Anikelam, or a Visit to the Junk Dealer's shop

“Yes, you were afraid. But you tried to find a solution and focused inwardly. It was precisely because of this that fear could not fully take possession of you, and you saw the invisible,” said the priestess. “Tell us how you understood that everything happening to you was not real,” she asked.

“I saw that the meat from which the man sitting beside me had torn off a piece a few seconds earlier became the same again as it had been before he did so. I thought that in our world this was impossible, and I understood that all those people and that food were not from our world.”

Then Grakhash remembered that crows had been circling above the temple in the vision.

“Yes, you are right, Grakhash. It was an illusion created by Shahgarg. He wanted to frighten you so that you would fall forever into the Worlds of Reflections and be unable to fulfill your mission.”

“But if all of that was unreal, why did it carry over into the physical world? Why am I still without clothes?” asked Efaksh.

“Because you were too frightened, Efaksh. Our thoughts, desires, and feelings exist beyond space and time. It is also very important that you were more afraid for yourself than for your friend,” said the priestess. “And now let us go into the temple. You must pass the final stage of initiation, Grakhash.”

The priestess and the young friends climbed the steps and entered the temple. It was quiet inside. Only their footsteps echoed hollowly beneath the temple vaults. The walls and ceiling of the temple were decorated with mosaics depicting idyllic scenes of paradise that had once existed on earth. One mosaic showed the god Dionysus dancing with nymphs in the forest and drinking wine with shepherds. Another showed Artemis the huntress pursuing a doe. A third showed Persephone, holding seven pomegranate seeds in her hand, having just ridden out from beneath the earth in a golden chariot…

Grakhash’s gaze stopped on one of the mosaics. It depicted a very beautiful young girl. Grakhash felt as though he could sense spring freshness emanating from her. Her face was radiant and clear. She was driving a chariot drawn by winged horses. On another mosaic, she was shown running across a green meadow surrounded by a flock of snow-white lambs.

Grakhash asked the priestess:

“Who is that?”

“That is Selene, the goddess of reflected light,” she answered.

“The goddess of reflected light?” Grakhash repeated in surprise. “What does that mean? Once I heard that there are certain Worlds of Reflections…”

“Selene is one of the faces of the Moon. She is a pure, immaculate goddess, the bright image of the Moon. Selene gives people Good. Her opponent has always been Cybele—the dark side of the Moon, the goddess of Evil. You met Cybele today in your vision,” said the priestess, then fell silent in thought.

“But what does she have to do with the worlds of reflections?” Grakhash asked impatiently.

“Our ancient sources of secret knowledge say that the light of the Moon, which she sends to the earth every night, does not belong to her. The Moon reflects the light of the Sun. That is why Selene is called the goddess of reflected light,” the priestess said, falling silent again, and then added:

“The ancient texts say that the Moon is the mother of the Earth. Long ago, the Earth broke away from the Moon and became a separate planet. Soon after that, the Moon died. Life ceased within her. She cannot shine by herself. She can only reflect another’s light. The Moon will never forgive the Earth for this. Through Cybele, she takes revenge for her death… Our Earth, created by the Moon, will always be a world of reflections… But we have digressed. You, Efaksh, stay here. The priests will feed you and give you new clothes. Grakhash will come with me. He must complete his initiation.”

The priestess led Grakhash into a small temple chamber. It was completely dark inside. Candles were burning. The reflections of their flames drew hieroglyphs written on the walls out of the darkness. The priestess pointed Grakhash to the center of the hall:

“Stand here and close your eyes. You must relax deeply and think of nothing.”

Grakhash did as the priestess instructed. A few seconds after he closed his eyes, the entire room filled with music. Wonderful sounds filled Grakhash’s soul more and more strongly, and he began to see beautiful images.

…There he was, holding hands with some young girl, spinning in a circle. They were happy. Suddenly the girl turned around, and Grakhash saw that it was Freya. Grakhash understood that he was seeing one of his past lives. Apparently, this was the golden age of humankind, when paradise existed on earth.

