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1 - The Ivory Plain |
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2 - The Journey Begins |
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3 - The City of Princes |
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4 - The Mountain Village |
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5 - The Road Divides |
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6 - Comrades in Arms |
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7 - The Pass of Silence |
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8 - The Ivory Towers |
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9 - The Union |
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OCC Recommends
- Christian Counseling Degree |
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1 - The Ivory Plain
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THE IVORY TOWERS
by
Joanna Pick
Welcome to the world of Middle Earth, to the traditional fight of Good against Evil.
But here there are no wizards only the power of Jesus Christ against the Devil working through His children, equipped with the gifts of the Holy Spirit and the armour of God.
Follow the adventures of Eldar and her band of Christian warriors as they seek to free the land from evil through prayer and power.
"Not by might nor by power but by my Spirit" Saith the Lord.
Chapter 1: The Ivory Plain
The castle shimmered startlingly pale in the heat of the setting sun, the blue and gold rays bringing a touch of warmth to the cold ivory towers. It reared majestically from the dusty plateau, imposing, beautiful and deadly. As the sun set behind it the towers were silhouetted like sharp spears of ice against the horizon. The jagged spires of the four white turrets that cornered the castle thrust viciously into the darkening sky and the smooth, polished sheen of the ivory was the pallor of death.
Far below the tiny, lead paned windows that were shadowed with pain and anger, the murky waters of the wide moat churned dark-grey and thick. The curved ribbon of water was monstrously alive with the writhing, slimy, sinuous bodies of predatory snakes and other evil creatures that guarded the castle from the would-be intruder, though travellers this way were scarce. The heavy iron portcullis of the fortress was lowered and the huge oak drawbridge studded with bronze was drawn tightly up. Hugely menacing, home of the Lord of Death, Aldin, King of the North and Prince of the Isle of the Hand, the Ivory Towers did not encourage visitors.
On the steep slopes leading to the barren summit of the plateau and invading the lush green valley beneath, the trees of the Holy Forest grew black and dense. Hundreds of years ago there had been an anointed prophet living in the wood hence its name. But now the place no longer deserved its name. Far from peaceful or holy, the forest was a haunt and refuge for the monsters and serfs enslaved by the power of the Lord of Death. On the far left side of the valley facing the desert plateau and crowding the Holy Forest, the rocky inclines were dotted with brave trees seeking a foothold in the bare and stony earth. Above them the Mountains of Anger rose into the clouded and turbulent night. A narrow footpath chipped into the sheer cliff face, known as the Pass of Silence, wound its dangerous way down from the snow capped summits to the evils hidden in the forest below.
At the forest’s edge, looking out over the plateau where the Ivory Towers dominated the open, barren landscape, a bedraggled and weary group of travellers stood huddled beneath the rain-heavy branches of the fir trees. The expressions on their faces were a strange mixture of relief, anger, fear and determination. They had journeyed far through dangers and evils and no castle, however sinister in appearance, would stop them now. Yet even as their minds formed these brave thoughts, their hearts were mocking them. Above them the pine trees made a wet leafy canopy and the highest branches in the tree tops swayed in the evening breeze. Their arduous journey had begun in the Spring but it was now late Autumn.
The night wind that blew unceasing into their exposed faces felt like the icy touch of fingers, bringing with it the coldness of death from the Ivory Plain. Shivering, the travellers turned back into the shelter of the forest, blocking out the sight of the goal it had taken them several months to reach, and set about the usual routine of making a protective fire for the night. When the work was done, they huddled close to the leaping bright gold flames and prayed, hoping that the light and warmth would drive out the evil that was waiting to engulf them. Finally they settled down to sleep leaving one member of their group on watch.
It was some hours later that Eldar felt her head rock to one side quickly jerking it up again in the hope that no one had seen that moment of weakness. With a sleepy hand she rubbed her eyes and swept her auburn, heavy hair over her shoulders. Yawning, she absentmindedly ran her fingers through the tangles and began to plait the tresses into braids. She was on watch. If she slept who knew what devilry the shadows might give way to. Fear prickled like cold and clammy fingers down her spine as memories invaded her unquiet mind. She shivered and wrapped her dark earth coloured woollen cloak more tightly about her slim body, it was easy to pretend that she was only cold. Eldar was the leader of the little party of travellers and she could not allow herself to be afraid for the sake of her friends. As her eyelids drooped with unbidden, unwanted sleep, Eldar let her thoughts slip back to that fateful day when she had stood before the shouting crowd in her home village and sworn to save them from a terrible fate. She could never have foreseen what would happen to her as a result of her impetuous words.
“Why should we live our lives in terror of this, what have we ever done to deserve this? We should unite and come against this evil!” The girl’s face was alive with the passion she felt for the cause she was fighting as her voice rang out over the heads of the villagers. The crowd before her however was far from being whipped into a frenzy and were sullenly listening to her although most were shaking their heads at the futility of her argument.
