Hidden

The boy, Ax, had been prepared, from infancy, for leadership, the wise holder of secret knowledge. Each morning, his tutors, Brothers Ka and Mer, reminded him his future held great promise.

Now, twelve years old, Ax understood little of what awaited him.

They assured him, “In the future, you’ll understand more than we can say. You are chosen. We humbly serve you by pointing out the right direction.”

The brothers never used the word ‘hope’ with Ax. They didn’t want doubt to creep in, but for Ax to be sure.

Surrendered to them by his mother when only an infant, Ax never played with friends. He never had adventures. He never became king of the hill, nor explored the forests beyond the town. Immersed in his studies, memorizing ancient scrolls, he rarely left the building. The only break from his studies was his time working in the garden, raising food.

Isolated, his only friends were tutors, Brothers Ka and Mer. The three lived with the other brothers in the monastery, his home for twelve years.

Months from his initiation as head of their sect, power he never sought was about to be laid at his feet. It was all he knew in his short life. Ax felt he knew nothing about anything. Certainly nothing of importance. He felt pressured to get ready. But for what he had no idea.

By day, he studied the sect’s obscure texts. At night, he practiced esoteric rituals with no comprehension of their purpose. The Brothers urged him to redouble his efforts. They promised Ax that with dedication, understanding would dawn.

Ax learned incantations by rote. He completed their exams, reciting memorized texts, hundreds of words long. If memorization was all he needed, Ax felt ready.

The Brothers smiled at the results. “You’re making progress.”

Yet no one would or could tell him what it all meant. To Ax, the scrolls held thousands of meaningless words. His teachers blindly followed well-trodden traditions. Knowing their goal, they told Ax everything but his purpose. That, and understanding were beyond reach.

Brother Mer said, “We’ve told you everything possible. Now, you must make the leap.”

Ax realized that faster answers brought better reactions. If he thought too long, doubt crept in. They would suspect he was faking it. And he was. Ax learned to speak with authority, regardless how nonsensical the answer.

But trying to explain stopped him cold. Analyzing left him floundering. Everything they asked him sounded like a trick question.

Ax’s hardest lesson was learning not to ask questions. They rejected even rhetorical questions, probing for deeper understanding. The brothers admonished him, saying questions betrayed his ignorance. Such questions made him subject to other’s superior knowledge. He was supposed to know more. He had no excuse.

Ax understood why the brothers balked at his questions. He could see they had no more answers than he did. In concrete matters, like math, of course, they knew. Ax knew those things too.

But regarding the core material, of which they were supposed masters, Ax recognized their pretense. It was as obvious to him as his own. One thing Ax knew was that no one knows. The brothers had taught him that well.

They spoke of the future and what he will become. “We tilled the soil. You’ve worked hard, Ax. Soon, you’ll know your path.” Always the future.

The main object of all his wonderings, was, why me? Who am I? What is my purpose?

He was not allowed such musings. They had no answers except ‘Someday.’ ‘In the future.’ ‘Soon.’

Whenever it happened, Ax knew it was up to him. After all, he must get it on his own. Whatever ‘it’ was.

He became adept at stealth. When all were thought to be asleep, Ax would move, unseen, from alcove to blind corner. He observed small groups of two or three brothers. Their hushed murmuring and shuffled footsteps echoed in silent corridors. By torchlight, they seemed to float through the halls, onto the grounds, and even out the gate. Ax wondered at their purpose.

What’s hidden behind these doors? What’s outside these walls?

Some nights, he snuck out onto the grounds. He wasn’t used to open air, uncontained by stone walls. He saw the stars, unreachable but wonderful.

He climbed the wall and peered into the darkness. But he never left. He was not prepared. The wall had a purpose. The unknown could wait.

As his initiation approached, Ax sensed his tutor’s attitude had changed. They spoke to each other in low tones with furtive glances toward him. They laughed without joy. The punchline was not shared with Ax. He suspected that he was it.

One morning, they brought him into a room and sat him in a chair. All the brothers stood around. No one spoke. He saw their shared glances, but not with him.

Accompanied by two brothers, an old woman entered. They stood by her, lest she fall, but she looked like she could handle them both and not break her stride.

She looked at Ax without expression. He felt like an object, a fish for filleting.

She sat opposite him and stared, saying nothing, for what felt an hour.

Leaning forward, she addressed him, “Have you traveled the chiasm?”

Ax had no idea. He’d never heard the term. He couldn’t answer to the arcane, symbolic allusion this strange old woman presented.

On the face of it, a simple question, Ax responded quickly. He hoped his face didn’t betray the confusion washing over him.

He said, “Not yet. But I will.”

Offering him nothing, the crone leaned back and whispered to Brother Mer. He nodded. Two brothers helped her to stand and they left the room together.

The other brothers left Ax alone with Brother Ka.

Ax faced him. “What’s this all about?”

