Allow me to present Act II of the three-act story "The Theft of Heaven". You can read Act I here. Act III will be posted next Friday, May 9.
"The Theft of Heaven"
(C) 2008 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author(s) and/or artist(s).
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ACT II: A NEW SADNESS ENTERS THE WORLD
BLACK TENTACLE: KALAVATA CHASES ETAIN; THE NIGHT IS BORN; BLACK TENTACLE SEARCHES FOR IMMORTALITY
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CHAPTER 1
When next the misty hands of The Cosmos returned to the Mountain That Lived in the Sky, Taliesin had changed. Its great orchards had slowed in blossoming. Apple trees refused to bear fruit but once a year. The cherry blossom branches had grown long, bending, drooping with the weight of loss towards the land far below, becoming weeping cherries. The wild grasses of the fields would grow dark, fading in color and wilting before rising again. Without a caretaker for Taliesin, the plants that did grow did so with incredible zeal. Taliesin became shaggy, overgrown and unwanted.
The hand of The Cosmos swirled about Taliesin for three days and three nights until the Mountain That Lived in the Sky overflowed with moisture, creating three massive waterfalls and thirteen smaller ones, causing immense rains and the first great flood of the world below. Since then, as storms rage in the world below it is at the command of The Cosmos to remind all creatures as lightning strikes and kills, so too Momoki fell from Taliesin and died.
The small patch of mist lowered over Taliesin, breaking into three smaller clouds. So concentrated was the effort of The Cosmos to correct what had happened the small clouds shaped, taking form as three birds. The first became Etain, The Swan of White. She gracefully floated, flapping her wings lightly and landing upon the waters of Twila’s Pond, the pond Twila the Turtle had made with her sorrowful tears when Momoki the Marmoset had fallen from Taliesin.
The second cloud stayed under Taliesin, shaping into Kalavata, The Black Swan of Darkness, his feathers stained by the shadowy underbelly. Kalavata would fly under Taliesin daily, but would always come to visit Etain in Twila’s Pond.
The third cloud, the smallest of the three, became a mourning dove nestled on the tallest peak of Taliesin. Her name was Aglina and her call reminded all of the new sadness brought into the world by Momoki’s fall, a sadness unlike Xiao-tep’s or Twila’s, which was sadness of loss. Rather, it was the sadness of disappointment and duties left unfulfilled.
Each day Kalavata would feel the sadness as he would fly under Taliesin. He spoke of it to Etain. “Why is it I feel so sad? At times it would make me ill?”
“You are representative of the Darkness of life and desire,” Etain explained. “Desire can pull one from the path The Cosmos has set before them.”
“But why can I not find and fulfill my own path?”
“That is the task of all creatures: to find and fulfill their path. The Cosmos merely set them before all of us.”
It was all too much for Kalatava. He shook his head in disagreement. “It is not right.”
Etain pushed forwards through Twila’s Pond with her feet, drawing nearer to Kalavata. “That is the Darkness in you speaking and it is your path to speak of it,” she accepted. She lowered her head, gently nuzzling his neck until he was calmed.
“Thank you,” Kalavata said.
On went this exchange for days until it became routine. Kalavata would question. Etain would soothe. They became good friends and would watch the sun together, as Momoki and Gogi had once, chatting and laughing the time away while, high above them, Aglina would call out her song of sadness.
As Kalavata flew beneath Taliesin one day he heard an odd howling sound. Looking for its source he saw the ants and termites that lived on the bottom of Taliesin, unafraid of falling. The termites were busily chewing through a root of a great tree that grew on the topside of the floating mountain. As the wind passed over the holes the termites had made in the root, it made the howling sound.
“What a beautiful sound!” Kalavata cheered. “Termites, may I have this root when you have hollowed it out?” It was agreed to, the little insects even finishing the root with intricate designs of swans, granting the root to Kalavata as a gifted didgeridoo.
Kalavata returned to Twila’s Pond with the instrument and played it for Etain. So beautiful was the music that, as Kalavata played it, butterflies came to life from its end and fluttered, scattering all over Taliesin and the world below. Etain was overjoyed, laughing with delight. Kalavata then gave the didgeridoo to Etain. “Thank you,” said Etain.
One of the butterflies created by the didgeridoo, a Birdwing called Zingtai, made her home by the pond’s edge where she watched Etain and Kalavata each day. When first she saw Kalavata, she said to herself, “My! Why a wonderful creature! His beauty is unsurpassed! He has the crisp darks of a butterfly, without any color to interrupt it!” Zingtai’s own wings were black with sparkling emerald greens dominating sparse blues and reds along the edge of each of her wings.
