Chapter 15

A chime sounded in the far distance. Images began to flash before Zuri’s eyes, slowly at first. The images began to gather speed until the images became a moving story. Words appeared and began rolling down the page. A bell rang and more images appeared. A chime sounded twice, announcing whispered instructions bouncing between Zuri’s ears, sending chills up his spine. On and on the words, images, and voices tumbled into this mind until finally, a gong sounded.

Zuri opened his eyes and lifted his arms, wiping the drool from his face. The sun was far to the west and the light in what he knew as the Chamber of Assembly was golden. He stood up, taking time to stretch all his muscles slowly and carefully.

“Welcome, Master,” the two creatures intoned. “The final geas is fulfilled.”

“The First Mastery is mine,” Zuri declared. “I have no mastery over your creation though. What do you seek?”

“We are not flesh and blood,” the first one said.

“We did not ask or desire to be created,” the second one said.

“We have fulfilled every geas placed upon us,” the first said.

“Uncreate us, Master,” the second one said. “Release us from this consciousness.”

Zuri understood what they were asking, but the mechanism of release did not emerge from his new stores of memories or knowledge. “How?”

“Command us,” they both intoned.

Zuri held up his hand to them, “I command you to return to your post guarding the path into Ungjin. Once you have taken your positions, I command you to return to your previous state of being.” Without a word, the two creatures turned and departed. Zuri was left scratching his head, “No Feast of Ascension for me, I suppose. What do I do, now?”

Zuri scaled the steps and walked out to the front of the building, where he could watch the sunset. Hunger gnawed at his belly a little, but he chose to ignore it. He gazed upon the site, identifying the various buildings, concourses, and courtyards. He had taken nine, ten, maybe eleven months to complete the first of the four forecourts, and he had arrived with an introduction to part of the first one. He imagined conquering the next three would take years if he even succeeded. Most Masters never completed the last forecourt.

He was not most Masters; he was the only Master and the task weighed heavily. He calmly chewed through his belated dinner as he considered what the future might hold. He came here to find the tools for vengeance. He found them only to discover a far more important vision and direction laid upon him. Ungjin must be resurrected.

Of course, he could also rule the world. None could match the power he had gained. He could seize the throne, execute the Nobles, and bend the masses to his will. Yet all out lust for power went against everything he had experienced and believed. He had despised those people with power who used it to crush, rob, and humiliate the weaker. No, he closed the path to absolute power, knowing quickly it was the foolish path to ruin. Somehow, the lust for power played an integral part in the fall of Ungjin and her Ghura masters; he would have to search out that history later. He would reserve the right to rid the world of Provost Abans though; he had earned that right.

As he observed the constellations in the night sky, he confirmed using his new memories the Old Folk could return. The wolves had done well over the generations, hiding Ungjin from the world. They had kept the servants of the Ghura masters at an arm’s distance, lest the servants reveal what needed to remain hidden. Hiding Ungjin would remain easy for some time as the Old Folk had learned and ingrained in their families a distrust of the greater world.

Let the plains bear sustenance again and the rivers emerge to nourish the soil. Let the rocks offer up their bounties and the wild creatures crawl out of their miserable hidey-holes. The Old Folk would return to their ancestral home and replenish the land as in ancient times.

He slept. As he slumbered, the visions of his Ascension began to roil and tumble in his mind. Struggling to organize all the material into coherent structures, he lashed out in desperation. He had briefly studied the concept of “memory palaces”, great edifices in the memory with many rooms that were filled with furniture and objects. Each object was infused with facts, concepts, memories, and lessons. All the memory palace owner had to do was close his eyes and walk to the room where he knew the information was stored and retrieve the correct object. Zuri had never thought he would be the recipient of such a trove and had never tried to create one before. He struggled mightily to construct his imaginary palace.

When he arose in the morning, he was confident the foundation of his palace was set firmly; its structure was solid. He gazed out on the Ungjin complex sparkling in the morning sun, wondering if the complex itself was a mnemonic device.

Loneliness pressed down upon him, superseding his newfound confidence. He decided it was time to act. Gathering his ragged belongings, he moved them to the other side of the great Chamber of Assembly into one of the Master’s quarters which from his new memories was located on what was called the Master’s Avenue. Zuri could have taken the Grandmaster’s quarters, but he could not bring himself to select that domicile just yet; he knew he had not earned it. If one thing his new memories taught him is that bad things happened to Masters who believed they had mastered more of the Ahsa than they truly conquered.

“Ahsa,” Zuri said, finally putting the name to the golden aura beneath his personal signature. Some Masters had so thoroughly mastered the Ahsa that it hurt the eyes of lesser ones when the full radiance was allowed to shine. Ahsa was the power of, well, that was the unresolved debate. Was Ahsa the power of mother earth, the power of father sun, or the emanations of the creator god permeating through the greater unknown where the stars were.? Whatever the ultimate source, Ahsa could create, and it could destroy, utterly consuming the person using it.

Addressing certain needs could no longer be dismissed. With the withdrawal of the Grandmaster’s creatures, Zuri was forced to fend for himself. Morning passed before he returned from the cultivated fields with enough food to sustain him for several days. Using his staff with a swiftness he had learned over the past months, he had struck down a fat, pig-like animal with small sharp tusks that had the temerity to eat from his fields.

In the great kitchen, he set a fire in the oven and began preparing a slow stew. As the dish cooked, Zuri ate his harvested fruits. He found comfort sitting in a corner of the kitchen near the oven, a nostalgia for a childhood past when he watched the pot for his mother until she returned from errands.

“God is a given,” Zuri recited, remembering his journey with Leniz. “Ahsa is the road.” He stood and walked over to the open roasting pit. “I am a Master,” he explained to the pig’s head that was resting there, waiting for Zuri to do something with it. “I’m also a priest who swore to shepherd the people. I meant that oath too.” The pig head did not seem to care.

Zuri dragged the head out to the open field behind the kitchen, deciding that the responsible path was to feed the scavengers. He fetched the offal as well, tossing the pieces into the field. “Today I will eat well,” he said to himself. “I must never forget when all we had for a feast was offal and we were grateful.” He paused as he glanced over the complex, “How am I going to do this?”

Walking over to the second sunken forecourt, Zuri suppressed all the big questions of what must be done, how, when, and in what order. He climbed down into the court and stood on the first rune. Rummaging through his memory palace, he located the feasting room with its four great tables filled with foodstuffs, hot and cold dishes, plates, silverware, candelabras, and chairs for every place setting. He strode to the second table and sought out the captain’s chair, the one with arms. He placed his hands on the back of the chair and the memory came to life, the introduction to the second forecourt.