Some young, slender youth approached them and, smiling, gave the girl a bouquet of narcissi. She went off somewhere with him. Grakhash was confused and crushed; he was jealous…

…In the evening, on a deserted road, Grakhash met his rival. They spoke. Grakhash made a biting joke about the young man’s relationship with the girl. The rival was insulted. He drew his sword, and Grakhash did the same. They fought, and Grakhash killed the youth…

…The girl learned that Grakhash had killed a man because of her. She was broken by grief. Now she and Grakhash could not be together…

…The sea. Restless waves crashed against the rocks. Grakhash saw the girl throw herself down from the cliff…

The images of the past ended. Grakhash felt tears flowing down his face. It seemed that at any moment his heart would tear apart. Grakhash sensed that someone had placed a palm against his chest.

The beautiful music continued to sound. Its harmonious notes penetrated deeper and deeper into Grakhash’s heart, touching the very depths of his soul. Grakhash began to see other images.

First, he heard the distant ringing of a little bell. The ringing gradually drew closer. At last, it sounded somewhere right beside Grakhash’s ear.

Ding-ding… Ding-ding…

The ringing lulled Grakhash, and he suddenly wanted very much to sleep. Consciousness slowly left him.

Suddenly, a large black raven appeared before Grakhash’s eyes. Grakhash saw in its claws the very little bell from which the quiet ringing came. The raven flapped its wings, and… some object appeared in its talons. When Grakhash looked closely, he saw that it was a thick, weighty book. The book opened, and Grakhash began to read it.

The book was written on some material unknown to him, outwardly resembling papyrus. Grakhash did not know the language in which the writings were inscribed, but to his great surprise, he understood perfectly what was written in the book.

“Every thought, desire, and action is nothing other than an imprint of eternity,” Grakhash read. “One event reflects another. Whoever finds two identical imprints will obtain a keyhole. Whoever has the keyhole will find the key. Whoever turns the key in the keyhole will open the Truth.”

Grakhash was amazed. He realized that he was reading the sacred book of Anikelam.

“…You will find Merrog in Dantaiya—the valley of lakes… Hurry…” croaked the raven. But the raven’s beak was closed, and Grakhash understood that he was hearing its words in his thoughts.

The ringing of the little bell began to slowly recede. Grakhash once again began to become aware of what was happening. Now the music began to fade. Now he heard the priestess’s voice very close to him:

“The initiation is complete.”

Grakhash opened his eyes. The candles had been extinguished. Through a rounded window in the roof of the temple, a bright shaft of sunlight fell upon him.

How amazing, he thought, squinting in the sunlight. Just now this chamber was in darkness, and my consciousness too was in darkness. Tonight I saw Hell, and now I am in Paradise. How close they are: Day and Night, Light and Darkness, Selene and Cybele…

“Have you understood that you must hurry?” the priestess interrupted his thoughts.

Grakhash looked up at her in surprise. Suddenly, he clearly realized that she knew everything about his visions.

The priestess led Grakhash into the hall where the young friends had first begun their acquaintance with the temple. Efaksh, dressed in clean new clothes, was already waiting for him.

From Grakhash’s face, he understood the course of their further actions.

“We are in a hurry again, aren’t we?”

Grakhash nodded. He began quickly thanking the priestess. She gave him parting instructions:

“The book of Anikelam will appear before you each time you think of it. Its appearance will be announced to you by the little bell. But you must not speak with the raven. It is the eternal guardian of the Sacred Book. But… I feel that I am delaying you. Go quickly to Dantaiya.”

Grakhash took out the Amulet and rapidly pronounced the magical formula:

“O Isis! Remove the veil from my eyes; allow me to see the light of Anima Mundi… I wish to be in Dantaiya, in the place where Merrog is…”

Chapter 8

Merrog’s Magic

Grakhash and Efaksh came to their senses in a forest clearing beneath the crown of an ancient oak. Overcoming the slight fatigue that came over them each time they traveled through space and time, the young friends quickly rose to their feet and went forward, looking around. They were searching for Merrog, believing that the magical Amulet had brought them exactly where they needed to be.

The wide path along which the young friends walked clearly led somewhere, but nothing could be seen through the dense branches of the trees.

Grakhash had already seen Merrog in the astrologer’s crystal ball. He had described to Efaksh the terrible Crocodile with the body of a man. And now the young friends expected the dreadful monster to appear before them at any moment.

The path led them to the shore of a lake. It was so enormous that the dense forest standing on its far shore seemed blue because of the bluish haze enveloping it.

