02-22-2018, 10:10 PM
Age: 28
Height: 6’6”
Weight: 270 pounds
Build: Athletic
Ethnicity: Eritrean
2018
I have been born three times in my life.
On January 21, 2018, I was born Anbessa, son of Kidani and Mariam
My father told me the story of my birth. He had been hunting in the Takkaze river valley in Shire, along the western border of Ethiopia. There had been rumors of rakshasas haunting the caves that dot the ancient valley, of their periodically venturing out to feast upon the nearby villages and cities.
My mother, Mariam daughter of Ali, was heavy with my impending birth, but my father felt the threat of the rakshasas too important to ignore. It was his duty, as Qdus. Duty was all there was, he said, as he had learned from his father before him. ‘Kidani’ means ‘dedicated’. And that was what my father was and has always has been. For the good, sometimes. But as I came to learn, sometimes not.
On that night, during his hunt, he encountered a lion and slayed it. They are far more common now then they used to be. The lion itself was not an unusual encounter, but tonight, of all nights, my father had taken it as a sign. And not the only sign, either. It was also the night of the super blood moon, something that occurred once every few hundred years, a portent of still greater significance. That was the night I was born. Anbessa, Lion, son of Kidani.
I never was let to forget that story, with all its omens and pregnant promise. Nor any of the other stories of the Qdus, our purpose, the histories. The lies and deceptions of the Romans. It has been by God’s gifts that we have stayed hidden from them all these centuries and have been able to watch.
And so I learned at the feet of my father, the hunt and the kill, who and what we are, had it driven into my soul. But I also learned from the hands of my mother, herself a skilled hunter. It was one of reasons my father first loved her so. But years before I was born, she had been injured and lost her hearing, beyond any ability of medical science to repair. Her hands and fingers became her voice- Ethiopian Sign Language- which I learned along with my own language of Tigre, of Amharic, English and Arabic.
My mother taught me the signs, the words in a bent tuft of grass, the whisper in a broken branch, the scream in the scratch on the rock. Perhaps in the quiet of her mind she had learned to hear with her eyes and nose and skin and hair. Nothing was invisible to her. And she showed me how to open my mind and senses, to be one with the face of the land, to feel the passage of quarry as bad smells or faint discolorations or the discordant cry of a bird.
It was a happy time, made happier still with the unexpected birth of my little sister Sesuna, ‘pop-corn’. I’ve never been able find out where the name came from, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Even now, I can see my father’s seemingly puzzled face at what to do with this new little one in his arms. A daughter had not been part of his plans, I would later learn. But for me, it was a blessing. I remember being five years old, peering into her bed, seeing her swaddled and bound tightly, smiling up at me with my mother’s eyes. My sister. Even now, thinking of her, my heart is filled with love. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
And so, we were happy. We both continued to grow and to learn. Father and Mother were not rich, of course. But they had jobs that allowed them to carry out their true work as Qdus. Asmara is as modern a city as any in the world- London, Paris, Nairobi, Moscow. And at times, we traveled to the Red Sea for work and play; swam in the waters that sometimes took on a reddish cast; sailed out through the Bab al Mandab into the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean; visited the islands where fishing industries thrived; saw trade goods from Yemen and Saudi Arabia wind their way west. And we observed as anthropologists explored the birthplace of humanity; scientists and engineers leveraged the rich geothermal energies that were a natural byproduct of the natural geological formations. And all the while, we hunted where possible.
We lived and grew and thrived in the soil of two worlds, Sesuna and I- the distant past and the ever forward facing present- and we effortlessly switched back and forth between the two. I spent much of my time with father and learned our craft and the lore. Oni and rakshasa, wefuke and djinn. And all of them became my prey, now. If not dead, then driven off. The hunt was all, the pleasure and power that came from it. Above all things, I was to be Qdus. Even, as I gradually learned, above more than casual relationships.
And Sesuna too was being taught our ways. The hunt is learned and then honed first by chasing prey that was to be food. At only six years of age, father gave her the task of quickly taking the downed animal’s life. I remembered performing the same when I was her age. Of course, I had been scared, but I trusted my father. It was the right thing to do. And so as difficult as it was, I did it. And though I wanted to vomit after, I didn’t, for which he had been proud.
So I understood Sesuna’s fear. I smiled at her encouragingly and nodded, put my hand on her shoulder. But she looked at him. And whatever I had seen in my father’s eyes, whatever reassurance and trust I had found in them, was missing for her. Maybe she simply didn’t recognize it. I honestly hope that was the case.
Because maybe- and God forgive me for this and for my hatred that seems to grow the more I think on these things, but I simply cannot understand how a father can feel so little for his own little daughter- he only had room in his heart for me
Whatever the reason, she couldn’t do it. And my father could not, or did not try to hide his disappointment. Sesuna was quiet the whole trip home. I held her close to me and tried to teach her the songs of the hunt. I like to think it helped her.
Sesuna began to spend more and more time with my mother. I saw my mother’s angry words with father- hands and arms and fingers flashing her displeasure. I even heard her voice, something I had never heard in my entire life, words barely intelligible from lack of use, and yet completely crystal clear in their meaning. I agreed with her. But I was only 11. What could I do? Father was truly deaf in his heart, while mother heard all despite her own lack of hearing. Sesuna was completely hers. And mine, I vowed. As busy I was, I would always have time for her.
And did she learn from our mother! And though I knew myself an excellent tracker, even before 10 she had far surpassed me. It was as if she was aware of everything, had become the land and the sky and everything in between.
Our father never saw that. For him it was about the end, the final leg, the stalk and the kill, rather than all it had taken to get there. He did not acknowledge the caches of food and supplies they prepared and stationed for us. He did not think of all it took to track a djinn across the land, or to ferret out the whisper of a wefuke. Perhaps he too was simple minded. But as this continued, I confess, I became angry with him. I had words with him, violent disrespectful words. And while he did not dare try to punish me- perhaps he could already see that though I was only 15, I had a grown man’s height and build on me- and was still growing- it was clear he just couldn’t or wouldn’t give what Sesuna needed.
2033
So I would do it for her, for my little sister, now 10, just a girl. When I was with my friends in school or from the neighborhood, she was never treated like a nuisance. No one bothered her. Despite any tiredness or injury, I helped her with school work or whatever project she wanted help with, carried things too heavy for her to carry. And sometimes, it was as simple as laying on my bed reading or listening to music while she curled up in the chair with a book of her own.
But it was as if the universe had conspired against her, had determined the path of her life from birth. She and our mother were off on a simple tracking exercise. I had been working with my father in the open air market of Medeber, bending and cutting and wielding metals into artwork and other useful objects. I can still remember seeing her through the goggles, her breathless form tinged yellow, running at full speed, passing father and coming straight to me. I bent down and took her gently by the shoulders, my eyes searching for any sign of injury. “What happened Sessy? Are you hurt? Where is mother?”
She pulled at my hands. "Come quickly!" The fear in her eyes, the panic in her voice, stabbed me to the heart. I followed, wishing she could run faster. I did not know the way but I wanted to run, to feel my legs pumping, to feel like I was in control. Father was close behind.
There, in the distance I saw her, a shadowed mound. I knew instantly. I grabbed at Sesuna, turned her toward my chest, shielding her from the image no one should have of their mother. My father plunged onward and a sound ripped from his chest, so raw and deep it tore the sky open. I dropped to my knees, holding my sister, feeling the hot fat tears roll down my cheeks.
I will never forget that day for as long as I live.
My heart died that day. We wrapped her as best we could and carried her to the church for cleaning. But it was not real to me. In some ways, it has never become real. A nightmare I have never awakened from. I grieved for my dear mother. I missed the smell of her, the smell of the spicy berbere in the siginy stew permeating her clothes, the yeasty smell of the dried injera dough on her fingers. I missed her quick sharp laugh; the way she sat with my father on the couch, head leaning against his shoulder peaceful in sleep. I missed seeing her staring through the monitor, a half dozen windows open before her as she did research, pen in hand hovering over a piece of paper, lost in thought. I missed her quiet hands as they flicked and gestured telling us in every way that we were loved, her beautiful voice, now stilled forever, never to sign I love you, my son again.
And my heart broke for my sister, too. If I had lost my mother, she had lost her anchor, her world. I could not imagine the loneliness that had to be threatening to swallow her up. Father disappeared for four days, hunting the wolfkind that had ripped our family apart. And I held Sessy, let her cry, trying to comfort her.
And I even broke for my father, despite my increasing disappointment in him, bereaved of his partner and friend of so many years. Perhaps that was what ended it for him, the death rattle to the possibility that he would ever truly be a father to Sesuna. Because something in him snapped. From that moment on, he became even more singularly minded, if that were possible. Perhaps it was what he saw hidden behind her eyes, the hint of the woman she would become only making it clear that it would be mother’s face she wore. It seemed from that day forward, he could never even look at her without disappointment and hurt. Blame. As if she could have stopped a wolfkin at 10. I have often told her it wasn’t her fault. This time, I don’t think it helped her. I don’t think believes me or that she’s ever forgiven herself. And that tears my heart to pieces.
