BENE-HA-ELOHIM (THE CHILDREN OF GOD) An Elena Duran-Corazon Negro Story 10/15 by Julio Cesar divad72@prodigy.net.mx AYLON, THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN "You being spiritual, holy, and possessing a life which is eternal, have polluted yourselves with women; have begotten in carnal blood; have lusted in the blood of men; and have done as those who are flesh and blood do. These however die and perish." Book of Enoch 15: 3,4 Natufiense Period Europe 10,000 BCE The child was alone and crying in the middle of the forest. His voice trembled among the huge trees surrounding him. Soon, another night would come and once more he would be alone. The terrible sounds of the dark world would rise again, covering the creation. A soft wind caressed his face, and for an instant, the child imagined that the cold fingers he felt across his features were that of a mother. He closed his eyes, waiting for a warm kiss. Instead, an owl howled from a near branch. The child opened his crying eyes, and he and the bird exchanged gazes. After a moment, the night bird departed. The child was helpless. How much time had he been like that? It was hard to tell. His infant's mind could only count to five, the same seasons he had. He knew the sun had died just five times since his mother-the woman who had told him repeatedly that she had found him in the middle of the forest and that she was not his mother-had died under the huge bear's fangs. Every night he dreamed about the beast's fetid mouth trying to catch him. And every time the woman he called mother placed herself between the monster and him. And now, another day was dying. The shadows seemed to gather life as the sun started to fade. The kid was hungry and cold. The skin clothes that covered his tiny body were sufficient for now, but soon enough, the snow would break as any season before. The boy knew he would die. It was a miracle that he had survived five day without his mother so far. He knew he needed to stop his crying if he wanted to survive another night. Until now, he had eaten the roots and flowers his mother had taught him were edible. Every morning he had drunk from the water gathered on the few cloths they owned, cleaning his body as best as he could-otherwise he knew that the bear that had killed his mother, or even another predator, could follow his smell. But everyday he was just a little more tired, more hungry, more disheartened. He climbed the nearby tree as high as he could. Right now, any shelter would do. The mantle of the night had felt already at the time he placed himself comfortably between the branches. His black eyes scanned the horizon for a moment, and he could see the silver disk of the dark mother emerging between the clouds. Her white light illuminated the woods. He was about to sleep when a soft voice called him from beneath the tree. "Child. Can you hear me?" He opened his eyes in disbelief. He looked down and saw a man like no other he had known. Covered with bear's skin, the man was holding a torch in his hand. The flames illuminated his dark features-his skin was a dark brown, almost black! "Can you hear me?" he repeated. The child leaned backward on the branch, afraid of the gaze of the black man. "Don't be afraid," the man whispered but the child could hear clearly him inside his head. "Come." Maybe it was the hunger, or maybe it was the cold and the loneliness he had felt since the bear's attack. He never knew for sure. But suddenly, he was leaving his refuge in the tree. The man helped him out of the tree. He placed him gently on the ground. "What's your name?" He asked him once they both were face to face. The child moved his head, trying to form the words. Who were he if not an orphan? "Five," he said with trembling voice. "Five?" the man asked with a wide smile, his white teeth shining in contrast with his black face. "Is that your name? I don't think so. What are you doing here?" The child shook his head again. For some strange reason, he found himself trusting the dark man. "I'm alone." "Alone," the man said caressing the child's face. "Well, not anymore. I found you. Come, surely you are hungry." The man lit a fire, and soon after both were eating a deer the man had killed hours before. When the child finished, his hunger satisfied for the first time in days, he gazed up at the full moon above them. "Do you like it?" the man asked him seeing the boy's expression. The child nodded in response. "The Bright Mother. That was the name my people used to give her," the man commented with soft voice. "You are a very special child, you know? Don't you remember your real name?" The child lowered his face. "My mother never gave me one," he said. "Is that so? When, maybe it's time to give you a name then," the man said putting another branch into the bonfire. The child's gaze was again looking the moon. "You really like her, don't you?" "Yes," the child answered. Then his eyes met the man's. "Who are you?" The man smiled. "My name is Yenkril." The child studied his new friend for a moment. "Your skin is black as the night. Why?" This time, the man laughed. "That is because I was born in a far away land, where all the people have skin like mine. Now tell me, who are you?" The child