The Ophir (9 page)

The scavenger ship sailed into the harbor in
silence. The only sound was the dip of the oars as freed slaves
bent their backs into the job. The scull lifted as they passed a
giant outcropping.

The Quartermaster, in charge of maintaining
vigilance and delegating work, kept his profile low as he went down
the line giving orders and whispering encouragement.

“Jean, go aloft. We’ve light airs tonight.
Secure the sails. Let her drift in on her own.”

“Fontaine, watch the anchor’s acockbill. Hold
for my signal.”

The freed men learned that life at sea was
harsh and called for respect of nature and captain. They believed
they could walk away from this life, or work their way back to
their homes over land, if they so choose. Their superstitious
fears, however, had an undeniable grip on their minds and spines.
Whispered chants of protection in native tongue washed over the
air, a compelling plea...

“Olofi, you who are my supply and
protection, cleanse my path from all dangers and evils. Let them be
gone from me. Listen to me Ch`ngo! Help me Yemaya, do not forsake
me Ogun! Intercede for me Ellgua! Hear me Oshun! Look at me with
favor Obatala! Act for me Oya! My prayer is just. Bless me, Olofi,
that I may be forever blessed. Amen.”

* * * *

Captain Antonio chuckled when he saw the
marauding ship’s name. It was the Bem-vindo. Translated into
English it literally meant “Welcome”. It was a written
invitation.

The Ophir and crew from three other ships in
the vampire fleet lowered themselves, hand under hand, down the
ropes and chains anchoring the cloaked ship. They slipped into the
water without weapons. Daggers, swords and cutlasses would not be
needed tonight. There would be no “swordplay”.

Using their own bodies as scaffolding, they
climbed upon each other’s shoulders like attacking ants ready to
sting the occupants of the invading ship.

“NOW! Me hearties ... NOW!” A cloud scuttled
across the moon’s face darkening the sky.

At Captain Antonio’s command, the Bem-Vindo
was boarded and the screaming began.

“None, save one, walks away this night. Bring
the ship’s captain to me unharmed!”

“Aye, Captain.” Contona swept the deck and
found Captain Blackrose’ mind. The captain’s mind was numb in
disbelief at the carnage before him. He stood cornered. The
crucifix in his hand, held for protection against the evil that had
boarded his ship, did him no good. The Boatswain and Contona looked
at each other and smiled. Their fangs glistened in the dark. They
dragged him to the Captain’s quarters.

“Good job, men. Now take him as close to
shore as you dare, then release him.” Captain Arthur Blackrose
looked at him wide eyed with fear and incredulity.

“I die with my men, sir.”

“No, Captain. Die you will, but not this
night. You will live on to tell the tale, sir, and tell it
true.”

With time, the word spread and gave rise to
those intrepid few whom would land on the far side of the island,
traipse across inhospitable terrain, march through the Cilician
Gates and bring news and goods from a greater world than
suspected.

Word would also be taken back to foreign
lands of the riches sequestered on the island. Those riches would
change hands many times during the exchange of services between the
Ophir and original inhabitants of Cilicia, although few in number.
The exchange was lucrative, and recognized by all rulers, until
John of Lusignan, titular Prince of Antioch, was crowned king.

Internal strife within the walls of Cilicia
created dissension. Its political structure collapsed leaving it
prey for the Egyptian Mamelukes. The relationship was at an end.
Captain Antonio pulled anchor and laid a course to northern
waters.

Where was I, one might ask? I’ll tell you. I
stayed sequestered in my cabin during these heated times. As a
joke, Captain Antonio had the pickle barrel delivered to my
quarters. Humorous as he might have believed it to be, it saved me
more than once and would again before my life would take an
inevitable turn.

Chapter
Nine

From the time that the Ophir left the waters
of the Greek island of Cilicia Trachea, the world picked up pace.
Politics changed direction as often as a tornado meandered. Warrior
countries battled warrior countries. The seas increased in traffic.
News came through the blood coursing the veins of strong and weak
sailors alike.

