Revelations

She stood on the balustrade and looked out upon the cavernous walls that surrounded the entrance to their keep. The air was humid but she felt a gentle breeze from beyond - undoubtedly a draft from the gateway to the upper levels. It was silent but for the occasional hum of the light sphere that sat upon the ledge. She had stood upon this balustrade and others like it for months, a clarion call for the Holy Revolution. Rapturous applause had roared from the people, their hearts and minds united in their belief  in the eternal wisdom of the Albino Messiah, Jade Moonkill. Of course, there had been dissenters. Stubborn remnants of the old ways and those that challenged the authenticity of the interpretations, not just of the old texts but of the albino's words themselves. Those who openly opposed the Jadeist Interpretations had been dealt with in a variety of ways but there was no doubt that dissenters remained, hidden from view even on her own council.

They would use the news of Jade Moonkill's survival to their advantage, no doubt.

"Adherent........Jasmine, what are you doing out here?"

She turned to face the deep, accented voice. It came from a tall, tanned man with long locks of hair that draped beneath his shoulders and a long, decorated brown overcoat that fell to his knees. She nodded at him and gestured to him to join her on the veranda.

"Events are moving at a pace we did not foresee, Tuledo."

He shuffled uneasily between his two feet and followed her gaze to the tunnels.

"Of course", the man said, "we have only the Holy Calina's....belief that the vidi-film truly shows the Muzaii."

"Do you truly believe the Legate to be so naive? Surely she doubted the footage herself the moment she laid eyes on it!  It will have been checked, double checked. Even though I saw it with my own eyes, I found myself believing it in spite of my own doubts."

"My apologies, Adherent. I did not wish to challenge the Holy Calina or yourself. But you have not elaborated on the images you have seen since your return. Maybe if I had seen the video myself..."

"Even if you had seen it, you would not know what to make of it. They are troubling images indeed. Callous even."

She paused and looked into Tuledo's eyes. He had been a loyal servant of both herself and her guardian, Cadiz.

"You have read my guardian's journals, of course."

"Of course, Adherent. His words have been added to the teachings as we work towards the Jadeist Bible."

"Then you will know of the shadowy figure from our Messiah's past in deep space. The man known as Darrian."

Tuledo's eyes narrowed. The account of Darrian plunging the future Albino Messiah into a life of selling her organs for profit was one of the darkest tales of the Jadeist Bible. It had only been deepened by revelations from the Holy Calina.

The Adherent nodded to indicate she understood his reaction. "It would appear we have Darrian to thank for the survival of Muzaii. I can only assume it was his decision...."

"His decision, Adherent? I don't understand."

"In order for this ruse to succeed, a ruse that has fooled almost everyone, another moonbaby had to be sacrificed. A moonbaby almost identical in proportion and age to the Muzaii. This unfortunate young woman died from a fatal gunshot to the face. It hardly seems worthy of the messiah's mantra."

She saw him thinking, crossed her arms and watched him putting the pieces together in his mind before he voiced it : "I won't spill water so I won't spill blood....".

"Indeed. Therefore the ruse, the plan must have been Darrian's idea....committed almost perfectly."

"Perhaps....", he pondered for a moment, "...perhaps the moonbaby gave her life willingly. An early acolyte."

"A possibility. Holy Calina told me that he has educated the messiah and that she currently spearheads an insurgency on her own world. "

"Then that merely proves us right in our beliefs. We are doing as the messiah wanted!"

The Adherent glanced at him and then back to the cavernous walls. "Be mindful. It is Darrian that has educated our messiah. We cannot know what undue influence he has placed upon her. We may find she has deviated from her true course.....and we cannot know how many people were aware of the conspiracy from the beginning, or how many of the autopsy reports are deliberately misleading. Plans within plans..."

"And you have not told the Council any of this?"

"I have not. They are aware of rumours that the messiah lives. They currently suspect, as I  myself, that the Holy Calina is not as faithful as she should be. However, she has confirmed she will do what she can to ensure the Land of Rats will convene and our position as fugitives should be lifted. This will allow us to exert our influence in ways as yet unexplored."

"Won't some of the younger people be curious of what lies beyond the santwarju? Already some speak of venturing out to Al Raqis."

"Then we will temper their curiosity. Show them footage of the wars that have raged across the planet. Let them fear what they do not know."

