Reincarnation

arched right over the path as they passed. It was like a tunnel. And again, enormous frowning rocks guarded them on either side. Even when they had camped, they heard the rising wind which moaned and whistled through the rocks, as branches of trees clashed together while they trudged along. The temperature continued to fall and fall till they were covered by the powdery snow.

The moon sailed through the dark clouds and appeared behind a beetling, pine clad rock. Immediately, wolves began to howl as if the moonlight had some peculiar effects on them.

' There must be rouges ahead, pray we meet them' Sleamann, who at this time was cheerful and jocular, broke the silence. 'Surely began shapeshifting newly'

'Sure' Lockwood replied 'I remember it as though it were yesterday. The ecstasy of howling on jagged rocks just in front of the full moon. Very patronising' his words were broken by the horses gallops.

They let out chuckles and trudged on along the rocky pass till the horses began neighing irritably and standing on their hinds. Kevin, one of the vanguards, halted the company and went down his horse. He bent and observed the ground before them carefully for any tracks but found nothing. He then resolved to move further into the dark.

' Can you see anything, uncompromising' Emre called

' I don’t think so' Kevin trudged on.

'Do you think our enemies might be playing at something' he said quietly to Slaemann

'There is every chance they will be playing games. You can't expect even an over-zealous pack of blood-drinkers here and at this time. Except that stray cubs lose their way though. And my lord, the howlings are not cub-like.'

'Jumping to conclusions already?'

'Don't tell me you are afraid of blood. I was only suggesting what prospect would likely offer' he winked mischievously and climbed down his horse. ' Found anything?' his voice hollowed down the tunnel-like pass.

But there was no response. The king got concerned and sent his voice over. But there was still no response. 

'Maybe they have got him' Slaemann whispered, screwing his eyes to  know if he could see anything. But the moon had hidden behind belligerent clouds and its light had dimmed out.

Then sounds of howling and barking arrived from the distance. Everybody came down his horse and pulled out swords from their sheats.

'I swear by God if anything happens to...' Emre swore furiously. Unease grasped the back of his neck like a cold hand. But Slaemann's hand, which was raised, stopped him halfway. The knight’s footfalls thudded back from the distance. He ran back, smiling.

'Just what you wanted Slaemann, they are rouges, probably had visited an inn'

Every worry thus calmed, every man hopped back on his horse. The shapes of the rogues were already appearing in the dim dark light as they ran after their hunt’s trail.

'Sleamann' the king called, smiling. 'Shall I count to ten before we continue our journey'

'No' Slaemann returned, sighing and smiling as he hopped down his horse 'make it five'.  He went down his horse and went towards the pack.

The monstrous pack whose Alpha growled and snarled had eyes like torches. They began to circle him, with their claws of black steel, their furs as dark as the night, eyes glowing red like jewels from the pit of hell itself. The Alpha went towards him sniffing, savoring the scent of a coming meal. 

He remembered his childhood as though it was yesterday. Those were days when he, paradoxically, had much to think about. Those were days when he was left to pit his wits against nature’s rage and fury. He remembered those days. He remembered his father.

Antigua, for that was his father’s name, had died in his early years-when he was eleven or so. In his day he was lazy, imprudent but brutal. On countless occasions he beat their mother, so that if neighbors didn’t intercede, she would have died. One day on his several visits to inns, he came back home and pulled a gun through her brain. She died, but not immediately. To avenge her death, she turned their son and only child, Slaemann, into a wolf, warrior and war-lord. He killed his father and went to live with the druids in the alps.

Through thousands of years of life, he still hadn’t let go of his resentment for how he was treated as a child, which sometimes led him to express his anger in violent creative ways.

This as well is all the more problematic because Sleamann was about the strongest creatures around. Unlike others, he was not just a wolf, warrior, war-lord or whatever. He was a vampire and a vampire-werewolf hybrid, which made him the first damphyr. 

As a result, he could take on whole packs of normal vampires or werewolves with terrifying ease, while normal people barely registered as more than food to him. He was a thinker and he thought about the sad fate of the pack before him.

In short, when Lockwood had counted to five, the whole of the pack was wincing and whimpering. Sleamann shrugged his shoulders and joined his flabbergasted spectators.

They reached the ‘Hills of the gallows’ at midnight. The world was silent except for windswept pines that whistled. The silence was made more intense by the universal thrill and cries of a million million forest insects and crickets. The guardians whose hooded outlines stood out clearly under the lunar beam carried flaming torches and were as still as plaques. They stood in the facade as the glimmering soft light intermittently revealed their ancient faces, scraggly bald heads and very long tousled and tangled beards.