It built up slowly, over time. After a few years, he began looking for ways to send her away, to go to a boarding school, to live with relatives or even- even to marry her off. Sesuna never knew this. I would never tell her. No daughter should know that much rejection from her father. In his mind, I think, he felt that if she was gone, she would be happier. I truly want to believe that. And he would not have to keep being reminded of what he’d lost. But there was that other thing, the thing that made me most angry, what was poisoning the love I’d had in my heart. That I was all that mattered.
I had had enough. I stood up to him, by then my full man’s height, and told him that would not happen. He trotted out the tired lie of the selfish, that it was for her own good. ”It is not fair on her, my son. We must let her go. That is our duty.” Then, more truth. “A true Qdus child would have protected her mother or died trying.” And finally, hands thrown up. “Then she is your responsibility!” At which I nodded. She always had been. “No! She is yours now. You must learn, responsibility, Anbessa. You will learn you cannot be all things. You are to be Qdus. Sacrifices have to be made. You have a purpose, and nothing can get in the way of that.” To which I laughed with contempt. I did not think it was possible for me to think less of my father than I did at that moment. Family was not one of those sacrifices. Not for anything worth having.
I want to believe my father was not an evil man. And I do not think he was. But the world was black and white for him. Everything had a place. In many ways, he was like the Romans. All or nothing. My truth or nothing. And for some reason, he was never able to figure out where Sesuna belonged in his mind and heart. But those are just excuses, I think.
In the end, it did not matter why. Pain is pain, whether intentional or not. I do not forgive my father for the nights Sesuna ran into my room crying. Or the sounds of her weeping in her room until I went to her and sat with her, sang to her until she could find peace. Intent or not, pain caused is pain caused.
So she was my responsibility. And I did my best. I did not begrudge her her desire to explore, to go to the markets, the friends she made there. I did try to her warn to keep clear of the dangerous ones. There were groups of men- or boys really- already causing trouble. I don’t think any of us truly took them seriously. The peace and prosperity of the last few decades had made us complacent. Even with the sicknesses sweeping the world, I don’t think any of us believed it could fall. So I warned her and protected her.
And where I failed, father heaped disappointment on me, tried to make me see I could not be a father and the Qdus I was meant to be. I didn’t understand. Wasn’t he Qdus and father? And our mother? Were they any less dedicated for having married and having a life outside of the hunt? Or did father believe he had been weakened by such things. I do not know how he could think so. But no matter the case, I believe he was wrong.
I am glad I was there for her. That she needed me so very badly. Perhaps that is why God allowed this to happen.
Because she saved my life.
2037
The Negus called for me. I was 19, ready to take the vows of the Qdus. I had never been to Axum before. According to the Kebra Nagast, King Solomon and the visiting Queen of Sheba had a son, Menelik, the first emperor of Ethiopia. When he came of age, he visited his father. And then audaciously stole the Ark of the Covenant from Solomon’s temple and took it back with him as proof of his lineage- and to cement his new Dynasty. Though treated as mere legend by most people, the fact is the story is true. The Chapel of the Tablet houses that Ark.
Cared for by the brothers of the monastery, only one guardian monk is permitted to see the Ark. But the Qdus have always been here, behind the scenes, carrying on our work with whatever tools are available. The Negus Mena assists the abbot of the monastery in its day to day business. And she leads the Qdus. Unknown to the monks, inside the Ark are relics of ancient days, from back when the g’brim walked the earth and were worshipped as gods.
The Urim is one of those relics. The other, though, is the Shegurah Amlak, the Stylus of God. I knew what I should expect. To be marked as my parents had, not as with needle and ink, not a brand, but as part of the skin.
But the Shegurah does more than mark the bearer as Qdus. It is the Eye of God, calling on Him to look into the heart, weigh it on His scales, and decide whether a person is worthy of the mark. There were rumors of those who’d failed this test, men and women struck down in judgement.
None of my family was allowed to be present for this, for which I was disappointed. It wasn’t my father I wanted to see. I worried for Sesuna. She was my responsibility. And yet so was being Qdus. We are Holy, set apart, sacred. That was what it means. The Qdus Atharim, the Holiest of Atharim. In my heart I was torn. I had duty on all sides of me, pulling me east and west. And there was more. Despite my father’s admonitions, I did want more. I am man enough to admit I wanted my own life too. I remembered the smile my mother used to give my father, before things had become difficult between them. I had seen girls and women in the villages and towns and cities, noticed their beauty and smoky eyes; the tribal marks on cheek or forehead or temple that somehow made them more alluring; the way their clothing flowed over their bodies suggestively. And I saw when they noticed me. I do stand out in crowds. I longed for companionship and connection. Duty sat on my shoulders like a weight.
Was I pure in heart? What would the eye of God find in me? Would the Shegurah of God write his name on my heart and soul and on my skin? Or would he stop its beating after a mere 19 years. And if that happened, what of Sesuna? I had no illusions about that.
I was determined.
The Negus Menu led me to a building near the church. It was a simple place, modern and with plain office furnishings. This is the mid 21st century, after all. Monks and clerics, while living a more contemplative life, had the same needs as anyone else for email and internet and telecommunication. This was her office. She bid me sit in an office chair. Two other men stood in the room, robes that left their arms bare, the identical snake biting its own tail visible on their forearm.
I confess I was disappointed I was not allowed to see the Ark itself. But one does not ask for such things when one is a penitent. She opened a drawer and pulled out a blood red disk smaller than my palm. The disk bulged out slightly at the center. In the light I could make out the ridges of some shape carved into it.
She looked at me, letting it sit in her hands. “Tell me, Anbessa son of Kidani. Are you Qdus?” she said in a reedy voice. A slight smile played on her lips. She had asked this many times before, he knew. Perhaps even of his father and mother.
The question was a trick, of course. Are you Qdus? Not yet, not until after my vows. Are you holy? The question is now deeper, the knife slipping through the skin and muscle, piercing to the divide between a bone and where it joins to another. What is your heart? The knife is needle edged now, cracking the bone, sliding along between the hard white lace and the soft marrow in the center.
How does one answer? How can I answer when Sesuna will be left alone if I am wrong? I hate my father and that is a sin. I love the hunt and the power I feel doing it. I want to be Qdus more than anything. I cannot abandon my sister. I am a man and want a wife and children.
What is the answer? With a prayer, I open my heart. “I am not Qdus. But I want to be. I want to be Holy in all I do, for everyone that depends on me, for my sister, my community, for the world.” I was not lying or playing false to the eye of God even though I did not mention my personal desires. How could I hide from him? But he knew that I wanted to be a good man. And was willing to sacrifice. I hoped. I hoped that was enough.
Her eyebrow raised, as if she could look through me into my heart, and she smiled and handed me the disk. As I held it, even though it looked like stone, it felt smoother than glass, except for the ridges my thumb played over. Now, up close, I could see it was a tear. No, that was wrong. It was red, blood red. It was a drop of blood.
“Hold it,” she instructed, and made me say the words. And then she spoke in a language I had never heard before.
My heart was racing now, the fear flowing through me. Qdus. Sesuna. Life. Pull. Pull. Pull. Can I do it all? Father’s words were shouts, telling me I had to choose. The disk felt hot. Her words picked up and the sound of a rushing wind filled the room. Vaguely I was aware of movement of the men behind me. I felt a sizzle and burning on my forearm. And though it hurt, as if every nerve were on fire, it was as nothing to the pain in my palm. The disk felt like it had heated to glowing metal, then molten rock, as if it would flow around my hand, sloughing off charred meat and bone as it fell. And I couldn’t let go!
I wanted to scream but my jaw was clamped shut, my neck corded with tight muscle. My whole body was one straining mass and I felt as if my limbs were about to rip apart, my skin ready to burst open. My eyes bulged and filmed over and the room went dark.
You have been found wanting!!! echoed through my mind. I could feel myself getting light headed, as if I were prey and had been seized around the throat, my airway crushed by sharp teeth and filling with blood.
And Sesuna’s face flashed before my fuzzy mind, and I latched onto it, seized it, refused to let go. I would not die. Not now. Not today. She needed me. I played one memory after another, every song, every laugh. The heat and pain and strain did not lessen, but became more bearable. I played them over and over again. I will not die!! I yelled it repeatedly. I laughed in defiance. If I was judged, well I would be judged. But I would not die. I refused. I would not bend! I welcomed the pain. Do your worst!!! Pain could be endured. I will suffer a thousand times as much!
And gradually, somehow, over time, it receded. I do not know how long I was there. It seemed like eternity. My sight slowly returned to me and suddenly I was just in the room holding the disk. I was drenched in sweat. The Negus had a wide smile on her face and the men behind her were chanting.
I looked around in puzzlement. I held out the disk but she didn’t take it. I was tired. And done. In irritation, I turned my hand over to drop it onto the desk- and it stayed put, stuck to my palm. I stared at it, and then tore it away. My skin came with it and yet it did not hurt. Like peeling the dead skin of a sunburn. I looked at my palm. The drop of blood had been branded into it.
The men behind me dropped to their knees and the Negus smile grew wider. “The Heart of the Qdus has been reborn!!” she intoned.
And then she spoke.
“The heart of the remnant, he is a lion,
coming with a moon of blood.
