The Valhalla Covenant

Not long before waking the next morning, Reimas experienced a dream sequence of particular interest. Leaning forwards against the rock wall of a lookout in the now very distant Blue Mountains of New South Wales, he cast his eyes across a rugged valley and deeply inhaled the eucalyptus-laden air.

After a time, several people approached, quietly, and joined him. Eventually, one observed how beautiful the day was and asked him if he would care to walk in the forest below with them. Somehow, it seemed more than simply a casual matter; that in some way this was a mission of significance not to be missed. With nothing more urgent to do, he agreed to go.

At first, the way was easy — a narrow but well-laid track descending steadily into the valley — but soon they left the main trail and began to climb upwards again. In the end, there was not so much a trail as a series of rough, dried-out creek beds that appeared to have been washed clear of vegetation by flash flooding. The last of these ended in a loose cliff of eroded soil, which could only be climbed by holding onto the exposed roots of trees above.

Eventually, after considerable effort, the group made it to the top. Reimas was relieved, but before long he was directed towards another challenge — one that he alone would undertake. Someone showed him a rope hanging from a tall tree on the cliff edge and he noted with alarm how far up it was. He couldn’t explain the need to climb, but it was there, overpowering and persistent.

Once he began, it wasn’t too bad and he soon reached the branch to which the rope was attached. Thereafter, however, things were more difficult. The branch around which it had been tied was so substantial that there was no way he could get up and straddle it. Neither did there seem to be anything of significance anywhere in the tree.

Confused, he looked around again then understood the real nature of the challenge when he saw that there were more ropes and chains farther along the branch. They lead to ropes hanging from branches of other trees and from various parts of the cliff face. By lowering himself a little, he could swing from one to the next.

Swinging from rope to rope and from rope to chain was fun for a while but then his arms grew tired and he noticed that his progress had taken him farther along the cliff towards a high waterfall. Looking down, he saw that the valley floor below him had dropped by hundreds of metres. Determined now to make it to the end, he shut out the thought of what lay below and forged ahead.

Strangely, although any conscious awareness of taking part in a challenge had disappeared, the decision to continue rather than retreat to safety seemed to be the breaking point and he soon arrived at an isolated ledge on the cliff face leading into a lush garden.

Filled with beautiful plants, statues, waterfalls and echoing to the delicate sounds of many wind chimes, the garden led by way of several terraces up to an ornate timber building that seemed to be a sort of shrine or temple.

A deep sense of peace and pleasure filled him, along with many delicious scents from the garden. Overhead, the sun shone gently, and the sky was one wide arc of pure blue.

Hearing voices, Reimas turned and saw people approaching. With calm countenances, they greeted him warmly. A tall woman with long dark hair and deep purplish blue eyes reached forwards and touched him gently on the brow, saying that in meeting the challenge he had attained a level of liberation that would be with him now wherever he went.

She was a spokesperson for the hidden community and proceeded to tell him that the great master who lived within had seen fit to bestow upon him a special magical blessing.

Reimas thanked her. He did not know quite how to respond, and felt that this blessing must already have been given by the very fact of its having been announced. Beginning to turn, then, as if to part, something made him ask, instead, if he might see the master.

She smiled and beckoned him then he followed her up paths and stairs into a hallway that opened into a large, comfortable room.

Reimas judged that the community had a slightly eastern flavour, but this room did not hold true to type and appeared simply to be modern and uncluttered. It had cream plush pile carpet, wide, luxurious lounges, many books, and, most surprisingly, a top-of-the-range stereo ensemble that he could not help thinking looked remarkably like his own.

Besides Reimas, there were three other men in the room, all wearing the same long flowing robes, but it was immediately clear who was the master. Dark-haired and blue-eyed he seemed, in the same indefinable way as the woman, to be ageless. There was, however, a clear and determined cast to his face that set him apart from the other two; plainly attendants that seemed anxious to adhere to his will.

Ignoring his attendants, the master sought to welcome Reimas and put him at his ease. After making him comfortable, he pointed to the stereo and suggested that some music might be relaxing.

Responding to the suggestion, Reimas crossed the room and was about to turn to ask how to use the equipment when he heard a telepathic voice indicating that he should already know. He understood, then, that all this excellent electronic equipment was in some way his own, or at least very like it, and that, in the same way, this was his home.

The ramifications of these simple thoughts were overpowering. He had arrived at what was essentially a dream representation of manifest divine peace, only to perceive that his path of enlightenment had taken him full circle. His life, his possessions and abilities were a part of it.

With this manifestation came the realization that the potential for it had been with him always.

From the outset, the dream adventure of challenge, discovery and release had simply been a perceptual one, and the master’s magical blessing had been no more than an invitation to relax and enjoy. Hard on that realization came the thought that these people reminded him in some way of the go-between who had first told Reimas about the Vezarin.

With that, he woke up and realized that the people in the dream could actually have been Vezarin. He knew that they could appear in tangible forms. Perhaps they had wished him to become accustomed to that idea.

Until now, Reimas had not paid much attention to the layout and the decor of his apartment but he soon realized that someone had gone to a great deal of trouble over it. Also, in material terms, the room so closely resembled the one in his dream that they were virtually indistinguishable.