‘Welcome Emre,’ they spoke subsequently after the other. ‘We have been expecting you’ they turned their backs and spoke no further as they went back into the hills.

The way into the hill of the gallows was a round hole at the side of the hill, just a little bigger than that of a hearth. Worshippers and those who came to seek the knowledge of the gods crawled on their belly and found themselves in the dark endless space in the presence of the three guardians. No-one of them had beheld the Hades of this seoul but in fairness to it, no-one as well had ever come out without the fear of its power. The three guardians stood by the glowing log which only served to light up their vague figures.

Sometimes a man came to consult the spirit of his dead father just as Emre had done in the past. It was said that whenever such spirits appeared, the man saw it vaguely in the darkness, but never heard its voice. Some people even said they heard the spirits flying and flapping their wings against the roof of the cave. 

‘Hades himself has sent his condolence, who are we then not to’ the three guardians said a word after the other.

‘You should be aware of what you are going to face. When a person reaches the afterlife, they are judged over the course of three days per crime. There are many crimes one is to be judged of, but because of his incorruptible nature, we hope he shall be released without delay. Only souls who pass these trials are reincarnated.’ the three guardians revealed as the men paid rapt attention.

He waved a hand in the air and a cloud of mist appeared before them.

‘This is the way to seoul.’ the guardians beckoned.

It was king Emre who went first, keeping his sword in place before he walked into it. The rest did so taking cautious steps. 

At last they apparitioned atop a somewhat dilapidated bridge.  The atmosphere was wintry with dark, foggy clouds and lava erupting below. There were a cacophony of screams below. The men held the banisters and watched down, shocked. There were throngs of people below, who were constantly blown away by the active volcano. They screamed and begged. It was an epitome of the biblical dark room where one is allowed to know crushing pain and suffocating darkness. Horror filled them, except Slaemann who savored the spectacle with relish.

‘This is the crib of the damned’ intoned the guardians.

‘And why the hell is the hell of murder our stop. The crib of the damned souls. The volcano! The damned. Pray he wasn’t a whitewashed tomb lest we might spend longer years here.’ they panicked

‘But he’s never harmed anyone.’ Emre tried to explain

‘ We might not know. The order of these trials is determined by Elysium himself. Other than him, no-one can decide the order of the trial. The sins are judged from lightest to heaviest and thank heavens, that of murder and violence is the last stop meaning that we have only a trial to undergo. The trial will also look at indirect murders. If his past actions influenced somebody’s death, if he influenced someone’s being damned, he shall be judged. So do not post mean comments online hastily’ they smiled.

The guardians beckoned on them as they surged foward uneasily into the dark, damp and hazy facade. It was eerie and unsettling. Most felt open spaciousness and were even more wary, screwing their eyes in the charcoal-dark facade. Suddenly, something of an earthquake shook the earth. It was at the same time deafening so that they had to pinch their eardrums close lest they went deaf. Bright light flushed into the air. Only then did they know where they were-in an amphitheatre.

‘No matter what he says’ the three guardians councelled, ‘don’t talk back at him, never’

It was then that the men discovered that the earthquake was a voice actually.  

The ground before them lifted and presented to them the judge-the god of violence. His hands were tied to two pillars by the dint of very monstrous chains whih seethed and cooled. He, himself, was made of brine so that when he raised his voice with demonic indignation and bared his mouth in a snarl, one was sure to see and feel and dread him. He was every inch mad and furious and violent. Now as he spoke, the pillars astride him shook. And beside those pillars were giant gargoyles that stood to his beck and call.

Terror seized they all.

‘ And who are these things’ it bent its head foward to regard them foolishly. He burst out laughing at the men whose feeling of uneasiness was manifest in their expressions, their gaze, their composition and in their minds. ‘Release the ghouls for they carry swords’

‘But this is a court’ the guardians spoke.

‘Don’t you think its been long I watched something interesting’ he laughed violently again, looking mournful. ‘They boast of victory, I am offering them the real battleground’

‘But …’

‘Silence!’

A mild whistle in the air and the ghouls arrived carrying scythes, looking pleased. They approached from behind an arched colloseum. The god grinned and continued with an unusual cooly voice.

‘The trial may now begin’

‘ This trial is about leaving a doomed colleague behind’ seven gargoyles spoke at a time ‘despite having enough time. His desire for his own safety and indecisiveness ultimately caused his colleague’s death. If he acted in time, deaths alluding to Torelli would not have taken form This therefore could be seen as indirect murder. A direct result of negligience and he must be purged for a thousand years.’