“Let me through, move peasant”, an old crone forced her way to the front of the crowd and painfully climbed up on the gallows to stand beside the heated, red-faced girl. She shook her stick at the crowd,
“Worthless, the lot of you”, she cried, “now let me have my say”.
Whispers flew through the gathered villagers, the Hermit was going to speak, perhaps the Lord would speak to them through her. It had been so long since the Lord spoke to the village that few of those gathered in the mob had ever heard the Hermit prophesy. Yet now it appeared that the long silence was over and words from God would come to comfort them. The Hermit raised her stick high and the murmuring of the people gradually subsided.
“Listen, listen to me! So you think something should be done eh? So it should, and who is going to do it? Which one of you is man enough, or brave enough, to face the Lord of Death?” She coughed and, raising her hands up high, closed her eyes and began to mumble quietly. The people waited and watched some raising their hands and praying softly. Then the Hermit began to speak,
“The Lord has shown me a Plain devastated and devoid of life, and a forest where every glade teems with the servants of the Enemy. The fortress, although magnificent, has been created and is sustained by evil. I see a fight between Good and Evil for the souls of our people.”
The crowd sighed as one at the old woman’s words. The Hermit opened her eyes and gazed out over the crowd,
“One of you must go to the Castle of the Ivory Towers and face Aldin in his lair. You must be strong in the Lord, and be covered in His armour, and your faith shall be your shield. Who then will go?”
The murmuring of the crowd swelled and the villagers shuffled their feet avoiding one another’s gaze. Then one or two of the men, having been elbowed hard by their womenfolk, raised tentative hands. Then the young girl who stood on the gallows beside the Hermit raised her head and lifted her right arm. Boldly she called out,
“I believe in my heart the Lord has told me that I must go, whoever will come with me come to the village hall tonight and we shall talk about our plans for the journey.”
Several men stepped out of the crowd and responded to her call.
A white owl brushed Eldar’s cheek, the soft stroke of its snowy feathers startling her into sudden wakefulness. She glanced across at her sleeping companions by the glow of the fire and smiled to herself. The embers still burned so she added some more chopped branches from the wood pile they had prepared earlier. Strange, thought Eldar, how the old woman’s prophecy had been so accurate, but then, as Eldar had later discovered, the old crone had spoken partly from memory as she too had stood upon the Plain and seen the same view of the Ivory Towers as Eldar herself saw now.
In the dark of the Autumn night the castle appeared far more menacing and full of foreboding than it had in the light of day. Even the thought of what lay within those smooth, cold walls caused Eldar to tremble and shake. As a child she had been haunted by nightmares of a man screaming in agony, a man who changed before her eyes into the living embodiment of evil. She remembered waking, weeping with terror as in the nightmare the entity would reach for her, to kill her. Remembering the nightmare brought her thoughts back to the days before her journey, planning for the weeks of hardship when the Hermit had called for her, to tell her more about the hostile country through which she and her comrades would travel.
The Hermit lived alone in an old bears cave high in the rolling green hillside above the settlement of Tavos. Some of the older people of the village remembered a time before the Hermit had come, when the land had been governed by superstition, fear and a dozen gods had to be placated daily. The Hermit had been one of the first to claim she had experienced the truth in the words of the missionaries who came from lands beyond the horizons of the seas. She had believed and undergone their “cleansing” with water and the repentance of sin. The entire village had been amazed at the signs and wonders that happened wherever the missionaries went and at the release of sickness from people they laid their hands upon. Within a matter of months the whole population of Tavos had given their lives to the Lord Jesus, whose story of truth and redemption by grace had been brought by two believers from across the sea.
Eldar had visited the Hermit in her cave frequently over the years as she grew up, sometimes to discuss the words of the missionaries and for lessons to learn how to write and read. Eldar yearned to be able to read the Word for herself, to discover the secrets and mysteries contained within the black books the missionaries consulted. On this occasion though, her visit to the Hermit had been ordered and she climbed the hillside with a touch of trepidation in her heart.
The mouth of the Hermit’s cave had been hung with salt-cured goat skins to keep out the sharp winds that blew across the hills. Eldar entered the cave and paused, blinking at the sudden darkness letting the odorous skins fall heavily behind her as her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. The Hermit sat hunched over a small fire whose smoke streamed upwards towards a hole in the roof of the cave. Silently she beckoned the girl to sit beside her. Eldar settled herself on the pile of soft kid skins lying near the hearth and looked around the familiar cave as she waited for the Hermit to speak.