The heart of the remnant, he is a holy fire,
burning out the stubble,
The heart of the remnant, his hand is a bloody tear,
holding the remnant as one.”
I could only stare at my hand in confusion, refusing to remember. Foolish. How do you refuse a memory? “That could mean anything”, I told her with a measure of desperation. She merely smiled. She knew I was lying.
“My son, I have studied the stories. For millenia we have marked ourselves as Qdus. The faithful, the pure. In all that time, no Qdus has ever received anything but the mark we all wear. None, until you, Anbessa son of Kidana, you Lion. You are reborn the Heart of the Remnant.” But I only half heard her, because I was hearing my father’s voice, speaking to mother. Those words of the prophecy.
And my life replayed itself in my mind and suddenly it all became clear. My father, always my father, driving me, pushing me. The need for focus. The cutting away distraction- even family, even hope for a future. All, because he believed I was this Heart. He wanted me to be the Heart. His ambition, his dream. How much of my life had been fortuitous accident and how much had been forced?
I didn’t want to believe it. Which part I’m not sure. That I was some foretold Heart of the Remnant? That my father had been trying to force me into some prophesied skin my entire life? Worst of all, the part that made my blood boil, was that our own father had sacrificed Sesuna’s happiness for this.
In that moment, I hated my father and did not feel any sense of guilt or shame for it.
Somehow, after all of that, I was able to leave. The Negus said I would return when it was time. I went home. I should have been glad for the snake eating its own tail marked on my forearm. I was Qdus, as I had wanted. But he had stolen it from me, stolen my joy. I had been his puppet. I took my time, let my life play over and over in my mind, watching every conversation, every interaction, every decision he had made through the lens of this new information. And knew it for truth.
The house was dark and quiet when I got home, the smell of a ruined meal filling the house. Sesuna had cooked for me and I didn’t even call. Father was there waiting and tried to talk to me but I brushed him off. He must have seen something of the anger in my eyes because he didn’t press it.
I went upstairs and headed to my room when suddenly Sesuna was there, her large white eyes peering up at me, the fear plain, and I just knelt down and enfolded her in a hug. She would never know that all of her pain was my fault. She was but a sacrifice to our father’s ambitions for me. “It is alright, Sessy. It just took longer than expected is all.” But I was glad of the dark, covering the brand on my palm like a blanket. I was not ready to talk about it.
Of course, that only lasted until the next day when Father could see it for himself. There was a gloating in his eyes that made me want to shove my fist in his face, no matter how wicked that was. He pressed for details then, but I refused. I was not his puppet. Nor would I reward the pain he caused with vindication. Father was angry but there was nothing he could do about it. Things settled down and I think he resented that. That maybe I should be off doing something he thought great.
Well I was. I was Qdus. I did my work, my trade some days, my hunts others. I would not leave until Sesuna could.
By now, the sickness had continued to spread and while not many were dying in a numerical sense, there was a growing sense of unease. Among the Tigre, Tigrinya and Ethiopian peoples, there were higher numbers. We began to hear whispers of entire families dying. They were always rumors, as difficult to chase down as the wind. But we among the Qdus had our suspicions. The Romans. They had their fingers everywhere. Groups like Al Janyar took advantage of the fear, sowed chaos.
I could only focus on my work and Sesuna. She was fiery and seemed to find trouble without meaning to. Or maybe she did. Her abilities as a tracker had become far more. She saw deeply, really perceived things, things that went far beyond tracks, but instead was about people, their bonds and intent. It is a heady thing to discover about yourself. And she tried, dear sweet Sesuna, but sometimes she just couldn’t help it. And I sometimes despaired that she would ever grow up enough that I could trust her to be safe.
And then came the day of the hunt. It was a simple one. A luxury boat docked at Massawa. Accounts of young people going missing. I wasn’t sure what it was, but the mystery called to me. It could be something as simple as human trafficking. I had checked the logs of this particular boat and each place it had docked, people went missing. If that was what this was, here would be where the kidnapped youths would be delivered to whomever was doing the buying. That alone would be worth the hunt. All too often, I have seen that sometimes monsters were human faces and have human hearts. And if they wear something else, dreyken for example, then even better. Dreyken would not be selling people, people who might still be rescued.
It never occurred to me that these might be enterprising dreyken who pursued both as a way to satisfy their hungers and finance their lifestyle. I was caught by surprise, a gun raised and ready to spray my brains all over the wall, and all I could see was Sesuna waiting for me at home. And I struck out with my fist. It was as if something snapped in me and exploded out from my fist, a blast of air slamming all the men into the walls and rails. I heard the snap of limbs and backs and the crack of heads from the impacts.
I was able to get out of there and call the authorities in. I was just trying to concentrate on one thing at a time. I found my way back home, shaking in puzzlement at what had happened. Maybe I already knew and was lying to myself. There had been whispers and rumors. I spent the next few days working in the market, trying to wear normalcy like a blanket around my shoulders. Until I too got sick.
I spent the next few days in bed, Sesuna by my side. The chills were hot and then cold and my body contorted in pain as it twisted into shapes that threatened to pop my joints from their sockets. And all the while she was there, taking care of me. Of my father, I saw nothing. Perhaps the idea of seeing me sick unnerved him, especially after having felt so vindicated with my special brand. Maybe I am too judgmental. Maybe he could not bear to lose another person. Yet he was willing to lose his daughter, so I don’t think I am. Who knows.
Gradually, I was able to get up and walk around for small periods of time. I was able to keep food down too, which was good. It wasn’t long before I felt normal. Well, almost normal. Because I noticed something. Sometimes, when I was on the verge of falling asleep or was meditating or praying, I could sense a light flickering around me. At those times, I was aware of the brand on my palm and usually clenched it, as if to hide it away. It seemed enough, and I could reach out, seize the light. It fought me, but fighting was what I had done my whole life. It was like mounting a wild beast with blades for horns. Like riding a 1000 meter wave. And yet everything was more vivid and alive at those times. As if the world was plugged into a power source and had been switched on. And I found I could control it, play with it, do things.
I knew what this was. The power of the ancient g’brim. Part of me feared. I had heard the ancient stories, of how these ones worshipped as gods had enslaved humanity. Humanity had fought back, led by the Atharim, fought back and destroyed them. That was the Roman history. But the Qdus knew one other fact the Romans had either lost or hidden. Not all the g’brim had been evil or enslaved mankind. Many had fought alongside man, given their lives in the struggle for justice, names now enshrouded in myths of gods who had sided with humans, stealing fire, granting forbidden wisdom, or whispering warnings of impending doom. All distortions, but behind it, truth. G’brim who were the allies of man
And yet the Qdus had never faced an actual g’brim before, not since those days. Rumors abounded, but until now, I do not know if any of the Qdus had ever encountered one of them. Stories of better relationships were one thing. I, a g’brim in the flesh, was another entirely. But my entire life had been dedicated to the Qdus, to being good man. This power did not change that. But would they understand? With one in their presence?
I had to tell someone. At least one person, if only to share this burden. I asked Sesuna to walk with me one evening. She was now 15. It was dusk and the moon hung low in the sky, already having begun her journey for the night. The air was sweet with the smell of mango, the sounds of insects humming and the wind over the tops of the high grass and through the trees masking their breathing. And I was not afraid, not of my sister. But I still didn’t know how to say the words. Finally, “Sessy, something has happened to me. I am…different now.” And then I did pause because I wasn’t sure how to go on. And then I clenched my fist and seized the power, made a light appear to float in front of us. It was a cold and blue light, just hanging there. And I looked down at her, smiling slightly, hopefully. Well, maybe I was afraid a little. I didn’t think I could bear it if Sesuna turned her back on me.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at her reaction. Even though she is young, she sees far and true. And since she scraped together enough to buy a wallet, an entire new land to explore had opened up for her. She did not jump or shrink back. If anything, she grinned, took hold of the globe and examined it. I couldn’t help but laugh. She too laughed, asking what else I could do.
And what could I do but show her? I was proud to show her. I was only new then, but had puzzled out a few things. I made swirls of fire, added earth to change the colors of the flames. I wove air and water into blades, tinging them with fire to sear as I threw them into a tree trunk. Gusts of wind, gouts of fire that appeared and disappeared at will. Not complicated. Anything that seemed useful to the hunt came easiest to me. I had so much to learn, but just having someone to share it with seemed to drain away any last residual fear I might have had.
I was Qdus and g’brim, A Mighty Holy One. They were not mutually exclusive. I noticed the brand on my palm and I will confess that I did wonder, then, about the prophecy. But I rejected it. It felt like I was rewarding my father for his cruelty.
At the time, I did not understand how, but the Negus had her ways of learning. I was summoned back to Axum. My steps were as lead because deep in my heart, I knew she had somehow learned I could touch the power. I did not question Sesuna’s discretion for a moment. But somehow, all the same, she had learned.
It seems odd that meetings of such importance to you can occur in the most plain of places. Once again, I was in her office. Two men stood behind me, as before. But I did not sit this time. Whatever happened, I would face this as a man. I had no desire to die. And I had no desire to kill these people. I don’t know that I could have made myself. Perhaps, yes. If they were following the pattern of the Romans, at least what was rumored to be happening, very likely Sesuna would be effected.