Ka answered, “Must I remind you again, not to ask questions which expose your ignorance?”

“Just tell me. I read everything, over and over, and it never gets to the point. And now this woman quizzes me? About what?”

“Now is not the time. Soon, you will understand everything… more than us. You need to prepare. You are leaving soon.”

“Leaving?”

“Yes. On a journey. You will return for your initiation.”

“But…”

“Silence. Apply your wisdom.”

The brothers spent a day training Ax. They covered finding food, water and guarding against predators. He learned how to build a fire.

Driving him into the desert, they sent Ax on a walkabout, a month in the wilderness, surviving as he could. He carried only a full canteen, a wooden staff, a canvas sack and what wits he could fit under his hat.

The brothers Mer and Ka drove him, away from settlements or roads. Brother Mer advised him to survive using his knowledge.

They said it was to be a mystical journey. The unnamed destination was inward, not outward. His tutors could only point the way.

Mystical? Then why drop me in the middle of nowhere? Ax wondered if this were a death sentence. Not if I can help it.

Brother Ka handed Ax a small package.

“Save it.”

It was food. Ax had no idea how long he could save it. Do they think food grows on trees?

He watched their jeep recede into a cloud of dust. Alone in the wilderness, on his own, Ax set about creating a makeshift shelter.

He wasted no time. Spotting a cluster of scrub trees, he walked there thinking it a likely place to camp. On arriving, he realized the site was also attractive to insects and predators.

Instead, he chose a nearby rock shelf. Its vantage would make him king of the hill. He thought himself too scrawny. Surely no hungry animals would scale this height for the marginal benefit of the meal I offer them.

Ax gathered fuel for a camp fire amidst the scrub. Under a fallen tree, he discovered weathered pages of an old newspaper. He’d never seen one before.

The brothers told me I only need the scrolls. But I can make a fire with this. I need a fire.

He also found dried seeds on the trees which he put into his canvas sack.

While lighting the fire, Ax saw indecipherable words covering each page. He could only read his sacred scrolls. Those, he’d memorized. Would their wisdom protect him out here from the unknown?

Do the different sized words mean something? The paper was browned and brittle. As old as my parchment scrolls?

What are these clumps of print about? It was thrown away. So, they must be less important than my scrolls.

Near the top of a page were numbers. He understood math but had no idea what these represented.

Is it a date? How old is this paper? Older than my scrolls? Even if it’s a date, I don’t know today’s date. I only know the past of the scrolls and the future which awaits me. Where do I fit in? Where am I in all this? Is this my time?

He watched the paper brown and curl in the flames. He saved some for later.

Ax watched his first sunset. The day sank into darkness.

Looking out, he saw what looked like eyes glowing from the firelight. They watched him from the grove of trees. He stood. Spinning his staff over his head he yelled and jumped in place. The glowing eyes watched without moving.

So much had happened. Everything was different. Weary, Ax laid down and gazed at the stars. The fire had died but the embers still offered warmth.

Ax felt himself sinking into slumber. A spark burst from the dying fire. Ax startled awake. He saw movement on the stone beyond the fire. A large snake slithered toward him along the ground.

Ax grabbed his staff. Swinging it down, he slammed the stone surface but missed the snake. It coiled and hissed. Ax jammed his staff into the coil and with a pivot, catapulted it into the night.

Seconds had passed. Ax felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. He didn’t sleep that night.

At dawn, he peered over the lip of the rock shelf, down into the grove. He saw a wild cat, smaller than a lion, stalking through the trees. He didn’t know what its species.

That’s what watched me last night.

Fascinated at this rare sight, Ax observed. The cat stopped and lay down. Alert, it waited, unmoving.

After a few minutes, Ax saw a subtle movement in the weeds. There was no breeze, but the tall grass indicated something passing through it. The cat sensed it too.

Ax saw the snake emerge and move along the ground, headed toward where the cat lay in wait. Riveted by suspense, Ax watched the snake approach the cat. The cat shifted slightly, preparing to spring.

Now!

The cat pounced as Ax’s thought echoed in his head. It seized the snake by the neck and shook it until it fell limp. The cat sniffed the dead snake and dragged it into the underbrush.

It occurred to Ax that he could cook the snake for himself. He decided the cat had earned it.

He went down to the trees and filled his sack with berries. He was ready to go.

He feasted the rest of the day on this lesson.

Now he knew what the brothers hadn’t taught him. What they couldn’t. He’d filled the gap with exactly what they didn’t know.

Now he knew that ‘now’ isn’t a passing moment in time. It is the moment. The only moment. Ever and always. He lived in an ever present now. From now on, he always would. It made all the difference.

Getting lost in the past or the future steals one’s life. The present is what matters. Always.

Shining, the future approached. And now is the time.

Ax found his way home. It took time. He struggled. And he won. He stayed present.

He walked toward the brothers like a flame, tall and lit by the dawn.

He knew. And they knew he knew.