The One travelled the world in search of
Kadar Nazim to deliver his promised revenge. He avoided the long
arm of The Old Man of the Mountain by accomplishing a feat that
Nazim didn’t foresee in time to block the escape to foreign lands.
Even if given a chance by Jehovah himself, The One would never
consider truce.

Nazim, called to God’s side to answer for his
transgressions, followed the bloody trail my master left behind but
kept his distance. In his heart, Nazim wanted to follow God’s
edict, but he struggled with the shards of man’s ego that festered
within.

* * * *

Circa 632 A.D., Nazim ascended. His most
devoted followers would be at his side to witness the ascension. He
repeated his vow to return to the Islamic faithful, just as he’d
vowed to exact final retribution from The One two short years
before.

In our determination to escape assassination,
The One never lingered in any one spot long enough for the news of
Nazim’s death to reach us. Had it done so, it might have afforded
us some small reprieve and changed the course of history.

Nazim’s detractors whispered rumors that he
had died at the hands of his “most favored wife.”

“I heard she was a Hashasheen.”

“Ironic. A trained Hashasheen no less.”

“Why is that ironic?”

“Any fool would know that if she had been
Hashasheen, Nazim would have known. Was it not his cousin that gave
birth to their existence in Alamut? Was he not one of the original
trainers in the art of assassination?” The controversial discussion
continued around campfires late into the night.

Some laughed when it was said that he died of
natural causes, for they knew that there was nothing natural about
Nazim, last prophet of God. In that year the Sunnis and Shi’ites
split loyalties but continued rebellion.

Reborn into a Christian family, which
provided support and honest morals, he became a man of importance
and earned respect among the members of his community. Following in
the steps of Mohammed, his prophetic teachings brought change
through politics. They taught religious principles and would have a
lasting effect on the history of the world. He corrected his many
failings from his time on earth as the prophet Nazim. Even so, he
was less than innocent, and he would pay for his transgressions

There would be a last judgment for both Nazim
and the Lamia Master.

Chapter
Ten

In the beginning was The Word, and The
Word was with God. And The Word was God
. And The Word resonated
within the heart of Nazim the Prophet. The Word became physical and
manifested itself in the physical form of Nazim the Ascended reborn
in Hadim Khadhulu.

God took Nazim so that he might learn from
Him. Nazim was changed. He now spoke truth. Where there was
avarice, there now was generosity. But the hate lived on, denied
and undetected, like a hidden infection. Evil resurfaced like a
cancer to overpower the humanity that had taken root there.

Where once was conceit, now lay humility.
Water of Life flowed through him and around him, holding negativity
at bay and replacing it with the knowledge of light. Even so,
Nazim’s need for retribution grew in Hakim, but God retained the
right to punish and reward.

“But, Father, I obeyed your command. Why do
you sit in judgment now?”

“You dare question me
?”

“I wish only to learn that I may be more like
you and follow your path.”

“You, Nazim, brought into being the
abomination named ‘The One’. It was you who spoke the words that
created death that walks the face of the Earth.

It is you who will do battle to make things
right again in the world. I made man and love him greatly. I will
not suffer the unnatural creation of another to continue in the
world I so love.

Nazim, leader of men, come to me. Kneel
before me so that you will hear my words.” Nazim did as his creator
bade him do.

“Yes, Lord?”

“Go forth into the world. Seek that which
you created. It is unclean through your bidding and must be
cleansed in pure waters. It has gained strength and cunning, but it
will not be above you, nor will it be below you.

You will meet in a time and place of my
choosing to begin battle, that I might be vindicated in the
creation of the man reborn as Hakim Khadhulu. Live your life as I
would mine. Take care, do not meander from the light ... fore if
you do, you will not escape Hades a second time.

Go. Fight not for me. Fight not for
yourself. Fight for the world, the existence of man and your
entrance to paradise.”

“I ask in humbleness, Lord, how am I to bring
this creature to a place of your choosing, if I know not where it
lays? How can I establish rule, if my strength does not surpass
his? How will I find him? I do not understand.”

