For one who has nothing to fear,
darkness is a comfort, a meditative emptiness without stimuli. But
when I awoke in blackness, anxiety wracked my soul. Had I double
dreamt of my idol Emperor, twice a coward, tortured by the
horror of ceasing to exist, and the terror of continuing to be?
This deep in doubt, I questioned his
manly courage, my inspiration to traverse the obstacles of the world,
and reenact the feats he had accomplished. Searching would require a
new venture, bravery in embracing the senses to arrive at the truth.
With hand outstretched, I perceived neither the softness of cushions,
nor the filthiness of a tarnished hovel. Though I lay in a narrow
bed, and though it were simple, and even a bit rough in construction,
it seemed straight, as if until that moment, everything I had ever
touched was distorted. Unable to see, but unwilling to remain
confined, I placed both bare feet upon the floor, and though it was
austere in construction (some unfinished wood), it was so clean, I felt as if I were standing on a silken rug.
Daring to embrace the senses, allowed a release of dream worry. Blindly I managed to stumble upon a door, and pushed it open, but the darkness did not abate. At that
moment I faltered, unable to advance if even a company of men required my
command. It came to my mind that these dreams were a series of
tests, enacted by the Emperor or some power beyond, probing to
evaluate my worth, and so I summoned my reserves of andreia, and
breathed “Hello,” into the unknowable expanse.
And nothing seemed
to occur. Standing, timelessness began to rest heavily on my
consciousness. It passed, or did not, unmeasurable and it seemed
almost as if movement forward or even backward would be preferable to
the mounting tension. When I was about to break, body forward, feet
back, a light flickered ahead. I grasped the frame with both hands,
whether to prevent collapse or retreat, I can't be sure. And if I
had been compelled to wait, my courage would have failed, but the
flame moved with such assurity that the bearer stood before me, only
seconds after his appearance.
In the solitary flare, I stumbled
back, for it illuminated a terrifying visage, of
terrible glinting teeth, cruel, hungry eyes, and tawny fur, like the
face of a monstrous feline deity. From the ground I raise my hand to
shield it from my sight, but it was clasped firmly, and I was pulled
to my feet.
“Are you ready to
meet the Emperor?” asked a voice, as absent in tone, as the desert
is absent of water.
I knelt as swiftly
as my feeble legs would allow. “I am in his presence.”
“Then you
understand periphery, but not the essence.”
I dared to lift my
head, and could perceive no details of Him, but discerned a
diminutive stature.
“Come,” he
said, turning with the precision of a soldier on parade. I stood and
followed a step behind, but near enough to observe the mask which
reflected the room's sole light.
“Why have you
come so far, abandoning family, friends, and community, merely to
seek the Emperor?” he said.
“Have I deserted
them? Over the last few days, I am not even certain where I am.
Perhaps I am still fifteen, sleeping in my parents house,” I said,
though these words seemed vaguely disrespectful.
He stopped, turned
toward me, grasped my face with one hand, and turned it toward his.
So arraigned, with a sudden movement, one of my hands was clasped and
drawn into the flame. It was but a candle, yet I wrested to escape
the pain, and though I fought with all my strength, I could not
wrench myself from his grip. Collapsed on the floor, weeping, I felt
the pain recede, and a cool compress upon my hand. Relief flooded my
fragile frame, ashamed, yet not vengeful as one might expect from the
sudden ordeal.
“It shall ease,
and you shall learn,” he said. “But trust that you are here, as
I am here.”
“I am here,
because I wish to be the bravest man among your followers, and you
have demonstrated I am lacking in this virtue.”
Walking again, he
said, “You may not have discovered bravery, but your adventure has
proven persistence at least.”
“Will you answer
not my question? What is bravery as regards to battle?” As the
words spilled from my lips, I perceived a faint light ahead.
“You have never
been in battle, a fight to the death of one or the other,” he said
calmly.
“No,” I
replied, diminished again by the Emperor's cunning question, but
provoked to continue, “But I yearn for the opportunity.”
“I have set this
realm free of such masculine need. This lust for an unnecessary
knowledge disturbs.”
Insulted, yet I
persisted, for as the Emperor had observed, it was my only skill,
“Someday you will pass, and the world will be as it was.”
We stopped again,
the candle made superfluous by the light, welcoming yet faint like
the early dawn.
“Hm,” the
muffled sound of contemplation emanated from behind the mask. It no
longer appeared ferocious, but rather fulfilled and enduring. I
waited, desperate for the answer to satisfy my longing, my betrayal,
my suffering, my soul. But even with all concentration engrossed on
this answer, a sliver of consciousness struggled with a undefined
strangeness, unknown, but subtly discernible in the light. Yet the
answer, when it came, obliterated even this tiny feeling.
“Bravery on the
battlefield is knowing when to strike an enemy, and when to allow the
enemy to strike.”
“When would one
prefer to be struck first?”
“Bravery is
knowing when to suffer the deceits of others, and when to reveal the
truth.”
“What does
that...”
“Bravery is
knowing when to open oneself to the suffering of others.”
“But...”
“And bravery is
searching for, knowing, and accepting oneself.”
“I...”
Then she reached
up, undid the mask, and smiled at me.
“You
have much to learn,” said the Empress. “Perhaps it would be best
if you stayed for awhile.”
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