No, I was not going to die here and now. Especially not now. She seemed to read my mind. “Be at easy Anbessa, Heart of the Remnant. God had spoken to me. It is time for you to be what you were meant to be.”
My eye narrowed. “And what is that?” I asked suspiciously. I was Qdus. A hunter. What else was there to do?
She smiled. “The Heart of the Remnant is the heart of the body, my son. It pumps the blood. It is the source. For too long, the remnant- all of the remnant- have been scattered into a thousand tribes. There is one leader of the Romans, but he is a cancer on the body. The poison in the bones that weakens and kills.”
I frowned at her. This was ridiculous. “And what am I supposed to do?”
Her eyes twinkled at me as she pulled out a crystal with a golden hue. It was clear with now warping or bubbles or discoloration to it. I stared at them. “You should ask God.” I couldn’t help it. I snorted. I had prayed many times, of course. And I believed he listened and answered. But not like this. This was not like ancient times.
She held it out. “The Urim, like the Thummim, was used by the priest to ask questions of God. A story, aye?” And then her eye went to my brand and then to the mark on my arm. No, these were not just stories. Or at least, if they were, they were based on realities, however changed over time.
I took it, turned it over in my hand. “What do I do?”
She mimed me holding it up, looking through it. “It will show you what you need, Anbessa.” Hesitantly I put it to my eye, not sure what to expect. I saw the room, the Negus sitting at her desk, but through the crystal, as if through water. Despite its clarity, the image warped, as if a wind had blown across the surface of a pond, distorting the image.
Somehow, the pond grew closer and I felt myself sucked in, as if I were falling. My face crested the surface and I could see…..destruction. Fire red across the landscape. It was my homeland. War. I saw men walking the streets, balls of fire dancing on their hands. I screamed as watched one and then another let their burning missiles fly into a nearby home or market, watched the explosions of rubble and bodies. Other men ran through the streets, machine guns spitting their angry fire.
I couldn’t help it. I clenched my fist and seized the power, felt it course through me. I saw myself hurling bolts at the men with fire. Suddenly I was not alone. To the left and the right of me, others- a man and a woman- stood with me, fire in their palms. Together, we were able to stop them all.
My eyes snapped open, even though they had not been closed. Suddenly I was in the room with the Negus. She was standing, fear etched on her face, the two men behind me with blades drawn. Puzzled I looked around as I brought the Urim down from my face. And then I felt it. At my palm a ball of fire floated. My head shot up and I looked at her, my eyes locking with hers.
I let the flame go. Strangely, I felt calm come over me. “I am Qdus. The Ashegurah has judged me. But I am g’brim. I am both and the same, Negus.” She stood, walked around her desk and peered up at me, peered into my eyes. Her hands snaked out and took my right arm, ran her fingers lightly along my Qdus mark. It could not be denied. She took my hand, touched my palm, the brand- the bloody tear she had wanted to call it.
“The Heart of the Atharim….” She pondered. “It could be so. It could be…In the ancient stories, some of the g’brim were brothers to mankind. Is that what you are, Anbessa?”
I hesitated. I saw my family in my mind. “I don’t know what I am except for this. I am Qdus. And I am g’brim. My entire life I have lived up to the code. I do not know if I am this Heart. I did not see anything about the Romans or the remnant in my vision.”
Her voice hissed. “What did you see?”
I could still feel the anger and fear from the vision. “I saw men with fire in their hands, killing, destroying our land. I saw others with guns, doing the same. And so I fought them. And suddenly I was not alone. There was a man and a woman with me, fire clenched in their palms. Together, we fought. That was my vision, Negus.”
She paused, thinking, tapping her lip absentmindedly. Her eyes darted between him and the two men behind him. To be honest, I had forgotten they were there. She gestured and after a moment, they seemed to relax. At least, they lowered their swords a little. It would have made little difference. I could have killed them all without a thought. It was not something that gave me pleasure to think on.
Finally, she spoke. “The winds have changed. We know the g’brim had returned. They will wreak havoc. But as before, so will it be now. The Qdus will not turn out their back on any ally. You have been washed clean by God, Anbessa, our lion. But the vision is clear. Do you vow to protect mankind with all your power, Anbessa?”
It was another oath. And yet the same oath. Nothing had changed. I knelt. “I do, Negus.”
“Rise. You are Anbessa no more. You are born, Idris, the Fiery Leader of the Qdus. You must find others like you. If they pass the test, if they would do no harm, they may live. But none that is an enemy of man can be let go. This I charge you.”
It was strange. The world seemed to swirl around me. I was not the Heart. I didn’t believe that. But this, yes, I could do this. I nodded somberly.
This time she did not let me slip away. I was taken to a larger gathering of Qdus and she repeated these words, now a ceremony. The first time, I had felt sincere. But repeating what had been private and sacred for others bothered me. I did understand it though. Still, I didn’t like it.
I went home but word of my change had run ahead of me. Maybe someone there was friends with my father. He embraced me, the smug look on his face irritating. I got myself free as soon as possible. I wanted to see Sesuna. To tell her what had happened. She seemed sad, as if she had lost something. I tried to explain to her. I knew she understood. But still, something bothered her. I hoped she’d tell me one day.
How was I to know that she would be the first g’brim I would find. It was nothing I would have expected. She was far younger than me, 15 years old, tall, as tall as our mother, and beautiful with her mane of black hair and wide almond shaped eyes that twinkled when something struck her as funny. She touched the power in some way- she never told me the story- and it was a few days later that she came down with the sickness.
My heart tore watching her suffer, seeing her body twist and bend so that I thought I would hear the snap of bone. It was my turn now, nursing her, praying for her, gently mopping her brow with a cool damp cloth. I heard a noise at the door. It was our father, a bowl of broth in his hand. I smiled at him and took it, put my hand on his shoulder. I saw pain and fear in his eyes. For some reason, relief washed through me. I don’t know why.
I sometimes slept in the chair, drifting in and out. All concern for other g’brim and flown out of my mind. Qdus, the Heart, the power. None of it mattered to me, not if Sesuna died. I sang to her, the old songs. Read to her. And my father, thankfully, only helped. This time there were no corrections about what he had time for. I think he knew that I was at the end.
At one point, I took the simple leather cord she had made for me all those years ago- I can’t even remember how old she was- and tied it around her wrist. It had been her gift, girlish and simple and it meant the world to me. And I wanted her to have to hold on to it. To know I was always going to be with her.
Maybe prayers do work. She got better. The pains and aches subsided, the fever broke. She was able to eat and drink and keep it down. My father changed a bit. Not completely. But something about him was different. I hope so, anyway.
I tried to show her how I used the power. I wasn’t sure what it was like to teach another. I felt nothing around her, saw nothing. I had only her word to go on that she held it. I tried to demonstrate simple weaves, explained the five flavors of the power. Maybe she understood that part. But she never saw what I saw. And when I did see a result, the movement of a leaf, the appearance of a flame, I never saw the threads.
But she was tenacious and learned quickly. She was g’brim. Part of me was worried, though. They had accepted me. The Shegurah and the brand had made the difference. I wanted them to accept her. I wanted her to be safe. The Negus had told me to find others. And she was my first.
I told her. “We must go to the Negus, Sessy. You are g’brim. It will not stay secret forever. You know what the Romans have been doing. The Qdus are not them….but still…It would be better if you were sworn.” I saw the fear in her eyes, knew what frightened her. She was not a hunter. She had never been one. I cupped the side of her face with my palm “Trust me, Sesusna. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
My heart swelled with love at her assent, her simple trust in me. And I was determined. I would not fail her. This was the only way to keep her safe. I had all these responsibilities pulling at me. I had to make sure she was safe. She trusted me. I would keep her safe.
I introduced her to the Negus, explained who she was to me, what she was capable of. The woman’s eyes sharpened. “It seems the Romans were right about the blood.” At my sharp glare, she answered “Oh relax, my son. I did not mean they were right in what they do about it.” She looked up at Sesuna, peered into her eyes, tilted her head this way and that. As if one could tell anything from. “So, child. You wish to be Qdus….let us see if you understand what that means.”
I could tell Sesuna was terrified. And this was the moment I had dreaded. The Ashegurah had to know the truth. I knew my sister. I was dismissed from the office and waited outside. I had nearly refused, but I know she would say no. Still, I seized the power. With my enhanced hearing, I listened for my sister, for any sign she was in distress. I would do whatever it took to save her.
Instead, it wasn’t long before she came out, touching the mark on her arm. My heart seemed to cry with relief and I enfolded her in a hug. But she did not seem happy and I didn’t understand. I looked at her, seeing her trying to blink tears away. She looked up me with fear. “Will you make me kill now, Bessie?”
I smiled at her comfortingly, kissed her forehead. “No, Sessya. No. You are g’brim. But not all have to be hunters. It is enough that you are my sister. And that you are safe.”
And so we went home. I continued to hone my skills with the power as assiduously as I had practiced at the hunt, and she was dedicated to learning it as she had the art of tracking- and the many other skills she had picked. And my father seemed content. It was strange. Something had changed, in all of us. Somehow, peace and tranquility came to our home.