The three became fast friends. Zingtai and Etain would often visit one another throughout the day as Kalavata flew below Taliesin. When he returned the three would picnic at the pond’s edge.
Once, while Kalavata was flying below Taliesin, Zingtai confessed to Etain, “I am in love with Kalavata.”
“That is most precious! Does he know?”
Zingtai shook her head. “No. I am unsure how to tell him. I would think I should tell him when we are alone, but we are never alone.”
Etain nodded. “Perhaps tonight I will excuse myself and swim to the other side of the pond, or fly off to visit Aglina atop the mountain.”
“Would you, please?” Zingtai asked excitedly.
“I would,” Etain smiled.
Kalavata returned and was soothed by Etain. Kalavata then looked up and said, “Etain, I love you.”
Etain was shocked more by the timing of the expression than the expression itself. Zingtai stood nearby and heard his words.
“No, no!” Etain cried out. Unknowing what to do, she denied his love, “You do not truly love me!”
“What? You do not have to love me in return, but to question my love is dastardly.” Kalavata’s feelings were so strong that the Darkness within him stirred into anger. He became immediately displeased with Etain, though he loved her.
“Why do you refuse my love?” Kalavata demanded.
“I fear it is not true love,” Etain explained, looking to Zingtai who was now flying away, her face staining with tears.
“But it is!” he raged. He became so angry that Etain backed away. “Why do you seek to get away from me?”
Etain took flight, saying, “You are scaring me!”
Kalavata took flight after her.
Etain grew larger and larger in the hope she could fly faster and farther than Kalavata, hoping to escape his anger and lust. Her wingspan grew from one horizon to another. But Kalavata did the same. He grew larger than the world itself and chased after Etain. Forever they chased, causing the world to grow at first bright, then dark, and creating the cycle of day and night. Mortal sages below began telling of how the cycle was a reminder from The Cosmos that Darkness flows everywhere, even within creatures.
Zingtai cried for eight cycles of the two swans’ flight. Then she decided, “It is not the fault of Etain or Kalavata that he loves her and not me. It is also not my fault that I love him and he does not love me. I wish only happiness. I will remain friends with them.” Zingtai decided then she should remain nearest to Kalavata.
Zingtai took flight, flying after the two swans. She too grew to incredible size in the hope of keeping up with them. She flew under Kalavata, speaking with him as he chased Etain, content with enjoying his company. Her great silky blacks matched those of Kalavata's feathers so that all that could be seen of her were the colors at the tips of her wings, which had became enormous jewels sparkling brightly in the night sky, becoming the stars.
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CHAPTER 2
In a small province in a small country in a small region of the world was born a boy. His family, of meager means, was happy all the while he was in his mother’s belly and they eagerly awaited his birth. He was born dark-skinned, like his people. He came into the world earlier than expected. His breathing was heavy, rasping, and ceased after his first few minutes of life. The family cried in agony, but soon the child was breathing once more and the family filled with joy. He was named Zom Loa, the Returner.
His tale of death and resurrection caused his family grief as rumors of possible evil sorcery grew. Life became all too difficult for them. They feared for Zom Loa’s life.
As Kalavata passed overhead, under cover of his Darkness, Zom Loa’s mother and grandmother bundled the child in cloth, set him in a basket with a piece of papyrus upon which the child’s name was written and set the basket adrift in a river spilling into the sea.
Little Zom Loa floated in the basket for days, out into the great sea, without nourishment of the body or soul. He faced death for the second time in his brief life. It was another child, a boy, that found Zom Loa’s basket caught among the reeds and of a bank along the brackish waters of an estuary. The boy, Little Epito, ran to tell his mother and father of what he had found and together they retrieved and cared for Zom Loa.
“He is a gift from the gods,” Little Epito’s father would explain, “he needed a home and we were able to take care of him.”
Little Epito and Zom Loa grew together as brothers. Zom Loa’s origins were never hidden from him. “You came from the sea,” he would be told, “steered by the hands of the gods.”
From a young age Zom Loa had an interest in the gods and a touch of curiosity for dark mysteries. He read every text that every traveler would loan him about the gods. As a gift for his ninth birthday, his aunt gave him a small wooden statue of a horned god, its mouth open wide. “I know not which god this is,” she said, “but the man who sold it to me said he was once quite powerful and would watch over the one that keeps this statue.”