Tuledo nodded in confirmation and felt that the conversation had drawn to an end. The Adherent nodded and smiled, "You can attend to your own business now. Your counsel has been useful, as always. Ensure Taryn is released from her cell but be wary of her. I found her behaviour unbecoming."

"I will advise the council immediately."

The Discovery

"We're approaching the co-ordinates, Adherent."

For a few moments, the Adherent did not stir. She sat cross-legged, palms outstretched in the centre of her caravan, the light from flickering candles dancing upon her face. She opened her eyes, one a faded green upon a blood shot white, the other a jaundiced yellow upon yellow and glanced across at the female.

"Good. Tell the others to prepare as best they can."

The female nodded and flicked back behind the curtain. The Adherent curled her hair around her fingers near the nape of her neck. Long and black, dyed deliberately to hide her white albino hair. It won't be long, she thought, before hiding would no longer be needed.

* * *

It was shortly before daybreak when the caravan came to a halt. The Adherent dismounted her caravan and strode across to the rock formation before them. An arch that swept from one side of the valley to the other. Taryn Al Sayal flanked alongside her.

"Now", she muttered in her leader's direction, "we find out if the scholars have sent us on a fool's errand or not."

"The scholars are wise, Taryn, but they can only work with the information they have."

"It would have been wise not to anger the Yiazzis, her help could have been invaluable."

"You know the Morloch better than I. She lived up to her reputation."

Taryn nodded with a proud smile before moving to the arch, running her fingers along the undulating rock face. "It matches the description found in the old book...". She stooped down and looked at the creases in the rock. "Created by intelligence, not nature. I recognise the handiwork. Old but definitely Desertborn...."

"There should be a cave ahead. I shall go alone Taryn."

"That would not be wise!"

The Adherent lifted her hand to calm her acolyte. "Have faith. Praise Musaii."

Taryn returned the refrain through clenched teeth.

***

The air within the cavern was stilted and dry. She had expected darkness yet found the cave walls reflected a luminance from further within. Glass in the walls from heated sand.

She trod carefully. With hundreds of miles of worm sand behind her, it would be unwise to throw care to the wind now.

The Inspirtu Jadeists, like the Messiah herself, had spent most of their lives beneath ground, figuratively and literally. Like a desert orchid, they had risen from the ground and blossomed in the air before the jackboot of the Concordat had fallen upon them. The Inspirtu  had left with the majority of the Desert Born, centuries ago. It was required reading for all Inspirtu children and she remembered Cadiz's calming cadence as he narrated the story to her on her sick bed. A young woman but a child in the ways of the desert.

She clambered over a small rock face and fell a few feet into a new chamber. The air felt different. Fresher. Light flickered from a tunnel beyond. With caution and no small amount of curiosity, she walked to the light.

The sand coloured rock began to give way to a grey stone. The air changed, the still dry air giving way to a refreshing breeze. A fragrance tickled her nose. She came to a round staircase descending further into the ground. She caught her breath, realising she had forgone breathing. Slowly she took each step, further and further into the ground.

And then she saw it.

*****

Taryn grew concerned. It had been several hours since the tribal leader had descended into the cavern. She cursed herself and howled abuse at the follower that had offered her his coat. She paced to and fro, impatiently. And then, as she glanced to the rock formation three hundred meters south, she saw the familiar cloaked figure striding towards her. As she neared, she saw a glint in the Adherent's eye.

"Adherent?"

"Do we have the route here stored in cartography?"

"Yes?"

"Collapse the cavern entrance and destroy these rock formations. Do it discreetly, as though by nature herself. Do it now."

The Expedition

"A storm approaches from the south, Adherent.". The thick set man spoke with a natural authority, his reddened skin taut across his face as he unveiled his protective scarf from the brown hood.

The Adherent slowed her tired stride and looked out upon the desert. The golden sand gave way to a sunset orange sky upon which a faint discolouration on the horizon gave the clue to the danger ahead.

The expedition paused around her. Hooded figures in brown cloaks, loose garments over the skintight survival suits crudely duplicated from the Desert Born original. A wagon train and several horses came to a halt, bred over an age by the Concordat Imperium to survive the harsh world of Araxes. Perhaps two thousand years or more of evolution, compressed into mere centuries. The expedition had thinned in number - the desert had claimed a third or more of the party in their seven week journey into the southern deserts.