Edited by Idris, Feb 23 2018, 11:57 PM.j
Height: 6’6”
Weight: 270 pounds
Build: Athletic
Ethnicity: Eritrean
2018
I have been born three times in my life.
On January 21, 2018, I was born Anbessa, son of Kidani and Mariam
My father told me the story of my birth. He had been hunting in the Takkaze river valley in Shire, along the western border of Ethiopia. There had been rumors of rakshasas haunting the caves that dot the ancient valley, of their periodically venturing out to feast upon the nearby villages and cities.
My mother, Mariam daughter of Ali, was heavy with my impending birth, but my father felt the threat of the rakshasas too important to ignore. It was his duty, as Qdus. Duty was all there was, he said, as he had learned from his father before him. ‘Kidani’ means ‘dedicated’. And that was what my father was and has always has been. For the good, sometimes. But as I came to learn, sometimes not.
On that night, during his hunt, he encountered a lion and slayed it. They are far more common now then they used to be. The lion itself was not an unusual encounter, but tonight, of all nights, my father had taken it as a sign. And not the only sign, either. It was also the night of the super blood moon, something that occurred once every few hundred years, a portent of still greater significance. That was the night I was born. Anbessa, Lion, son of Kidani.
I never was let to forget that story, with all its omens and pregnant promise. Nor any of the other stories of the Qdus, our purpose, the histories. The lies and deceptions of the Romans. It has been by God’s gifts that we have stayed hidden from them all these centuries and have been able to watch.
And so I learned at the feet of my father, the hunt and the kill, who and what we are, had it driven into my soul. But I also learned from the hands of my mother, herself a skilled hunter. It was one of reasons my father first loved her so. But years before I was born, she had been injured and lost her hearing, beyond any ability of medical science to repair. Her hands and fingers became her voice- Ethiopian Sign Language- which I learned along with my own language of Tigre, of Amharic, English and Arabic.
My mother taught me the signs, the words in a bent tuft of grass, the whisper in a broken branch, the scream in the scratch on the rock. Perhaps in the quiet of her mind she had learned to hear with her eyes and nose and skin and hair. Nothing was invisible to her. And she showed me how to open my mind and senses, to be one with the face of the land, to feel the passage of quarry as bad smells or faint discolorations or the discordant cry of a bird.
It was a happy time, made happier still with the unexpected birth of my little sister Sesuna, ‘pop-corn’. I’ve never been able find out where the name came from, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Even now, I can see my father’s seemingly puzzled face at what to do with this new little one in his arms. A daughter had not been part of his plans, I would later learn. But for me, it was a blessing. I remember being five years old, peering into her bed, seeing her swaddled and bound tightly, smiling up at me with my mother’s eyes. My sister. Even now, thinking of her, my heart is filled with love. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her.
And so, we were happy. We both continued to grow and to learn. Father and Mother were not rich, of course. But they had jobs that allowed them to carry out their true work as Qdus. Asmara is as modern a city as any in the world- London, Paris, Nairobi, Moscow. And at times, we traveled to the Red Sea for work and play; swam in the waters that sometimes took on a reddish cast; sailed out through the Bab al Mandab into the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean; visited the islands where fishing industries thrived; saw trade goods from Yemen and Saudi Arabia wind their way west. And we observed as anthropologists explored the birthplace of humanity; scientists and engineers leveraged the rich geothermal energies that were a natural byproduct of the natural geological formations. And all the while, we hunted where possible.
We lived and grew and thrived in the soil of two worlds, Sesuna and I- the distant past and the ever forward facing present- and we effortlessly switched back and forth between the two. I spent much of my time with father and learned our craft and the lore. Oni and rakshasa, wefuke and djinn. And all of them became my prey, now. If not dead, then driven off. The hunt was all, the pleasure and power that came from it. Above all things, I was to be Qdus. Even, as I gradually learned, above more than casual relationships.
And Sesuna too was being taught our ways. The hunt is learned and then honed first by chasing prey that was to be food. At only six years of age, father gave her the task of quickly taking the downed animal’s life. I remembered performing the same when I was her age. Of course, I had been scared, but I trusted my father. It was the right thing to do. And so as difficult as it was, I did it. And though I wanted to vomit after, I didn’t, for which he had been proud.
So I understood Sesuna’s fear. I smiled at her encouragingly and nodded, put my hand on her shoulder. But she looked at him. And whatever I had seen in my father’s eyes, whatever reassurance and trust I had found in them, was missing for her. Maybe she simply didn’t recognize it. I honestly hope that was the case.
Because maybe- and God forgive me for this and for my hatred that seems to grow the more I think on these things, but I simply cannot understand how a father can feel so little for his own little daughter- he only had room in his heart for me
Whatever the reason, she couldn’t do it. And my father could not, or did not try to hide his disappointment. Sesuna was quiet the whole trip home. I held her close to me and tried to teach her the songs of the hunt. I like to think it helped her.
Sesuna began to spend more and more time with my mother. I saw my mother’s angry words with father- hands and arms and fingers flashing her displeasure. I even heard her voice, something I had never heard in my entire life, words barely intelligible from lack of use, and yet completely crystal clear in their meaning. I agreed with her. But I was only 11. What could I do? Father was truly deaf in his heart, while mother heard all despite her own lack of hearing. Sesuna was completely hers. And mine, I vowed. As busy I was, I would always have time for her.
And did she learn from our mother! And though I knew myself an excellent tracker, even before 10 she had far surpassed me. It was as if she was aware of everything, had become the land and the sky and everything in between.
Our father never saw that. For him it was about the end, the final leg, the stalk and the kill, rather than all it had taken to get there. He did not acknowledge the caches of food and supplies they prepared and stationed for us. He did not think of all it took to track a djinn across the land, or to ferret out the whisper of a wefuke. Perhaps he too was simple minded. But as this continued, I confess, I became angry with him. I had words with him, violent disrespectful words. And while he did not dare try to punish me- perhaps he could already see that though I was only 15, I had a grown man’s height and build on me- and was still growing- it was clear he just couldn’t or wouldn’t give what Sesuna needed.
2033
So I would do it for her, for my little sister, now 10, just a girl. When I was with my friends in school or from the neighborhood, she was never treated like a nuisance. No one bothered her. Despite any tiredness or injury, I helped her with school work or whatever project she wanted help with, carried things too heavy for her to carry. And sometimes, it was as simple as laying on my bed reading or listening to music while she curled up in the chair with a book of her own.
But it was as if the universe had conspired against her, had determined the path of her life from birth. She and our mother were off on a simple tracking exercise. I had been working with my father in the open air market of Medeber, bending and cutting and wielding metals into artwork and other useful objects. I can still remember seeing her through the goggles, her breathless form tinged yellow, running at full speed, passing father and coming straight to me. I bent down and took her gently by the shoulders, my eyes searching for any sign of injury. “What happened Sessy? Are you hurt? Where is mother?”
She pulled at my hands. "Come quickly!" The fear in her eyes, the panic in her voice, stabbed me to the heart. I followed, wishing she could run faster. I did not know the way but I wanted to run, to feel my legs pumping, to feel like I was in control. Father was close behind.
There, in the distance I saw her, a shadowed mound. I knew instantly. I grabbed at Sesuna, turned her toward my chest, shielding her from the image no one should have of their mother. My father plunged onward and a sound ripped from his chest, so raw and deep it tore the sky open. I dropped to my knees, holding my sister, feeling the hot fat tears roll down my cheeks.
I will never forget that day for as long as I live.
My heart died that day. We wrapped her as best we could and carried her to the church for cleaning. But it was not real to me. In some ways, it has never become real. A nightmare I have never awakened from. I grieved for my dear mother. I missed the smell of her, the smell of the spicy berbere in the siginy stew permeating her clothes, the yeasty smell of the dried injera dough on her fingers. I missed her quick sharp laugh; the way she sat with my father on the couch, head leaning against his shoulder peaceful in sleep. I missed seeing her staring through the monitor, a half dozen windows open before her as she did research, pen in hand hovering over a piece of paper, lost in thought. I missed her quiet hands as they flicked and gestured telling us in every way that we were loved, her beautiful voice, now stilled forever, never to sign I love you, my son again.
And my heart broke for my sister, too. If I had lost my mother, she had lost her anchor, her world. I could not imagine the loneliness that had to be threatening to swallow her up. Father disappeared for four days, hunting the wolfkind that had ripped our family apart. And I held Sessy, let her cry, trying to comfort her.
And I even broke for my father, despite my increasing disappointment in him, bereaved of his partner and friend of so many years. Perhaps that was what ended it for him, the death rattle to the possibility that he would ever truly be a father to Sesuna. Because something in him snapped. From that moment on, he became even more singularly minded, if that were possible. Perhaps it was what he saw hidden behind her eyes, the hint of the woman she would become only making it clear that it would be mother’s face she wore. It seemed from that day forward, he could never even look at her without disappointment and hurt. Blame. As if she could have stopped a wolfkin at 10. I have often told her it wasn’t her fault. This time, I don’t think it helped her. I don’t think believes me or that she’s ever forgiven herself. And that tears my heart to pieces.
