Fire of Refignment-Into the Flames 13-14

1:13

Chasm Chall

And so, hands bound in front of him, he stood on the platform jetting out into the cylindrical Descending Judgment Chasm Chall.  The vertical shaft was specifically designed to intimidate, belittle, and isolate the condemned suspended on a swaying platform far above the ground.  Blue lighting along the rail and the shaft made for an unnatural environment. 
"Advocate Yashmakhnah Karanasht," the voice echoed throughout the Chasm. They would not even use his full title.
At the sound of his name he lifted his chin, standing patiently, feet planted firmly, waiting for the public sentence aired on the radio set throughout the Detainment Center and live throughout the Universe on the Union Broadcast System. 
"By order of the council, being found guilty of conspiring insurrection to overthrow the peace of the Union, and in reverence to your choice of punishment forfeiting banishment for exile, you are hereby sentenced to exile on the planet of Oshkan."
He leaned back on his heals, raised his chin slightly as a furrow creased his "V" shaped brow. He spoke quietly,
"Kay waht bvah tsubvaht."
What do you know of peace? 

And he stood unmoved with his eyes set upon his condemners seated in the lofty narrow chamber across the way. Yet in his gaze there was no animosity, or anger, or fear, but more of a sadness as if for them, he felt pity.

When I heard his sentence, fear seized my heart, and I cried to the guards standing by, as if they could do anything about it, "Please don't do this to him!" I could see in their eyes some sympathy.  "He has suffered so much, please don't let them do this," but they just looked at me sadly. 
One of them did speak, "it was what he wanted."
I stopped.  A peace came to me and I mysteriously did not worry anymore.  This was what he wanted.
I also heard that he had been spared the Mercy Whips on account of the scars he'd received as a boy, from his own people trying to force him to deny his God.  They were more than twice the punishment of our sentence, and I wept.  I wept in the comfort of his being spared now, but also for the dark time he'd kept hidden from me regarding his past. I wept for this and for the Union's mercy now, though he was still being exiled. 
I wished I could see him. To offer some support or encouragement, but what would I say?  We had already said good bye, and he was so strong.  What could I offer him?

I was disappointed.  I didn't even get to go to the Chasm Chall.  Instead, after the Advocate was sentenced I was being bound again for Kershon to receive my punishment.
It didn't look like I'd get to see him again.  Two guards were passing by and were speaking of the Advocate's transport to Oshkan.  I knew they were headed that way.  "For the Advocate," I spoke, and they paused just long enough to hear my request.  "Please tell him 'thank you' for me.  Tell him 'I'm so grateful.'" They just looked at me and then went on.  I wondered if they would at all.

I was put on the fastest shuttle, and sent straight to the whipping post.

The Advocate was about to board the Transport shuttle when the guards arrived.
"Mr. Advocate," one of them spoke. "I was asked to give you a message from Carter."  Everyone stopped and stared at the guard.  In the silence there a thick tension and the guard wavered, but then continued. "She wanted me to tell you 'Thank you,' and that she is most grateful."
The Advocate was still, but the guards saw the shimmer in the corner of the aged eye before he gave a solemn gracious nod and stepped aboard the shuttle.

1:14

Punishment

Dark, cold, I could barely see: the fourth level.  Faint blue light showed the rough outline of the stonewalled cave.  The distant sound of a cough or scuff echoed in the stillness.  Directly in front of me in the shadows, I made out another passage.  A slight draft of disturbed air brushed against me and I shivered, exposed.
I wrung my hands in the thick ropes and waited, the courage I had before, gone. I shook.  The memory returned.  The sneering grins, their hands: they tore my clothes from my body and laughed.  My soul recoiled in my flesh. I shoved the memory back in my mind: not here, not now!  I heard my breath. 
Straining my eyes, I tried to see beyond within the shadows, but it was vain.  I stood hunched, anxiety building.  I couldn't stop shivering.
Then I heard them.  Two pairs of thick-soled boots and the clinking of metal. Here they come.  They entered the chamber. 
Dread fell on me in a rush of fear. I pulled my wrists up to my chest and stood still, waiting.  I knew what was coming. The Advocate had stood in this same way, though spared, but Jaymith endured in this very place, and now I would too. 
Crack! A sharp slashing pain struck from my right shoulder to the left side of my waist. My back arched and I gasped in surprise.  I thought my back had been ripped open.
Crack! Another slashed from the base of my neck straight down. I choked in shock.
Another from my left shoulder to the right side.  I stumbled forward into the stone post.
Another and I stepped back, trying to stand. Breathe! I commanded myself.
Another and my legs gave beneath me.  I fell to the side.
Anticipating the next blow, I twisted my torso to keep my back to the whip. 
I pulled my knees up so that I sat on them and just tried not to fall over again. If I could just keep the blows to my back and protect my front.
They fell, one after another.  I could feel the whip digging into my back.  I thought my bones would break beneath the force.  It was getting harder to breathe.  My mind began to fade.  Focus! I commanded.  I clung to the whipping post, just trying to steady myself.  The blows kept coming, and then they stopped.  I raised my head, thinking it was over, but the last one was late. I jumped at its sting and knocked my head into the post.

         I saw a face: the face of a creature I had never seen before.
In the dim light, I saw a bald head with short funnel shaped ears. 
The skin was red and black like smudged and the dark eyes were pleading,
searching in earnestness.  Then all went dark.
         
