A Division of Souls - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe (43 page)

Janoss gestured to his own simple human
body. “This is not my True Self, Dahné. Our true Shenaihu bodies
are kiralla in form.”

Again, Natianos laughed politely. He had to
hand it to Janoss; the man had intelligence, though unfortunately
for him it was not always used. “No, my dear friend. That is the
self-image of our Spirit once we step into Light.” He quickly
added, “And sometimes in other realities, if we so choose. Just as
the Mendaihu often choose the seraphic form. It is a physical
extension of how we see our own spirits. I admit I chose my kiralla
self to coax you to the upper floors of the Tower by way of fear.
But right now, as you stand here on Trisanda, everything you see,
everything you envision in your mind as your self, is stripped
away. Trisanda only shows you the
truth.
Look at me — I am
but a man. A tall man, as on Earth, but a man nonetheless. Just as
your appearance is nearly the same as it is on Earth.”

“I see,” he said. “So why is it, Dahné, that
you and I can come here so easily now?”

“The answer is simple,” Natianos smiled. “It
is because we have been fully awakened. Gharné humans have not, due
to their cultural evolution — religions, governments, cultures,
social climes…all skewered their true history, both by direct and
indirect means. They have been distanced from us for so long that
they do not remember.”

“Unless they are reminded somehow,” Janoss
said. “Perhaps if they are awakened by a ritual of some forceful
magnitude…like Nehalé Usarai’s.”

“Precisely,” he nodded. “And he’s planning
to do it again. He’s gathering Mendaihu from around the Sprawl as
we speak.” He explained the reason for the growing number of
Mendaihu gathering in the Waterfront District at one unused
warehouse. He gave no clues as to what he thought about the sheer
number of people in one place, though compared to the overall
population of Bridgetown Central it was merely a small family
reunion. “There are claims that it’s under the guise of witnessing
the Ninth Coming of the One of All Sacred, but I do not think that
is his real motive.”

Janoss purposely avoided his glare by pacing
back and forth in a small clearance in the field they stood in and
working his jaw as if thinking deeply on all of this. Natianos
smirked, amused at his friend’s beleaguered attempts to constantly
gain his favor; Janoss already had that, and had it ages ago, if he
would only calm himself and notice.

“I’m sorry,” Janoss said, finally facing
him, though his eyes still strayed away. “But I can’t think of any
other reason why. If the Mendaihu were gathering for battle as it
were, first of all we would have seen proof already. I’ve never
known them to be agreeable to violence on a grand scale. You know
as well as I that our five-point response was just that — an equal
Shenaihu response to a Mendaihu action. I completely understand
that edha Usarai’s actions at the cathedral were purely
defensive.”

“That is why we are here,” Natianos said,
grabbed him by the arm and gently pulled him along. “Come, let us
walk. This planet is too beautiful to enjoy in just one spot.” He
led him down a small embankment and towards the sound of a nearby
creek. He said nothing the entire time, letting Janoss take in the
scenery. The man found considerable fascination in the wildlife
that roamed nearby, clearly not expecting to find mammals similar
to Earthbound bears and deer roaming in the same forest as
Meraladian creatures such as the wolflike
gundaevi
and the
feline
jenha
and not trying to tear each other apart in a
territorial war.

“As soon as we return, we must bring our
forces together,” he continued. “Our nuhm’ndah brothers still
occupy the areas surrounding the hrrah-sehdhyn points, but we must
have more.”

Janoss grimaced, hiding his frown behind a
hand. “Could be viewed negatively,” he said after a few long
moments. “It would look too much like a battlefield.”

“So much the better,” Natianos smiled. “If
that’s what we have to do to get the point across.”

Janoss looked at him aghast.

“Understand this, my dear brother in
spirit,” he warned. “The Shenaihu are not to be deserted again.
Twenty-five years ago we tried again to reclaim our rightful place
within the Realm of the One of All Sacred, and again we were
shunned…nearly annihilated
.
What the Mendaihu do not
understand is that we truly are equals. One cannot exist without
the other, for everything would fall apart.”

Natianos paused, giving Janoss a brief
moment to let it sink in.

