Chapter XI: A Terrific and Destructive Storm
Towards the evening of this most memorable day, the inhabitants of Lēonita Tylû and the surrounding country observed that along the line of the western horizon dark threatening clouds partly obscured the lingering rays of Andûmana̤'s shining abode, which yet found expression in purple, crimson and golden clouds, flaunting their ever-changing beauty far up towards the zenith. Across the face of nature fell gradually an ever darkening veil of lights and shadows, which gave to all things a strangely unreal appearance. The breeze which during the day had tempered the unusually sultry atmosphere, died away until foilage and flowers maintained a deathlike stillness. From the crests of the lofty Bûdas trees to the low growing shrubs, birds, from all directions, came in rapid flight, their incessant chirping and chattering betokening unusual excitement. Noises from afar came drifting, drifting with startling distinctness, and suddenly the pealing of temple bells smote the hushed air with such impetuous volumes of sound that all things seemed to vibrate in unison with their rythmic tones.
Upward, upward from the horizon, swiftly climbed the darkening clouds, their outskirts like monstrous wings overshadowing upland and lowland with ominous permonitions of an approaching tempestuous disturbance of the atmosphere. So strange, so uncommon, so alarming grew the indications of a destructive storm, that men, women and children hastened to city and suburban temples, seeking within their substantial walls the protection of the just and pitiful gods. As their flying feet sped onward, deeper, darker grew the murky cloud shadows, more and more profound the stillness that ever precedes a visitation of the powers of the air.
Nowhere yet was stir of leaf or of blade of grass, and nature, hushed and breathlessly expectant, awaited the dread onslaught. From out the black bosom of the swiftly moving clouds vivid flashes of lightning illumined the awful spectacle, and low muttering thunder betokened the advance of the angry storm gods. In the temples the affrighted people prayed for protection against their pitiless assaults, but their prayers availed naught, for almost instantaneously the profound calm gave way to furious blasts of wind, lightning, deafening thunder and rain, which swept so madly across the sky and over the face of the land that they left in their pathway death and destruction unparalleled.
In Yaffa a lûytos (a noted Entoan temple), the temple of which Zeydon was high priest, cries of fear and despair mingled with the roaring rage of the elements, which shook the massive structure as though it were a mere bauble which at any moment might crush the terrified people beneath its ruins.
At the height of the tempest, a flash of blinding lightning, accompanied by thunder so terrific as to be appalling, smote the great crystal Dia̤fon ēvoiha̤ of the temple dome, beneath which the High Priest Zeydon, with uplifted hands, was praying. Without word or cry he fell unconscious near the central altar, the fragments of the shattered Dia̤fon ēvoiha̤ crashing downward upon its beautiful statues and upon the prostrate and unconscious form of the high priest. Such consternation ensued that, for a time, no one ventured to approach the wounded, helpless man, who, stunned and breathless, lay as one smitten by death. Presently the violence of the tempest began to abate, and the people, recovering to a degree from their terror, summoned Zeydon’s attendants, who bore him to his residence, where, under the skillful ministration of his physician, he was restored to life, but not to consciousness.
Not for centuries had that portion of Ento been subjected to such a devastating tempest as this one, which had swept from its pathway all that came within the scope of its terrific energy. The spacious and substantial residence of the Nyassa̤s, being outside its vortex, escaped with but slight injury; but the residence of the high priest was not so fortunate, its walls being so shaken as to render it insecure for occupation. Until it should be restored, it was found that it would be necessary to house its inmates elsewhere. Koidassa̤ being near at hand and the situation urgent Zeydon, in an unconscious state, was borne to one of its spacious chambers, where for many days death stood upon the threshold.
The lightning stroke and the wounds on his hands and head were but incidents along the line of causes which led to Zeydon’s very dangerous condition. More than all else, his long continued mental struggle had induced a low state of vital resistance against any physical shock. Now, like a prostrate giant, he battled for life against formidable odds; for almost immediately a violent fever attacked him, so dethroning his reason that his incongruous speech filled the minds of his attendants with surprise and alarm.
In his delirium he raved of temple ceremonies, of instruction of the Litzen Rinda̤ novices, of two strange beings who, to his disordered mind, appeared to be contending against each other that they might gain possession of him. So piteous were his appeals for rescue, so violent his attempts to escape from this imaginary danger, that they found much difficulty in their attempts to restrain his frenzied state. Other strange hallucinations at times took possession of him, but through all the tortuous mazes of his wild imaginings ran one most noticeable theme, to which his disturbed thoughts constantly returned. This theme was Frona̤ Nyassa̤.
To his attendants this feature of his ravings was incomprehensible. As they, in much trepidation, listened to his murmured praises of her loveliness of face and form, of her gentleness and charm of mind and speech, they marveled that the gods permitted a consecrated one, even in delirium, to associate his thought with mortal love.
In the midst of a frenzied outburst of fantastic imaginings, suddenly his disordered mind would recur to the one dominant thought, and in tender, caressing tones he would murmur: "Frona̤, Frona̤, thou light of my darkened life, thou balm of my tortured mind and heart.