sighed as the fatigue started to posses his body. "I don't know," he stated softly, as if suddenly ashamed of his discovery. "Well, you like the moon very much." The child's gaze flew again toward the heavenly body. "Yes." "In my mother tongue, there's a word to describe people like yourself who enjoy the moon so much. It means Prince of the Moon. I think it suits you perfectly. The word is Aylon. Do you like it as your name?" For the first time, the child smiled. "Yes," he said. "Aylon. I will be Aylon." FLASH! Aylon was walking among the houses of Tell-Halula, repeating inside his mind for more than a thousand times the words he planned to say to his father Yenkril. Deep inside him, he never had trusted Lilitu. She was after something. He knew that from the first time he saw her arriving at the city, nearly three hundred summers ago. Even when she was with Tubal-Khain, the Immortal with two colored-eyes, she treated him more like a slave than a lover, or even an adopted son. Twenty summers after their arrival, Lilitu had chosen Naema as her new lover. Why? And now, just fifteen suns ago, things had changed again. Lilitu had decided to become the lover of the great Yenkril, his stepfather, the Immortal who ruled had the Ancient Gathering for three hundred years. Aylon was completely determined to make his father understand this time. He was in a hurry because he felt something wrong was about to happen-something that would change their way of life, forever. Then the lightning struck the house in front of him. Blue rays seemed to appear from nowhere, hitting the earth and boiling the air all around, until the environment was so hot that the interior of the house burst into flames. The wave of heat hit him, sending him flying backwards. For years it seemed he lay on the ground watching the house burn itself down to charred timbers. Finally, he stood and was able to enter, trembling, afraid of what he could find. The room had cooled by the time he entered. The freezing air moved through the open window. And again and again he wept. His own sobs reverberated in his ears until he felt he couldn't endure the sound of them. There was no comfort seeing his father's body lying in front of him, beheaded. Yenkril's empty gaze looked at him. Now and then he cried again. He begged for forgiveness, though forgiveness for what he couldn't say. He prayed for Yenkril's soul, caressing his father 's lifeless head. He murmured the old prayers over and over until they became a senseless chant. Then he lay on the ground, beside his father's skull, murmuring not prayers any longer but those inarticulate pleas that were made to all that was powerful, all that was holy, all that may or may not exist by any and all names. "Please," he mumbled, "do not leave me alone here. Do not abandon me. Do not let me fall even farther that I have already fallen this night." Then he felt the others, gathering outside the house. Finally, he raised himself to his hands and knees. He felt light-headed and mad, and almost giddy. He looked at Yenkril's head one more time. But even as he forced himself to imagine the agony his father had suffered, he knew he didn't know really. And as he crouched there thinking about it, and looking at the separated head, an immense strength was gathering within him. Gradually his boyish sobs died away. He studied what had happened in there. Time passed; yet it did not pass. Yenkril had been sleeping with Lilitu. Each thought in Aylon's brain was moving. And when there came from the softly lighted part of his soul the realization, they did not mark the passage of mortal time. They were the purest truth, and he lay stunned, his mouth open, as he stared at the passing clouds outside the opened window. He hadn't thought it was possible, but Lilitu had killed Yenkril, and in doing so, she had taken his life's force. Aylon started to feel a new pain in his chest, very hot and mercurial. It moved through his veins, tightened about his head, and then seemed to collect itself in his bowels and belly. He narrowed his eyes. He cocked his head to one side. He realized he wasn't afraid of this pain, rather he was feeling it as if he was listening to it. It was pure rage. And he saw the cause of it inside his mind. Lilitu. The red-haired witch. He found himself unable to control his hate. He couldn't imagine anything more in the dark. He wasn't part of the world anymore. Yet his grief was not entirely gone from him. It lingered like an idea, and that idea had a pure truth to it. Immortals, could die. They could breathe their last breath too. They were not Gods. They were nothing. Now he knew. He could die. And he was nothing. Slowly, painfully, he rose to his feet. He felt himself heavy and weak, and strangely numbed. Slowly, he left the burnt building and walked through the other members of the Ancient Gathering gathered now outside the small house. Naema stepped in front of him, grabbing his arm. "What happened?" she asked. Aylon raised his gaze. "Mourn with me, sister, our beloved leader is dead." "What?" the word ran away from mouth to mouth. "How can it be?" "Look for Lilitu," Aylon whispered between teeth, even when he knew it was pointless. "And bring Tubal-Khain to the council house."