It was almost as bad as if he had the look of loss on his face that would signify that his father was lost. Almost, but not quite. "I got it," announced that miserable lout of a son named James. "Got what?" He was silent for a moment, as if waiting for her to think of something obvious. "The trip ...Remember?" Oh, Mary remembered. She remembered too well. Why did she have to remember? "Oh, yes. You're actually going to go?" "Of course." The blank look on James' face faded into one of bliss. "I hope to see God." Several days later, James was on a beautiful equine the color of coffee with just enough creme in it. He had the clothes on his back and the food in his saddlebag, and that was all. He was ready to endure the hardships that would make him closer to God. He knew it would be a long road ahead for him, as did the man beside him. And yet, the man beside him radiated this feeling that the road would not be long enough. Alone, he thought often about how long life and it's miseries existed. But with his companion, he thought just as often about how short its pleasures were. They both depressed him, but at least the latter convinced him to enjoy life while it lasted. The orange sun to James' left still blinded his one eye, and he was supposed to be looking for a place for them to sleep that night. Hopefully a safe place. "Where did you stay when you found this cave? " His companion answered calmly and coolly "I traveled much less that time, and I had a tent. Remember, I was making a pilgrimage to Rome at the time. Now we have to find a place to sleep." They ended up sleeping under the stars that night. It wasn't that bad, except for the fact that each of them only slept half the night to keep the watch for animals. Nothing happened, except for a few curious wolves. Since they had traveled so far the day before, it was only about two o'clock the next afternoon that they found the cavern that they were staying in. It was much larger than they needed, and was near both the forest and the planes. They lived on a diet of berries and plants, with some game on Easter and Christmas. They had a stone calendar based on the two holidays, so that they never missed either. It was three years after the arrival to the cave when James had the vision. A man, with two woman beside him, calling to him. They were all deformed, as far as humans went, but he had the feeling that, not only were these people more perfectly shaped than any human being could hope to be, but that they were his siblings. They embraced him as such, called him as such, and one of the two females (he called them females rather than "ladies" or "girls" because they seemed so timeless) kissed him as much more than such. They urged him to come back home. And the vision ended there. James told his fellow hermit about the strange and admittedly troubling vision he had. The other man meditated on it and came back with the news that he was undoubtedly possessed by demons. And so the exorcism began. Despite multiple attempts, the visions kept up. The power of Christ himself would be needed to dispel this devil, it seemed. It was the day before Good Friday when the Hermit that was not possessed decided that no demon should be allowed in a holy place on a sacred day. So he took his hunting knife that he had been using to prepare the Easter feast and crawled over to where James was sleeping. "Demon, if you insist on staying here after we have called upon Christs peacefulness, then we must use Christ's violence!" James woke up just long enough to shout "Felix, what are you doing!" before his throat was slashed. It was not long after that the visions started coming to Felix. The three gods stood before him, and told him that he had slain one of them, but was forgiven. He, and his killing of the one he knew as James, was part of the plan. They were, after all, able to give him the ability to remember his past lives through visions. In his next life, "James" would remember both being James and Fire. Now Felix was to go out to the world and be a minister to the people. With 100 days until Christmas, Felix was hung for deceiving the people and heathenism. However, a cult movement was started, and a perverted form of the ancient religion began. Now "the new Judas", or Felix, and James were praised. No one knows how high up in the church the cult went, but the pope more than once seemed to turn a blind eye to the Cult of the New Judas, which raised some suspicion with the minor bishops. |