The Imposter

Warriors of Transcendence,Part 52
 
Ulu continued on his journey until something stopped him in his tracks: the sight of many torches, and the sound of singing. Was this a dream? He had trekked along a gray and barren hill for many days, losing his way as he tried to find a pass through the mountain, determined to locate the imposter.
 
The days seemed to grow longer and Ulu sorrowfully regretted his inability to be of assistance to his warrior brothers.  Instead, he felt he was wandering farther and farther away. Lone turtles making their way between the rocks at night were the only living creatures he encountered. Sometimes he would kneel and pet their hard shells, trying to shake his deep loneliness and despair. It seemed that even these lowly creatures knew their destinations while he wandered lost and alone.
 
Reaching the end of the mountain range, he noticed a wide pass.  In the valley below, he could see men carrying torches, and he could hear their songs echoing.   They seemed to inhabit a different world, a world in which war was not hissing at their heels, a world without battles. The light of the torches illuminated their light blue clothing.  Yes!  They were villagers, and there were thousands of them. But why were they marching at night? Where were they headed? Who was leading them? Why weren’t the Shadows attacking them?
 
Ulu decided to investigate, as he moved quietly and carefully towards the procession. He, too, wore light blue garb.  He would be recognized as one of them if he were spotted. The procession stopped to rest, and the flicker of the torches began to fade in the early light of dawn. At the edge of the camp, Ulu noticed two villagers who seemed to be preparing an encampment. He listened as they arranged their food and conversed with great enthusiasm.
 
“Did you hear what the Master of Transcendence said yesterday?” one of them asked.

“I have not been able to close my eyes ever since!” answered the other. “And his words are echoing in my head, over and over.”
 
“He promised that the end is near. Within a few days we shall reach the chosen place for the revelation, and we shall be the first ones to arrive. What great honor!”
 
“Did you notice his eyes? Fire emerged from them!”
 
“He hears and knows everything, even our words at this very moment.”
 
“He knows everything about us, from birth until death.”
 
Ulu listened carefully to the villagers’ conversation for quite some time, learning about their leader’s purported powers and abilities.   They described him with great admiration; every facial feature, his apparel; his voice and his walk, all in great detail. The man was old. His beard was white, as were his clothes, he walked slowly and his piercing eyes commanded deep respect. Ulu realized that they were describing the Imposter!
 
It was morning. The valley between the cliffs was crowded with tents.  Today, the Master of Transcendence was to speak. At the northern edge of the valley, on a flat-topped hill, many villagers were hard at work building a stone podium. Within a short time, thousands crowded around the podium. A murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd. Ulu tried to get as close to the hill as possible while remaining under cover. The crowd suddenly split, creating a wide path and the old man walked through it, alone. Ulu felt a sharp pain in his heart, like the pain he had felt when he faced the challenge of the Obliterator’s enigmas.  Although created by the Obliterators, the Imposter had managed to survive even after his creators’ destruction, sustained by the belief of his followers. Ulu knew that the Imposter’s strength depended on his believers’ faith and would weaken if a separation could be arranged.
 
The Imposter began to speak, immediately capturing the rapt attention of his deluded audience. Ulu was disgusted by the adulation and respect paid to this fraud.  Scanning the area and spotting the Shadow of Light, observing the scene from the mountaintops, he wondered why they refrained from attacking the crowd.
 
“You have been greatly honored,” began the man, his voice amplified and his arms   reaching upwards. “Soon we shall arrive at the place to which all eyes have been turned since the beginning of time.”
 
He was silent for a while, and then continued: “The war has already ended. The Towered City no longer poses a threat to anyone. We are all free men!”
 
Loud applause was heard, preventing the old man from continuing.
 
“Fools! Fools!” Ulu whispered to himself, attempting to calm himself, knowing that anger would be counterproductive.  The old man hushed the crowds with his hands, and continued: “If you obey me, your welfare shall be assured. Abundance shall be yours, the blessing shall linger, and the sick shall be healed.  You must trust in me. But know that your thoughts and deeds are exposed to me like an open book. If you do not obey me, you shall be punished with misery.  Even if you could fly away or hide at the edge of the world, I shall always be able to find you.”
 
An awesome silence hovered over the entire valley. The Imposter’s voice was a whisper now, full of compassion: “You are like sons to me. I love you as if you were my children. You are confused and misled, you have been blinded, and you cannot discern the truth.   Who shall decide what is good and what is bad for you? Who shall devote his soul for your own good? Wherever you go, and whatever you do, I shall be with you.”
 
He continued speaking, and Ulu feared in his soul for the deluded villagers. He made his way to the outskirts of the crowds and sat down to plan his next move. How would he convince the brainwashed multitudes of the trap they had fallen into?  It was almost noon now, and the people had gone to their tents to eat to their hearts content and then rest from the night’s march. Ulu decided to visit and to speak to the hearts of the villagers.
 