At the edge of the lake, quite close to them, stood a beautiful young girl. It looked as though she was washing laundry. But, looking more closely, Grakhash realized that she was whispering something while bending over the waters of the lake. Narrowing his eyes, the young hero carefully studied the features of her face. The girl was sitting with her head turned slightly in his direction, and he was able to make her out well. The girl’s face was beautiful, but there was something predatory and cruel in it.

Suddenly, the girl rose sharply and turned to face Grakhash and Efaksh, staring straight at them. The young friends exchanged puzzled glances. The girl clapped her hands and… began slowly melting into the air.

A realization pierced Grakhash. He rushed at the girl, thrusting his sword forward.

“Grakhash, Grakhash, what are you doing?” Efaksh shouted in bewilderment.

But it was already too late. The girl melted into the air. In despair, Grakhash threw his sword to the ground and covered his face with his hands.

“Everything is lost, lost,” he repeated bitterly.

“Grakhash, Grakhash, what is lost?” Efaksh asked, stumbling over his questions.

“Everything is lost,” Grakhash repeated. “We let Merrog escape.”

“Merrog? Was that him?” Efaksh asked again.

“Yes, it was Merrog. Remember, the astrologer told us that he can take on any form he wishes and move into any dimension he wants,” Grakhash confirmed. “He has just gone into another dimension. But I don’t understand why we let him escape. After all, the sacred book of Anikelam told us that we would find him here.”

“We did find him here,” Efaksh remarked sarcastically, already beginning to grow tired of their exhausting adventures.

“Here is what I will tell you, my dear friend,” Grakhash said thoughtfully. “Not everything is so simple with these magical things. I think something depends on us too…”

“In any case, I suggest we not be upset,” said Efaksh. “First, we need to rest a little so that we can begin the search again with renewed strength. I suggest we return to that wonderful oak and rest in its life-giving coolness. Then it will be easier, and perhaps the answer will come as to what we should do next.”

“You are right,” Grakhash said bitterly. “Let’s go.”

The young friends quickly walked along the path into the depths of the forest and soon found themselves once again near the ancient oak. The tree was so old that its bark had almost turned to stone on the outside. But the oak was green, and the wind rustled in its fluffy branches. It was a sunny summer day.

Grakhash and Efaksh lay down on the ground beside the mighty oak and dozed off.

The valley of lakes—Dantaya—lay thousands of kilometers away from the monastery of Num. As a child, Grakhash had heard about it from his mother. It was an amazingly peaceful place. Here, small villages stood a short distance from one another. Tiny houses with red roofs looked like something from a fairy tale. The villagers knew one another by sight. They were always sincerely benevolent and remarkably polite to one another.

When Grakhash awoke, he did not immediately notice the roofs of houses showing through the foliage. The buildings were very hard to see. Apparently, this was why the young friends had not noticed them the first time, when they had been searching for Merrog. Grakhash realized that it was a little village.

Suddenly, Grakhash heard voices. Looking more closely, he saw the villagers returning from the lake. The inhabitants of Dantaya often went to the lakes they revered. Water was the source of their life. Every time they returned from the lake, they were filled with energy and boundless happiness.

However, now Grakhash did not see the usual joy on the faces of the inhabitants of Dantaya. Gloomy gray shadows were returning from the lake. The people’s faces were very pale, their bodies sickly. Their eyes were bloodshot; in some, they darted about nervously, while in others they had rolled back altogether. In amazement, Grakhash watched the sorrowful procession. Efaksh had already awakened and stood beside him silently in bewilderment.

Suddenly, an animal roar came from the thicket. Grakhash and Efaksh exchanged frightened glances, preparing to see a predator.

But from behind the trees appeared an elderly peasant woman in a white apron. Her head dangled from side to side, her hands made chaotic movements in the air, and hatred burned in her inflamed eyes. The peasant woman’s mouth spewed terrible curses.

When one of the pale shadows came level with the young friends, Grakhash decided to ask him a question. It was a neatly dressed young peasant.

“Tell me, what has happened to you?” Grakhash asked.

The peasant slowly turned his head, looked at the young friends with clouded eyes, and… threw himself to the ground. The peasant began rolling on the ground, beating his chest, and growling like an animal.

