Hamar nevertheless wasn’t allowed to skip the classes that also majored on projecting the sexual energies, since most majic lords based their power on passion to some degree, either sexual or hate-based, and it was felt he must be aware what other practices ordinary people were locked into; it was necessary, if he was to govern all academics in future, to know what mindless perversions captivated villagers as being the ultimate, and what folk fertility majic with its spells and potions and lotions other majic-doers used for ruling aboveground.
He recited with boredom the Ashtarte temple rites for ecstatic communion, reluctantly attended the bare-skinned wiccan Lunar ceremonies where every other practitioner lusted toward him; he abstained from the Egyptian self-abuse that fuelled Egyptian majicks, – whatever was ordinarily done to work up these forces and harness them.
None of it aroused him, no lewd practices held any further promise. Irritatingly the adepts who’d gone under to their sexual drives the most and had crossed to perform in the role of the other sex were peculiarly drawn to his exalted masculinity as if having him would be their chance for connection to the highest maleness they could ever know. For awhile they kept trying charms and allures on him and arguing for their ways. Every time, his dead stare stopped them flat, his look of true knowing of them threw them back.
As the last try against him, his Red Warlock tutor worked all night on building a succubus, – a female statue made of clay and blood which seduced men when it came to life, the power of life known to reside in the blood, and a sex demon able to move into the form to take it over. (The man positioned it at the door to his class, – all the man’s senior students waiting for Hamar as well – but when Hamar came through the door and saw the thing begin to undulate, he kicked it in half!)
Then he coolly eye-balled the Witchcraft teacher, and left.
A most major upgrade. Hamar was not at one with any of them any more, and was not the youth they’d once known him to be.
Only drills and protocols were left to be learned in the latter years of his teens, and the months upon months seemed to be made of them. He now outdid the highest ‘high-minded’ in projecting life-force as they studied the yogas, – Hatha Yoga, Jnana Yoga, Rajah Yoga, even Gita’s Tantric Yoga; as everyone sat to concentrate will and mind-force and sensuality up through their bodies, he stayed dormant in his seat. They were intent on systematically snaking the life force into all their organs, enhancing their physical functions for awhile, and then tried to carry their entire consciousness up and out through their foreheads for the highest communing of all. But they couldn’t, with his leaden presence in their midst. No school was left above him.
And so, as a teenager Hamar finally left all such arts behind, his power not to be from any of the sensual, body-based kind. He was beyond all of it. He knew himself being positioned for a greater communion altogether.
And to RULE!
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