The Seed of Sarothen - Part 1

A lot has happened over the last couple of months, and I've had little time to update the blog. A recent discussion over tea about story-writing brought back memories of an attempt I had made years ago, when I was still in school, at writing (what seemed to me then) a brilliant novel. So take the cheesy plot with a pinch of salt and you will hopefully find what I have to offer somewhat palatable. The novel was never finished, partly because I tired of it and also because Matthew Reilly came up with a shockingly similar story while I was midway through writing it. Well, this introduction is going on for too long, so here it is:

THE BIRTH

Babylon, 562 B.C. – The Hanging Gardens

The rain lashed the parched, dusty kingdom of Nebuchadnezzar II as he sat by his wife Amytis, looking out at the splendid gardens through a small window in the palace.
“Tonight is the night, my dear!” he whispered and then left the room.
Out in the distance, Sarothen gleamed white.
A maid slipped out of the room and caught hold of Razaish-one of the kitchen servants-and whispered “Tell the others. The priests will gather tonight. Sarothen shall bloom!”
Razaish hurried out of the palace and scuttled towards the stables. When Mirazzudar saw him, he called out “Have you heard?”
“Yes! Yes! After 125 years!”
Within moments the palace was buzzing with excitement and by the time the sun sent out its last desperate rays of light, the entire city knew that it was the night of Sarothen.
The full moon bathed the most famous gardens in all the known world in a milky white as King  Nebuchadnezzar II followed the priests solemnly marching towards Sarothen. Upwards they climbed till they had reached the highest platform of the gardens; and they gazed in awe at the magnificent tree that stood before them.
Its trunk was as smooth as marble and exuded a soft white glow. Its leaves were ivory white and they rustled quietly in the cool breeze. And topmost, bathing in the moonlight, was a single snow-white bud.
The priests started a deep prayer which reverberated through Babylon as each peasant, each fruit-seller, each beggar offered their respect to Sarothen – the Bearer of Life.

The prayers over, the chief priest brought out a tablet and read out:
“Every 125 years, Sarothen shall bloom. The seed it bears carries the Force of Life. Beware-those who try to make it their own.”
At the stroke of midnight, with the moon straight above the tree, the priests watched as the bud burst into life and threw out five brilliant petals and a glittering cloud of pollen which hovered in the air before starting to fall back into the flower.
The last grain of pollen drifted slowly into the flower. There was a moment’s pause and then the petals cringed outwards, turning jet black before bursting into flames!
The dazed priests watched as Sarothen’s Child blazed before their very eyes. Slowly, the fire engulfed the entire flower till it burnt itself out.
And there was the Seed of Sarothen.

***

“I’m going to do it” he muttered.
“You can’t – you’re a priest Arrazesh!”
“So what! Do you even know what power I can yeild with Sarothen’s Child? Nebuchadnezzar will kneel before me! Can you even grasp the idea of such power?”
“Remember the inscription Arrazesh – Beware – those who try to make it their own”
“You have not read the Scripts, my friend. Centuries back Sarothen was planted at the spot which now is the very centre of the king’s gardens. Sarothen forms the core around which these gardens were constructed. But that is beside the point. When Sarothen was planted, a prophecy was made which was eventually lost in the annals of time – by a man who was ostracized from society for his words. But those words were not lost to me!”
“A prophecy!”
“Yes – a prophecy: The sands of time will shift until eternity but Sarothen shall stand immortal. After 1500 moons have blessed the land Sarothen shall offer a seed – key to the Force of Life. It shall stay with Sarothen for 7 days and then fall as ashes, blessing the ground it touches. But if it is plucked and the Force is called upon, Sarothen shall whither – and with its death, kill the land to which it belongs. The Force however can be saved. The Bearer must immediately escape if his life is to be spared. He shall not know it, for they will not exist, perhaps not even in his lifetime but……”
Arrazesh stopped abruptly and his eyes narrowed. “Tell me friend, why should I tell you all of this?”
“Perhaps because you call me a friend or am I not trustworthy enough? But tell me – what is it that will not exist?”
“Later” –and Arrazesh left.

***

The moon was the only witness to what happened that night. As it floated silently above the clouds, its light fell on the worried priest hurriedly shuffling as silently as possible towards the gardens.
The beads of perspiration clinging to Arrazesh’s face gleamed in Sarothen’s soft glow.
The leaves seemed to laugh as he brushed them away, climbing upwards. He reached the top where the Seed of Sarothen sat beautifully, white and tempting.
Arrazesh stretched out his arm, his fingers trembling. The leaves fell dead silent. The breeze stopped.
Then, Arrazesh plucked it.

***

The small tea-shop in Hilla was already packed but its gossiping inmates welcomed in the stranger drenched in sweat, clinging to a small brown bag and panting as though he were about to collapse.
“Friend, have you been running all night! Sit down, sit down. Some tea will do you good!”
“Have you heard” said another “what’s happened to Babylon?”
The stranger whirled around with terrified eyes, managing to shake his head.
“They say it’s ruined! The desert just opened up and swallowed the entire city!”
“The gardens? The people-they escaped?” the stranger whispered in a hoarse voice.
“Gone, all gone. There’s nothing there but the sand.”
Arrazesh ran out screaming.

***

By the next day, Arrazesh had composed himself. He had known that this would happen and it had. He had to get on with the prophecy or else the Seed would remain unharnessed.
He brought out a yellowed and torn parchment and started reading:
“……perhaps not even in his lifetime; but Destiny shall create 6 places for the Seed’s power to be unlocked.

The first shall be a temple
The sacrilege, to forgive
Blessings of a Goddess
And the lives of those who live
The Seed shall have their power
Roused from its dormant bliss
So Bearer hurry and take it fast
To the abode of Artemis.

Arrazesh rolled back the parchment and put it back into the bag. He cursed for he knew not of any temple dedicated to Artemis grand enough to be fit for the Seed of Sarothen.
“Not even in my lifetime!” he repeated and cursed again. “But Babylon will not have gone in vain! The Seed will be harnessed!”

***

The tea-shop was more frenzied than usual. News had spread that a stranger was in town and there were rumours going around that he was insane. But the excitement centred around the fact that he had made an announcement seeking two young men whose services he would buy for a handsome amount if they were prepared to renounce all contact with family, friends and people in general. They would have to dedicate their lives to him and him alone. The money had attracted quite a few men but the stranger’s manic emphasis on the latter part of his announcement discouraged most of them.

Finally only one man was found to be fit for the job and the tea-sippers were beside themselves with curiosity as to what 19-year old Saralledh – poor orphan that he was- had got himself into.

They never got to know. Cloaked in the darkness of the night Arrazesh left the city with a stunned Saralledh – still unable to grasp the information presented to him, amazed to hear the clink of the gold pieces which bound him to Arrazesh and knowing fully well that he would die before the task was over.

***

To be continued....when another lean blogging season arrives and I have to fall back on this!