“This man is deceiving you,” he said to people he encountered.  “The true Master of Transcendence is not an old man; he is a young child. The war is not over, it is at its peak, and so far the Warriors of the Tower have been victorious. They have burnt fields around the villages, demolished homes and murdered thousands. If they were to find you right now, they would kill you too. Your lives are in grave danger!”
 
His attempts were in vain. The villagers mocked him and treated him with disdain. They supported each other, and refused to discuss serious matters, laughing at his attempts to explain his views.
 
He befriended one young man who seemed interested in his ideas. They walked together through the barren hills, opposite the great encampment.  Ulu spoke. 
 
“Do you understand what is happening here? This is the greatest deception ever perpetrated! The old man offers you support and protection but he threatens all who want to withdraw from the group, and promises happiness only to those who maintain their faith in him. Questions are forbidden and, in fact, all independent thought is prohibited. He damages the strength of your soul and proves to you, night and day, how insignificant and meaningless you are.”
 
The young man listened. His voice trembled as he asked: “Who is he, then?”
 
Ulu was unable to explain so he just said softly: “He does not love you, and you do not interest him in the least. Your welfare is not important to him, and he is exploiting your strengths for his own purposes.”
 
“And the promises?” questioned the young man. “What about the promises of happiness, of power?”

Ulu gazed at him fondly.
 
“Are you happy?” he asked.
 
The man’s eyes were filled with tears, and Ulu turned his gaze to the mountains. He had experienced difficult moments like these during his past  attempts to speak with villagers who had fallen under the influence of Obliterators.   The crucial moment of uncertainty, the self- doubt and finally the admission of error, truly a torturous, painful process beyond compare.
 
Ulu waited. He knew that the heart of the young man had opened to his words, but his physical reactions were strange and alarming: He sat upon a flat rock and his body began to tremble. He held his head between his hands as his body suddenly froze and he ceased moving. Ulu noticed tiny white creatures emerging from the young man’s brain, bursting out of his head, quickly descending to the earth and enlarging to the size of a hand. They were white scorpions!  Ulu,  recalling his struggle with the scorpions in the White Desert, prepared for battle. The scorpions surrounded the young man like a fence, desiring to keep him and protect him from Ulu’s words. Meanwhile, life returned to his frozen body.
 
“Look,” he said to Ulu, the gleam in his eyes now gone, “your ideas are interesting, but after all, most people believe otherwise. It seems that there are many differences in the world, and each individual perceives the facts in his own way.” Ulu emitted a sigh of grief. What was happening here? Had the tiny scorpions robbed the man of his wisdom and understanding? He looked at the tiny white creatures and saw that they were transforming themselves. One became a sweet, little boy, another a young woman, yet another a line of red fire, and the largest of them all transformed himself into an old man with powerful eyes, a transparent cloak and a white beard. Ulu was filled with pity for the young man. These creatures filled his brain and confused his mind!
 
Ulu reached out a loving hand, hoping against hope that his young friend would see the truth.  If only he would reach out, too, then the evil circle would be broken and the cruel creatures would disappear for all of eternity. And then, the young man extended his hand like a drowning swimmer, as if this were life and death! But the scorpions were quicker. His outstretched arm threatened them and they leaped towards it.
 
“I did not summon you!” roared the Warrior of Transcendence angrily, heat emerging from his hand towards the scorpions.
 
The scorpion that had transformed itself into an old man was suddenly struck, and emitted a horrid scream. The remaining scorpions escaped by returning into the young man’s body, climbing all over him and entering his brain one by one.
 
“Now the scorpions will be unable to protect him,” thought Ulu, “but, alas, his brain is full of them.” 
 
The young man wept as Ulu tried to comfort him.
 
“My savior and my keeper.” wailed the young man, “your words are all truthful. But what shall I do now? My wife and son are at the encampment…they admire the old man wholeheartedly. They shall never be able to resist.”
 
“Have no fear, my son, you will receive help. You are no longer alone,” said Ulu.
 
A bitter smile appeared on his face, as he remembered his own loneliness.
 
“Will you be a father and protector unto me?” begged the young man as he held onto Ulu like onto life itself.
 
“You shall possess all the strength necessary, you shall no longer be alone,” Ulu said, with a sigh. Detached from the old man’s circle of influence, the young man now asked for sustenance from Ulu. It would take a long time for him to heal and make his way to his true protector- the Master of Transcendence.
 
The evening shadows cast darkness upon the valley. The old man was leading thousands of people towards an unknown end.  Who would stop him? The lone young man who had managed to escape his grasp was dependent upon Ulu’s strength and his anonymity. Ulu wondered if he could defeat the old man in an open battle without disclosing his own identity.
 
Another night passed. As the light of dawn shone upon the Land of the Northern Cliffs, Ulu realized that he had been discovered. A group of stocky villagers made their way toward him, inviting him to a meeting with the Master of Transcendence. This invitation gave Ulu a spark of hope.  He had been summoned.   Although he had been unsuccessful with all but one of the villagers, his words had reached the old man’s ears.   Obviously he was seen as a threat to the old man’s power.  Maybe the Imposter was not as strong as he imagined himself to be!
 
To be continued.
 

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