As he looked around the room, it seemed to bring the detail of the dream back to him and he saw again the deep eyes of the master. It made him recall the kindly consideration he had shown for his comfort, and he realized that it had been intended to promote and facilitate his conscious awareness.

That might well be the next step.

After working hard to sow the seeds for the growth of a new community of the mind, it was time, perhaps, to begin to let things flow, to live with the new reality and, indeed, to love it.

Reimas eventually tore himself away from pleasant memories of the dream and left for the main control room. Within, a huge round polished pink granite table, surrounded by comfortable green leather chairs, were the only obvious furnishings.

Admiring the table closely, he guessed that the stone had been carefully chosen for its beautiful colours and patterns, and that it may well have been found within the mountain itself. Clearly a work of art, it begged to be touched and seemed by virtue of its shape and size to be a standing invitation for community.

“It’s solidarity in creative expression we’re aiming for and we’ll build it here,” said a voice behind him. Alastair, the research director, entering behind him, had noted the GI leader’s obvious admiration.

Reimas turned, and meeting his eyes, grinned.

“I believe we do have the makings of a great community of minds,” he said. “The clearer our objectives through good communication, the more effectively we’ll build community.”

“And you were right in what you said yesterday,” Alastair replied. “Before we’re through, the world will look to us for its lead. In setting out to meet the challenge, none of us should forget that ongoing self-growth and good communication will be the key elements of success.”

“I can see we’ll get along just fine.”

Alastair laughed.

“Of course it was just a question of sorting out the words. We were walking the same path all along.”

“I’m sure you’ll feel even greater accord when you take another good look at the first flyer you sent over with Sean.”

Alastair, as the head of research, read the inference clearly. There was no point in further speech until he’d done as Reimas suggested, so he left immediately.

Back before half an hour was up, his eyes were on fire with curiosity and admiration, barely able to keep himself from interrupting Reimas, now conversing with Finn, who had recently joined him.

“How did you do it?” he asked as soon as they turned to him.

“I’m sure you’ll work that out.”

“Which probably means that you didn’t.”

“Correct.”

“Nor did one of your colleagues?”

“There’s room for doubt?” Reimas asked.

Alastair sat on the edge of the table nearby.

“Laurence is quite a lad with bits and bobs, but from what I can tell, these alterations are sheer genius.”

“He is known for his leaps in the dark.”

“Perhaps so, but you have to understand that it took us years to build these things. It’d take many months, at least, for anyone, even of his calibre, to fully understand the drive system, let alone make changes such as these.”

“You have me.”

Alastair shook his head.

“No I don’t,” he protested, walking away.

At lunch, Reimas found himself surrounded by Valhalla technicians and thinkers. Philosophers and engineers alike were keen to meet and talk with him as soon, and for as long, as possible.

One engineer, a stocky red bearded fellow called Seamus, asked him what the basis of his philosophy was, in an attempt to determine exactly where, as such an enigmatic figure, he was coming from.

Reimas needed no preparation to oblige.

“With any reality, it’s crucial to understand the difference between the apparent message of something and its true intent,” he said. “The relationship between the two reveals much about the fundamental nature of reality in this dualistic material framework and, with that, we can understand anything.

“Given that we can understand anything, what should we first choose to fully comprehend? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s the relationship between society and the individual — our current cultural standpoint. To that end, I’m driven to ask, what is our society’s primary purpose? To what does it sacrifice all, or nearly all?”

“The accumulation of money,” Angus stated.

“Yes, in appearance but in true intent, power — power to control at any cost.”

“There’s no doubt it does that, but what are the specifics that achieve the goal?”

“Industrial society has offered us neatly packaged and shiny items in place of the rough-hewn tools we used in days gone by. It offers us more speed, more power, more quantity, but excuses its many deficiencies by waving the banner of scientific research, which it claims is a guiding light towards improving health and welfare.”

“Is it not?” Seamus asked.

“In some respects, perhaps it is, but in our system, the overall effect is negative, given any number of factors from the ravages of autoimmune diseases to something as simple as having to eat fruit with no flavour. It’s plain to see, that, in reality, the progress the industrial machine offers comes nowhere near keeping up with the erosion to people’s lives it has caused.”

“Aye, the industrial machine,” Seamus rejoined. “It’s one thing and pure scientific research is another altogether. ’Tis that you allude to?”

“Of course, and to keep the machine under control, the trick is to make the difference obvious. That can be a very difficult job when so many scientists have already sold out to industry.”

“True, but I think we all know that a complete return to the past is futile — and … and abhorrent. Machinery and technology are here with us to stay, and they’re by no means inherently bad. It’s more likely the owners are to blame.”

Reimas smiled.

“I’m with you there,” he said. “For who has the right to behave as if they own the world and do what they want with it, simply because they’ve won some monopoly game of life?”

“Aye,” cried a solid chorus of voices.

“It’s not like we’re going to starve, individually, if we don’t produce an increasingly wide range of things in our current world. The only harm that might come from not producing in that fashion is mental stagnation. Effort, however, does not need to produce material things.”

