The Searcher, Page 2

we resumed our march, our tongues were once again tied in silence; a silence which seemed to haunt this land even more than the curse of darkness itself. Not even the soles of our boots made a sound as we trampled through the drying decay of leaves and moss, all of which left us fighting to maintain our sanity.

  We wandered for hours, or perhaps even days, none of us could say with any degree of certainty, for surely time stands still in a land that makes no sound. Up and down through hills and canyons we roamed, touched by murky fingers of mist and fog and torturous bursts of hot and cold.

  It appeared for all the world as if this still, ill wind which haunted everything in its path was powered by a lifelessness that hovered above us but did not so much as whistle in the dark; did not so much as shake a leaf up off a branch; did not so much as blow a breath of air upon our faces.

  And then, as if to taunt us, on a dime the wind went from a silent whispering to a roaring howl. And to make matter worse, shortly thereafter the wind was accompanied by a torrential downpour of salty rain that soaked us to the bone and left us scurrying in search of shelter.

  The violence of the storm quickly became so overpowering that we were forced to wrap our arms around the trunk of a sturdy oak tree, all the while holding onto each other for dear life.

  I was beginning to fear that the darkness would soon overtake us when a huge bolt of lightning shaped like a skeleton momentarily lit up the sky. The flaming flash of death left its imprint burning in my retinas like a magical fireworks display gone haywire, which only further reinforced my fears that the end was near.

  But just when all hope seemed lost, the storm ended as abruptly as it had begun and we sank to our knees as one in prayer to the gods of the heavens who command the rain and the sleet and the snow, and the sun and the moons and the stars, and the light and the dark and the clouds, and the four winds of the North, East, South, and West.

  We were still shaking in our boots from the fright that this stormy weather had sent rippling through our bones when suddenly up from the skies came the sound of a church organ echoing in the night. The unearthly chiming of the pipes cut through the darkness like a funeral hymn, leaving us befuddled and at a loss for words.

  But on the bright side, the spell of silence had once again been broken, this time seemingly by the power of the storm. And as we gazed into each other’s eyes, the skeletal lightning beams, which were radiating from my corneas, bore into my comrades’ pupils and attached themselves to their optic nerves like children holding hands in a grade school play.

  “I think we may have perished in the storm and are now in Heaven,” offered Courtney in all his jesting innocence.

  “Or perhaps we are in Hell,” countered Felonious in a tone of one whose thieving sins had yet to be forgiven.

  I, on the other hand, was convinced that my friends were off the mark, and I responded as such. “Do not fret any longer my luckless companions, for I feel that the force of life is within us still…and I suspect that our destinies yet await us.”

  Courtney, who seemed to be trying to make some sense out of a senseless situation, followed up by speaking nonsense, which I suppose, when you come right down to it, is what a jester is trained to do in times such as this. “How can you speak of destiny, kind tree dweller, when many of us feel that the randomness of life in this grim world is but a cruel joke cast down upon us by our maker?”

  However, despite the question directly my way, I was rendered speechless because before I could even begin to formulate an answer, Felonious interrupted, and like a true thief he took the words right out of my mouth.

  “Oh my dear Court, I beseech you not to speak in blasphemous tongues, for you of all people should know that even a jester’s life has meaning. Have you not heard of the expression that ‘everything happens for a reason’? So it has been taught to us from the beginning of time and so it is now.”

  Courtney made a facial expression which seemed to indicate that he had taken our words under advisement, and from there, it didn’t take too long for him to change his tune.

  “Here, here, Fel the orator, here, here Cisco the kid, I hereby reverse my course,” cried the jester as he bowed in deference to us, his wise companions, before continuing on in his customary sing-song fashion.

  “Hey, hey diddle, says the man with the riddles, so listen to what I must say…we have been joined as one, together, like a strapping of leather, formed from the same block of clay…so be it in death or in life, or in love or in strife, we will fight on, fight on, fight on come what may...whatever fate holds us, it only embolds us, and leads us on our way…I say hee, hee, hee, then so it will be, and so I would have it no other way…I say hey, hey Hester, this is Courtney the jester, bringing on the light of the day.”