“Look,” he said, pointing towards the
animals. The gundaevi had stopped near the creek and lowered its
head to drink. Not twenty feet downstream on the opposite side, the
jenha had done the same. “On Gharra, one would have picked up the
scent of the other at a distance of at least twenty yards. The
gundaevi would have preyed on the jenha by now and fed on its
carcass. Yet there they are, sharing the same water. Here on
Trisanda, where all is truth, they are equals. Their spirits
acknowledge one another. That is not to say that the gundaevi do
not kill jenha at all — its instinct to survive overwhelms that
moral standing — they do hunt each other…and it is accepted as a
truth of Life. Do you understand, my sehnadha?”

Janoss could not bring himself to look him
in the eyes.

“Picture the Shenaihu as the gundaevi,” he
continued. “We prey, we kill, we feed…but all in the name of
survival. That is our inherent nature, Janoss. The Mendaihu see us
as cold-blooded and coldhearted. We are just as vulnerable, just as
spiritual as they are! But they do not understand. Or they do not
care
to understand. We Shenaihuza felt abandoned when the
Mendaihuza departed for Meraladh. Why did they leave our second
homeworld? Come to think of it, why did they leave Trisanda in the
first place?”

Janoss glanced at him in curiosity. “Which
continent are we on, by the way?”

The question momentarily took Natianos off
course, but he recovered quickly. “I believe we are on Gharra
Shehiza, Janoss. The larger of the five. Why do you ask?”

“This place just seems so damn familiar to
me,” he said, “though I’m not sure why. I know I’ve never been here
before.”

Natianos laughed. “Ancient memories, my
friend. Everyone has them. I’m sure if any Earth human were to come
here, they would no doubt feel the same. I felt the same thing when
I first came here.” He ventured a little further, seeing that
Janoss was finally beginning to grasp what he was telling him. “The
Shenaihu and the Mendaihu were once a single sacred tribe of the
One of All Sacred, Janoss. You’ll forgive me if I misuse Earth
mythological analogies here, but the idea is essentially the same.
From these two tribes the rest of the Trisandi race descended. The
two tribes lived here, on the Gharra Shehiza continent, in relative
peace for thousands of years. The One of All Sacred visited them
numerous times, teaching them the ways of the Spirit, and reminding
us — more of a constant nagging, really, if you ever read the
Trisandi Texts — that Trisanda is the homeworld,
our
homeworld, and that we must
never
forget this ground we
stand on.

“To reinforce that rule, the One of All
Sacred then gave responsibilities to the two tribes. The Shenaihu
grew to be keepers of the planet, watchers of nature. They were
given the responsibility of maintaining the natural evolution of
Trisanda. That is not to say that great cities were forbidden…”
Janoss pointed off in the distance, what he believed was eastward.
“In fact, the great city of Bahn Dassah lies about fifteen miles
that way. Over time, the Shenaihu became the landowners, the
farmers...the agriculturists keeping this planet as pristine as you
sense it now.

“The Mendaihu, on the other hand, were
chosen to be keepers and watchers of the people. They have
maintained their responsibility to this day, a quality that is
quite commendable. They became the civil leaders, the protectors,
and the doctors and healers, all occupations that helped other
Trisandi.”

“Fascinating,” Janoss said. Natianos
couldn’t tell if his tone of voice had been sarcastic or not.
“However,” he continued, “that doesn’t account for why the two are
such spiritual and mortal enemies.”

He pointed at the two animals. Both the
gundaevi and the jenha were busy grooming themselves at opposite
sides of the bank. Natianos let out a piercing whistle. The animals
perked their heads up in alarm, saw the two humans, and darted away
in separate directions.

“A division of souls,” he said. “Somewhere,
at some point, the two tribes split. It could be that expanding
skyward was the next logical step in Trisandi cultural and
spiritual evolution, and the Mendaihu took to it more than the
Shenaihu did.” He watched the two animals continued to flee, soon
lost among the trees and the underbrush. “I’d like to think that
our animosity was caused by something a little less trivial.”

“I would think so,” Janoss said. “One would
think that the expansion towards Meraladh was not a purely Mendaihu
project. There must have been Shenaihuza involved.”

“And Mendaihuza who were not,” Natianos
added.

“Precisely.”

