Exposing the Imposter

Warriors of Transcendence,Part 53
 
Ulu found himself next to a large colorful tent. He was directed to the opening and understood that he was expected to enter.  Those who had led him here waited outside, and Ulu hoped they would remain close by and be able to hear his conversation with the old man.  In the center of the tent, on a beautifully carved wooden chair, the old man sat, smiling affably. His white beard cascaded down his chest, his body was wrapped in a shimmering white cloth, and his eyes were, indeed, penetrating.
 
“Come here, my son,” the Imposter called to Ulu.
 
I wonder who he thinks I am,Ulu thought as he approached the man, concealing his inner strength. For a moment, Ulu strongly desired to concentrate his thoughts, reach out his arms and recite the name of the Transcendor, but his inner voice deterred him from doing so. He knew that if he were to kill the old man, thousands of dependant believers would perish as well. His mission would have to be accomplished in a different way. He must first unmask the Imposter, causing revulsion in his followers.   Moreover, if the old man were to die before his true identity was exposed, he would become a hero, allowing other imposters to follow in his footsteps, to revive the legend and lead additional followers towards a false redemption.
 
“Why do you deceive my people?” asked the old man, in a threatening voice.
 
“I deceive no one,” answered Ulu cautiously. “I speak only the truth.”
 
“The truth?” echoed the old man.
 
“Indeed, the truth,” said Ulu.
 
The Obliterators were gone, he reminded himself. There was no need to fight this creature, only to separate him from his blinded cult.
 
“And what is this truth you speak of?” asked the old man.
 
“The truth,” Ulu raised his voice, “is that you are not the Master of Transcendence.”
 
A murmur was heard outside of the tent, which raised Ulu’s spirits. Now he had no doubt that the villagers were listening to the interview.
 
“And who, then, is the Master of Transcendence? You- perhaps?” the old man burst into laughter.
 
“No,” replied Ulu, “but you are a creature of the darkness, deceiving thousands of innocent people. The Obliterators, your creators, have been destroyed by the Light of the Transcendor.”  
 
The startled man seemed shocked.
 
“And even you have no existence without the sustenance you obtain from your believers.”
 
The old man regained his confidence, and his voice once again grew powerful. He smiled strangely, reached out his arms to Ulu and asked softly: “Do you not recognize me?”
 
Be wary of traps, Ulu said to himself, as he neared the old man and examined his features more closely.
 
“Yes, yes, come close, my friend,” continued the old man in a soft voice. “We are not enemies.”
 
Ulu came closer, and suddenly, all at once, the man’s face became horrifyingly familiar. It was Tyklah, Ulu’s childhood friend!
 
As young boys, they had played together on the shore, and the men of the Chamber of Changing Colors had chosen the two of them for training as Warriors of Transcendence. Ulu had covered up for Tyklah’s failings on many occasions. Tyklah had been imprecise in speech and failed time and time again to fulfill the goals of a warrior in training. Their friendship and devotion to each other had caused Ulu to improperly conceal his friend’s failings from the men of the Chamber. Tyklah had always been overly pleased with himself, pretending to have mastered the learned material completely and quickly. He even regarded the sacred Unification as a means to summon the Light of the Transcendor for personal control.  Ulu was too young to understand the grave significance of his improper actions at that time, trying to cover up for his friend.  Now he understood how his immaturity had led to near disaster.
 
“Tyklah?!” Ulu whispered, feeling tipsy as he faced the man who until that moment he had regarded as his enemy. The man continued to smile in silence.
 
“You…you…” Ulu had difficulty finding the words to express his embarrassment. “You were a Warrior of Transcendence!” he finally blurted out, questioning and making a statement at the same time. The old man came very close to him, rested his hand on his shoulder and said, “One can be much more than a Warrior of Transcendence.”
 
Ulu suddenly wondered why his friend had taken on the appearance of an old man; they were the same age.  
 
The old man continued, “I do not know if you learned about this, but the protective circle can be a forceful circle as well.”
 
His arrogant manner reminded Ulu to be cautious, and suddenly words from the past surfaced in his heart: That occurred to one of our warriors, after having been trapped within his very own circle. The strength erased all of his memories, allowing the Obliterators to enter his spirit. You may need to face him someday.  
 
Was Tyklah the man the Master of Transcendence had referred to? The Warrior of Transcendence who had become trapped within his own circle of arrogance?
 
The old man sensed Ulu’s tension, and attempted to prevent him from thinking further.
 
“If the hand of fate brought us together, my dear Ulu, there must be a good reason for it. Not only did Tyklah merit the force, so can Ulu!”
 
