There are places where one can freely admit to being afraid and under the influence of terror. Geburah is not one of them. The martial forces that drilled and practiced around me in apparent ignorance of my presence were ordered to clear the field around me. The dust quickly settled as the soldiers formed an encircling wall of armored bodies. Beyond them were the three mounted officers again. Beside me was the butter-bar low ranked officer that had found his proper military bearing.
«If you fear, you will not be allowed to proceed.» I could not tell if the speaking officer was projecting his voice, or speaking directly into my mind. His lowered visor gave him the face of a fearsome bear and allowed me no glimpse to what lies beneath. «Here, there is no fear. Here, there is no yielding to fear. Here, there is only action, obedience, and might. Fear is driven away. Have you fear?»
I glanced at the mounted officer next to me. He wore no helm to hide his face but he was unreadable just the same. Staring straight forward and holding as still as marble, he held his tongue well.
Well, I’m already in the shits, so might as well be truthful. After all, lying to a superior officer is a court-martial offense, and I’m sure they put those to the death here. I straightened up my posture and stood at full attention. “I do, Sir. I have fear.”
«Wish you to continue?» I’m sure it was the red-sashed officer speaking. His cohorts to his side seemed more solid and less cognitive somehow, like they were black marble statues recently animated.
The wording of his question felt very important. It was only four words in English, but they reached down to where my fear was hiding and poked it. Wish I to continue? My last chance to be ambivalent about the task. The Abyss lay beyond the officers, and beyond that the ineffable. Behind me were the lower sephira, far safer places for my psyche to play in and still have a good tale to tell from it. Wish I to continue?
Let’s call this what it is. Wish I to die?
“Sir, yes Sir. I wish to continue, Sir.”
The red-sashed officer nodded with a slight motion. The officer beside me nudged his horse and they turned away. I did not watch them leave the dust dominated clearing. I just noted that the horse snorted before passing through the wall of men, almost like it was saying “Good luck”.
«Then fear will be driven from you.»
I fingered the edge of my own helm tucked under an arm. This is going to hurt. I was in the middle of donning said helm when I heard the soft pap-pap-pap of someone silently charging behind me. The sound was enough for me to estimate the size of the person, which arm was holding the weight of a presumed weapon, and when the person was likely to take a leaping attack at me.
Hoping I timed it right, I dropped to the ground and rolled over. Bringing my legs up, I managed to catch the leaping soldier in his midriff and use his momentum to throw him over me towards a very ungraceful landing.
We both recovered from our dust bath at the same time. He was wielding a rod meant for blunt force trauma. I was still only armed with my gauntlets. He gestured wildly and made as if to charge me again.
I jumped to my right and sidekicked the soldier that had run up behind me while the first had attempted to cover the noise of his approach. I braced for the assault to continue, but they saluted me and returned to their place in the wall.
«You are afraid of pain, but you still engaged them.»
I raised my helm off my head just enough to make my face clear, but not enough for it to fall behind me. “The pain of engagement would have been less than the pain of them stomping my ass into the ground. I chose the lesser pain, Sir.”
«So fear causes pain.»
I didn’t understand where his questions were leading me. “This can be said as truth, Sir. Though the fear of pain can be more crippling than the pain itself.”
«Is this where your fear lies?»
I noted the homonym he used and wondered if he was asking both questions at once. Fear does lie. Fear tells me that I can’t. If I believe that fear, then I won’t. And the only way to shut up that kind of fear is to prove it wrong even as it is screaming to drown me.
Is this where my fear is lying to me? Or is this the seat of my fear, that crossing the Abyss will torment me so much that the pain of it will destroy me. Either way, the answer is the same.
“Sir, yes Sir.”
«Wish you to continue?»
“Sir! I wish to continue!” My answer came before his question could yield the floor. The only way out after all, is through.
«Then fear will be driven from you.»
The crowd of soldiers divided itself as every twelfth man took a step forward, making a smaller ring around me. Every fifth man in the smaller circle stepped forward. A series of concentric circles of hardened soldiers formed around me until only one soldier stood at attention in front of me.
«Once it begins, it can not be stopped. You will either triumph, or be defeated. When you are ready, begin. If you are not ready, leave. There is no place here for fear.»
Wait. I have to throw the first punch? But… Shit. I understood why I had been placed on the hot seat. I didn’t like it. But he has a point. If I wait for things to come to me, I’ll be waiting forever. If I want it that badly, I have to seize it. I have to work for it. And sometimes, I have to shank a bitch.
I feinted my first punch towards the soldier’s face but undercut my own momentum and sought to push him over instead. I might as well tried to uproot a redwood tree with my bare hands. It didn’t work. It started the event instead.
The soldier’s counter-punch hit true and shattered the helm. I felt both ends of my collarbone vibrate from the concussion, and my shoulder joints popped in surprise. A terrible ringing filled my ears and I wondered why the dirt was suddenly cupping a knee. The dust beckoned me, whispering about the softness and the darkness and the lack of physical assault that would envelop me in safety the moment I yield and surrender.
