Mastema

A Brotherhood Story

By Mark Meier

Part 4

Across the agora the Brother who had inhabited the man earlier scowled at us.

Chamos gave a slight nod in that Brother’s direction. “Maybe Baraqijal. He’s been a disappointment to many in the Brotherhood.”

“What would happen to him if he’s demoted?”

“He’d never remember being a full Brother.” Chamos gave Baraqijal a reassuring smile.

The lesser full Brother looked relieved.

I vowed to remember Chamos could lie, even to Brothers, and wondered what he wasn’t willin’ to have me know.

“Your client is leaving.” Chamos pointed toward where Philip was leading Simon out of the agora. “Better stay with him or you’ll never get him back.”

Weeks passed, and I noticed Baraqijal lingerin’ at the edge of my sight more often. Chamos, of course, watched both of us.

Simon never left Philip’s side. Wherever the two of ‘em were, the non-Brothers were with ‘em. Many times when Philip spoke I couldn’t hear the words, and the man’s guards seemed to know that. They smirked whenever it happened.

My “client,” accordin’ to Chamos, soaked up whatever Philip spoke. I did my best to block Simon’s understandin’. I’d grown to hate both him and Philip. The non-Brothers, too.

Hate was new to me. For the decades I’d been a senior imp I’d focused on havin’ fun, but now all I wanted was to destroy those two humans and spoil what those non-Brothers had planned.

Then two other men joined Philip. They were called Peter and John, and each had two non-Brothers with ‘em.

“They’re trouble.” Chamos hissed his displeasure. “You won’t be able to withstand all of them.”

Again I knew he weren’t talkin’about the humans, but all six non-Brothers. The three humans, I’d heard, referred to themselves as “apostles,” whatever that meant. To be honest, whenever the word was said I heard it through a background of buzzin’, like a thousand bees swarmed around my head.

As if I had a head. I’d been relating to humans for so long it was hard not to think of myself as shaped like ‘em. The reality was far different.

Simon followed the three humans wherever they went. Together the four were nearly inseparable. Until the day when Peter touched one of the human trash followin’ ‘em.

A surge of power pushed me away from my human. The searin’ agony of that power was unbelievable. When I recovered, that follower of Peter glowed like the non-Brothers already there.

One of ‘em turned toward me. “A mere taste, imp.”

I didn’t know what he meant. If Chamos were near I’d ask about it, but I couldn’t find him.

Maybe I could keep Simon from gettin’ touched that way. I prompted a thought.

With wide eyes, Simon said, “Peter! That’s awesome! Can you teach me to do that?”

Peter and John exchanged a mysterious glance. I could tell Simon hadn’t made himself one of ‘em yet. I pushed another thought into Simon’s mind.

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but the non-Brothers reached out to stifle the man’s words. They failed. “I’ll pay anything – anything at all.”

The non-Brothers frowned.

Peter said, “This is not a power to be taught or bought. Your money will die with you. If you turn away from this kind of thought you may yet live, but right now all I see is doom and destruction hovering around you.” The man looked directly at me.

Simon must have realized his error. “Pray for me.”

Again the bees buzzed. What was that word “pray?”

The two newcomers left the next day, and Chamos returned to me.

“You’ve done exceptionally well, imp.”

“I don’t see how.” I was depressed. Simon still followed Philip. I hadn’t pulled him away.

“You have not failed.” Chamos smiled, but it was the feral smile of a predator. “You’ve succeeded. Now Simon is in a position to corrupt and deflect our enemy’s plan.”

Enemy? Was that the non-Brothers? Who were they? I had so many questions, but didn’t know how to ask.

“What’s goin’ on here, Chamos?”

“An imp can’t know. A full Brother can. I give that to you now, along with the name of Mastema.”

The world around me suddenly grew sharper than ever. Understanding blossomed, and I knew so much more than before. The change was akin to the difference between junior imp and senior. With that came awareness of the Brotherhood’s eventual fate. No wonder full Brothers were so serious.

The hatred I’d felt toward Philip, Peter, and John exploded.

Chamos waved toward an imp, formerly known as Baraqijal. “You. Follow Simon, and see to it he never progresses in faith.”

The imp nodded, then vanished with a POP!

Then Chamos pointed toward me. “Now you know what’s been happening. I have a project for you in Ephesus.”

If you appreciate this story, please consider supporting the author's ability to write more stories by purchasing The Brotherhood, available in print and on Kindle. Any shares to social media would also be appreciated. The Wizards of Ephesus is coming.

Mastema

A Brotherhood Story

By Mark Meier

Part 3

I followed Simon as he followed the new guy. I noticed the thousands of imps keepin’ their distance. They’d clustered in a ring about two hundred paces from the non-Brothers, whisperin’ to people.

