All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) (20 page)

“Careful, or you’ll cause it to shift again,” shouted Adam.

Kole was digging near the center of the action, grabbing rocks and stones twice the size of what the others were able to move. Heaving a particularly large boulder from the pile, he uncovered the door. It had cracked down the middle but was otherwise still intact. “I found the door,” he shouted. Two men jumped in and with a combined effort managed to dislodge it from the pile. Pulling it to the side revealed a dark cavity in the hill. Kole had just enough time to glance in as a boy jumped past him, head first, into the dark opening. “Shad, wait,” shouted a voice, “it’s not safe.” But it was too late. All that could be seen of the young man were his two feet.

“I have him,” his muffled voice called. “Pull me out.” The two men nearest the door grabbed his feet and pulled while Kole stepped back out of the way. The youth came out in one swift tug, holding a young boy, a toddler, covered in dirt and grime. Kole was trying to see if the boy was injured or not when the first woman who had noticed the boy missing rushed over with vast relief and scooped him out of the arms of the older boy. Kole noticed that one of the yellow flowers had fallen out of her hair and lay on the ground at her feet. A general cheer went up from a hundred throats. Hugs and handshakes were passed back and forth in mutual congratulations while the mother cradled her baby boy in her arms, crying tears of gratitude and relief.

“I suggest we make sure everyone is accounted for,” said Adam, “and then we will offer a prayer of thanks to the Creator.”

When this was done, it seemed everyone had escaped unscathed. Kole felt his knees trembling and sat down on a low stump. He was having a hard time catching his breath as he realized what he had done. What he had nearly caused.

As people began to settle down and plans were made for temporary lodging for the displaced family until repairs could be made to the collapsed home, Kole wandered off into the darkness. He found a place to sit beside the slow moving stream, and wept.

He had only seen one person die, his brother Abel, and his mind was unprepared to see another death. He still bore a grudge toward Cain for that loss, and he did not know how to handle the fact that he had nearly found himself in the same set of circumstances. As a person who had taken the life of another.

“Kole,” a soft voice, at once familiar and comforting.

“Mother,” said Kole.

“My son, why do you weep? It’s a blessing that the Lord has chosen to spare young Cayel, to protect his life. We should be rejoicing and offering thanks, not lamenting an ill-fate that has been averted.”

“It’s not that, Mother. I am happy the child is alright. It’s just that…”

“Time and chance happen, Kole. We do not attribute every bad thing to the Lord. Not every trouble is a test. But we do count it all blessings when good things happen. Every good thing is from our Creator. If I’ve learned anything from your father, it’s that. Hardships beset us, and we endure. What we learn from them strengthens us and how quickly we give our thanks to God humbles us. It is our blessing and our privilege to have such a merciful Creator who forgives our weaknesses and does not blame us for them.

“But Mother, you don’t understand, I am to blame. This was my fault.”

“I don’t see how that could be, Son. The hill collapsed, the boy was trapped. No one could have known such a thing would happen.”

“Oh, Mother. How can I explain?”

“Just try, Son, if you must.”

“You are right that no one could have known such a thing would happen. I certainly did not. But you are wrong to say that the hill collapsed. You see, the problem is in the fact that it was not a hill. Not a hill at all.”

“I don’t understand,” said Eve.

“A hill is made by the Creator. That hut was made by human hands, Mother, it was not a hill.”

“Kole, I don’t see…”

Kole, his feeling of responsibility overwhelming him, interrupted her. “Ever since I went to the garden I’ve been able to hear things. I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to talk about this or not, but I don’t know what else to do. I nearly killed that boy because I don’t understand the person that I’ve become.

“When I see you and Father, and everyone, I hear a certain kind of music. Your music, the music of each part of who you are, who father is, your life, it vibrates in my ears, it sings an eternal song to the Creator, it joins with the song of the grass, the trees, the sky, the earth. All these join voices and sing with the stars of heaven. Everything, humming and thrumming, sounds, tunes, songs, like whistling or like instruments playing, each a part of one grand song. Its there, always there, weaving in and out of itself, spilling across space, like this meadow, reaching, racing ahead through time, an eternal combination of sounds, playing to the Lord, praising him above all else. Each tree with its own music—the cedar, the pine, the fruit tree; yet also a music that means “I am tree;” each blade of grass, each hill. Mother, the hills, they sing; they sing a song of leaping and bounding, they sing a yearning song of freedom and joy. I hear it when I look at them.”

His mother put her hand to her mouth in wonder.

“But the hills of houses, the man-made hills, they do not sing the song of their brothers. I hear the grass upon them, I hear faintly the wood within them, but the hills themselves are silent. They are silent.”

Eve was silent for a moment herself. Finally she spoke. “Kole, I do not pretend to understand the fullness of what you are saying. Perhaps this is something your father would better understand and be able to advise you on. Perhaps not. Nonetheless, hearing what you have to say, I do not see how hearing the hills in any way makes you responsible for what has happened here tonight.”

“But don’t you see, Mother? I was hearing the hills and then noticed the lack of sound coming from the homes. In my mind, I began to sing the song of the hills with them, and I sang it to the false hill that fell. I somehow showed it how to be a hill, and it fell in on itself as if to crush out everything artificial from within itself and to assume its true form. I somehow shared with it a more natural state of being, and it complied. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know that would happened, but that doesn’t change the fact that I nearly killed that boy. I nearly became like Cain.”

