Beyond the Island
by John W. Steele
Chapter 23
The room grew cold and silent. The light pouring through the windows dimmed, and the scent of sandalwood saturated the air. A blast of flame shot out from the fireplace, and a large portal opened in the cobblestone hearth. I ran over to the mantle and grabbed the poker.
A river of lava poured from the cave, and Lord Nagual drifted into the room atop the glowing plasma. The lava emitted no heat, and the Nagual stood on the mound of heaving slag as if it were a slab of concrete.
He appeared in the same form as the last time I had seen him. The only difference was the color of his cape. It no longer shone like radiant gold. He now wore a black cape that was smooth and lustrous like velvet. The cape had red piping on the borders and the collar was broad and very stiff. It was the first time he’d ever allowed me to see his face. He had high, heavy cheekbones, and his face was stark and lined with intense furrows, his forehead stern and deeply wrinkled. There was a gouge in the center of his forehead that looked like a deep oval crater. The groove seemed to draw light out of the room and created an ominous premonition in his presence.
The Nagual’s eyes slanted, and the pupils had the same vacuous intensity as the crevice on his brow. Though he was frightening to behold, his eyes burned with a force that I can only describe as compassion, like the eyes of a great healer. His eyes were merciful, and I sensed a deep intelligence about them. I swallowed hard, and my stomach grew queasy. I knew I could not overpower Max, that I was a fool to try, but I clenched my jaws and tightened my grip on the poker.
“The hour of atonement has arrived,” Max said, his voice dry and hollow.
“Like hell it has!” I yelled.
With a thundering war cry, I charged Lord Nagual and swung the poker with all my strength. The weapon smashed on his face and head but my blows had no effect. I stabbed him in the heart with the pointed tip but Lord Nagual did not flinch. My assaults were like rain drops colliding with a boulder. I dropped the cudgel to the floor, where it landed with a clang.
“You’re going to have to kill me, Max. The only way you’ll get Karen is over my dead body.”
I threw my hands around his scrawny neck and closed my thumbs tight on his windpipe. “You’re a liar and a fabrication!” I bellowed. “You exist because I was broken and had nowhere to turn. I gave you life.”
Lord Nagual stood firm as a pillar of marble, his neck as solid as a girder made of steel. In time, my hands grew tired and lost the intensity of their grip. I knew I was powerless against this supernatural monstrosity. I fell to my knees and began to sob.
“How can you be so cruel to one who adores you as I do, Lord Nagual? Have you no heart or mercy? Do you not have even a shred of pity for those confined to the world of desperation and ignorance? I am just a worm but I pity mankind. I hate you, Lord Nagual, and I curse the day you found me. If mind is only sensation and craving then it is the cruelest of all jokes, and the day I was conceived is the most heartless joke ever told.” Tears streamed from my eyes and fell in a pool on the rug.
I felt three sharp taps on the top of my head. A pulse of warm energy descended through my spinal column and created a tingling sensation. The energy settled in my hair and eased my delirium. The Nagual reached down and cradled my face in his enormous hands. His eyes reminded me of my grandmother and they burned with a sympathetic intensity.
“We are the same, Brian. I could no more harm you than I could harm myself. Our destiny is intertwined.”
“You could never harm me? What about all you’ve put me through? Since I met you, I am no longer the person I used to be.”
“That’s why I put you through it. But did I ever once harm you, Brian?”
“Not physically. But what about our victims?”
“Rise up, Brian. You are able.” I got up from the floor and looked directly in Lord Naguals eyes.
“Go have a seat. There are some things you need to know,” he said.
I walked over to a leather chair and prepared to sit down.
“Not there. Over there.” Max nodded to a spot in the middle of the room. “You’re still an apprentice.”
I walked over to the area and sat cross-legged on the floor.
The lava gurgled, then poured from the cavern and flowed into the lodge. A lake of molten plasma covered the floor. It formed a border in the shape of a perfect circle about five feet in diameter around me. The lava did not penetrate the boundary of the circle and its flames were cool. I didn’t feel threatened by its presence but I dared not touch the lava because of its frightening display. Max placed his hands behind his back and paced on the fiery magma. He began to speak; his voice was smooth and deep.
“One of the illusions Mara must maintain to control a slave is the notion that a person is born but once.” Max said. “If this were so, there would be no accounting for the vast distinction and pre-eminence of those confined to the island.
“Why do so many children starve to death while others are born to a life of fabulous luxury? Do you believe the Unborn is responsible for this? That would suggest that the Absolute has a personality, that all humans are created according to its whim and, because of a subjective and discriminating creator consciousness, some are born blind, crippled, or insane. It is fatalistic and demands the assumption that man is enslaved to a destiny he cannot escape, and that some are created to experience cruelty.
“The vast majority of islanders rise and fall of their own volition in an endless cycle of becoming. They reap what they sow until they awaken enough to understand the fundamental truth about the island and vow to transcend it.
“Do you believe that a person could commit wanton acts of violence against others even to the point of death and be forgiven as if it had never happened? If that were so, the paradise realms would be thriving with murderers, and no realm would be safe. All creation seeks homeostasis, Brian, and sometimes a Nagual longs to be freed from the negative energies its vibration has created in past lives. This is where the Lord of Death can be of great service.”
It made little difference to me what Max said because, in the end, it was nothing but words. I’d grown tired of theory, and parables, and tales of power. Once again, I was caught up in a web of circumstances that I did not like and that were beyond my control.
I stared into the molten prison of fire, and an epiphany flashed in the window of my reason. I realized it made no difference what I believed. The island was a realm of inevitable illusions crying out for a fantasy to hold on to. All that mattered were my actions. The rest was just an ancient mind game created when the first tears of consciousness splashed on the desert of mortality.
My only concern now was for Karen, and I struggled to come up with a plan to save her. She rested peacefully on the couch. I wanted to run over and grab her, and throw her over my shoulder. We’d run far away from this horrible nightmare and find that piece of the island that only two can share. But Lord Nagual in his infinite wisdom had blocked my path.
Max shot me an icy glance, and I grew dizzy. “Pay attention, Brian. You need to know this. I know this is painful for you; it’s painful for me, too. I’ve never found any valor in doing what needs to be done. But if we are called on to do something no one else can do, we must answer the challenge. Your time in this dimension has not expired, and you must understand what I’m about to tell you. Now snap out of your daydreams and deal with reality.”
I had no choice and I lowered my head. I’d grown weary with the endless quest for knowledge. It seemed that all explanations about the downfall of man were little more than apologies. But I listened to Max and hoped against reason that a miracle would occur, that he would set us free. Lord Nagual raised his hand and pointed to the sky beyond the window.
“All matter in this universe is made of magic, Brian. All forms in this universe are illusions. They exist for an eternity and then decay and implode upon themselves. After a long time, there is no evidence they were ever created. It is as if they never existed. Once the illusion is completed, the magic begins again.”
To be continued...
Copyright © 2009 by John W. Steele