Chamos then seemed to solidify and interact personally with the humans. Imps couldn’t do that, and I got jealous. My limits were now so obvious it hurt. I couldn’t affect livin’ things all that much, and I couldn’t actually speak to Simon. All I could do was whisper and hope he understood.

I could tell Simon thought about Philip. Since I’d been distracted I didn’t know directly, but from what I could sense the stranger had spoken of a powerful being able to work wonders.

That’s exactly what I’d promised Simon, but somehow he wanted more than what I’d given him. I seethed. Simon was doin’ exactly what he’d wanted for years – taking what he wanted, amazin’ people with his words, and even his father had come to listen a few times. Now this Philip was goin’ to pull him away from me?

I’d been yankin’ folks out of Simone’s way, but then I was so mad I pulled on a man’s tunic and it tore from his body. I stood there lookin’ at it. Others walkin’ by only saw the cloth hangin’ in thin air. They laughed at the half-naked man with his clothin’ floatin’ next to him.

Simon’s surprise didn’t last long. He waved the cloth toward the ground and I let it drop.

“See what I can do?” Simon glared at the man in front of him. “Stay out of my way.”

My wrath faded. Simon was mine again.

Then he said to himself, “Philip will teach me to do even more.”

Hate rose in me. I’d never been that mad before. In a way it scared me, but mostly it felt good. I vowed to destroy Simon just for the fun of it. I didn’t like bein’ crossed by a human.

The next day Philip was in the agora again. Crowds gathered, and the man and his attendants cured diseases, healed wounds, and spoke wisdom.

Chamos had told me to stay away, but since Simon was mine I could draw strength from him and be close by. Eventually I noticed a man bein’ forced toward Philip. He had the signs – obvious to Brothers – of bein’ inhabited. The full Brother inside him had the man convulsin’ and fightin’ every step of the way.

As the man was thrown at Philip’s feet, the Brother inside him spat and snarled. “I know you, Philip. The time hasn’t arrived yet, so you can do nothing to me.” He laughed like a crazy man.

Philip’s face fell. “No, it’s not that time. But I can do some things.”

What he said next I couldn’t hear, though Philip spoke loud. For some reason the words wouldn’t stick in my mind. But the next moment the Brother fell away.

When that Brother looked at me he snarled in hatred. “What are you looking at, imp?” The Brother shook himself and vanished into thin air with a POP!

Then the man with no Brother inside him blinked like he was confused. He dropped to his knees and said, “Thank you, Philip. You’ve saved my life. Thanks be to –”

Again his next words were gibberish to me.

Simon stepped forward, and I could see his lust for that kind of power. I did my best to build that up.

“Philip, my name is Simon. How might I gain this ability?”

The people around us in the agora gasped. They’d been in awe of Simon for years. He’d struck down people, blasted buildings, even ended droughts. Now he was askin’ Philip how to do what he’d done to my Brother.

A familiar voice spoke from behind me. “You’re not a Brother, imp.”

“No, but I’m a one of the Brotherhood.” I turned to look at Chamos, who was directin’ a pair of women to entice a man, distractin’ him from Philip.

“I told you to avoid those three.”

One women touched the man, and he allowed himself to be drawn away. Chamos followed, sneerin’ at me over his shoulder. The women parroted exactly what Chamos said.

My attention turned back to Simon, who was gettin’ dunked in a watering trough. Disgustin’. Animals drank from that water, leavin’ trails of drool and slime behind. Why would anyone do that?

I felt my influence on Simon weaken, though not vanish. Over the next few weeks I did my best to strengthen my bond with him – to a certain degree of success.

Whenever Simon tried to emulate Philip, I’d interfere. A woman with a crippled left arm approached. Philip gestured for Simon to perform a healin’.

Simon reached out and grabbed the arm, and I was able to swat away the non-Brothers. Then I drove invisible knives into the woman’s arm, opening her flesh. She bled profusely.

The woman screamed and pulled away.

“Leave us, imp!” one of Philips attendants commanded.

Though I felt an urge to follow the woman as she ran off, I drew more strength from Simon. “No. He is mine, and I will stay.”

That non-Brother whispered to Philip. Again I couldn’t make out the words.

Philip said to Simon, “You have an evil influence in your life, brother. That is why you couldn’t heal that woman. You must throw off all other concerns except for,” and the rest was gibberish.

Philip and his non-Brothers went back to healin’ those in the crowd.

I noticed Chamos watchin’ me, so I asked, “What’s goin’ on here?”

“Something you’re not equipped for,” he said. “However, I’m impressed an imp could stand up to those two.” He nodded toward Philip and Simon.

For some reason I knew he didn’t mean the humans, but rather the two shiny folk who weren’t Brothers. “Who are they?”

Chamos paused for a moment. “If I say who they are, you wouldn’t be able to hear the words. You’re an imp, not a full Brother.”

“Could I be made a full Brother?”