There is no place for surrender in Geburah.
I don’t know where the short sword came from. Only that as I struggled to my feet there it was in my clenched hand. Black as soot and reeking of iron, it was both familiar and unknown.
He didn’t wait for me to fully stand before swinging at me again. It was a glancing blow off the other side of my face. It wasn’t enough to undo my knees completely. I staggered back but kept a tight hold on the sword.
It was enough to waken my berserker nature.
As I felt that hyena laughter bubbling up my spine, I knew I had to quickly decide what singular focus I would hold on to so not to completely lose myself in the fun of gratuitous violence. I saw the three mounted officers beyond the walls of men, and the darkness of the Abyss beyond them. I will reach those men!
The soldier swung a third time. I caught his fist. My laughter burst out of me as I brought his arm down in a sharp twist over my knee. He did not cry out when his bones shattered. He stumbled away and the next round began.
Me against four armored and armed soldiers? Only four? My laughter was quickly drowned out by the sound of swords expressing the sentiments of their holders in bitter song.
So it went until all I could cognitively understand was the sound of metal screeching in failure and bodies being trampled into the accepting dust. I know I stood at the end. Behind me were the fallen and the conquered. Before me were the three commanding officers.
My armor was cut in some places, shattered in others. My face, ribs, arms, and legs were embodiments of pain. The black short sword was still in my hand. I had a wild look to me, one that I knew meant I was at the most dangerous part of my berserk rage. I had cognition, but I lacked reason. Desire ruled me at this moment with no regard to consequences.
“I wish… to continue.”
«Stand down.»
My face twitched. I just fought the armies of Geburah that were empowered by my fear. I have discovered a new depth of my fear, and came out from under it. Beyond these three mounted men was the Abyss. I felt invulnerable. I just took on hundreds of men! What are these three pansies to me!
The sword in my hand was eager. My hands, not so much. Something was nagging me, holding me. My face twitched as I wrestled with my desire. I can’t take these three. They are not as they appear to me. They are hiding their nature and the fullness of their power. This is part of the test. This is part of the test!
Behind them, the Abyss beckoned.
“I do not yield. But…” I allowed myself to fall to one knee. The exhaustion quickly flooded my senses, cooling the berserker rage. “But I think this is enough for now. I stand down, as commanded.” Some distant part of my cognition was laughing at my hopeless attempt to save face and pride. I notice the black short sword is no longer in my hand. I don’t remember releasing it. I look down at the ground to see if it lies there. The dust calls for more than my attention and I fall over into its clingy embrace.
The commander’s unvoice was the last thing I remember of Geburah.
«Well done. You are ready.»
I woke. The moon’s light had long left my window. The house is still and silent. I am silently crying in pain. I ache from head to toe. I try to lift an arm, but the pain is so deep just budging it makes me want to call out. I take a deep breath and overexert myself. I remember where I had been in my dreams and sigh in understanding. I finally yield fully and fall unconscious.
I lay… somewhere… I am still physically exhausted and still in lack of most of my wits. I am surrounded by a dimly warm light. It reminds me of a sunset hidden by a veil of high clouds. The clouds move into vertical formations and descend to surround me.
Angels. Does it have to be angels? I can’t defend myself right now. I can’t even call out for help right now. I’m completely at their mercy. Fuck.
Light and wings. That’s all I see. But from them I sense no hostility nor anger. The gentle flutter of feathers turning in the air is their speech, but I can not understand it. There is only the pale tan and comforting beiges of their feathers and the waning sunset light that embraces us all.
One angel changes kir appearance. An upper torso emerges from the ball of wings. Faded beige robes cover him and drape over the wings under him. His head is crowned with a crest of feathers. A long thin beard hangs beneath the white sash that marks his waist. His wings cover from his waist down. The number of his wings were without count. They were erect behind him, erect below him, extending at all angles, and holding him upright without moving.
He moves so that he is beside me on my left and looks me from head to toe with the care of an attending nurse. He extends his arms so that his hands are palms up, but still pointing at my head and feet. From his palms two wounds appear, and from them flowed blood and fire.
I forgot my animosity towards angels in general. I forgot the pains I had suffered from angels before. I forgot that I had no reason to trust them, much less accept any offer of relief. I was too busy watching the combination of blood and fire that came forth from the angel’s hands, and wondered how this was able to ease the pain that was crippling me.
I wanted to ask the angel why. I wanted to ask kir who has sent kir and kir comrades to me. I wanted to ask if they knew about the circumstances that led to my state in the first place.
They knew.
That was not their business.
Their business was to show mercy to me.
I did not understand why.
I did accept their help.
I spent the rest of the time in their care being completely fascinated by the flow of blood and fire from the angel’s hand.