The natural dwelling was lined with makeshift shelves balanced precariously on the rough walls and jammed into any crevice that could take the weight. The shelves were weighed down with books, hand tooled in calf leather and parchment scrolls that the Hermit had both collected and written over the years. Eldar had read a few of them, painstakingly, when the Hermit had been teaching her to read. Each book was carefully titled, written in golden copperplate script on the leather and had its own place on the dusty shelves. Swinging from the roof of the cave was a series of oil lamps strung on ropes that allowed the lamps to be lowered in order to be filled and lit. A mass of hand-woven rugs, animal skins and chicken feather filled pillows at the far end of the cave, away from the draughts, indicated the Hermit’s bed, and a crudely hewn table and stools carved from the trunks of trees completed the simple furniture. One volume lay open on the table where the Hermit had obviously been reading before Eldar’s arrival and the wooden bowl and spoon that lay beside it was used but empty.
Extending her hands to the fire, letting the warmth heat her chilled body, Eldar broke the quiet atmosphere and said,
“The journey is organised, one of the travellers is a map writer and has planned our route. The men are ready to leave within a few days, we only have a few more things to pack and provisions to collect. Have you called me to tell me about where we are going?”
The Hermit glanced at her, then pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from between the pages of the book lying on the table.
“This is something I should have given you a long time ago,” she muttered, “read that then I’ll answer your questions”.
Puzzled Eldar took the parchment and smoothed open its folds. The writing across the yellowing papyrus was spidery and faint and appeared to be in the form of a letter.
“Read it aloud”, said the Hermit, settling closer to the fire.
Eldar turned the paper so the light from the fire fell on the writing and began to read, slowly and stumblingly at the unfamiliar handwriting and words.
“To my Dearest Friend and Companion,
I have so little time left on this earth and yet so much I still want to say, so much to make clear to you. I know you will carry my secret to your life’s end and I need to cleanse my soul now that my death is near. You were right, I know that now. If I had not been so very much in love I would never have married him, I might have seen him for what he truly is. But I was blinded by my love and I believed the Light in me would shine in him and give him freedom. I was wrong. He has become worse these last four years and I no longer feel safe with him.
Dear Karina, I have run away from the Towers, I have left him, there was no other choice. I am afraid for my daughter, for what she may become if I stay here. She is now three years old but I know you will care for Ferindor, that you will love her as you once cared and loved me. Keep her safe, teach her the new ways, the new faith, it will be her only protection should he ever discover her.
The messenger who brings this letter has been told you are the child’s grandmother and nothing more. I trust him, I have to. Do not send word to me for I am fearful for my safety should your reply fall into the wrong hands.
Love her Karina, care for her, for me.
Your ever loving
Anna”
Eldar stopped as she came to the end of the letter, then she looked at the faded signature and asked the Hermit quietly,
“Who was Anna?”
“Your mother”, came the equally quiet reply.
“But,” said Eldar startled, “she speaks of a child named Ferindor, and who is the ‘he’ she talks about having to run away from?”
The Hermit sighed,
“It’s a long story child, and one long overdue. But you were not ready for it before, nor for the danger ahead of you once you knew the truth of your birth and your inheritance. Wait while I heat some spiced wine and I shall tell you all I know”.
As the Hermit moved slowly about the cave gathering wine and spices and setting the cast iron tripod over the fire, Eldar read the letter once more, then stared into the flames and thought over the contents of the document.
The Hermit poured the wine into a small metal pot and swung it over the fire placing it carefully on the tripod, adding pinches of nutmeg, cinnamon and ginger as the liquid warmed through.
“Are you the Karina mentioned in the letter?” Asked Eldar as the Hermit pushed a steaming wooden mug into her hand.
“I am,” answered the Hermit, “but let me tell you the story from the start”.
She settled herself cross legged on a pile of rugs by the fire and began.
“Some twenty five years ago your mother Anna married Aldin, Prince of the North”.
“You mean the Lord of Death? The Lord of Death is my father!” Eldar’s voice was full of horror as she spoke.
“Peace child,” soothed the Hermit, “When he met your mother he was a fair, if not always good, King. Aldin and Anna were betrothed from birth at the wish of both their parents. Anna came from an old noble family that had lived on the Isle of the Hand for centuries, her dowry was to bring the Isle within the domain of the King of the North. Although Anna fell in love with Aldin, he unfortunately never loved her in the same way. They were both followers of the new faith at the time they married”.
Here the Hermit paused and threw another piece of firewood on the slowly burning fire.
“They had been married for a year when Aldin seemed to drift from the truth and search for another meaning for his life. He dabbled in the black arts and conjured spirits trying to see the future, and he began to change. Anna became afraid of him and for his immortal soul. She tried everything to bring him back to God but the darkness that had taken him over had a firm hold and he was slipping away from her. Then she discovered she was expecting a child. She was terribly afraid that the evil within Aldin might have entered the child in conception and that her baby would be doomed if brought up in the shadow of Aldin’s dark spirit. Aldin refused her permission to go home to the Isle of the Hand and she was forced to bear you within the confines of the Ivory Towers. For a time I know she believed that having a child and becoming a father would change Aldin to the way he had been when they first married. But it did not. Aldin wanted to use the infant in black rituals, Anna became so frightened for her child’s safety that she was forced to run away.”
