Part three of The Initiate --------------------------------------------------------------- Abbot, I want to know about the City of Light. The old monk eyed his guest shrewdly; He was a boy in his mid teens, very soft and effeminate looking, in fact the monk had thought he was a girl until the monk on the gate had told him otherwise. His hair was blonde, of shoulder length, tied back in an untidy ponytail and partially hidden under his sheepskin jacket. He had arrived unannounced at the monastery gates the day before yesterday. This establishment was a very remote one. Situated in the eastern hills of the great mountain chain. It was well off the beaten track, but had a reputation for holding secret teachings. At least, it had a reputation in the right circles. This youth was just a commoner, despite his pretensions to speaking high Spectran, a language not in common use since before the Fall. How had this whelp known? The youths eyes burned with a fanaticism the Abbot had seen in few eyes; it was so intense he could not meet them for more than a few seconds, clearly there was more to this teen than met the ordinary gaze. Abbot Gordo thought he detected another presence, but was not sure. But you pronounce its name in vain. You young people are full of curiosity; you are just asking after the Holy City to satisfy some childish whim. You know nothing He shook his head. I know lots. Growled the youth, the blue fire in his eyes even icier. The abbot held up a hand. You are a young person in search of material wealth. Well the abbot knew of the many stories detailing the unlimited riches of the Luminous One, probably this seeker had heard them and decided to enrich himself. The youth looked angry for a moment, I am not some peasant looking for a quick and easy road to riches; for a start I know for a fact that the road is not quick nor is it easy. Many have perished. The abbot nodded, and the riches are powers beyond your imagination, not gold or jewels. I have no lust for riches, its power and knowledge I am hungry for. I can get to the city of the Luminous One He smiled; perhaps I know things that are new to you. Such as the book on the City by Brother Luska of Kolchis monastery, and the travels of Anzion. Abbot Gordo nodded again. He had not heard of the new book, but was familiar with the researches of Brother Luska. He had met Anzion once, and learned things that he was sworn by the Eternal Flame never to repeat. Are you going to help me then? The youth replied at the Abbots thoughtful face. Do not reach so readily for the flames of the Spirit lest you are burned. Im not afraid of fire. The youth pushed back his unkempt hair. Roll up your sleeve then. The abbot commanded. His visitor obeyed, revealing a lightly haired arm on which the sinews stood out like cord; he was stronger than he seemed. The abbot picked up a glowing piece of charcoal from the brazier with the tongs and placed it on the youths skin. The aspirant made no move away from the fire. He winced but made no move to flick it off. A long moment passed; if you are going to burn me like this, brand me with the holy symbols. You are not worthy. The abbot picked up the charcoal with his fingers; he placed it back on the brazier, and wiped his hands on the mat. The youth grabbed up the abbots hand and looked incredulously at the unburnt fingers, his eyes fell to the angry red mark upon his arm. The abbot laughed softly seems you have a long way to go. You think you have strength and knowledge but you are still a child. He rang a bell. I am no child the youth scowled at the abbots back. A monk came in, take this tyke to the slaves quarters, Ill speak to him further later. --------------------------------- Later was many days later. The youth reflected as he stacked firewood. He had been allocated a pallet in the slaves quarters, -next to the draughty door he noted. He was given a regular dole of porridge, stew and dried fruit, washed down with cups of tea and milk. In return for this he was expected to do all the dirty jobs that no one else was prepared to do. Mucking out the stables, slaughtering and butchering any livestock that had been gifted `on the hoof`. Jobs he was used to. The other slaves, all of them long owned by the monastery sniggered behind his back. Like the Abbot and his monks they were partially impressed by his devotion to his quest, that and gently cynical. He was a bit young to be a zealot, after all. In spite of this he was content. His mother had treated him like a slave; at least here he was not beaten. But he wanted more than just to be fed and sheltered now. His childhood had been undemanding; at least it was easier as soon as he realised that he was never going to be as welcome in the town governors household as his spoilt sister. Though treated like the slaves he was by no means a chattel. He could have left at anytime, that or simply walked out. But this was yet another test. He knew it was a very mild test compared to some of the ordeals that his master was no doubt planning for his Chosen. --------------------------------------------------- The aspirant recalled talking over his quest with the Village headman. The City of Light is a concept, not a reality. The man had told him. It exists! I have seen its photographs in many shrines. Photographs can be faked, the headman had continued. If this City exists...on Spectra...I will say this because there are places like you described on other planets.... Why are there no roads or trade routes to it? The youth screwed up his face. The Spirit isnt interested in mundane matters. The Headman was still dubious. I dont know how you can hide an entire city. Im sure the Spirit can. Is he not omnipotent? Didnt he save us from the fall? The youths faith was boundless. As I said, Im no scholar. The Headman couldnt understand why his guest wanted to know all these things. Other people were content with what the village priest told them. The youth was not. And the Great One? He asked with a bitter twist of his lip. How can he hide?? He is everywhere. Im not so sure of that. Replied the youth. Think what you like. Im just taking what I know from `The Book of the Spirit` the Headman said piously. Id like to know more. Then go to Frasman monastery. The Abbot is a very learned man. I will. Replied the Youth. This was a start. ---------------------------------------------------- It was nearly three months later that he was recalled to the Abbots guestroom. Still here? Asked the Abbot cheerily by way of disparaging greeting. Guess. Replied the youth. If he were going to be patronised he would act that way in return. No matter. I have things to show you. He pulled an old leather bound tome from behind his chair. This book is at least eight thousand years old. Said Abbot Gordo. May I touch it? Replied the aspirant with awe. Books were expensive items and treated with great respect; he had had no idea that any survived from Pre Fall times. He took it with great reverence and opened at a random page. The youths smile turned to a perplexed frown; he squinted at the script in obvious annoyance. Cant read? The youth scowled. He had been caught out. He had never realised that the texts he was so keen to see would be written in an unfamiliar script. I can. The common trash they teach at school...As a speaker of High Spectran I assumed you would know the old script. The youth shook his head. He spoke high Spectran because that was the language the now absent Spirit spoke to him in. The Great One had never told him the script was different. Caught out? Ok, I admit Im beat. Never mind. You are obviously a self-taught scholar. Ill teach you how to read the script. I have many original texts here. But if you are worthy Ill give you scans too. Thank you abbot. ------------------------------------------------------------- The Youth settled down as a scholar. It was very hard work. He still slept with the slaves, but now he had to get up before they did. He ate his breakfast cold from the night before cooking, that or went to the kitchens and made porridge for himself. Most of the day was spent in relating his considerable knowledge of High Spectran to the writings. After came a brisk run, or if the weather was bad, an inside workout. After was homework. He was kept very busy. One day he was tired and whiney. The youth had stalled over his homework, and so his teacher made him read though the passage again. The youth pouted and threw the book down in disgust. The Abbot was uncharacteristically angry. If youre going to act like a child Ill treat you like one. He grabbed his initiate by the ear and dragged him over to the chair. Now drop your pants. The youth looked at him incredulously but began to unbuckle his belt. Ill have that now, the abbot held out his hand. Youre not my mother, grumbled the youth sulkily. Only his mother had the privilege of beating him, something she had exercised too often. No, Im not. I expect shes wondering where you are. The youth wriggled down his leather trousers, then his woollen under trousers. Im not going any further. No, I dont want you to go any further, at least not yet. He gestured to the youths crotch whats that? The yo