Leviathan 7

Intro | Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Dugree stepped into a dream, a dream she knew very well, a dream of flying. She was flying over the river again but when the light in its water flashed she flew on. She flew over the sea and watched herself walk into a light, she awoke in darkness.

~|~

Gaka had never been outside the monastery but his first drawings were of caves. Baka had never told him about them, the old man knew nothing of them himself, the monks never spoke to Gaka and his mother had left long ago. They showed a skill beyond his years, the rock intricately detailed, the light and shadow giving them a feeling of gloom. Baka didn't question Gaka's talent or choice of subject, he understood without knowing why. The monks looked at the pictures with concern, they understood something, too, but they knew the necessity of what was to come so they held their peace.

Baka didn't question but he wondered, when Gaka's latest cave drawings dripped with blood he asked the boy why. "You'll see." was all he said. He began filling the caves with people working at the rock, many of them broken and bleeding. Again Baka wondered, "Why do they work so hard?" he asked but the young artist gave him the same answer as before. Finally Baka knew why but it was beyond his understanding. The people working the rock were driven by other cruel people, Baka could make sense of it but he couldn't grasp it, "Why do they do it, Gaka?" The boy shrugged, "Fear, hate, greed." "What is greed?" the simple old man asked, the boy looked up with a man's wisdom in his eyes, "Wanting more than you need." It was an explanation that Baka understood too well, he had been greedy once. When Takako said she was leaving he tried to make her stay, she said he didn't need her and he knew it but he wanted her anyway. Finally, in desperation, he was cruel to her, "Go! I hate you!" he yelled and let her leave in tears. She'd been gone for years now but he still ached from the hurt he caused her, ached from the cruelty of greed.

When Gaka moved to oils the subject of his work changed, he still painted scenes from the caves but they centered on one young boy. They began with a masterpiece in subject and technique, an extremely powerful scene that moved Baka to tears. A woman, body torn to pieces lies dead on the ground. A huge man with a cruel smile stands over her, in his hand a terrible whip. Across from them a small boy watches, his face is filled with pain but freedom fills his eyes. Baka, who'd never asked a thing of his son asked him for the painting, it was a reminder to him of the pain in his own life, the pain he had caused. The cruelty continued as the killer turned against the boy, scene after horrible scene played out on canvas. It hurt Baka to ask, "Is the man his father?" and was relieved when the boy shook his head.

As Gaka grew, the boy in the caves grew, too. Gaka lived a simple, peaceful life, the boy a harsh one. Baka understood his knowledge of those things, the monks understood, too, only Gaka didn't understand. He didn't know where the images and feelings came from, they were outside his experience, but when he picked up his brush it told its own story. It wasn't lack of control, Gaka worked hard on his art, but the images came unbidden. When he turned thirteen he decided to speak to the monks. Like his father, Gaka was not one for words, he spent many days searching for the way to say what was in his mind but when it was time to speak the few words he'd found fled. "I'm leaving." was all he could tell them, it was all he told Baka, too. "I won't be greedy." Baka told him and then he said, "You need to go.", the monks had said the same thing but the meaning behind their words was different. Baka wanted what was right for his son, the monks just wanted him gone, they were of peace and Gaka was violence.

He met a woman, actually, she sought him out, drawn by his dark art and success. She wasn't the only one Gaka attracted with his sad, violent images, strange and troubled people of all kinds found his art and stayed to watch him paint the story. The young boy grew to be a young man, strong in spite of the mistreatment, in spite of being singled out for added cruelty. One painting shows the young man chained to a wall, the man who killed his mother is using the instrument of her death on him. His pain is clear as the whip tears into him but freedom fills his eyes.

Excerpt from Shadow Stalkers by S.E.Estes