“Kole, I will tell you two things,” said Eve. “and then I am going to go to sleep. First of all, with our Creator all things are possible. If you have even the smallest amount of faith that He is there for you, you can move mountains as well as hills. Do not let this experience frighten you, son, learn from it. You have been sanctified by the Creator for a special purpose, and you are going to be calling upon every gift the Lord has bestowed upon you many times in your life. Use them. Learn how to use them wisely, but don’t ever bury them in the earth and attempt to flee from them. They will be a light to you in dark places, and a light is no good to anyone if it is not kept bright.”

Kole nodded.

“And second, you are not like your brother Cain. Don’t ever think that.”

“Mother, Cain did not mean to kill Abel. He lashed out, but it was not with the intention to kill; maybe to hurt, but not to kill.”

“Kole, Cain has changed in the last hundred years. He is no longer the brother you once knew. He may never have been the brother you knew. I do love him, I always have, but I will not go to that city of his ever again. He has taken what was true and hollowed it, weakened it. Like our homes are different from true hills, so are those that live with Cain. He has pushed in a different direction than your father has led the family. Those that live with Cain, although they are our family, they are a different people. The things they care about and hold dear are not the same as the things we cherish. I barely recognized him the last time I saw him, although he looked the same. And Kesitah, oh my lovely little Kessie,” Eve sighed.

“I will get her, Mother.”

“No!” said Eve sharply. “You will not. Kesitah is Cain’s wife now, Kole, like it or not, and you will not bring down the wrath of the Lord upon us, as I did. You may have issues with Cain that need to be worked out, but you are not to touch your sister.”

“I cannot promise that, Mother. I cannot.”

Eve looked up at him, looked deep into his eyes. What she saw there may have frightened her, but she gave no indication. Nonetheless, she seemed to be done talking.

“Good night, Mother,” said Kole. He kissed her lightly on the forehead. He felt her hand brush his softly as he turned and walked off into the night.

She watched him until the darkness hid him from her view. Then her head tilted forward, and her hair spilled softly down over her face. Not for the first time, Eve cried for her sons.

Kole was wet. The grass he was lying in was still damp from the early morning mist that rose from the ground to water the whole face of the earth. It lay in shimmering jewels upon the green blades as the sun rose slowly above the horizon, tinting it a salmon pink. Why anyone would want to go hunting at this time of the day, Kole could not begin to fathom. Game was not so scarce near the home camp that it required lack of sleep and physical discomfort to feed the family. But his father had insisted that whoever wished to participate in the hunt get an early start. Adam wanted to have all the animals cleaned and cooking for a late breakfast.

Kole had postponed his trip to the land of Nod, to the city of Enoch, another day to join the hunt. His father had not been subtle when he encouraged Kole to delay his journey in order to ponder his motives for going. Possibly also to clear his head of all distraction and ungodly thought, as well as to consider the situation from the point of view of each person involved.

The situation,
Kole thought, adding it up in his head. Cain had killed their brother Abel, shamed their parents, run from his duty, stolen Kole’s future mate, Kesitah, and distanced himself from his family. In so doing, Cain had declared his enmity toward God.

The attitude that Kole witnessed in Cain all those years ago, when the Lord found his offering unacceptable, had apparently not matured with the passage of time. The only difference was that now Cain was the head of his own family, indeed his own city, and as such was now passing on his flawed way of thinking to his children and his children’s children; young men and women who had no other better example to compare Cain’s teaching to, and thus would adopt his actions as their own and think nothing of it. Perhaps Kole could go there and make some sort of difference. Perhaps he could remind them of God’s plan for them and for their future.

A movement caught his eye, and he turned his head but saw nothing. His father remained motionless and hidden from his view twenty cubits to his left. Somewhere out there were nine other pairs of men, crouched down since before dawn, awaiting the arrival of the herd of hrak. Each was armed with a spear or two, and some had bows, made from tree branches and animal sinew, that would shoot an arrow a far distance with considerable force.

Kole had only seen them demonstrated the night before, and had been quite impressed with the accuracy of such a tool. But very few of the men, or women for that matter, were proficient with the bow. His brother Jaben’s son, Ruahad, had only just introduced them to the family two moons ago, and they were still catching on. Most of the hunters still preferred their fire-hardened spears for large game, even though some in the family had been exceptionally skilled with a sling and stones for years.

Kole had overheard them discussing the various merits of the tools, inwardly amused when Jorel had called the bow an unfair advantage over the animals, claiming, “God gave us dominion over the beasts, but we should at least give them a fighting chance.” When Jorel had turned to Kole to find out where he stood on the matter, Kole had raised both his hands up, palms out, and claimed ignorance.

“I’ve been away for a hundred summers. I would probably have a hard time hunting nuts and berries.” A burst of laughter rippled through those gathered around.

It had been three days since his talk with his mother, since the hill-home had caved in, nearly crushing young Cayel.
Each day Adam had proposed a new reason why Kole should postpone his trip to Enoch to confront Cain and reclaim Kesitah. At first it was that Adam had wanted to show Kole the surrounding lands, sharing his admiration for the hills and valleys, lakes and streams, as if he had created them himself.

Adam and Kole had walked far and wide that day and it was nearly dusk when they returned to the family camp. The next day had been the Sabbath, and Adam had insisted that Kole not start his journey on the Sabbath day, so Kole had spent the day resting and refreshing his spirit. At his father’s insistence they had sacrificed a freewill offering to the Lord on a natural, flat spike of rock located not far from the family’s homes. The blackened rock stood as mute testimony to many previous such offerings. Kole had been surprised when his father had kindled a fire and lit the offering wood himself.

“Does not the Lord reserve the right to burn his own offerings?” questioned Kole.