It built up slowly, over time. After a few years, he began looking for ways to send her away, to go to a boarding school, to live with relatives or even- even to marry her off. Sesuna never knew this. I would never tell her. No daughter should know that much rejection from her father. In his mind, I think, he felt that if she was gone, she would be happier. I truly want to believe that. And he would not have to keep being reminded of what he’d lost. But there was that other thing, the thing that made me most angry, what was poisoning the love I’d had in my heart. That I was all that mattered.
I had had enough. I stood up to him, by then my full man’s height, and told him that would not happen. He trotted out the tired lie of the selfish, that it was for her own good. ”It is not fair on her, my son. We must let her go. That is our duty.” Then, more truth. “A true Qdus child would have protected her mother or died trying.” And finally, hands thrown up. “Then she is your responsibility!” At which I nodded. She always had been. “No! She is yours now. You must learn, responsibility, Anbessa. You will learn you cannot be all things. You are to be Qdus. Sacrifices have to be made. You have a purpose, and nothing can get in the way of that.” To which I laughed with contempt. I did not think it was possible for me to think less of my father than I did at that moment. Family was not one of those sacrifices. Not for anything worth having.
I want to believe my father was not an evil man. And I do not think he was. But the world was black and white for him. Everything had a place. In many ways, he was like the Romans. All or nothing. My truth or nothing. And for some reason, he was never able to figure out where Sesuna belonged in his mind and heart. But those are just excuses, I think.
In the end, it did not matter why. Pain is pain, whether intentional or not. I do not forgive my father for the nights Sesuna ran into my room crying. Or the sounds of her weeping in her room until I went to her and sat with her, sang to her until she could find peace. Intent or not, pain caused is pain caused.
So she was my responsibility. And I did my best. I did not begrudge her her desire to explore, to go to the markets, the friends she made there. I did try to her warn to keep clear of the dangerous ones. There were groups of men- or boys really- already causing trouble. I don’t think any of us truly took them seriously. The peace and prosperity of the last few decades had made us complacent. Even with the sicknesses sweeping the world, I don’t think any of us believed it could fall. So I warned her and protected her.
And where I failed, father heaped disappointment on me, tried to make me see I could not be a father and the Qdus I was meant to be. I didn’t understand. Wasn’t he Qdus and father? And our mother? Were they any less dedicated for having married and having a life outside of the hunt? Or did father believe he had been weakened by such things. I do not know how he could think so. But no matter the case, I believe he was wrong.
I am glad I was there for her. That she needed me so very badly. Perhaps that is why God allowed this to happen.
Because she saved my life.
2037
The Negus called for me. I was 19, ready to take the vows of the Qdus. I had never been to Axum before. According to the Kebra Nagast, King Solomon and the visiting Queen of Sheba had a son, Menelik, the first emperor of Ethiopia. When he came of age, he visited his father. And then audaciously stole the Ark of the Covenant from Solomon’s temple and took it back with him as proof of his lineage- and to cement his new Dynasty. Though treated as mere legend by most people, the fact is the story is true. The Chapel of the Tablet houses that Ark.
Cared for by the brothers of the monastery, only one guardian monk is permitted to see the Ark. But the Qdus have always been here, behind the scenes, carrying on our work with whatever tools are available. The Negus Mena assists the abbot of the monastery in its day to day business. And she leads the Qdus. Unknown to the monks, inside the Ark are relics of ancient days, from back when the g’brim walked the earth and were worshipped as gods.
The Urim is one of those relics. The other, though, is the Shegurah Amlak, the Stylus of God. I knew what I should expect. To be marked as my parents had, not as with needle and ink, not a brand, but as part of the skin.
But the Shegurah does more than mark the bearer as Qdus. It is the Eye of God, calling on Him to look into the heart, weigh it on His scales, and decide whether a person is worthy of the mark. There were rumors of those who’d failed this test, men and women struck down in judgement.
None of my family was allowed to be present for this, for which I was disappointed. It wasn’t my father I wanted to see. I worried for Sesuna. She was my responsibility. And yet so was being Qdus. We are Holy, set apart, sacred. That was what it means. The Qdus Atharim, the Holiest of Atharim. In my heart I was torn. I had duty on all sides of me, pulling me east and west. And there was more. Despite my father’s admonitions, I did want more. I am man enough to admit I wanted my own life too. I remembered the smile my mother used to give my father, before things had become difficult between them. I had seen girls and women in the villages and towns and cities, noticed their beauty and smoky eyes; the tribal marks on cheek or forehead or temple that somehow made them more alluring; the way their clothing flowed over their bodies suggestively. And I saw when they noticed me. I do stand out in crowds. I longed for companionship and connection. Duty sat on my shoulders like a weight.
Was I pure in heart? What would the eye of God find in me? Would the Shegurah of God write his name on my heart and soul and on my skin? Or would he stop its beating after a mere 19 years. And if that happened, what of Sesuna? I had no illusions about that.
I was determined.
The Negus Menu led me to a building near the church. It was a simple place, modern and with plain office furnishings. This is the mid 21st century, after all. Monks and clerics, while living a more contemplative life, had the same needs as anyone else for email and internet and telecommunication. This was her office. She bid me sit in an office chair. Two other men stood in the room, robes that left their arms bare, the identical snake biting its own tail visible on their forearm.
I confess I was disappointed I was not allowed to see the Ark itself. But one does not ask for such things when one is a penitent. She opened a drawer and pulled out a blood red disk smaller than my palm. The disk bulged out slightly at the center. In the light I could make out the ridges of some shape carved into it.
She looked at me, letting it sit in her hands. “Tell me, Anbessa son of Kidani. Are you Qdus?” she said in a reedy voice. A slight smile played on her lips. She had asked this many times before, he knew. Perhaps even of his father and mother.
The question was a trick, of course. Are you Qdus? Not yet, not until after my vows. Are you holy? The question is now deeper, the knife slipping through the skin and muscle, piercing to the divide between a bone and where it joins to another. What is your heart? The knife is needle edged now, cracking the bone, sliding along between the hard white lace and the soft marrow in the center.
How does one answer? How can I answer when Sesuna will be left alone if I am wrong? I hate my father and that is a sin. I love the hunt and the power I feel doing it. I want to be Qdus more than anything. I cannot abandon my sister. I am a man and want a wife and children.
What is the answer? With a prayer, I open my heart. “I am not Qdus. But I want to be. I want to be Holy in all I do, for everyone that depends on me, for my sister, my community, for the world.” I was not lying or playing false to the eye of God even though I did not mention my personal desires. How could I hide from him? But he knew that I wanted to be a good man. And was willing to sacrifice. I hoped. I hoped that was enough.
Her eyebrow raised, as if she could look through me into my heart, and she smiled and handed me the disk. As I held it, even though it looked like stone, it felt smoother than glass, except for the ridges my thumb played over. Now, up close, I could see it was a tear. No, that was wrong. It was red, blood red. It was a drop of blood.
“Hold it,” she instructed, and made me say the words. And then she spoke in a language I had never heard before.
My heart was racing now, the fear flowing through me. Qdus. Sesuna. Life. Pull. Pull. Pull. Can I do it all? Father’s words were shouts, telling me I had to choose. The disk felt hot. Her words picked up and the sound of a rushing wind filled the room. Vaguely I was aware of movement of the men behind me. I felt a sizzle and burning on my forearm. And though it hurt, as if every nerve were on fire, it was as nothing to the pain in my palm. The disk felt like it had heated to glowing metal, then molten rock, as if it would flow around my hand, sloughing off charred meat and bone as it fell. And I couldn’t let go!
I wanted to scream but my jaw was clamped shut, my neck corded with tight muscle. My whole body was one straining mass and I felt as if my limbs were about to rip apart, my skin ready to burst open. My eyes bulged and filmed over and the room went dark.
You have been found wanting!!! echoed through my mind. I could feel myself getting light headed, as if I were prey and had been seized around the throat, my airway crushed by sharp teeth and filling with blood.
And Sesuna’s face flashed before my fuzzy mind, and I latched onto it, seized it, refused to let go. I would not die. Not now. Not today. She needed me. I played one memory after another, every song, every laugh. The heat and pain and strain did not lessen, but became more bearable. I played them over and over again. I will not die!! I yelled it repeatedly. I laughed in defiance. If I was judged, well I would be judged. But I would not die. I refused. I would not bend! I welcomed the pain. Do your worst!!! Pain could be endured. I will suffer a thousand times as much!
And gradually, somehow, over time, it receded. I do not know how long I was there. It seemed like eternity. My sight slowly returned to me and suddenly I was just in the room holding the disk. I was drenched in sweat. The Negus had a wide smile on her face and the men behind her were chanting.
I looked around in puzzlement. I held out the disk but she didn’t take it. I was tired. And done. In irritation, I turned my hand over to drop it onto the desk- and it stayed put, stuck to my palm. I stared at it, and then tore it away. My skin came with it and yet it did not hurt. Like peeling the dead skin of a sunburn. I looked at my palm. The drop of blood had been branded into it.
The men behind me dropped to their knees and the Negus smile grew wider. “The Heart of the Qdus has been reborn!!” she intoned.
And then she spoke.
“The heart of the remnant, he is a lion,
coming with a moon of blood.
