A Division of Souls - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe (13 page)

A hand dropped onto his shoulder, startling
him out of his reverie. The man’s spiritual energy felt like a
stinging burst of heat through his upper torso and he flinched,
gasping. He opened his eyes and turned swiftly to see a priest
smiling at him.

“Forgive me for startling you,” the man
said.

“Oh — uh, quite alright,
fadayin
,”
Nehalé said, nervously returning the smile and hiding his still
shaking nerves. He felt the warm, protective embrace, not from a
person but from a
presence
, the same that he felt when he’d
first entered. He felt it most strongly within the priest, a deep
understanding of what it was like to be truly spiritual, truly
Meraladhza
. The priest projected his aura everywhere around
him and Nehalé drowned in it. This man was Mendaihu, like him…only
much,
much
stronger than he could ever hope to be. He
shivered with excitement and reverence. Nehalé stood, wiping his
eyes and forcing himself not to stare at the aged man. There was no
mistaking the essence he felt around the man. An old Mendaihu in
soul; possibly once part of the Council of Elders on
Trisanda...

“I am Reverend Edward Miriam,” the priest
said, waving his hand behind him. “I am a Protector of the One of
All Sacred. Come, join us in mass.”

The priest opened the heavy inner doors and
led him down the central aisle of the church. It was wide enough to
fit ten men across shoulder to shoulder, or just enough space for a
small ritual cleansing ceremony. Sunlight shone from the clerestory
windows above, illuminating not only the pews below but also the
centuries of dust kicked up in this old church. Nehalé walked
dazedly behind the man, humbled by all he saw and felt. No, there
was no way he would use this for his own congregation…it would be
heresy to do so. The Reverend led him to an empty pew, then made
his own way to the transept crossing, where he turned around and
faced his followers. Nehalé’s eyes now accustomed to the darker,
musty tones brought on by candle and ambient lighting; there were
far more people here than he'd noticed walking in, almost all bent
over in prayer or meditation. There must have been at least a
hundred or so here; a small number for such a large church, but
nonetheless a surprisingly high number for a midday service.

Again, he felt the essences of those around
him, a Song of Faith whispering to the One. This song, quite
different from the everyday melody he heard outside, came with such
closeness it nearly smothered his own being. These souls...the
Faithsong they cried, spoke of an unseen hope, that the One looked
gently down upon them and guided them towards the path of Eternal
Light.

They were Mendaihu, like him. They were
awaiting the One.

Nehalé bent down, and began praying.

All is Light, Dearest One. We await your
presence in this time of need.

Awaken, dearest One of All Sacred. Come to
us.

“Let us look back at the days before,”
Reverend Miriam said, his voice echoing throughout the cathedral.
He had climbed to a raised pulpit to the left of the transept
altar, leaning slightly forward, dwarfed by the architecture around
him. His voice was surprisingly strong and deep for his age, and
with the help of the natural acoustics in the church he was able to
reach the farthest pews. He spoke simply and clearly, his words
punctuated within by an unexpectedly powerful spiritual energy he
utilized to gather in his parishioners. He had everyone’s full
attention from his first words.

“Not in the sense of wishing we were still
technologically feeble and floating aimlessly, of course,” he
continued, waving and smiling. “No, those days have long passed.
Instead, let us remember our youth. Let us remember who we were,
deeply, spiritually…plainly, before the strain of everyday stress
and habit made us forget who we are.

“And who are we, you ask? I tell you, we are
luminous, mystical beings, all of us. Every one of us here, in this
city, on this planet, in this universe. Inside, we have the power
to create; we have the power to utilize the Light and Love the One
of All Sacred has given us. When we were young, we knew this,
instinctively. It may have left our field of vision, or fallen into
our subconscious mind, but it has never left us, only showing up at
the most miraculous of times.

“Each of us has had a point in our lives,
some of us many, where we created; shown love to others as well as
ourselves, acted on kindness, instead of reacting to a hostile
situation with equal hostility. These positive energies are what
feed us; it nourishes our soul, makes it grow in Peace, Love, and
Light. And in return, we give these precious gifts to others.