“Perhaps.” He looked toward the crowd. “Another Brother would have to be demoted to imp for that to happen, though.”

If you appreciate this story, please consider supporting the author's ability to write more stories by purchasing The Brotherhood, available in print and on Kindle. Any shares to social media would also be appreciated. The next section of Mastema will be posted next week.

Mastema

A Brotherhood Story

By Mark Meier

Part 2

By the end of the year people fell at Simon’s feet when he walked in the agora. I’d whisper advice to him, and the advocates discussin’ cases at the city gate listened to what he said. Runners in the annual games asked for a word from him, then won their races – thanks to me givin’ them a push. Or maybe it was holdin’ others back. Gamblers heeded Simon when he said which horse would win at the hippodrome. Other horses suddenly strained a muscle or stumbled.

More than that, Simon could make stuff appear from nothin’ and other things vanish. Folks paid just to watch him do tricks.

He even healed some injuries.

Those were hard to arrange. I had to ask junior imps to hold bones or skin together for weeks on end. Some imps were willin’, others not so much.

A rich man once asked Simon to destroy a rival. While that man watched, Simon pointed into the clear blue sky and a stroke of lightin’ blasted the rival’s townhouse. The man who owned the house was so terrified he left Samaria and was never heard from again.

Then a few years later Phillip came along.

***

Simon was at the city gate, talkin’ about someone stealin’ a cucumber. One man said, “Thing is, the farmer isn’t getting the cucumber back. The beggar ate it.”

One of the advocates, named Barkan, said, “That beggar still took something of value from the farmer.”

The other, Aldo, argued, “It fell from the wagon and the farmer kept going. The beggar only ate something that fell in the street.”

I whispered to Simon. “Beggars can’t pay anyway. Besides, farmers is expected to give to the poor.”

Simon walked to the center of the fray. “Where does anyone imagine a beggar will find money to pay for a cucumber?”

Folks in the crowd nodded. They heard wisdom in Simon’s words, like so many other times.

The young man spoke again. “The only way to pay the farmer is to let the beggar beg. When he gets a bit of coin, he could then pay the farmer.”

A voice spoke from the back of the crowd. “Why not have the beggar work for the farmer? He’ll earn the price of the cucumber, and perhaps keep working for room and board. The farmer gets labor, the beggar gets a job. Both come out ahead.”

I flew toward the man to close his mouth, but there were two massive individuals beside him. They were like Brothers, but not. They held up their hands and I stopped in mid air.

“You are not permitted to touch this man,” the bigger one said. On the outside he looked like any human man, though human eyes wouldn’t see him at all. If physical height meant anythin’ with Brothers and these beings, he stood just over six feet tall and had long, dark brown hair. He was kinda hard to look at, all shiny and bright.

“Who are you?” I asked.

The smaller of the two waved his hand and I tumbled backward through the crowd. People meant nothin’ to my kind, and I rolled right through ‘em before comin’ to a stop at Simon’s feet.

I’d been so distracted by the not-Brothers that I’d lost track of what was happenin’.

Simon walked up and squared off with the man between those two shining folks. “Philip of Jerusalem,” Simon said, repeatin’ the introduction. “I’ve never heard of you. What are you doing here?”

“Spreading the good news,” Philip said.

The word he used was the same one a messenger from a battle front would use to tell folks of a great victory. I wondered who had won a battle that such an man would be tellin’ about. He wasn’t built like a messenger. Those were picked ‘cuz they could run all day, and Philip didn’t look like he could run like a boy could.

“The gospel of Christ,” he continued.

At that word I was again thrown to the ground. The bright non-Brothers broke into a song I couldn’t understand. The words made no sense, and they danced in joy.

I was pulled to my feet by a full Brother, who hissed, “What are you doing here? Get away from those two!”

“I’m having fun with Simon, and you can’t stop me.” While partly true, this Brother had the authority to do anything to me. I could continue doing whatever I wanted, but any full Brother of second rank or higher could demote me to a junior imp with no self identity. Those didn’t have enough free will to do much beyond following orders.

“You may continue with Simon,” he said, “but not in the presence of Philip or his attendants. You will avoid them at all costs.”

“What’s your name?”

The Brother stood tall – nearly seven feet from head to toe. “I am Chamos, and you will heed my words, imp.”

Those words bounced around in me as if echoing. From thirty feet away the two non-Brothers looked at Chamos and smirked. They weren’t in the least affected by my Brother.

That should have told me everythin’, but I couldn’t understand what it meant.

Chamos, a fourth or fifth level Brother, was the only other Brother in the agora. Surprise left me standin’ there as Philip and his escorts walked out.

If you appreciate this story, please consider supporting the author's ability to write more stories by purchasing The Brotherhood, available in print and on Kindle. Any shares to social media would also be appreciated. The next section of Mastema will be posted next week.