“There is no evidence to the contrary,” he
said. “All the spoken histories tell us of the bitter division that
grew between the two tribes. The Shenaihu are reportedly angered by
the fact that they are left alone on Trisanda. I for one would not
have been, but considering the importance of the symbiotic culture
at the time, I can understand. The Mendaihu tried to maintain the
connection across space, perhaps as a compromise or maybe even as a
genuine attempt to keep everything as it was between the two
tribes.

“This is where nulltech comes in, Janoss. A
combination of technical and spiritual energies that lets the
spirit carry the body instead of the logical vice versa. The
spatial
nothingness
between the two points — the lack of
space and time, I mean — is a highway for the surreal, the energies
of the spirit. It is how you and I have made it here to
Trisanda.”

Janoss shot him a sarcastic half-smile, as
if to say
well that would finally explain things,
and
started towards the creek. He bent over, cupped his hands, and
lifted the cool water to his mouth. Natianos was sure that was a
calculated move, just to prove to himself that he was, in fact, on
Trisanda.

“Does it taste any different?” Natianos
asked.

Janoss popped his head up. “Should it?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he laughed. “I’m merely
curious. I haven’t drunk the water here yet.”

“Tastes okay to me.” He pushed himself up,
drying his hands on his jacket. “So nulltech was their form of
transworld communication and travel, right?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “And there’s no proof to
the contrary that it didn’t work. In fact, it did quite the
opposite of what the legends say. Once they mastered communication
and travel between Trisanda and Meraladh, there was only one
logical next step.”

“Skyward again,” Janoss said.

“Gharra, to be exact. Although, it was not
the Meraladians who shot to Gharra…it was the remaining Trisandi.
The Shenaihu, the ones who stayed.”

Janoss stopped walking. “The Trisandi? But
wouldn’t it have been shorter, going from Trisanda to Meraladh to
Gharra? Why would they make such an insane leap from here to
there?”

Natianos shrugged, and gently prodded him
forward. “Again, I do not know. Maybe to create a direct link. The
halfway point — Mannaka, in the Andromeda galaxy — is where they
stopped temporarily. It is unknown how long they stayed there, but
Mannaka soon became one of the most important colonies in this part
of the universe. It’s now the main thoroughfare of the Crimson-Null
Federation. Personally, I believe the origin of our animosity comes
from our time at Mannaka.”

Janoss frowned at him. “How so?”

“At that time, the Shenaihu and Mendaihu
were still bitter enemies. Our histories concede to that. But that
does not explain how they came to be peaceful allies once we
arrived at Gharra. Something must have happened within the
Shenaihuza tribe while at Mannaka, or Gharra would only be
populated by Mendaihuza. That is all I know, however.”

“So after a while, the Mannaki sent others
onwards towards Gharra, correct?” Janoss said.

“Indeed. They became the Earth humans you
see today. The Gharné are left alone for untold eras, creating
their own civilizations, cultures and histories. It isn’t until
quite recently — close to three hundred years ago this October —
that the Mannaki decide to contact Gharra again. By this time,
Gharra is now named Earth, and Earth has completely forgotten about
us.”

“You said the Mannaki contacted Earth,”
Janoss said. “Forgive my boldness, my Dahné, I thought the
Meraladians contacted them.”

“They did,” he said flatly. “The Meraladians
met up with the Mannaki later on, but before they re-established
Earth contact. In true Mendaihu form, they felt it was high time
that we did so, and if we weren’t going to do it, they would. This
is central to my theory of the Shenaihu-Mendaihu split. A
Shenaihuza would not have given in to such bossing around so
easily.” He kept his own opinion on that subject to himself: they
didn’t give them a chance to prove themselves, even though they
sowed the seeds of thousands of generations.

“A matter of trust, perhaps?” Janoss
ventured. “Perhaps the Mendaihu didn’t fully trust the
Shenaihu?”

Natianos grimaced. “Possible, but highly
unlikely.”

But Janoss was on a roll. “Think about it,
Dahné. The Shenaihu were more in tune with nature’s spirits than
they were with their own. Perhaps the Mendaihu saw that as a flaw,
a weakness if you will.”

Natianos scowled at him. “Make some sense,
will you, Janoss? That goes completely against what we’ve been
working for all this time! Pashyo! Our hrrah-sehdhyn would have
been completely pointless if that were true!”