The heart of the remnant, he is a holy fire,
burning out the stubble,
The heart of the remnant, his hand is a bloody tear,
holding the remnant as one.”
I could only stare at my hand in confusion, refusing to remember. Foolish. How do you refuse a memory? “That could mean anything”, I told her with a measure of desperation. She merely smiled. She knew I was lying.
“My son, I have studied the stories. For millenia we have marked ourselves as Qdus. The faithful, the pure. In all that time, no Qdus has ever received anything but the mark we all wear. None, until you, Anbessa son of Kidana, you Lion. You are reborn the Heart of the Remnant.” But I only half heard her, because I was hearing my father’s voice, speaking to mother. Those words of the prophecy.
And my life replayed itself in my mind and suddenly it all became clear. My father, always my father, driving me, pushing me. The need for focus. The cutting away distraction- even family, even hope for a future. All, because he believed I was this Heart. He wanted me to be the Heart. His ambition, his dream. How much of my life had been fortuitous accident and how much had been forced?
I didn’t want to believe it. Which part I’m not sure. That I was some foretold Heart of the Remnant? That my father had been trying to force me into some prophesied skin my entire life? Worst of all, the part that made my blood boil, was that our own father had sacrificed Sesuna’s happiness for this.
In that moment, I hated my father and did not feel any sense of guilt or shame for it.
Somehow, after all of that, I was able to leave. The Negus said I would return when it was time. I went home. I should have been glad for the snake eating its own tail marked on my forearm. I was Qdus, as I had wanted. But he had stolen it from me, stolen my joy. I had been his puppet. I took my time, let my life play over and over in my mind, watching every conversation, every interaction, every decision he had made through the lens of this new information. And knew it for truth.
The house was dark and quiet when I got home, the smell of a ruined meal filling the house. Sesuna had cooked for me and I didn’t even call. Father was there waiting and tried to talk to me but I brushed him off. He must have seen something of the anger in my eyes because he didn’t press it.
I went upstairs and headed to my room when suddenly Sesuna was there, her large white eyes peering up at me, the fear plain, and I just knelt down and enfolded her in a hug. She would never know that all of her pain was my fault. She was but a sacrifice to our father’s ambitions for me. “It is alright, Sessy. It just took longer than expected is all.” But I was glad of the dark, covering the brand on my palm like a blanket. I was not ready to talk about it.
Of course, that only lasted until the next day when Father could see it for himself. There was a gloating in his eyes that made me want to shove my fist in his face, no matter how wicked that was. He pressed for details then, but I refused. I was not his puppet. Nor would I reward the pain he caused with vindication. Father was angry but there was nothing he could do about it. Things settled down and I think he resented that. That maybe I should be off doing something he thought great.
Well I was. I was Qdus. I did my work, my trade some days, my hunts others. I would not leave until Sesuna could.
By now, the sickness had continued to spread and while not many were dying in a numerical sense, there was a growing sense of unease. Among the Tigre, Tigrinya and Ethiopian peoples, there were higher numbers. We began to hear whispers of entire families dying. They were always rumors, as difficult to chase down as the wind. But we among the Qdus had our suspicions. The Romans. They had their fingers everywhere. Groups like Al Janyar took advantage of the fear, sowed chaos.
I could only focus on my work and Sesuna. She was fiery and seemed to find trouble without meaning to. Or maybe she did. Her abilities as a tracker had become far more. She saw deeply, really perceived things, things that went far beyond tracks, but instead was about people, their bonds and intent. It is a heady thing to discover about yourself. And she tried, dear sweet Sesuna, but sometimes she just couldn’t help it. And I sometimes despaired that she would ever grow up enough that I could trust her to be safe.
And then came the day of the hunt. It was a simple one. A luxury boat docked at Massawa. Accounts of young people going missing. I wasn’t sure what it was, but the mystery called to me. It could be something as simple as human trafficking. I had checked the logs of this particular boat and each place it had docked, people went missing. If that was what this was, here would be where the kidnapped youths would be delivered to whomever was doing the buying. That alone would be worth the hunt. All too often, I have seen that sometimes monsters were human faces and have human hearts. And if they wear something else, dreyken for example, then even better. Dreyken would not be selling people, people who might still be rescued.
It never occurred to me that these might be enterprising dreyken who pursued both as a way to satisfy their hungers and finance their lifestyle. I was caught by surprise, a gun raised and ready to spray my brains all over the wall, and all I could see was Sesuna waiting for me at home. And I struck out with my fist. It was as if something snapped in me and exploded out from my fist, a blast of air slamming all the men into the walls and rails. I heard the snap of limbs and backs and the crack of heads from the impacts.
I was able to get out of there and call the authorities in. I was just trying to concentrate on one thing at a time. I found my way back home, shaking in puzzlement at what had happened. Maybe I already knew and was lying to myself. There had been whispers and rumors. I spent the next few days working in the market, trying to wear normalcy like a blanket around my shoulders. Until I too got sick.
I spent the next few days in bed, Sesuna by my side. The chills were hot and then cold and my body contorted in pain as it twisted into shapes that threatened to pop my joints from their sockets. And all the while she was there, taking care of me. Of my father, I saw nothing. Perhaps the idea of seeing me sick unnerved him, especially after having felt so vindicated with my special brand. Maybe I am too judgmental. Maybe he could not bear to lose another person. Yet he was willing to lose his daughter, so I don’t think I am. Who knows.
Gradually, I was able to get up and walk around for small periods of time. I was able to keep food down too, which was good. It wasn’t long before I felt normal. Well, almost normal. Because I noticed something. Sometimes, when I was on the verge of falling asleep or was meditating or praying, I could sense a light flickering around me. At those times, I was aware of the brand on my palm and usually clenched it, as if to hide it away. It seemed enough, and I could reach out, seize the light. It fought me, but fighting was what I had done my whole life. It was like mounting a wild beast with blades for horns. Like riding a 1000 meter wave. And yet everything was more vivid and alive at those times. As if the world was plugged into a power source and had been switched on. And I found I could control it, play with it, do things.
I knew what this was. The power of the ancient g’brim. Part of me feared. I had heard the ancient stories, of how these ones worshipped as gods had enslaved humanity. Humanity had fought back, led by the Atharim, fought back and destroyed them. That was the Roman history. But the Qdus knew one other fact the Romans had either lost or hidden. Not all the g’brim had been evil or enslaved mankind. Many had fought alongside man, given their lives in the struggle for justice, names now enshrouded in myths of gods who had sided with humans, stealing fire, granting forbidden wisdom, or whispering warnings of impending doom. All distortions, but behind it, truth. G’brim who were the allies of man
And yet the Qdus had never faced an actual g’brim before, not since those days. Rumors abounded, but until now, I do not know if any of the Qdus had ever encountered one of them. Stories of better relationships were one thing. I, a g’brim in the flesh, was another entirely. But my entire life had been dedicated to the Qdus, to being good man. This power did not change that. But would they understand? With one in their presence?
I had to tell someone. At least one person, if only to share this burden. I asked Sesuna to walk with me one evening. She was now 15. It was dusk and the moon hung low in the sky, already having begun her journey for the night. The air was sweet with the smell of mango, the sounds of insects humming and the wind over the tops of the high grass and through the trees masking their breathing. And I was not afraid, not of my sister. But I still didn’t know how to say the words. Finally, “Sessy, something has happened to me. I am…different now.” And then I did pause because I wasn’t sure how to go on. And then I clenched my fist and seized the power, made a light appear to float in front of us. It was a cold and blue light, just hanging there. And I looked down at her, smiling slightly, hopefully. Well, maybe I was afraid a little. I didn’t think I could bear it if Sesuna turned her back on me.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised at her reaction. Even though she is young, she sees far and true. And since she scraped together enough to buy a wallet, an entire new land to explore had opened up for her. She did not jump or shrink back. If anything, she grinned, took hold of the globe and examined it. I couldn’t help but laugh. She too laughed, asking what else I could do.
And what could I do but show her? I was proud to show her. I was only new then, but had puzzled out a few things. I made swirls of fire, added earth to change the colors of the flames. I wove air and water into blades, tinging them with fire to sear as I threw them into a tree trunk. Gusts of wind, gouts of fire that appeared and disappeared at will. Not complicated. Anything that seemed useful to the hunt came easiest to me. I had so much to learn, but just having someone to share it with seemed to drain away any last residual fear I might have had.
I was Qdus and g’brim, A Mighty Holy One. They were not mutually exclusive. I noticed the brand on my palm and I will confess that I did wonder, then, about the prophecy. But I rejected it. It felt like I was rewarding my father for his cruelty.
At the time, I did not understand how, but the Negus had her ways of learning. I was summoned back to Axum. My steps were as lead because deep in my heart, I knew she had somehow learned I could touch the power. I did not question Sesuna’s discretion for a moment. But somehow, all the same, she had learned.
It seems odd that meetings of such importance to you can occur in the most plain of places. Once again, I was in her office. Two men stood behind me, as before. But I did not sit this time. Whatever happened, I would face this as a man. I had no desire to die. And I had no desire to kill these people. I don’t know that I could have made myself. Perhaps, yes. If they were following the pattern of the Romans, at least what was rumored to be happening, very likely Sesuna would be effected.