She lifted a hand and nodded at another figure, a man who lifted a pair of binoculars. The digital display began to scan the horizon, a grid like pattern overlaid with numbers.

A female voice interjected. "Sixty three miles an hour or so....a mere cub by Araxian standards.". She pulled down her hood as she walked to the Adherent's side, revealing a flock of dark black hair.

The Adherent smiled wryly, turning her head from the female to the man with the binoculars still waiting for the computation cycle to complete. He removed the device from his eyes and nodded - "Sixty three miles an hour."

She turned back to the woman, "I thank the Messiah for your companionship, Taryn of Jorbis. Your counsel is invaluable. Your advice would be welcomed once more?"

"A cub is but the foreshadowing of the fierce creature it will become. If our storm becomes hungry and swallows the sand, it will grow and devour us. We should take shelter."

The Adherent rolled her head back slightly, nostrils flared, eyes closed. Taryn recognised her leader's submission to the trance and instinctively touched her blade and pistol, her eyes surveying the expedition party for a flicker of danger. This was the Adherent's most vulnerable state - communing with the spirits and Albino Ghost.

For the Adherent, the world drifted away. In her mind's eye, she stood no longer in a humid desert but upon a cool grassy vista, suspended impossibly in space. Her brown survival suit and ragged cloak were replaced by an elegant jade tunic and long skirt. Spirits swirled around her and the faint form of a white haired, pale woman gently billowed upon a breeze. The misty form mouthed silent words. The Adherent nodded in appreciation and awoke from the trance as swiftly as she had entered it. For a moment, she yearned for the coolness of the vista as the Araxian heat beat down upon her. The pain from her psoriasis returned, inflamed by the excessive exposure to the Araxian sun.

"The Messiah calls for the preservation of life and agrees with Taryn. The search for the artifact will continue but it will not be today. We will make camp. Taryn, take a team and scout for a suitable place for our retreat."

Taryn placed a hand on her breast and nodded, pointing at several people and signalling for them to move out. The Adherent retired to the wagon three down from the front of the train and embarked. A crude way to travel but the lack of technology and energy sources made them difficult to locate. She pondered what was happening in the infernal north, what was happening in the city of Al Raqis. A blaze needs but an ember to survive to be reborn. The Laandsrat and it's forces sat upon a tinderbox.



The wind had picked up speed. Taryn raised her hand to her face as she looked out upon the desert. She knew what they needed. A large land formation, preferably of rock although the opposite side of a dune slip would suffice. Time was precious. They needed to stay within travelling distance of the expedition but cover enough space to make their search worthwhile. They had less than hour to find cover, return to their party and ensure they could arrive in time.

Sixty three miles an hour.

They had perhaps forty minutes to find shelter before they would be forced to face the storm head on. Casualties would ensue but their water would preserve the rest of the party. The Jadeists didn't fear death and she respected them for it. In their religion, Jade Moonkill had given herself fearlessly to protect others. Had the temerity to stand up and be counted when needed. She had considered herself "just a moonbaby" and yet to those that knew her story had become a unifying force for those 'ghosts' on the fringe of society. A voice for the unseen, the downtrodden. Her influence upon the Inspirtu had been nothing short of revolutionary. The outcasts had fled Al Raqis many years before seeking a sanctuary in the desert. Freedom or death. Maybe freedom in death. Regardless, this forgotten group of misfits had grown into a culture in it's own right and had spawned not one but two religions. The Inspirtu, the "spirit" people, the metaphorical invisible ghosts of Al Raqis had found their messiah in the one cruelly known as the Ghost.

Realising her mind had wandered, she returned to the task at hand and partly to her own amazement identified a ledge of rock jutting from the sand. It would be big enough. She put a device to her mouth, a high pitched whistle that alerted the members of her team. She pointed to the direction of the ledge and signalled for one to return to the expedition party.

No-one would die today.

Rebirth

It is a curious thing to be reborn. I am at once a moonbaby and something more. There are people amongst my tribe who say I was created by the desert itself, angry at the death of Jade Moonkill,  particles of matter swept up in a sandstorm and fused in this form. It is a story that Cadiz let prosper amongst the population.  And who was I to disagree? My memories are limited. If I did exist prior to the desert, I have no recollection of it. To all intents, whoever I am today was born there and whoever existed before died there.