‘Guardians, begin your defence’

‘ How many people he save during his lifetime, we do not know. But please let’s pay attention to thr mirror of the further’. He snatched a wand from one of the gargoyles and waved it in the wind. ‘May I borrow that’

The mist of cloud appeared and right inside it was the war of the two kingdoms.

‘As you can see, the past may be dim an distant as well as memories but he saved a staggering six thousand people during the war. Shall we exclude his defending Aberdeen in times of…’

His speech was broken off by the god’s cackle who was amused by his ghouls who were being trampled by the men as the session went on.

‘...their most helpless situation. May I propose that the Priest in question out of the six thousand, saved three thousand strangers and in order to do so, he could not save Torelli. It was not because he could not save him but as we see, Torelli was destined to die at that point. How then are these lives charted differently? I await your answer’

But the gargoyles said nothing, they consulted among the other in the language of utter growling. When they had seemingly concluded among the other, they raised their heads and spoke in their style of subsequence.

‘ How do you even weigh lives, they are not even tangible. If something has weight, they are all the same…’ they had made a mistake and that was why the vigor in their voice diminished with each word. They regarded the other as Elysius sighed their thoughtlessness away. 

‘Honarable Elysius, please take into consideration his last statement as you weigh in on the priest’s charges’

The fight had stopped now and his face no longer beamed with blessedness and peace. In its place instead was a haggard and mournful look. He gazed steadily at the mirror of the further before he turned to them.

‘Malice, in this action of malicious prosecution is not to be considered in the sense of spite or hatred against an individual. Malice, for our purpose here, includes any motive other than desire to secure the ends of justice. It is my sole question and the onus of proof lies with the living. The proper cause for all prosecution is not to punish an innocent man, but to secure the ends of justice. Any other motive may constitute malice. Thus, the absence of belief in the truthfullness of a complaint, or a desire to procure conviction by all means leading to concoting evidence, is a proof of malice. My verdict therefore is that the priest is acquitted of his charges and that his soul be returned to the pyre since they desire reincarnation of the present form rather than a rebirth. I don’t understand why such stupid and trifle matters as this should come before me. Haven’t I warned you!!! You insolent dicks!!!’

Another earthquake.

The prosecuting gargoyles were all startled by the fresh outburst. The executioner who was to take a soul to hell passed their way sneering and snarling behind a helmet and visor. 

Emre remembered his first trip through the underworld, where after passing through the depths of hell, he reached his father Anchises in the land of Bane where souls to which Fate owes another flesh lie. Emre's journey through the underworld provided to him a definite ranking of souls according to their past lives on Earth. The Underworld also provided a punishment place where souls are purged of their evils and after one thousand years, regenerated to Earth. The ranking of souls in the Underworld warns of punishment for sin, and provides a moral framework for Aberdeenian life.

Emre's first contact with a soul in the purgatory of this Underworld was Pauline, who died after falling from one of his ships. Tramiel was at the mouth of the river that flowed through hell with his guide the goddess Quiver and Can the ferryman. Pauline was waiting to be ferried to her place in the Underworld, so she could begin her thousand-year purge. . In Hadeses Underworld one must have had a proper burial to gain a position. That served as a warning to Aberdinians to give their deceased a proper funeral, lest they remain in hell longer. The story here shifts, as he remembered, from that of moral lesson, to historical prophecy, but underlying the history there is a subtle command of respect for Aberdinian leaders.

He was brought out from his thoughts when the water begin to stir. Something with a serpentine movement snaked in it and when he bent to take a closer look, it jumped on him. They were squids with human faces and chared teeth as big as a man’s fingers. The disgusting creatures fed on human eyes. When he threw it back into the water, Slaemann came towards him.

‘You are afraid’

Emre with a face wreathed in anxiety regarded back his gaze, sullen and silent, smitten with the stir. 

‘You should be. You know why?’

‘Why don’t you enlighten me’  

‘Fear’ his face grew very stern as he leaned closer to the king who backed off ‘is the greatest weapon in God’s arsenal. It is why the church created hell!’ 

In the other end of the pagoda, the guardians laughed and celebrated heartily, speaking to the knights who tended to their wounds or to the wounded.

It was a century-long promise, they would also be reincarnated if they helped in reincarnating two hundred souls. They prayed to be born to a fortune-500 CEO.

The priest was number two-hundred.