Tabi’s very eyes coursed with bearak, bolts of pure anger flickering over his irises, as a great storm rising on the horizon. Sid, taken aback by the response of the normally stoic Tabi, glared, clearly not interested in being challenged in a public area, in front of members of his own tribe. “Surely you do not intend to threaten me. Surely you understand who you are speaking to, and the context with which you are speaking.”
The reality was Sid’s tribe was a reflection of him, typically brute force, typically more arrogant than most Sar, pride at times dictating responses. His warriors response to the end of the battle, while far more belligerent than he, was not so unlike him that he would be unwilling to defend them. Tabi on the other hand, like myself, was one of the most stoic of the Sar. He was never arrogant and had a heart for others, at times sacrificing progress or success to ensure others were cared for. Neither Sar would ever come to an agreement in this moment, App and I both knew this.
As App and I moved between them, it suddenly became apparent how silent the other spectators had become. Seeming to all recognize this at once, we all turned our heads to see Lyte, standing at the nearest edge of the arena, eyebrows slightly raised, lips straight, not pursed but not hanging open either, an immense sadness radiating from his eyes. As Tabi’s eyes briefly met Lyte’s, only to dart downward, boring into the ground at his feet, the bearak in his eyes and fists dissipated, as his shoulders slumped forward.
Lyte, without touching the wall, yet without jumping either floated over the wall, his shin length white robes gently floating behind him. The silence was agonizing. It would have been better if he yelled, if he cursed, if he struck one of us, anything but this deafening silence, and heart-wrenching gaze. We had failed him. The members of Sid’s tribe, Sid and Tabi, App and I, all stood, ashamed. Lyte approached the unconscious protégé on the floor, kneeling by his side. Passing his hands over the Malakh’s body, the visible wounds stitching themselves together, Lyte gently healed the wounded warrior.
With the assistance of Lyte the protégé slowly sat up, clearly disoriented as his skull continued to mend from within. Looking past the Sar present to Rut, Lyte said, “Please see that he is attended to.” With that, Lyte stood, and slowly walked away, not another word spoken.
Unsure of what to say or how to say it, App and I stood silently as Tabi, almost ghostly, slowly returned to the side of the arena. Sid, eyes unreadable, looked upon Zari and his protégé, not angry, but not approving either, before indicating they should follow him as they returned to the other side of the arena, leaving App and I in the center of the training ground.
App, watching Sid walk to the side, almost as an afterthought stated, “Well, now what do we do?”
I sat silently, observing Tabi exit the training grounds, my thoughts flooding my mind. The celebration of the intentional harming of a defenseless Malakh was abhorrent. Sid provoking Tabi to anger was worse. Tabi threatening true violence against another Sar, provoked or not, may have been the worst. Certainly he was defending his tribe member, there was honor in this. Certainly Lyte must know this, but he also allowed himself to be provoked, and while it felt like Lyte always knew, was it possible he had not known the circumstances in their entirety?
The hurt in his eyes, the lack of words spoken to his Sar, any of them, left the feeling of a child brutally disappointing a loving father.
“You there?” App asked, snapping my attention back to the present.
I responded, voice slightly hoarse, “Yea I’m sorry. What do you think?”
App, eyes now searching mine, said, “Sid should not have provoked him, but the reality is Tabi and his tribe knew this was a combat training session, complaining about a team celebrating a truly incredible performance of techniques is hardly the way of Doxa, don’t you think?”
“App, they essentially executed a fellow Malakh while defenseless. This is no matter to celebrate, I think we must agree on this.”
“Mik, do not allow your relationship with Tabi to cloud your judgment. If your tribe had completed this level of timing and precision you would have celebrated it as yet another advancement of the combat abilities of Doxa,” App responded.
“On the initial technique, most certainly, but App, you cannot tell me you are ok with them dealing what would amount to a fatal blow on a defenseless being, and then celebrating this as a great progress.”
App, quickly retorted, “Agree to disagree,” clearly no debate in his mind.
“App, this is not progress, this is regression, nothing more.
Raising one eyebrow, App looked into my eyes, before turning to walk towards Sid without another word shared.”
~
Kai interrupted, “What do you mean not another word shared? How do you just walk away from a moment like this? I didn’t want to interrupt, but was this the first time an argument or tension occurred between Sar or even Malakh for that matter?”
Eyes peering through Kai to a time long past, slowly responded, “Yes,” and after great hesitation, “and no.”
Sadness clearly descending upon Mik’s eyes as he continued, “Much like brothers arguing or fighting while playing we had our fair share of arguments or disagreements during our own training sessions, but never in a moment in which the topic of what you could call a moral question. Is the assault of a defenseless being, regardless of circumstances, an element to celebrate? Of course, this leads to much deeper questions like: What is good? What is right? Is progress worth the cost of another’s well-being?”
Kai, enjoying the brief glimpse into the heart and mind of Mik, dare not interrupt.
Mik quietly continued, “Lastly, for the sake of the Sar anyways, was what exactly is leadership? We were charged with leading. Does leading mean to push your men forward into battle, to push them towards progress, or to serve? Can both be done at the same time?