“R-r-r-r… Curse you, Dantaya… Curse all of you…” fragments of phrases reached Grakhash and Efaksh.

It seemed that everything in the peasant’s chest was boiling; his throat was choking on the terrible sounds it was producing.

Grakhash and Efaksh looked around. Now all the people returning to the village were behaving just as strangely. People growled like wild beasts, waved their arms, jumped, performing unimaginable pirouettes in the air, mooed, and barked.

An elderly man passed by the young friends. His head, like a pendulum, kept swaying now to the right, now to the left. He was quietly muttering something under his breath. Listening closely, Grakhash and Efaksh realized that he was talking to himself.

Some young peasant woman ran out of the forest from the direction of the village and, wringing her hands, cried out:

“Misfortune! Misfortune! Dantaya has been cursed! Misfortune to us all! The lake has been cursed!”

The peasant woman picked up a boy who had run out after her and, judging by everything, had intended to run to the lake for a swim.

“Do not go to the lake! It is cursed!” the peasant woman shouted to Grakhash and Efaksh. “Whoever bathes in it, or drinks its water, will become like them!” she sobbed, pointing at the people passing by.

Grakhash and Efaksh stood beneath the ancient oak, gazing at the terrible scene. Suddenly, Grakhash fell into thought. He reflected for a minute, then said:

“I think Merrog cursed the lake. It was he who was at the lake. I am sure of it.”

“But what are we to do now?” asked Efaksh. “Where are we supposed to look for him now?”

“I think we did not end up here by chance,” said Grakhash. “Freeing these people from the curse is part of our mission. That is why the book of Anikelam brought us here.”

“But how will we free them from the curse?” asked Efaksh.

“I don’t know. We must ask the book of Anikelam,” said Grakhash, and thought of the sacred book.

That very second, he heard the quiet ringing of a little bell somewhere near his right ear. Then, before his inner sight, a raven appeared. It flapped its wings, and the sacred book opened. To Grakhash’s surprise, it opened precisely to the page he needed. Grakhash began to read.

The book of Anikelam was not written like ordinary books. Wherever Grakhash’s gaze fell, golden-orange letters appeared, but as soon as he looked away, the mysterious writing vanished. Therefore no one except Grakhash could ever have read the wondrous book—even if they had been beside him at that moment.

“The water in the lake of Dantaya was cursed by Merrog,” Grakhash read.

“Look!” croaked the raven, and moving images appeared on the pages of the book.

Grakhash peered closely. He saw millions of strange entities. Some of them had horns and hooves, others had large membranous wings, and still others were altogether shapeless. They made a great deal of noise. There were shrieks, cries, and other unpleasant sounds.

I have heard this somewhere before, flashed through Grakhash’s mind.

The next moment, Grakhash saw that the entities were clinging to stone walls and a stone ceiling. He realized that they seemed to be suspended from them, though they were holding on by themselves.

There was no floor in this chamber. A long tunnel descended somewhere downward. Something red could be seen at the bottom of the tunnel. Sometimes it seemed to advance toward the chamber where the entities were, and then retreat again. Grakhash understood that it was lava. The entities were beneath the earth, at its very heart.

Then Grakhash saw the girl sitting beside the lake. She whispered something, and that very second millions of entities beneath the earth flew swiftly upward, to the surface of the earth. Having emerged from the underworld, they hovered low in the air above the ground for some time, remaining invisible to the people busy with their affairs by the lake. Then the entities began falling one after another into the Sacred Lake. Together with the water that people drank and in which they bathed, the messengers of Hell penetrated their bodies.

Now an elderly peasant woman who had been washing laundry fell and began growling like a wild beast. Now a young peasant, after taking a sip of water from the lake, began beating his chest and shouting, “I hate, I hate!..”

A pleasant voice began speaking in Grakhash’s head. Only it was impossible to understand to whom it belonged: a man or a woman.

“Millions of years this army has awaited its hour. And now it has come. The End of Times has arrived. At Merrog’s command, they have finally emerged to the surface. They will enter every human being, and in every human being a thinking particle of evil will appear. They are all Merrog’s children. They will always be drawn to their father—and with them, people who no longer have power over their bodies and minds. And people will do what Merrog needs. The peaceful inhabitants of Dantaya would never willingly have gone to war against the City of the Sun. And now they are obedient tools in the hands of the Forces of Evil. The same would sooner or later have happened to all the inhabitants of the Earth who do not wish to serve them. The book of Anikelam did not bring you here by chance, Grakhash. You must stop this, and stop it now.”