  By the time Courtney had reached the end of his impromptu limerick, he was dancing a jig, which had us laughing uncontrollably and before long we had all joined in on the fun, locking arms in a Dosey-Doe.

  As the night wore on, our laughter reached the point of hysteria as we danced to the rhythm of the heavenly organ music from above…and for a moment we had forgotten about our plight in this land of the endless night. But unfortunately as the old saying goes, all good things must come to an end, and after one final flourish of dissonant chords, the music stopped and with it so to went our frivolity; for as the final note rang out into the night, a beam of light suddenly began to descend from the sky…and as it touched down and formed a circle around us, the infernal silence returned with a thud.

  There we stood, transfixed in this glowing circle of light, once again unable to speak, and fighting to maintain our sanity. It was as if we were in the middle of a theatre in the round, actors in a play of which we had no choosing, suffering from stage fright and blinded by the spotlight.

  I could see that my friends were once again succumbing to their fears and I tried with all my might to do something to help them. But alas, I couldn’t so much as move a muscle. My mouth was agape but not a word could I get out. And in the end as it turned out, it would not be I who would be doing the talking, for up from the sky a round of thunder boomed like a cannonball and then like magic a voice from above began to speak.

  It was the voice of an old man, a wise old man at that. And although I had no idea as to what this apparition might be, I could have sworn that I had heard this voice before, perhaps in a past life, perhaps in a dream, perhaps in my mother’s womb. It was a voice that perhaps we ultimately all hear at one time or another, perhaps in the comings and the goings from one life to the next, or perhaps in the here and now as we drift off and hide behind the walls of sleep, or perhaps in answer to our solemn prayers on those darkest of days when we need him most.

  But regardless of my premonitions, in the final analysis, I couldn’t say with any sense of certainty whether he was a God, but surely he was godlike nonetheless.

  “What brings you into this land of darkness, my fearless friends?” asked the voice in a tone that was demanding and at the same time patient.

  “Please my lord, I was hoping you could enlighten us as to this fate that has befallen us. The last thing I remember, I closed my eyes and when next they opened, here we were in this wretched darkness,” I replied in a hushed voice as my companions dropped to their knees in a fearful prayer.

  “Silence your tongue and wash your mouth of these slanderous indignities, for the ruler of eternal darkness is not one to be meddled with my lad, no more so than the ruler of eternal light should be treated with sacrilegious benevolence. But nevertheless, to answer your question I must inform you that you and your friends are in the land of purgatory which sits squarely between the worlds of light and darkness. It is a land that is controlled by no one ruler…and so my foe and I, we vie for your reverence as you might vie for the hand of a fair maiden. And in deference to my rival, I must declare that this is a land which was built upon the freedom of choice. Ah, but surely any fool must know that with such freedom comes responsibilit
ies my fine friends. But enough of these matters for now…for now I bid you to rise up and look into the heavens so that I might see into the impurities of your hearts.”

  At the urging of the voice, Felonious rose, and when Courtney, who stood between us, was slow to get up off of his knees, we took him each by an arm and lifted him until our three heads were crooked up towards the sky. I could almost feel the voice penetrating our souls, but since I knew that deep down we were all good men, I feared not for what he might find.

  “Let me see now, let me see,” pondered the voice. “Young and lean, and strong and mean, when the need for it arises…brave and stout, reveals no doubt, the truth of your disguises.”

  Not surprisingly, Courtney was enthralled by the voice’s words, and he somehow found the strength to curtsy and tell him so.

  “A man of rhyme am I as well, and who are you, pray tell…pray tell? I’ll do your bidding if you ask…and I shant be taken to the task. If warts and witches make you nervous, it’s Court the jester at your service.”

  “A jester, eh, I should have known as much my friend…why, with your golden locks and your colorful cape and your tights in the place where pant legs drape, a jester’s attire it surely makes,” chortled the voice