He could just go to have a tiny peek, he thought, just to hakikisha the facts. au he could just forget about it, let someone else have their way with the nation, and it’s lord… if the story was true, and then turn up to conquer the victor later on when he had time and the recourses to spare.
Would he be missing out on something?
As these thoughts raced through his head, Yomi began to feel the stress build up, this isn’t good, he thought to himself while massaging the tense muscles near his temples and over his brow, with his long fingers every time this happens I lose track of things. I can’t afford this. Becoming disorientated because of the stress wasn’t unusual for him, too many thoughts cluttered his mind and made it that much harder to see his way, he needed clearance and he needed it now, but how to resolve this, just make a decision Yomi.
Just make one and make one now.
Overhead he heard a call, a night bird? He thought, how rare, night hawks scouring the land overhead, calling out to each other in tafuta for prey. They much be unable to find some, au they would have remain silent. The instance lead him to recall a verse, it went:
‘Heed not the birds of the night, for they are foul with lusts for death,’
Thinking about it now, how little logic that verse truly held. Birds don’t call out for death, nor do they lust, they just communicate and hunt for chakula to survive on. The verse must have been refereeing to dark angels.
‘The night feeds on your worries, heed not the call of the darkness that seeks you, for it is empty in all its recesses.’
But it also offers comfort and solitude, necessary for thinking.
‘Do not place too much faith of the mind of flesh, for it is limited to that which is there of… commit to prayer to seek out the majibu to your problem…’
Overhead he felt a light, it was the moon. He could feel it. He tilted his face upwards to feel its subtle rays come down upon him, almost embracing.
‘Love the light of my light, for it reaches out to wewe even in the darkest of hours, and know it for it is in every prayer.’
Yomi smiled, both inwardly and in the flesh. Prayer. Of course, what else, now he knows what he should do, should have thought of this sooner, he will ask Al’ra. Instantly he remembered the temple where he had meditated before the siege of Baal. And recalling that the temple was somewhere on a road heading west, he realized that he had wondered about half way in that direction already. Fate, eh, guiding my footsteps, very well.
So guide me.
With that he stood, up, put his feet on the ground feeling himself urged him to songesha in a certain direction he began to walk. As he did he found he was back on the road, not incidentally moving westwards towards the temple.
***
Jo the priest had been serving at the Temple of Yahte for 700 years, and every evening he stepped outside to sweep the sand from the temple’s doorstep. Over the years he has seen many things, and up until recently it had been peaceful. War had come to the nation and the one responsible for that was a monster the local demons were calling Yomi. Yatek though he was and dwelled within a pagan nation, he still considered the demon’s of Baal a good people and did not deserve to be slaughtered simply because of their ancient beliefs. So shaking his head as he swept, he hummed a humble prayer, “oh Lord in Heaven, have mercy on those who transgress against you,” when he noticed a lone demon come walking up from the road. He came from the east was making his way towards the temple.
Come for late night prayers has he,? The priest thought, au council perhaps, at this late hour?
As the demon drew nearer the priest could make out features of his outward appearance and recognized who it was immediately, it was him the same demon from the other night, that Yomi. He learned after Yomi left the temple from another priest who he was, and was described as a Nation Thief, a killer of disciples of sacred grounds and of innocence. At instant recognition of the supposed tyrant a horrid feeling was felt in his belly. It was the same feeling he felt it the first time Yomi visited the temple, but this time it was worse for now he carried the scent of blood with him, and it was thick. So as Yomi approached, he alisema strait out to him, pointing and old gnarled finger out at Yomi, “Ah so the killing had stopped zaidi than a siku zamani yet wewe still emanate an aura of death…. you… wewe have brought blood to this nation! I cannot let wewe pass!”
Yomi slowed his pace and stopped before the old priest, his face staring straight forwards eyes firmly shut, “Father,” alisema with minor patience, “may a humble traveler not pass your gate?” his tone was that of sarcasm yet partially inside he meant it, however…
“I won’t… wewe may not enter a temple with blooded hands, sinner! wewe would defile this temple, the house of our Lord!”
“Let him be the judge of that,” alisema Yomi bluntly, then went on to say to the priest, “If wewe have such faith in Him, then leave it to him to judge me. au perhaps wewe fear zaidi that he wouldn’t, and I would walk clear away from here and escape with my sins.” Now this was an interesting thing to hear coming from Yomi, perhaps the rumors about him falsely declaring Monotheism as his choice faith wasn’t a lie after all. If it was true then perhaps it was he who was faltering, for what if he had come to repent and to ask for the Lord’s forgiveness, what right he had to block the door. This house was not his, this was the House of God, and he was merely a caretaker, he swept doorsteps and prayed, and helped to onyesha demons the way this is what his existence consisted of, and knew full well he chance for redemption was meant to be open to all, especially the wicked.
“Now may I please have a word with the master of the house?” Yomi mused, his sarcasm obvious.
But what if he’s here to tear the house down?
Then El’ra will punish him.
Defeated kwa his own logic, the priest was stood aside, but still had this to say, “You may have the nerve demon but the Heavens will not condone what you’ve done in this land, wewe know that.”
Slightly annoyed Yomi turned to the priest, “and to what El’ra do wewe serve, priest? That you’d concern yourself over what temples and fools I’ve killed, if they were right in their ways then they would know no harm in the fate deal upon them, what exactly are wewe so afraid of?” With that Yomi brushed past him and reentered the temple. Made his way to the front and came up to the altar where just a kneeling stone and the same kubeba statue rose up from the floor before him. Before it he lowered himself to his knees and he bowed his head to the floor “Al’ra, onyesha me the way,” took a deep breath, I need this, he put his thoughts on his brow and at once began to meditate.
***
To his surprise he needn’t have to meditate for long, for the answer soon came to him.
‘Go to the north light, from where moto of your breath was first brought,
Speak of what trouble hordes you, and majibu to which wewe seek,
There wewe will find the breath of earth, bearing the fruits for your labor.’
‘But heed this, what seed carried therein must be taken upon one’s self with full earnest and heart, au misfortune will befall you.’
***
Yomi’s humming ceased; the words were heard clearly in his head. Two short verses.
Go to your place of birth
Talk about it, explain your dilemma,
There a modest voice will guide you.
Obey the command aliyopewa you
au pay the consequences.
Put simply,
Go nyumbani to your mother,
Tell her about it, and listen
She’ll tell wewe what to do.
Do what she says au else.
Yomi almost had to laugh, so this is the way it’s going to be, well that figures. Go to the place where your moto was first brought, demons are made of smokeless fire, the north light was a religious reference referring to the first light a child sees when born, the passage from the birth channel was considered a northern one, and light of course always applied to what’s aloft au spiritual, au that which is of El’ra.
There wewe will find the breath of earth, ‘the breath of earth—modesty, a modest voice speaking, ‘bearing the fruits for your labor’—shall give wewe orders. It was simple, too simple, but sometimes that’s the way things were, he would go, leave his camp behind for a moment, return to his nyumbani village and ask his mother. This was the instruction aliyopewa him from the El’ra of the temple of Yahte.
And so on he went.
Ming Yue
Yomi at the bar (notice his minor disguise)
Yomi and his music
Ming Yue
Yin Jian