But why did Merrog not do this earlier, and instead allow the inhabitants of Earth to live peacefully? What prevented him from doing it earlier? Grakhash thought.

“Merrog did not have enough strength for it. He was waiting for a favorable moment, when the planets would take certain positions,” Grakhash heard in his thoughts.

But what can I do to stop this? Grakhash thought.

“Because of the curse Merrog placed upon it, the water in the Sacred Lake became dead,” the letters on the pages of the book flared up. “You must find living water, Grakhash, and then the possessed inhabitants of Dantaya will become as they were before.”

The last letters vanished from the page of the book, and no new ones appeared. Grakhash strained to receive new information, staring into the book.

Where should I search for living water? he asked the same question again and again.

But the pages of the book folded together, and it closed. The little bell rang, and somewhere in the depths of his consciousness Grakhash saw the raven flying away into the dark distance.

Awakening from the trance he had been in, Grakhash saw Efaksh beside him. Efaksh was waiting impatiently for Grakhash to speak to him. Grakhash told him what he had read in the sacred book.

“I do not know where to look for living water,” he finished his story.

“I suggest we rest a little,” said Efaksh. “Let’s go and rest beneath the tree. Maybe we’ll be able to sleep for a while. Though I doubt we can after everything that has happened.”

With a heavy sigh, Grakhash agreed. The young friends went back to the ancient oak and settled comfortably beneath it. Efaksh fell peacefully asleep. Grakhash sank into a heavy drowsiness.

Suddenly, Grakhash saw the Milky Way and the stars scattered across the sky. Someone was walking toward him along the Milky Way. When the person came closer, Grakhash saw that it was the old astrologer.

“How glad I am to see you!” Grakhash exclaimed joyfully.

“I told you that we would meet again,” Zankh said mysteriously.

“But how did you get here?” Grakhash looked around. “Why are we meeting on the Milky Way? You are supposed to be in the palace!”

“I am no longer in the palace, Grakhash,” the astrologer said sadly. “I am dead. Two days after our meeting, I was executed by order of the Tsar.”

Stricken by grief, Grakhash was speechless. He wanted to say something comforting to the astrologer, but could not force out a single word.

“Let us not speak of what is not within our power to change,” the old man said firmly. “I have come to teach you how to find living water.”

Grakhash turned entirely into attention.

“You will not find living water in some miraculous lake on Earth. Such a lake does not exist. Living water is in the same place as dead water, in the very same lake cursed by Merrog.”

“But how is that possible? The water in the lake is poisoned; people cannot drink it!” exclaimed Grakhash.

“Listen to me, Grakhash,” the astrologer continued. “Every thing in our Universe contains both good and evil. It is like the two sides of the Moon: dark and light. One must only know how to bring this to the surface. Here, in the Worlds of Reflections, one must only turn the swiftly vanishing reflection to the side one needs.”

“But how can that be done?” Grakhash asked impatiently.

“Look, tonight there is a full Moon in the sky!” The old man pointed with his finger to the round orb emitting a faint silvery light.

Grakhash cast a glance at the Moon and thought that only recently it had been a crescent, a half-round sickle that grew larger and larger each day until it turned into the round face of a Maiden with plump cheeks.

Meanwhile, the astrologer continued his explanations:

“You see, the Sun and the Moon, the Day and Night luminaries, have moved solemnly in a circle of twelve houses since the creation of the Universe, passing from one house to another… As I have already told you, the Moon envies the glory of the Sun, because she does not have as much warmth and light as the Sun does, and people will never love her as strongly as they love the Sun… But every month, on the day of the full moon, the Moon, which moves faster than all the other planets, stops in the house located in that circle opposite the house illuminated by the Sun that day… And the Moon looks at the Sun from afar, yet directly, gazing enviously into its shining face, and she desires to become as great as the Sun. And the Sun, from its house, looks at the Moon, and at times it seems to it that it is looking into a mirror and sees there its pale, ghostly reflection…”