“But how did my mother know you? Why did she give me to you?”
“I had been her own wet-nurse, and when she knew she was expecting she had called for me to be near her, she was anxious about the birth. But I did not make it to her side in time.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Various things delayed my departure, now I know God prevented me from being with her. You see, because I stayed away my Anna had a safe haven to send her child to.”
“The letter said she knew she was near death, is she dead?”
“Yes Eldar, she died while the messenger carried you to me,” the Hermit’s gaze seemed to look at something far away and she said, “I miss her still, my beautiful, strong, good Anna, she was born of water and His Spirit and was pure. I loved her.”
Eldar felt humbled at such a declaration of deep love for her mother,
“How did she die? Did my father kill her?” She asked.
“No” replied the Hermit, “she died of a growth in her breast that was not cured by prayer or medicine. She suffered towards the end and I am glad that the Lord took her when he did, it would have been cruel for her to suffer any longer.”
Eldar took in the details of her mother’s death and felt the tears come to her eyes. Then a sense of fear and hatred for the evil that her father had become took root in her.
“Are the raiders that come to the village sent by Aldin?” She asked.
The Hermit nodded, “Aldin learned of your continued existence only a few years ago and has been searching for you ever since. Tavos is simply one of several villages he has pillaged and fired because he searches for his daughter.”
“Why, what sort of threat am I to him?”
“You are a terrible threat to him child, he knows that Anna’s pureness of spirit is now yours and you can devastate his world of darkness with your faith that to him is like a two-edged sword. This is the reason that God has chosen you to save our village and our people, you alone with the strength of the Lord behind you, can defeat him.”
There was silence from the still slender figure beside the fire.
“I’m afraid”, whispered Eldar softly.
“You have reason to be, Aldin is powerful and has practised the black arts now for twenty years. He is cunning, and evil and will use everything within his power to destroy you. Now, we must plan your journey. I have a map, old though it is, you and your map writer may find it useful. Take some more wine child while I search for it.”
Eldar poured herself another cupful of the warm wine with a shaking hand. My Lord, my Lord, she thought, I need you now more than I have ever needed you, be with me Lord for I am afraid and know I am weak, I cannot do this without you. As she drank the wine and felt the warmth and spices soothe her nerves, she felt a strange peace enter her mind and knew that God would be with her throughout this terrible, dangerous journey.
“Ah, here is the map”, the Hermit spread out a square of parchment that looked to be twenty years old to Eldar.
“Why, this can never be accurate”, she cried, “look at the edge of the forest, the trees will have grown in all directions since this was drawn.”
“Yes, more than likely,” admitted the Hermit, “but it will give you some idea of your direction and location. I have no other maps to offer. This is all I can give you.”
Eldar looked at the tracery on the parchment showing the Holy Forest and the plateau and a tiny picture of the Ivory Towers. The task she was to undertake suddenly seemed huge, Eldar felt herself so small and insignificant and heard a small voice within her push the peace aside and whisper that the journey was fruitless and would end not only in her death but also of those who travelled with her. With difficulty she ignored the insidious voice and tried to recall the feeling of peace and certainty.
She took up the map and folded it carefully, placing it within her russet tunic and tightened the belt to hold it in place.
“I must go”, she said, “there are still some things to be prepared and farewells to be said before we leave. Thank you for all your help Hermit. Will you give me your blessing?”
She knelt before the Hermit who laid her hands on Eldar’s head and blessed her. When she had finished, Eldar rose to her feet, and, taking the old woman’s hands in her own, she kissed the wrinkled cheek and said, “With God’s help I will prevail, and I will return”.
The Hermit shook her head, “No”, she said, “I don’t believe you will. Prevail yes, I pray for that, but not return.”
Eldar narrowed her eyes and stared hard at the Hermit’s face, but she saw nothing in it but peace and a faint regret. She smiled and strode to the door of the cave lifting the animal skins aside as she looked down the hillside at the village of Tavos nestling at the foot. My village, she thought, my home. All my friends are here, I will come back, there is nothing to keep me away. Father, protect me, give me your strength and protection, help me prevail against my enemies who are yours also.
Her eyes rested on the village green where the maypole had been ceremoniously cut down a few years ago. Squaring her shoulders Eldar set off down the hillside. Behind her the Hermit watched her go with a strange look in her eyes, almost as if she was afraid of Eldar, and her lips moved as if in prayer.
Chapter 2
Discover the true spiritual realm of the Holy Spirit
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