Alastair nodded appreciatively.

“A process of refinement and withdrawal from old positions has admittedly become necessary,” he replied. “Scientific development will always have its place, but it cannot be allowed to ride roughshod over the social integrity of people’s lives, not to mention the wild creatures.”

Again there was a chorus of cheers and a few pats on the back for Alastair, as the worthy voice of the local crowd. Reimas nodded appreciatively.

“The simple fact is,” he continued after a suitable pause, “is that we need less personal consumption and more attention given to the restoration of positive values. If we execute such a philosophy from the outset in a powerful circle of our own making, we’ll have a far greater chance of finding and casting out the dark heart that has reigned for so long.”

The surrounding people, mostly Valhalla men and a few GI members applauded the sentiment heartily.

“It’s completely irrational to destroy something that has no replacement,” said one of the younger locals.

Reimas grinned conspiratorially.

“Since you mention it, I should tell you that I’ve only recently discovered a number of other inhabited planets where the people cannot be flawed in the manner that they look after their worlds.”

Delivered as abruptly as it was, such a revelation was bound to shock. It caused a ripple of visceral reaction through the crowd; a wave that swelled as people fully registered what he’d said.

“Other planets?” Seamus queried, almost the manner of a demand.

“Yes. I’ve told you of the Vezarin, but yes, there are many other races on habitable material planets also, and it seems that in general they’re far more careful and diligent than we are.”

“I take it you’ve seen these planets in the astral,” he said. “If so, can we be sure they’re actually real, in material terms?”

Clamour lending support to the question issued from the crowd. Reimas simply smiled. This was what he wished to see — energy — debate, enthusiastic discussion, challenge; whatever form it took.

“You’re all here no doubt, today, because you’ve heard about the advanced changes made to the flyer. You should know by now that they could only have been made by the Vezarin, and that they have therefore resolved to help us come to terms with our problems, problems that they believe, as we do, are caused by a secret inimical race of alien origin.”

Reimas waited several minutes for the considerable tumult of both wonder and scepticism to die down, but the crowd was intractable. Soon, the commotion escalated into an uproar. Now that the abruptly awakened audience had questions, they wanted answers.

The basic scenario had been established in stark and almost insulting brevity, but despite the fact that some of those high up in the organization had long had suspicions about possible alien involvement, many of the older folk responded to Reimas’s revelations with disbelief. Most, however, experienced something more like relief — relief that long-held theories and suspicions were at last beginning to be validated.

Like a jigsaw just beginning to come together, the growing meaning of the picture he’d revealed gave impetus to a deep wellspring of enthusiastic curiosity. While some chose to fall back on the steady prop of scepticism, and believed his stories to be no more than a tool to assert power within Valhalla, most were intent on getting to the heart of the matter.

Perceiving the essentially irrational nature of many of their reactions, the next approach Reimas employed was quite different.

Sitting quietly, and annoying some by his apparent lack of response, he began to demonstrate simple feats of telepathy primarily directed towards the heightening of group awareness. As he began to work on his audience with his recently enhanced mind, he also revealed a series of mental snapshots of the people from whom he had acquired these abilities.

An almost instant alteration of attitude and bearing came over the people facing him. Doubt, confusion, anger and guile fell away and understanding replaced them. Each heard, rather than saw impressions of the Vezarin, and felt a sense of vast comprehension that encompassed galaxies.

While almost everyone here had long felt or wished to believe that other life existed in the universe, and had more than once wondered if aliens were part of the scene here on Earth, doubt assailed them in the face of firm assertions about contact having been made.

With his telepathic contact delivering calm and understanding at such a deep emotional level, however, their doubts evaporated, like shimmering heat haze on a highway.

After gneral realization of the true situation jelled, awareness of the potential of any alien expertise that lay behind modern human technology caused a new sense of panic in some that was more extreme than before. The quicker thinkers took only moments to realize the peril they could be facing. Technology that remained hidden might be superior to anything currently known.

Such fears certainly lent weight to the desirability of accepting the Vezarin and their aid with open arms. It could make all the difference in doing battle with an unknown and potentially lethal adversary.

“Do these astral friends of yours have the means to detect our foes?” Alastair asked.

Reimas shrugged.

“Not yet, but they have hunted them elsewhere. They didn’t even know about our world until recently. In essence, however, it doesn’t matter whether our foes are aliens or not. We could just as easily die without them.

“The world order has to be changed. The quantum leap is that we should move beyond the why towards the how. It doesn’t matter who they are or what they are. It only matters that we overcome the problems we attribute to them and that we keep our eyes open for them along the way.

“We need to prove that progress is more than just another burning rubbish dump. Then, and only then, will much of the camouflage for evil be blown, and it will become more obvious to us who is really who.”

“That’s all very well,” said Arabella, flicking back her long auburn hair provocatively, “but if no one’s been able to locate any of these malevolent aliens yet, isn’t it possible that there might be some even amongst us?”

The stunned silence with which that statement was received was testimony to how relevant it was, and even after people dispersed and went about their business, it left them thinking deeply.