"Frona̤, thou fairest and most adorable of all created things, turn not away from me in affright and anger. Ere I die I beseech thee to look, if but once, into the eyes that have found only thee worthy of my tenderest devotion. Look and let me find one expression of love, one faintest ray of hope that thou wilt suffer me to love thee, and I will arise and defy the gods who strive to tear me from thy presence. Ah! thou art as cold as ice. Thou hast in thy heart no place for love: thou art too pure to yield thyself to human passion. A goddess art thou, Frona̤, for even in thy childhood all hearts turned to thee, all eyes gazed with wondering admiration upon the marvel of thy exceeding loveliness, all lips smiled when thine were parted in laughter or in mirthful speech. Yes, a goddess art thou who hast taken upon thyself mortal form, that thus thou mayst inform thyself of the joys and sorrows, and of the good and evil emotions of men and women."
Thus he would rave until, through exhaustion, he would fall into incoherent mutterings, or a stupor from which he would arouse, crying: "It is I alone who have sinned; I alone who am culpable; I alone who merit punishment. O thou radiant One who in the inner sanctuary didst reveal thyself to me, save me—save me from this hideous being who drags me down—down to dishonor, to degradation and to death! Soima̤, Soima̤, thou mighty god of the inner sanctuary, come, oh, come to my rescue! Save me, save me from this monster who tempts me beyond my strength! Save me, or I shall perish in my guilt—I shall go into the Silence a self-condemned and wretched man!"
Through many days and nights of ceaseless torture of mind and body, Zeydon struggled for existence. But at last a period arrived when, emaciated to a shadow of his former self, and helpless as an infant, the fire cooled in his veins, the turmoil of his senses became tranquilized, and a blessed sleep closed his staring, sunken eyes in a forgetfulness so profound that it very nearly resembled the unending sleep of death.
I pray that the just gods may account me blameless for writing that, while holding in my unsteady hands this pitiful record, which portrays some features of Zeydon's expiation, I find my heart throbbing with sympathy for his suffering, which, in a sense he certainly deserved. Were I a god I might righteously decide the extent of his deserving: being human, I desire that only pity for his errors may find lodgment in my mind and heart.
There are, I doubt not, those whose self-righteousness will impel them to pass merciless judgment upon Zeydon's weakness and his transgression of his vows of consecration. To such I would say "Thou knowest neither thy strength or thy weakness; and until thou hast been tempted and tried as he was tempted and tried, withhold thy condemnation."
I, who revere all that is exalted in Andûmana̤, the Deific Ones, or in his children, find my no longer youthful eyes moist with tears as I read of the struggles of this man, whose nature partook of both the best and the basest traits of the human and who at last, through bitter anguish and earnest endeavor, overcame evil with good. So, through overcoming whatever in our nature is least admirable, may we, as Zeydon did, arrive at a state of mind where [...]
[...] audience room was razed to its foundation. To add to the danger and horror of the situation, from a wrecked out-building fire burst forth, spreading with such frightful rapidity that only the tremendous downpour of rain and the strenuous efforts of many willing hands after a time extinguished it, but not until it destroyed much that was of value.
At the time it was considered remarkable that none of the inmates of the Litzen Rinda̤ were killed instantly, but a large number were more or less injured, some fatally. Aside from a severe contusion of one arm Invāloû escaped injury, but Frona̤ was less fortunate. Fleeing for safety from one wrecked portion of the Litzen Rinda̤ to another, which a moment later met with a like disaster, a flying timber struck her down rendering her unconscious and fracturing a limb in a most serious manner.
Amid the terror and confusion of the awful visitation she and Invāloû frantically had sought each other but it was not until the tempest died away into fitful gusts of wind and rain that, aided by incessant electric flashes, which lighted up the darkness, Invāloû found the unconscious girl whom he thought dead. Taking her up in his strong, loving arms, he bore her to the audience room, where were congregated the resident physician, Ammen Elda, and the terrified injured and uninjured priests and novices. Presently, under the influence of restoratives, Frona̤ revived and made known her condition, which demanded immediate attention. This Ammen Elda sought to give, but through lack of proper appliances, he could not for the immediate moment afford her and other injured ones even relief. On every hand were entreaties for assistance, but so unprecedented was the calamity which had befallen the city and its suburbs that it was found impossible to at once provide sufficient accommodation for the many injured persons, whose cries and moans filled all minds with consternation and commiseration.
Several of the resident priests being badly injured also required attention, while those who were uninjured were so overwhelmed by the disaster which had befallen the Litzen Rinda̤ and its inmates, that for a time they were in a state of helpless bewilderment as to how to dispose of their hapless charges.
As the situation admitted of no delay, Invāloû suggested that he with Frona̤ and other injured ones might be conveyed to the residence of his and Frona̤'s parents, where, he assured the distraught priests, they would receive welcome hospitality and all necessary attention. But, until the high priest should be heard from, no one dared to accept his proposition. Very soon the appalling news arrived that through a lightning shock he was dead at Yaffa a lûytos. As no other solution of the difficulty presented itself, it was decided that Invāloû's proposition should immediately be carried into effect.