                   In transport, he saw her.  The Advocate saw her.
                             Each blow, the blood.
                                       His heart broke, and he wept openly for the Human child.
                                                 From his spirit he cried to Yashhan,
to give her strength to endure.
                                       That she'd not forsake Him,
                                                 Not turn from the Way,
                                                           The True Peace,
                                                                     The Life
                                                                               The love in Him.
                                                                                         And he wept for her.

When I had come to, they were shaking me, trying to get me to stand, in another room.
Blinding light. My head! 
I struggled to my feet as they lifted me up. 
Dizzy,
I nearly fainted. 
I bent over to let the blood rise.  I had lost a bit.  I was short of breath. 
Roughly, they were trying to clothe me again. 
My back, searing pain! 
I uttered cries and strained to keep from screaming. 
Once clothed, they put me in a security craft and shuffled me secretly to the city's edge, to the desert, so no one would see. 
"Let the Master look after you," they laughed, and they turned me loose.

I ran, weakly, tears blinding my sight, searing pain, their mockery ringing in my ears.  Was this it?  I thought I would surly be kept in prison so that they could verify my choice to follow the Master and exile me.  I thought for sure I would at least share in the fate of both Jaymith and the Advocate.  Why was I here? Where was I to go?  What now? 
What about what the Advocate had said? 
How could that happen now? 
What good was I anyway?  I had failed.  I was nothing, had nothing, had no one. 
I was alone,
broken,
defiled,
beaten,
bleeding,
nothing.
lost. 
I wished to die. 
What could the Master do with me now?  I was nothing.

And yet I kept going until my strength gave out.  I fell to the sand in a crumpled, parched heap. I guess this is it.

         Then I saw him, the figure walking slowly among snow flying in blizzard wind, hunched and huddled beneath a shabby blanket.  There was the Advocate, all alone and exiled in a foreign planet, having lost his final quest in life.  I forgot myself. I cried for him. 

The huddled figure coughed in the cold wind and stopped before an ice break or cliff providing a shield from the flying snow.  He sank to his knees and fell to side, his back against the wall and lay still: impossible to see him anymore.

I cried, I cried without knowing what I was doing.  I begged the Master to send him help out there.  He had sacrificed so much for me, for us.  Why should he be left to die in a foreign place, alone?

Sheltered from the wind and still, he saw her collapsed in the desert sand broken and all strength gone.  "Ah Hohtah Yashhan, eikhnah!  Eikhnah hish dah, hish kishabv."
                                       Master, TrueLight, please help this young one.

I saw another figure, coming from the opposite direction.  They paused at the cliff break and turned toward the shadow, then went to it calling and touched it.  The huddled figure stirred and struggled to his feet as the other helped him up.  Steadying him, they led him away, and I did not see him anymore. 

The sun passed over drawing its shadows along the sand, and the wind swept away all footprints reorganizing the texture of the land into little ripples. It swept the sand up against the still form which did not move. Now, it was late afternoon, the hottest time of the day; not many creatures did well in the intense heat of afternoon summer, save the Cerai'i. Time was critical.
         Tentative hands crept slowly from behind the stone. The long yellow fingernails made them look even longer than they really were.  A bald head rose above the rock.  Two funnel shaped ears stuck out from the sides of it's head, and it's skin was a blend of smudged red and black like ash.  It's dark eyes blinked questioningly at the sprawled figure in the sand.  Brown and red streaked the back of it, crusted in the heat of the sun. It was not Cerai'i, lacking the freckle-spots, and it's hair was flat and flowy not frizzy.  It was a Human.
         A flash of fear dashed across the creature's eyes.  His people lived in constant fear of Kershonian Humans who had raided, killed, and driven them out of their homes in the caves for want of precious stones and minerals.  At times his people had retaliated by kidnapping but this worked against them as they were faced with stronger opposition and more violent raids. 
Sometimes they were even set up.  By the signs, this thing had been there a long time undisturbed: no tracks. Was it even alive?  Creeping among the rocks he stepped closer noticing the lack of provision: no water, food: and the blood, he caught the scent.  This creature was in dire need.  He could not leave it there.  The Jackals would come at night.  If it was alive, it would die then.  He could not live with that.
         Licking his dry cracked lips, he crawled forward into the open.  He wore a band of four overlapping cloths hanging from his hips down to his knees.  The only other thing he wore was a strap crossing over from his right shoulder.  It carried his dart kit for catching bats, a water jug, and a fire drill.  He looked around again, to be sure no others were around, Humans or his kind: either would be trouble, but there was no evidence. 
         Carefully, he made his way over to it and set his hand between the shoulder and the sand.  It was warm, not cool.  The creature was alive.  He gently nudged the body and started back, but the creature did not arouse.  He leaned over it and saw where the sand had been blown away by its breath leaving a triangular hole, for it's face was turned away.  Even now he saw grains of sand jumping from the place. 
Turning it over with care, he recognized the female features, and fear filled him again: but then he saw where the sand had stuck to her face from tears, and looking in her face, he saw trouble, pain, and peace. 
Somehow he understood that she had hope and had suffered a great deal on account of that hope: a powerful hope, a hope with strength.  Somehow he knew that she had been sent to his people to tell them of this hope, and if this hope could show peace through such suffering as he felt she'd endured, it was something his people needed badly.
         Gathering her in his arms with care regarding her wounds, he made his way back to the caves knowing he carried a great messenger.  He was no longer afraid.  He carried hope, and he was bringing it to his people.