Sitting in the middle of that arena alone, I looked back on the countless amounts of training we received prior to the speaking of the rest of the Malakh, remember it would have been at least hundreds of your years for the quantity we learned and were taught, I think back to my conversations with Speaker, my conversations with Lyte, and even my conversations with Eli. Many of these talks were with other Sar present, some were just App and I, while others were just me. I combed these conversations with a fine brush, trying to process what direction, what hopes for the future had been given to us.
While the celebration of ingenuity, the celebration of beauty and creativity were all very much encouraged, as these things pointed to Speaker’s incredible power, never, at any point, were we taught to love these things over other Malakh. It was as if in the minds of some of the Sar, and by default other Malakh, the exhilaration of being celebrated by others had surpassed leading others well, or worse, that these things were leading.
Let me clarify, the physicality of this moment itself truly wasn’t a big deal. Rut’s protégé obviously recovered, but it,” Mik paused, taking a deep slow breath, “It represented so much more.”
~
“I made my way to the exit, beginning the journey back to the city proper, not really sure where to go. As I neared the gates to the city I found Tabi, sitting on the stone rail of the bridge overlooking the ring of water extending around the perimeter of the city, shoulders slumped, head staring straight forward. I gently approached, but before I said a word, and without moving a muscle, Tabi said, “I don’t want to talk, but yes, you can sit.”
The two of us sat, nothing more, nothing less, our thoughts taking us captive. It was moments like these I learned the true power of silence. It’s not that words don’t contain power, but the devotion of time to another, without demanding they listen in return, indicates a certain measure of care, perhaps even devotion. It affords the opportunity to process, with a tangible measure of support, yet no requirement being sought as payment for the time dedicated.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
It could have been your equivalent of five minutes or it could have been hours. I think if you ask Tabi to this day, he will also say he does not know, but the quantity of thought processed in this moment, by both of us, was immeasurable.
“Why do I feel so guilty? Why do I feel that I failed Lyte, when I feel like I did the honorable thing?” Tabi asked, sorrow echoing through every syllable. “Was my anger not righteous?”
“Tabi, I do not know. I do not know what Lyte thought of the moment. I do not know what he saw or heard, though I feel he knows all, so I cannot imagine he isn’t aware of the totality of the circumstances. You stood to protect the vulnerable, those who were unable to protect themselves. This is good. This is right. How Lyte or even Speaker would respond, I do not know.”
Tabi, eyes downcast, staring into the crystal clear water below his dangling feet responded, “But did you see his face? Did you see the look on Lyte’s face, the hurt, the sorrow? I am one of his Twelve, one of his Sar, challenging Sid, regardless of his words, is not what Lyte would have done.”
I quickly responded, “Lyte would never have allowed the celebration of the assault of a Malakh incapable of defending himself.”
“They would never have dared such an act in front of Lyte because of the respect he commands, but see even this upsets me. Why do I think I deserve the respect Lyte receives, when the reality is, I do not. I am not Speaker’s son. I was not involved in our speaking. I did not offer us immortality. I am not capable of disarming you and App without so much as a finger twitching. I do not deserve the respect he does, yet, in the moment I felt I did. Why did I feel that way?”
From behind us a soft voice asked, “The question is not why did you feel this way, but what are you going to do with this feeling now?”
Lyte, placing his hands on the ledge, climbed up and wedged his way in between us, shimmying as he went to fill in a gap that was too small for him.
“You see Tabi? As part of your ability to display the power of Speaker, you had to be afforded the freedom to think and feel for yourself. Not allowing this would completely undermine the grandeur of who you are and who Speaker is. Allowing the freedom of thought, and yet you choosing to pursue what is good, right, and true, is this not a much higher creation than predetermining the very choices and decisions you will make?”
“But in that moment, I didn’t choose… right,” Tabi quietly responded, unable to look at Lyte.
Eyes twinkling, Lyte asked, “Ah, this is true, nor did Sid or his Malakh, am I right?”
I refused to make eye contact with Tabi as he turned to look at me with a, “How does he always know?” stare.
Lyte continued, “Please do not misunderstand me, another’s decision is never a reason for a poor decision in response. I simply want to point out, yours is not the only lesson to be learned in this moment.”
Tabi sat silently, returning to that great land of one’s own mind, where so many of the greatest battles are fought. He finally, as if paying a twenty dollar receipt with but one penny said, “Lyte, I am sorry.”
Lyte turned his head and shoulders to stare at Tabi, clearly waiting on something.
Tabi slowly looked up to meet Lyte’s eyes as Lyte, a radiant smile on his face, responded, “And those are the moments that can never be spoken into existence.”
Suddenly hopping down from the ledge onto the bridge, while clapping Tabi on the shoulder, Lyte declared, “Now come, I believe at least one more moment is yet on our near horizon.”
Tabi and I walked side by side with Lyte, uncertain of our destination, though heading in the direction of the city.
As we walked, Lyte addressed me for the first time, “What were App’s thoughts on the matter?”
“He leaned towards siding with Sid. Our discussion was very brief.”
Once again, always seeming to know details he was not present for, Lyte responded, “I see,” before turning to smile at me. The smile was a joyful smile, but also a smile that seemed to hold a thousand words, though I will never know.