No, I was not going to die here and now. Especially not now. She seemed to read my mind. “Be at easy Anbessa, Heart of the Remnant. God had spoken to me. It is time for you to be what you were meant to be.”
My eye narrowed. “And what is that?” I asked suspiciously. I was Qdus. A hunter. What else was there to do?
She smiled. “The Heart of the Remnant is the heart of the body, my son. It pumps the blood. It is the source. For too long, the remnant- all of the remnant- have been scattered into a thousand tribes. There is one leader of the Romans, but he is a cancer on the body. The poison in the bones that weakens and kills.”
I frowned at her. This was ridiculous. “And what am I supposed to do?”
Her eyes twinkled at me as she pulled out a crystal with a golden hue. It was clear with now warping or bubbles or discoloration to it. I stared at them. “You should ask God.” I couldn’t help it. I snorted. I had prayed many times, of course. And I believed he listened and answered. But not like this. This was not like ancient times.
She held it out. “The Urim, like the Thummim, was used by the priest to ask questions of God. A story, aye?” And then her eye went to my brand and then to the mark on my arm. No, these were not just stories. Or at least, if they were, they were based on realities, however changed over time.
I took it, turned it over in my hand. “What do I do?”
She mimed me holding it up, looking through it. “It will show you what you need, Anbessa.” Hesitantly I put it to my eye, not sure what to expect. I saw the room, the Negus sitting at her desk, but through the crystal, as if through water. Despite its clarity, the image warped, as if a wind had blown across the surface of a pond, distorting the image.
Somehow, the pond grew closer and I felt myself sucked in, as if I were falling. My face crested the surface and I could see…..destruction. Fire red across the landscape. It was my homeland. War. I saw men walking the streets, balls of fire dancing on their hands. I screamed as watched one and then another let their burning missiles fly into a nearby home or market, watched the explosions of rubble and bodies. Other men ran through the streets, machine guns spitting their angry fire.
I couldn’t help it. I clenched my fist and seized the power, felt it course through me. I saw myself hurling bolts at the men with fire. Suddenly I was not alone. To the left and the right of me, others- a man and a woman- stood with me, fire in their palms. Together, we were able to stop them all.
My eyes snapped open, even though they had not been closed. Suddenly I was in the room with the Negus. She was standing, fear etched on her face, the two men behind me with blades drawn. Puzzled I looked around as I brought the Urim down from my face. And then I felt it. At my palm a ball of fire floated. My head shot up and I looked at her, my eyes locking with hers.
I let the flame go. Strangely, I felt calm come over me. “I am Qdus. The Ashegurah has judged me. But I am g’brim. I am both and the same, Negus.” She stood, walked around her desk and peered up at me, peered into my eyes. Her hands snaked out and took my right arm, ran her fingers lightly along my Qdus mark. It could not be denied. She took my hand, touched my palm, the brand- the bloody tear she had wanted to call it.
“The Heart of the Atharim….” She pondered. “It could be so. It could be…In the ancient stories, some of the g’brim were brothers to mankind. Is that what you are, Anbessa?”
I hesitated. I saw my family in my mind. “I don’t know what I am except for this. I am Qdus. And I am g’brim. My entire life I have lived up to the code. I do not know if I am this Heart. I did not see anything about the Romans or the remnant in my vision.”
Her voice hissed. “What did you see?”
I could still feel the anger and fear from the vision. “I saw men with fire in their hands, killing, destroying our land. I saw others with guns, doing the same. And so I fought them. And suddenly I was not alone. There was a man and a woman with me, fire clenched in their palms. Together, we fought. That was my vision, Negus.”
She paused, thinking, tapping her lip absentmindedly. Her eyes darted between him and the two men behind him. To be honest, I had forgotten they were there. She gestured and after a moment, they seemed to relax. At least, they lowered their swords a little. It would have made little difference. I could have killed them all without a thought. It was not something that gave me pleasure to think on.
Finally, she spoke. “The winds have changed. We know the g’brim had returned. They will wreak havoc. But as before, so will it be now. The Qdus will not turn out their back on any ally. You have been washed clean by God, Anbessa, our lion. But the vision is clear. Do you vow to protect mankind with all your power, Anbessa?”
It was another oath. And yet the same oath. Nothing had changed. I knelt. “I do, Negus.”
“Rise. You are Anbessa no more. You are born, Idris, the Fiery Leader of the Qdus. You must find others like you. If they pass the test, if they would do no harm, they may live. But none that is an enemy of man can be let go. This I charge you.”
It was strange. The world seemed to swirl around me. I was not the Heart. I didn’t believe that. But this, yes, I could do this. I nodded somberly.
This time she did not let me slip away. I was taken to a larger gathering of Qdus and she repeated these words, now a ceremony. The first time, I had felt sincere. But repeating what had been private and sacred for others bothered me. I did understand it though. Still, I didn’t like it.
I went home but word of my change had run ahead of me. Maybe someone there was friends with my father. He embraced me, the smug look on his face irritating. I got myself free as soon as possible. I wanted to see Sesuna. To tell her what had happened. She seemed sad, as if she had lost something. I tried to explain to her. I knew she understood. But still, something bothered her. I hoped she’d tell me one day.
How was I to know that she would be the first g’brim I would find. It was nothing I would have expected. She was far younger than me, 15 years old, tall, as tall as our mother, and beautiful with her mane of black hair and wide almond shaped eyes that twinkled when something struck her as funny. She touched the power in some way- she never told me the story- and it was a few days later that she came down with the sickness.
My heart tore watching her suffer, seeing her body twist and bend so that I thought I would hear the snap of bone. It was my turn now, nursing her, praying for her, gently mopping her brow with a cool damp cloth. I heard a noise at the door. It was our father, a bowl of broth in his hand. I smiled at him and took it, put my hand on his shoulder. I saw pain and fear in his eyes. For some reason, relief washed through me. I don’t know why.
I sometimes slept in the chair, drifting in and out. All concern for other g’brim and flown out of my mind. Qdus, the Heart, the power. None of it mattered to me, not if Sesuna died. I sang to her, the old songs. Read to her. And my father, thankfully, only helped. This time there were no corrections about what he had time for. I think he knew that I was at the end.
At one point, I took the simple leather cord she had made for me all those years ago- I can’t even remember how old she was- and tied it around her wrist. It had been her gift, girlish and simple and it meant the world to me. And I wanted her to have to hold on to it. To know I was always going to be with her.
Maybe prayers do work. She got better. The pains and aches subsided, the fever broke. She was able to eat and drink and keep it down. My father changed a bit. Not completely. But something about him was different. I hope so, anyway.
I tried to show her how I used the power. I wasn’t sure what it was like to teach another. I felt nothing around her, saw nothing. I had only her word to go on that she held it. I tried to demonstrate simple weaves, explained the five flavors of the power. Maybe she understood that part. But she never saw what I saw. And when I did see a result, the movement of a leaf, the appearance of a flame, I never saw the threads.
But she was tenacious and learned quickly. She was g’brim. Part of me was worried, though. They had accepted me. The Shegurah and the brand had made the difference. I wanted them to accept her. I wanted her to be safe. The Negus had told me to find others. And she was my first.
I told her. “We must go to the Negus, Sessy. You are g’brim. It will not stay secret forever. You know what the Romans have been doing. The Qdus are not them….but still…It would be better if you were sworn.” I saw the fear in her eyes, knew what frightened her. She was not a hunter. She had never been one. I cupped the side of her face with my palm “Trust me, Sesusna. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
My heart swelled with love at her assent, her simple trust in me. And I was determined. I would not fail her. This was the only way to keep her safe. I had all these responsibilities pulling at me. I had to make sure she was safe. She trusted me. I would keep her safe.
I introduced her to the Negus, explained who she was to me, what she was capable of. The woman’s eyes sharpened. “It seems the Romans were right about the blood.” At my sharp glare, she answered “Oh relax, my son. I did not mean they were right in what they do about it.” She looked up at Sesuna, peered into her eyes, tilted her head this way and that. As if one could tell anything from. “So, child. You wish to be Qdus….let us see if you understand what that means.”
I could tell Sesuna was terrified. And this was the moment I had dreaded. The Ashegurah had to know the truth. I knew my sister. I was dismissed from the office and waited outside. I had nearly refused, but I know she would say no. Still, I seized the power. With my enhanced hearing, I listened for my sister, for any sign she was in distress. I would do whatever it took to save her.
Instead, it wasn’t long before she came out, touching the mark on her arm. My heart seemed to cry with relief and I enfolded her in a hug. But she did not seem happy and I didn’t understand. I looked at her, seeing her trying to blink tears away. She looked up me with fear. “Will you make me kill now, Bessie?”
I smiled at her comfortingly, kissed her forehead. “No, Sessya. No. You are g’brim. But not all have to be hunters. It is enough that you are my sister. And that you are safe.”
And so we went home. I continued to hone my skills with the power as assiduously as I had practiced at the hunt, and she was dedicated to learning it as she had the art of tracking- and the many other skills she had picked. And my father seemed content. It was strange. Something had changed, in all of us. Somehow, peace and tranquility came to our home.
Edited by Idris, Feb 23 2018, 11:57 PM.j