“This, my brothers and sisters,
eicho
d’eichi
, is the key.

“We are not here to simply live out our term
in life. For what would be the point? As the One of All Sacred has
said, 'as there is love in our song, there is a truth to our
dance.' There is a reason for our souls to be here on this plane,
on this planet.

“Our goal, first, is to create that Love,
that Light that shines within us. It may take many forms; one of us
could simply create wonderful art that brings joy to others, and
some of us could become teachers of life, bringing knowledge and
understanding to all around us. Or it could be the simple joy of
creating a new life to bring into the world, one we could teach,
love, and nurture.

“The second part of that goal, and the most
important, is to keep our reason for being
alive.
It will
not grow, nor will it live, if we just acknowledge its existence.
We need to
feed
our souls with our creations, lest they will
elude us again, and we will spend our lifetime in circles, forever
lost in our own pain and misery. This path is not an easy one; you
will encounter many hardships. You will encounter those who wish
you not to achieve your goal, through greed, jealousy, or
ignorance.

“The negative aspects of life are
harsh...and even more, they can be tempting. Who here has taken the
easier, less problematic route, and in the end did not achieve
their goal, for one reason or another? Because they were sick of
fighting for a worthless cause? Or because no one believed in them?
Or, at worst, because they themselves didn't care anymore?

“I admit, I too have been in that situation
many times, and I too have given up on more than one occasion. But
that
never
means once the situation is over,
poof!
It's gone, never to be attained again. Your goals never leave you.
You only get blindsided.

“All I ask of you, dear parishioners, is
that you open your eyes. Open your heart. Open your mind. Believe
in your destination. Believe in your reason for living. And
overall, believe in yourself.

“With belief, you can move mountains.”

You
will
move
mountains.

Reverend Miriam’s final words, spoken within
and directed at every person within this church, rippled through
Nehalé’s soul and sent shivers through his body. He’d given words
to precisely the same thoughts and emotions he’d been having
himself and questioning. This was the proof, the evidence he’d
needed to confirm he’d done the right thing.
Yes
, he
thought,
this is the right thing to do!
He closed his eyes,
his head spinning with senses and images filtering in from the
souls surrounding him. The pure
emotion
behind the priest's
sermon had taken him completely. He opened his eyes to the sound of
the priest's voice again
within
him —

However.

— and whirled around to see Reverend Miriam
standing, eyes closed, swaying drunkenly in the center of the
aisle, stepping towards one parishioner then to the next,
wordlessly —

We are here, in this cathedral, waiting for
fate. We are here to awaken others of our kind, dear ones. For
outside, beyond these holy walls, lay the greatest enemy we have
known.

— and touching those nearest him with the
slightest brush of the fingers, sending those he touched into their
own deep state of bliss.

They are the Shenaihu.

Nehalé caught his breath, and reached out to
the priest —

They are enemies because they are our
brothers and sisters in spirit, but they wish to claim what they
believe is theirs. I plead with you now: the will of the human soul
was never theirs, and it never shall be. They believe humans to be
of their own, which is not true. They are of the Gharné...the
ancestors of the Meraladhza...of the Trisandi...

...of both the Shenaihu and the
Mendaihu.

They are our Light, our Love, and our
Hope.

— and finally connected with Miriam's
shoulder as he passed by…Nehalé grabbed on and heard the doors
behind him…

They have come, the Shenaihu. They are
here.

The doors behind him…a thunderous vibration
began, low and rumbling at first, then growing in force and speed
until a constant wave of unbridled rage hammered at those locked
doors, its only aim to destroy everyone and everything within.
Nehalé stood half in and half out of the pew, terrified by this
violent spiritual force. He felt it climbing the outside walls,
surging and spiking upwards in destructive waves, dislodging loose
stone and brick, until it reached the heavy stained glass windows
high above. With one final push that hit him with a blow to his
chest, it surged inwards, shattering the glass and raining it down
on those below.

