Chapter 37. The City
The Hermit knew about another secret tunnel leading to the City. He was the only one who knew – nobody else. He reproached himself that he had not time to share the discovery with the Stranger. There was a chance to avoid collision with the warriors of desert so as not to play their game. They turned their distorted and absurd interpretations of prophecies about the Messenger into fact. They cannot see the evident, for their hearts hardened. They cannot hear with their ears, for they do not want to hear the voice of the Truth. Their eyes are closed, for the light of the Truth hurt them.
The old man remembered that once, in the early morning, while gathering healing herbs, he found some clay grout hardened into stone of apparently artificial origin. By knocking the walls with a cane, he could hear a hollow sound. He immediately returned to his hermitage for tools, and went full tears back. He moiled the clay brick masonry to reveal a very tight breach, switched on a lantern and started moving along the gloomy tunnel corridors. Though having a difficulty in breathing, the sturdy weathered old man was going on and on, dragging the heavy moil.
In about four hours, he hit a wall, broke it easily to find himself on the skirts of the City.
Now, the Hermit decided to make use of the secret pass. It was likely the very same ancient tunnel cut through the mountain by order of the kings for besiege. But who cut the tunnel his friend is now moving along, and when?
The old man entered the tunnel, put his palm against the wall, and feeling cold and wet stone, closed his eyes to see… The paved narrow street lit with night lanterns was meeting a lonely tired wayfarer dressed in an old, old as could be, dark sweater and jeans worn to the thread in some places. His nut-brown hair is cut short. As judged by his step, a youth. The old man tried to look in his face, but made little of the feature, and, most essential, he failed to see his eyes. That made the Hermit very sad, and he lied down the wet uneven floor. The vision froze hard.
“Why?” the old man whispered.
The silhouette once frozen up came alive again; the young man gave a weeny nod, and said in a low but mighty voice, “Follow me.” The old man opened his eyes, struggled to feet slowly and bent his neck to pass under the very low ceiling. He went giddy, his eyes shaded with pain, blood hammering in temples, but, having recovered his breath, the traveler moved on. It seemed to him that he got the reason for his friend’s hurrying to the City.
The Hermit believed that the Stranger would escape all traps without his help. The Hermit only had to pray for the Stranger and pass him the old man’s capacities at least for some hours. In an hour of wandering in the tunnel, the Hermit weakened, feeling his vitality leaving him, yet not disappearing but going to the Stranger. A meeting is reserved for his friend, to which, maybe, the old hermit who had left the earthly world for lonesome places has been also invited. But now the Hermit was returning back. He answered the trumpet-call of ancient prophecies penetrating the world. He was walking in anticipation of the greatest meeting that was promised by the greatest man.
Coming to the City, the Medium explained the Soldier and the Seer, how to reach the tunnel, and got home. Strained and concentrated, the Seer was keeping silence all the time. The Soldier, to the contrary, was in good spirits. He seemed not to feel any danger, resembling a battle hound ready to jump down throat of an enemy. The Seer hoped to solve the problems without blood on the floor, so, skewing at the Soldier, he tried to harness his willpower.
The Seer knew: the desert warriors are unfriendly to any aliens, especially to him whom they considered to be the evil force, because he derisively compared himself to ancient prophets, disrespectful both to the order, and to any religious authorities. The warriors of desert and adherents of militarized religious orders wished to destroy him and, despite being prohibited from leaving the City and the vicinities, tried to perform the act of revenge. The Seer felt danger well in advance and could prevent it, but he was bored to death with the necessity to hide and wait for attempt, so he offered apologizes in public and refused from mocking and rude statements addressed to the believers who could use not only a word, but even explosives as an argument.
The adherents have their passports stamped with a red mark testifying to their being in a militarized religious order or to their disloyalty to the system. And that stamp in the certificate forbade them to leave the City. Some people accused of disloyalty were brought here against the will, but the majority was rushing to the City ready and willingly. Here, they felt comfortable, for they could afford to perform their rituals, not exposed to mockery and insinuations, wear their uniform, and, ultimately, they had no risk of encountering worldly population so as not to be subject of its alien influence.
The City was overcrowded with prophets, magicians, fortune-tellers, healers, hypnotists, and mere miracle mongers, divided into enclaves represented by numerous ethnic groups, religious communities and militant orders.
Almost any district had community defense volunteer squads generally comprised of former military men with fighting experience. The soldiers of fortune were granted with the right to bear arms certified by a special document. In the City, there also were located government army patrols that seldom interfered with the conflicts between the competing religious orders, but preferred to take a detached view. The policemen avoided visiting some quarters as they might be attacked by young aggressive adherents.
The citizens took up arms in secrecy. The government was losing the reins of power.
The Soldier saw the City turned into a new arena for soldiers of fortune, mercenaries, feeling their significance and importance here, though they were the reserve officers who went through the war and defended the country at the expense of their life. But after the victory, the motherland did not recognize them, forced them out, and threw into the embrace of religious orders.
Tense and combative atmosphere of the City was necessary for the Soldier’s lungs. But above all, he was eager to prove the Stranger that he was not afraid of death and ready to fight with any available methods: shooting, blasting, breaking arms and legs of those getting in the way.
The Seer, in turn, felt uncomfortable, especially because of his mate, with his hands bloodstained. Danger flies to such people like a fly to dung, and, is sure to befall those besides.
On the skirts of the City, the taxi driver refused to keep on driving. Getting out of the car, the Seer carefully examined the place.
“There must be steps over this hill, these’re abrupt, some of them missing, and it will be difficult to climb them, but you will help me. When we descend, we’ll see the cave, three armed warriors of deserts at the entrance waiting for the Stranger, and not with flowers. I’ll try to neutralize them, but you must interfere only if the situation is beyond control.”
The Soldier nodded dutifully, his eyes glistened: this time he will fight for the sake of the Truth, no less a person than the Seer being his mate.