Melmokh banned private prayer, asking instead for the hyenas to come directly into the presence of their God and speak their mind. He appeared on Ul Khalil rock each night at high moon in the form of a beautiful female hyena, speaking softly and with an outward kindness that hid the blasphemous, dark purpose of his plans.
Though many were convinced that God was among them, others were not so easily swayed. Ber and a lot of the intellectuals saw something strange with the new doctrines of the false Roh'kash. They relied on their faith instead of what their eyes told them, and in this regard they could peer through chinks in the armor of Melmokh.
This small group held a secret prayer vigil each night while the others were paying homage to the demon. Once when Ber was lying on his back in the depths of prayer, he called upon Roh’kash in tones that melted the hearts of those who heard him as perspiration broke on him and his fur matted.
“Almighty mother whose gentleness is like the sunrise, your broken remnant looks to you for deliverance. Is there no word for us? Is there no truth that we must be subject to the lies of traitors and blasphemers? My life for a word. My life for one word of truth to leave behind with these poor souls that love you!”
There was a smell of jasmine, and a soft golden light. To Ber’s surprise, the lithe, graceful form of a beautiful white lioness emerged. A deep purr emanated from her as she regarded him benevolently, her tail stirring restlessly as she spoke.
“Ber, my child, do not listen to the lies of the demon Melmokh who claims to be God. The true God has heard your prayers. There will be night before the dawn, but even in the night there are stars that shine. Be brave, my child.”
The lioness quickly kissed Ber on the cheek, then dematerialized as quickly as she came.
Ber got up, rubbed his cheek with a paw, than said, “Quick, hide! We are not safe here!”
The dissenters hurried away to the caves, and none too soon, for a fierce female hyena came hurtling in. She nosed about quickly, trying to smell the tracks and identify who was there, but the only scent to be had was that of jasmine. “Damn you, Minshasa! Stay out of here! This is MY land! I was invited here! This is MINE and you can’t have it back!”
For a brief moment, the false Roh’kash rippled and changed, becoming a furious, seething male. Looking around with eyes shining red as coals, Melmokh peered into the surrounding grass and rocks looking for those who dared discover his secret. But the lioness had sent a brisk wind that swept the tracks away without a trace. “Come back, and I’ll kill you!” he said in a voice that tore at the air, making the very stones in the earth tremble and vibrate with its guttural fury. “One on one, you meddlesome witch! See if you’re so strong when it’s just you and me!!”
Ber and his intellectuals and the gentle-minded formed a sort of clan within a clan, which got the informal name of The Omlakhs, "the different ones." They prayed to Roh’kash and to the white lioness in a different place each night, sang the ancient hymns and worked to keep the spirit of their faith alive in the descending spiritual darkness.
The temptation to follow a visible god who worked miracles was too strong for most of them. They believed whatever the false Roh’kash told them, losing the purity of their faith to the new doctrines of Melmokh, doctrines that sentenced his enemies to a horrible death. Ber and his group continued to worship as their heart told them, holding to the ideals of fairness and freedom that underpinned the old faith and gave it true meaning. Eventually brothers in the same family split over this issue. The Omlakhs kept strict secrecy, terrified of what would happen if someone betrayed them.
While not a terrorist organization, under the leadership of Ber, the Omlakhs did try in subtle ways to subvert the will of the Makei. And for this they ended up becoming persecuted.
Finally one of their number was found out. A female named Belvalen was trapped and condemned by the false Roh’kash to be tortured to death. For it was Melmokh’s wish to snare other Omlakhs.
Melmokh made it a test of loyalty that each member of the clan bite her hard enough to draw blood and make her scream. Some of the hyenas were loyal to the false Roh’kash, but they felt cold shudders to pierce the hide of the young female. Melmokh, sensing this, kissed each of the hyenas that bit her.
Den’beer was coming up in the line. He shuddered, knowing that he could not hurt her. Of course he knew that he would be given away, and not only die but be used to trap other Omlakhs who would have to torture HIM. He thought of a desperate plan in that moment. He knew that the only hope for his people was something that Melmokh did not understand--an act of profound love.
Belvalen was crouched in the niche where she had been held prisoner, the forbidding rock walls preventing her escape. She cringed as a blast of steam belched from the thermal vent beside her, bathing her in its gusty breath and making her break out in a sweat which was not entirely due to the heat. She shook with the pain of the wounds that had been inflicted on her body, her blood running down her sides in fine streams to pool near the lip of the cauldron next to her, bubbling and hissing as it emitted a hot coppery odor. Her limbs trembled from fear and the loss of blood, and she prayed that the pain would end soon.
Her heart sank as the next hyena in line stepped forward. Skulk came up and without hesitation inflicted a severe bite to her flank that made her shriek with agony. Her cry of pain shook Den’beer to the core. “Enough!” he thought. “It ends here!”
Now all eyes were on Den’beer. Mortally wounded but still terrified, Belvalen looked at him pleadingly. He smiled sweetly at her. “I love you, Belvalen! Let us greet the true God together!”
Relief flooded her face, and she smiled back. “Yes! Come to me!”
Before anyone could stop him, he ran to her, ramming into her and bearing her with him into the thermal vent, disappearing into the depths without a sound.
In that brief moment, Shimbekh, who could not bear to look at the vent, turned away, her gaze coming to rest on the face of the one she worshipped. Her blood froze as she saw the face of Roh’kash horribly distorted in rage, the features actually running as though seen through a haze of rain, the warm amber eyes turned to crimson points of fire that blazed with wrath. Seconds later, the Mother of All’s face returned to normal, and she bowed her head in sadness. “Such is the fate of all those who would not tread the path of righteousness,” she intoned sadly. “Let us pray for their souls.”
Shimbekh trembled as she bowed her head along with the others. How could the true God possess any evil qualities?? She had heard some disturbing rumors flitting about the clan, and some of the feelings she picked up from the hyenas around her did nothing to ease her disquiet. She resolved to speak with Ber at mid moon and find out just what was going on in her troubled family. Putting the thought aside, she turned inwards as the droning monotone of the prayer continued around her. Unbidden, the image of Roh’kash sprang to mind again, her normally beatific features now grossly twisted in a mask of hate.
She suddenly found that the soul she was praying for was her own.