Some might call it a resurrection of sorts. It is a duality of the person I have come to terms with. I am a moon baby in biology alone. In spirit, I am an Inspirtu. It is this fusion between the off-world and the desert that makes me unique.

Myths and legends abound. It is the nature of religious devotion. There are those that claim I am an empty vessel, a creature without a soul, who exists merely to channel the souls of others back to our mortal realm. They do not mean this as an insult. In our tribe, to channel the spirits of the dead is an ultimate honour.

We do not know if this belief is unique to us. For centuries we have allowed ourselves to become hidden, forgotten, even to the Desert Born.  We view them with suspicion as they must view us. Yes, our cultures were forged in the the same fires but we are different. For hundreds of years our sanctuary has been hidden deep in the south where off-worlders are forbidden and devoured by their ignorance. We permitted trade with our Desert Born brethren in our earliest years but grew weary of them.  Our contact with the outside world in the centuries since has been fleeting and deliberate but we watch. Oh yes, we watch.

As of today, we have set course north and intend to return to our Santwarju. Our pilgrimage is complete and we must return home. Our numbers become thinner with each day as the desert reclaims our people to become one with the world upon which we live. What greater honour than for our ashes to sweep majestically in the sandstorms, to settle for all eternity on this world while our spirits move on!

They have joined our greater community - our numbers on Araxes may shrink but our numbers there forever grow. These corporeal bodies are a temporary home. We will all be elevated to the greater planes of reality where we will exist for all eternity.

And yet death still pains.

I have tried to summon the spirit of my adoptive father. He does not come to me. How much longer, father, must I cry these blood red tears? You called it the Albino Stigmata. A sign, you said, of my connection with our messiah, the Musaii, Jade Moonkill. Perhaps you are angry with me. Was the search for the artefact a distraction from our cause? I did only what I thought was right.

You have educated me the way only a Preceptor of the Inspirtu could. You educated me in the ways of the people and told me tales of the Musaii, Jade Moonkill. Together we forged the Jadeist Congregation in the name of the Messiah. A Messiah who rode to our Santwarju on a huge clawed beast with such knowledge. A Messiah who gave hope to our people that our seclusion from the world may end, a Messiah who mirrored our spirit in such ways and matched our ancient religious text that you thought it impossible for her to be anything but the Messiah.

I know you believed that the Messiah and I are linked in ways mere mortals cannot begin to comprehend.

I will die willingly to bring the Messiah's Universe into existence, father. I prey that she guides you on your journey in our community of the dead and that you will guide us on our path to the ultimate cause.

Extract from the Adherent's personal papers published posthumously in 'Shifting of the Sands - A History of Araxes'

A beginning....

 

"I had wandered through the desert dazed for as long as I could remember. From slipface to slipface I walked, the harsh desert sun burning my skin, my legs heavy with exhaustion. My mouth was dry and my lips bled from where they had cracked. I found my mind wandered, venturing off on its own adventure of delirium. My walking became instinctive, constant and in moments of brief lucidity I felt the presence of death surround me. I embraced it and longed for the desert to claim me in its warm embrace. Eventually, I succumbed and fell to the ground, the granular sand stinging my skin. I felt sure I was to die.

And then a miracle happened. I felt water pass my lips, acrid and dirty but wonderous. A hand cradled my head. As I opened my eyes, a hazy sillouhetted figure kneeled over me. I heard voices. "What can this mean? An albino in the desert...again?". "We will take her to Kyöpelinvuori.". I felt arms around my body lifting me to the back of what I would later know as a sand skimmer. I passed into unconciousness.

After several weeks I broke the fever which had limited me to brief moments of awareness. There was a pungent odour in the air. The walls were made of stone and the room was illuminated by floating balls of orange light. An open window looked out upon nothing but rock and I realised that we were beneath ground. As I sat up in bed, I heard a commotion at my door and shortly two men entered the room.

"You're awake. We thought the desert might take you as its prize after all."

"Who are you? Where is this place?" I asked, touching my head as the pain arched across my skull.

"They call me the Preceptor. A grand title, isn't it? My given name is Cadiz. And this place is known as the Santwarju, or the Sanctuary."

Extract from the Adherent's Apologue

Book Four of the Jadeist Scriptures.