Tyklah’s ‘tempting’ offer had the opposite effect on Ulu, and his mind suddenly became clear.
 
Whoever this man is, a mischievous childhood friend or a creature of the darkness attempting to deceive me, he is an enemy to be overcome, and quickly.
 
Ulu pushed away the doubts which persisted in his mind, recalling the words spoken by the Master of Transcendence in his Chamber: One cannot hate an obliterated Warrior of Transcendence, for he is really one of us, and must be peeled.
 
He recalled the thousands of believers waiting outside and pitied them. He then distanced himself from Tyklah, disconnected himself from his words, entered within himself and prepared for action.
 
“He must be peeled,” he whispered to himself. But what seemed to him a whisper was in fact a sharp, clear voice heard by Tyklah as well.
 
“Silence!” shouted the old man, and Ulu was pleased to hear the old man’s frightened tone of voice, audible not only to him, but to all those who were listening outside. “You are but a crazy, senseless villager! I almost pity you, but you are not worthy of my mercy. Bring me my weapon-bearers!” he ordered his attendants.
 
Two young shaven-headed warriors rushed into the tent. Until now, Ulu had thought only innocent villagers were present, but apparently Warriors from the Tower were there as well. He examined their clothing and noticed the color -changing flames upon their garb.
 
Warriors from the City of Steel… he pondered, I should have no problem facing them.
 
But when he saw their faces, he was stunned. One of them was his eldest son, Sage! From all of the Obliterated Ones in the land, Tyklah had chosen Sage as his weapon-bearer!
 
An image appeared in Ulu’s heart, leaving room for nothing else: Ulu pictured Sage gazing into the horizon and seeing the Tower, for the first time in his life. He had stopped moving frozen in place.
 
“Father,” Sage had clutched at Ulu’s clothing, terrified, “What is that?!”
 
Everything Ulu wanted to say was forgotten. He sat heavily upon a large rock on the side of the trail, embracing his son. How can you fill an innocent heart with such profound evil?
 
Another image, more distant and bitter, replaced its predecessor: the night of Ulu’s Unification, prior to leaving on his journey with his son. He had wrapped himself in a warm cape and descended to the sea shore, walking on the sand towards the border of the village. The air was cool and the sky seemed like an arc far above ground. A pale moon shed silver rays upon the earth. All was silent. Finally, Ulu stopped, sat down upon the sand, rested his head between his knees, looked towards the black waters strewn with dancing silvery rays, and sighed.
 
“Should I take Sage or not?”
 
A gust of wind blew in from the sea, causing his hair to become disheveled.
“I need guidance. I don’t know what to do. He is so young yet, but maybe I have no choice…

The stranger who visited the village…
 
He is my son, my beloved! I have no other…They touched him, and I am afraid…this is not about rescuing a stranger…”
 
“Sage,” he had cried, “Sage….Sage…”
 
Ulu almost cried aloud: “He is my son, my beloved!” but he realized that it was Tyklah himself who was responsible for causing these memories to surface in his heart, memories that served to weaken him.   Although only a fraction of a moment passed, it was long enough to weaken his resistance to this creature, who had once been his friend. If he allowed the images to flood his heart, Tyklah could destroy him in the blink of an eye. He took a deep breath and then whispered two words to his son, in an attempt to express all of his love for him: “My son.”
 
The shaven-headed boy jumped back in terror, as if struck by a sharp arrow. His hands, holding the sword, weakened, and he fled the tent. Ulu did not follow him. He was forced to complete the task he had begun.  He would find Sage later. The remaining soldier sensed that Ulu’s strength was great and he, too, escaped. The Imposter shrieked at his men, the entrance to the tent was raised, and the area filled with people. Ulu etched a deep circle around himself on the sandy floor of the tent. His hands were outstretched and the memory of the Light of the Transcendor, which flowed through him, came to life, pulsating. He gazed at the imposter piercingly, and thought: Only a pure vessel able to contain the Light of the Transcendor is worthy of the force.  The sole force in the world is the pure Light of the Transcendor.
 
He articulated only these words: “You are the heart of the world.”
 
A purple light filled the tent and hovered over the head of the Warrior of Transcendence. The flowing light, emerging from his hands, turned into shades of white and red. The old man retreated backwards in terror, but the light caught him, touching his cloak and causing him to melt. He let out a terrified cry, as his white hair vanished and his eyes were revealed as deep, dark holes. Under the splendorous, melted cloak, a jumble of images of darkness appeared, sharply illuminated by the surrounding red light. 
 
To be continued.
 

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