“And once again I tell you, faith. You will
know the place when you come to it. Wait there. He will come to
you. My son, do you doubt Me yet? Have you not seen with your own
eyes that which I can do? Doubt not, Hakim. If you have not trust,
you have not faith.

Faith in Me, faith in the God within you, is
the way. It is the only way. Let no corrupting words come out of
your mouth.”

“But what of retribution?”

“I tell you, be quick to hear, slow to
anger, slow to speak, for only a fool gives full vent to his
spirit. Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor and slander be put
away from you, along with all malice. But, above all, Hakim,
remember vengeance is mine
.”

“Lord, I am but a simple man, with the
weaknesses, desires and needs of a man. How can I keep your
commandments?”

“If you love me, you will. I will teach
you, and you will remember. You will be observed in your duties.
You have been given a second chance to right your wrongs. Should
you fail in the smallest of these, your portion will be in the lake
of fire and sulfur, a second death from which there is no saving.
Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves, for I
will hear your words and thoughts; I know what is in your
heart
.”

Tears fell from Nazim’s eyes in gratitude and
love for his Maker. He wept also in fear that a common man such as
he should be trusted with the life of the entire race of man. What
if he failed again?

Bearing in mind the words of the true maker
of men, Nazim now known as Hakim, went about reconstituting his own
soul, preparing it for a new birth and preordained life in the body
of Hakim Khadhulu, 8
^th
and last child of Nu Satagut,
teacher of true light. Using spiritual guidance from the Father of
Man, Hakim Khadhulu attained a multidimensional state. In this
state, he could see, hear and communicate with others in a higher
dimension. He was, in a sense, tethered loosely to the Maker but
would be allowed to make his own decisions. In the end, his
decisions would dictate his fate. The angel of death rode his
shoulders.

It was a game of tag with several players
taking roles right up to the end. No one on earth knew the outcome.
Captain Antonio, try as he might, could outrun neither time nor
progress. He and the men of his pirate flotilla found themselves
trapped in a surrealistic world that brought reality to the
fore.

The Knights Templar was disbanded, in the
Year of Our Lord 1307, while under the rule of King Edward II.
Catholicism held immense power and controlled riches beyond
imagination, as well as the lives of the common man. They had their
greedy fingers in
all
the pies. The Knights spread to
different parts of the world to avoid persecution by the Church,
benefactor and procurer of The Old Man of the Mountain and other
secret sects.

The Knights, a secret society of nobles sworn
to protect the religious antiquities of the Catholic Church, were
now being hunted, tortured and killed. The passionate members of
both Church and State sought to regain the very treasure they’d
given to the Knights to protect.

With history in their possession, the Knights
managed to build a huge treasure trove, but trove was a misnomer.
The ancient treasures existed of more than just mere jewels, coins
and plates. It held treasure with a value beyond that of any man
known before, or after, the advent of Christianity.

“Monsieur Molay, while the Catholic Church
acknowledges your service, it must insist that you cease and desist
your activities. The Church requests that you return all properties
immediately. The political pressure is such that our authority is
being questioned. Fringe factions issue threats daily against the
Pope. We believe it would be best that all our property be housed
in the sacred catacombs beneath the city streets of Rome. Here at
the Vatican, they can be guarded day and night for safety and
control.”

“Are you sure it would be in the best
interest of the Church to maintain all property here, Monsignor?
Would it not be more prudent to leave it dispersed? It would be
more difficult to acquire by any one person.”

“While that is true, Monsieur, it is also
true that any one part of the property could be dangerous to us
all, if it were to fall into the wrong hands.

“The King, Monsieur De Molay, has been
indiscreet in his desire and goal to gather greater wealth at our
expense. We cannot allow that to happen. These treasures could be
dangerous in the hands of others. Have no doubt, you have been
targeted and are in danger.” The Pope used all possible diplomacy
to persuade the noble organization to return the riches to the
church. “After all, the treasure belongs to the people. We only
wish to safeguard it for them.” Ownership of these precious items
made the Templars the most powerful organization in history. More
powerful than the church itself. And the church knew it.