In short time our destination became clear as the great Apeiron loomed in front of us. We climbed the steps, as usual the interior of the Apeiron appeared empty, but as we passed through the Veil of Kathar at the entrance we realized we were the last to arrive. The remaining Sar were present, all casually conversing, Eli stood over the Eye of Tsach, peering deep within it’s contents, and the four beasts held their posts around the perimeter.
“Ah, Tabi, Mik, welcome!” roared a beaming Speaker, the same usual twinkle in his eye, as I now realized not only had Lyte been sent to retrieve us, but in all likelihood to comfort Tabi, though of course they would deny this if asked.
“Now that we are all here, sit, sit, please,” as Speaker extended a hand out, waving towards our throne-like seats.
We all found our seats, including Speaker, though he remained leaning forward, hands in his lap. He began, “The Malakh’s pursuit of knowledge and beauty is nothing short of profound, however, I believe at times, we miss the greatest moments of relationship, in the pursuit of progress. I would never change the Malakh, nor would I ever desire to change them, however, I am considering speaking another being, another race. This race would be a relational race and while somewhat capable, would not naturally lean towards the pursuit of knowledge and beauty. They would also be drastically diminished in power, as well as both physical and mental capabilities in comparison to the Malakh. There is no way to change the Malakh’s innate pursuit without modifying the Sar and Malakh themselves, which I shall never do, as they have already far surpassed my greatest hopes, and this ability to pursue beauty and to pursue knowledge is what drives the Malakh to the breathtaking creations that fill the land of Doxa.
Silence was the only sound in the Apeiron, perhaps in all of Doxa. It was a long silence, a rippling silence, a breathless silence. My first thoughts were confusion, even irritation. Surely the mighty Malakh, at the very least the Sar themselves were capable of fulfilling whatever other levels of creation Speaker was imagining. However, as time went on and my thoughts continued to travel the road of processing, I realized, he spoke us, how dare I ever think he could not or would not speak other beings. Doxa existed before us. Other beings within Doxa existed before us. He gave us the ability to freely create, as the creator, did he not have the same rights, no, did he not have even greater rights? We existed because of him.
I broke the silence, perhaps not intentionally, the thought escaping in the form of words, “What will they be like?”
Speaker, visibly pondering, as if this question had not been completely decided yet, responded, “Well, I see this being possessing less mental and physical capabilities than the Malakh, however a more focused capacity on being-to-being relationships, perhaps even being driven by this very thought.”
“Will they be offered immortality as the Malakh are?” asked a usually quiet Zera.
“They will.”
A soft-spoken Sal asked, “Will they have the ability to pursue knowledge and beauty?”
Speaker, gently caressing his beard responded, “This will be within their capacity, but they will be relationally driven, with the goal of true and genuine love being shared between them, and every opportunity afford to them to pursue this without the pursuit of knowledge dictating this process. As we have all have seen since you were spoken, the speaking of a being is one thing, the speaking of a being capable of creating beauty is a whole different level, but the speaking of a being capable of choosing to love another, this, this is true beauty.
“This will be truly fascinating! Let us build them quarters here in Doxa, that we may witness this great feat,” shouted an excited Asa. “I can build them the perfect home!”
Speaker responded with a great laugh, “I appreciate your enthusiasm Master Asa, however, I believe they must be kept separate from the Malakh, for I fear their exposure to the incredible knowledge, power, and beauty of the Malakh would likely tarnish or even ruin their ability to love as they may instead choose to pursue knowledge. Though I do believe in some ways, they must be afforded this option, or the choice of love is not a true choice, merely the only path given.”
Disappointed, Asa looked down at the ground and quietly said, “Oh, ok.”
Speaker smiled gently upon Asa, as he asked, “What other questions or suggestions do you all have?”
App, having been silent through the conversation finally spoke, “As we are superior beings, let us instruct and guide them the way we have the other Malakh.”
The room fell silent again, several of the Sar nodding at this suggestion, while several looked at Speaker, while others, at me.
“Lyte will be their instructor, though he will likely utilize you to assist him in many things,” Speaker responded. “I truly appreciate your willingness to take on more responsibility, however, your burden is already great.” A questioning look on Speaker’s face, he asked, “If I’m not mistaken, there may be yet already another opportunity for you to lead well in the aftermath of an incident that occurred earlier?”
App, not appearing upset, though not content with the answer either, did not say anything further, bur merely stared at the pillar ahead.
“The highest level of creation is speaking a being that can and does choose to love another. I do not expect any of you to completely understand this, though I do ask you to trust me, and partner with me in this,” Speaker stated, his eyes carefully searching the others in the structure.
Asa, the wheels of his mind still turning, asked, “Speaker, if not Doxa, where do you see this new race residing?”
“Ah yes, that is a fantastic question,” Speaker responded. “For this I do have another idea as well, though as I stated before, I am in the process of considering many things, none of which have I decided.”
Asa, the wheels now grinding to a halt, responded with a question, “Wait, is there somewhere else, anywhere else, besides Doxa?”
The infamous twinkle radiating from his eye, Speaker simply smiled.