With one gentle movement of the arm and
quiet
snap
of the air, Reverend Miriam became a blur in
front of Nehalé. The priest was now yards away, reaching out to the
shards of glass as if trying to catch them. He lifted his hands and
swept them through the air —

Peace, Love and Light be with you all,
dear ones
, he said calmly
.

Nehalé watched the shards glittering in the
sunlight — no, the shards
were
the sunlight, ground to
harmless dust in the air…

Go now, Nehalé,
the priest beckoned
him
. Protect them! Protect the Gharné! Protect the One!

I shall
, he responded. Nehalé pushed
himself out of the pew and ran for the entrance, pushing aside
anyone in his way. These poor newcomers wouldn’t stand a chance at
the front lines…he had to be there himself, to fight off the bulk
of the Shenaihu that would be breaking through those doors at any
moment. He reached the shrine within seconds, where he was stopped
short. He’d hit an unexpected protective barrier head-on and
staggered sideways, nearly crashing to the floor. Father Miriam
must have set the barrier when he brought Nehalé inside…which made
him realize that the priest must have known this attack would
unfold. Was he
kiralla
…a reality seer? The thought surprised
him, having found it unexpected and elementary at the same time.
Now wasn’t the time to think about this any further, though…he had
a flock to protect. He shook off the dizziness, shifting into a
defensive position, ready to move or retreat. The spiritual energy
up here was made of ice, pricking uncomfortably at his skin.

That was when he finally saw Janoss
Miradesi. The man stood quietly and patiently at the cathedral
doors, arms held behind his back, as if about to attend mass
himself. He peered through the doors, never actually entering the
church proper. He glanced around curiously, watching the outcome of
his actions with a small, amused grin on his face. Parishioners
were scrambling in all directions, running for any exit out of the
cathedral, but avoiding the main doors. He caught sight of Nehalé
and bowed slightly.

Somfei, edha Usarai,
he said
within.

Nehalé shifted his feet, waiting for the man
to make a move.

Janoss lifted a hand and waved two fingers
in his direction, over Nehalé’s right side. He felt a searing hot
energy like a knife shooting past him, grazing his shoulder and
twisting him backwards. Behind him, he heard another shattering of
glass, this time high up in the clerestories, imploding inwards
toward the central aisle from both sides. He smiled as he
watched.

What was he doing here? He was Shenaihu, an
acolyte of the great Dahné Shenaihu leader, but it made no sense.
For someone so high up to respond to his ritual, and with such
violence…!

Janoss!
Nehalé leered at him.
Leave them alone! It’s me you want!

“Yes,” he said, and twitch a hand in his
direction. Nehalé felt the air around him suddenly turn to ice, and
instinctively whipped his arm up in front of his chest for
protection. Janoss was cutting away his skin to reveal the bare
spirit within, so much like a Watcher of souls…and stopped just shy
of crushing him. Nehalé twitched and cried out, but stood his
ground the best he could. Janoss held him there for a brief
agonizing second, toying with him, and let go.

Not yet,
he said.
We’re not even
yet.
Janoss smiled, bowed again, and started to leave.

“Janoss!” Nehalé screamed, and moved forward
despite the pain.

Instantly a dozen Shenaihu, all pale and
clad in black, tore through the doors and whipped them aside with
such force they cracked nearly in half. A second later they were
lost in the semidarkness of the cathedral before Nehalé could
resume his defensive stance.

Then he heard the screams.

Felt the knife-twist of pain and the loss of
Spirit being torn from Body.

They were killing parishioners.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Caren

Anando, who are you?

Caren frowned as she stared at the monitor
on her desk, arms crossed tightly across her chest. She really
should have been looking for that rogue Mendaihu, but with Poe up
at the Crest and Sheila out doing the rounds with Nick, she was
flying solo in the office again. She should have joined Poe,
thinking back on it. Last night’s dream had bothered the hell out
of her, though…she had to know who this Anando Shalei was.
Obviously a Mendaihu from the same clan as the investigative
siblings, but she highly doubted they were close relations. It just
felt
wrong
somehow…not in a bad way, but logically. He was
cut from a completely different cloth.