Zom Loa would spend every night, as his brother Little Epito would prepare himself for the evening’s rest, staring at the statue with wonder.
“Does it ever speak to you?” Little Epito would ask.
Zom Loa would shake his head. “No. I wish he would.”
Zom Loa would imagine grand adventures for the god statue. He determined that the horned god must have been a devourer of some kind, perhaps an eater of souls, thus explaining his mouth agape. He felt a connection with the horned god for, though he did not know, he had once briefly died and his soul had almost been devoured.
As the boys grew, their parents passed. On the occasion of their passing, Zom Loa bent before the horned statue, wondering if the god was at that moment eating the souls of his adoptive parents.
Little Epito, now not so little, challenged him. “Why do you sit at this moment staring at that ugly thing? Our parents have died.”
Zom Loa shook his head. “I do not know. I do not know why I sit watching this statue. He is as a friend and in times of sadness it would seem proper to seek out friendship.”
“It is not a statue. It is no god. It never was,” said Little Epito. “It is some trinket our aunt paid too much for. She made up the tales she told about it to intrigue a stupid boy. It is a child’s toy!”
This enraged Zom Loa at first, but then he felt some truth in Little Epito’s words. “You are right,” he said. “I am now a man, not a child. My parents have passed. It is time to rid myself of this toy.” Zom Loa picked up the statue, carried it to a field and buried it there. Little Epito followed and watched him. They stood together after the horned god had been buried and watched as the sky turned deep red, dark purple, blue and at last black as Kalavata flew overhead. One by one the starry colors of Zingtai’s wings washed over them, twinkling, winking down at them. The sky flowed with wondrous movement as they stared, contemplating their mortality and loss.
“Why do we die?” Zom Loa asked.
Little Epito shook his head, unknowing. “I wish we did not have to.”
Little Epito left his homeland, as did Zom Loa. They parted peacefully with a brothers’ embrace.
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CHAPTER 3
Years passed and word came to Zom Loa that his brother had been killed by a foreign disease. Zom Loa wept as he had wept for his parents. He thought of his toy buried in the field he had once worshiped as an idol. He wondered again at the mortality of some creatures.
Though Zom Loa had left his toy and childhood behind, he could not shrug off the thirst for knowledge of the gods. He soon became well acquainted with many tales and found a position as Court Storyteller for a king. Zom Loa would entertain the king, or tuck in the king’s children, or perform for grand audiences with his tales of the gods while quietly seeking tales of immortality.
Zom Loa grew old, wise and content in his position. His mustache grew long at the corners of his mouth, hanging down almost to his chest. His voice took on the creak of a door’s hinge never greased. His hair turned from black to peppery gray. People came from all over to speak with him and watch the spectacle of his tales as much as they came to visit with the king.
A prince from a far off land came for an extended visit. Zom Loa prepared himself for an exceptional tale. He laid out his best silk robe. It appeared black at first, but as he moved and when the light caught the robe just right, the robe glistened deep blues. He wore a headdress like a fez with a fan partially closed on top, all black with the exception of a silver buckle in the shape of a swirling snake at the front. He wore black shoes. In his mind he prepared his favorite tale, a tale he reserved for the most special occasions.
The visiting prince, a teller of tales in his own regard, applauded loudly as Zom Loa’s tale of an immortal koi fish and his friends came to an end. “An incredible performance!” cried the prince. “Your wealth,” he told his host, “reflects in the court that you keep.”
The king thanked the prince for the kindly compliment.
After the night’s reverie, the prince approached Zom Loa and spent the rest of the night outside and under the stars regaling Zom Loa with tales of his own from his land. Zom Loa listened attentively, perfecting in his mind how he would repeat and perform the tales later on other occasions for other people.
A break came in their conversation. They sat quietly reflecting upon the stars and the last tale told. “It would seem,” said the prince, “Zingtai’s colors grow brighter and more beautiful each night.”
Zom Loa nodded, “She is a most beautiful creature.”
“Then you know of Zingtai’s love for Kalavata?”
“There are not many who do not know the tale of Etain, Kalavata and Zingtai.”
The prince stared. “They say a single jewel from Zingtai’s wings can be larger than a man.”
“I can imagine,” said Zom Loa.
“And that if anyone should ever possess one of those jewels, they would become one of the elite Gifted Ones. The would become immortal.”
This jarred Zom Loa. “Indeed?”
“So goes the tale.”
“Where did you hear this tale?” Zom Loa asked.
The prince thought a moment. “Far, far to the north. I believe in the province Angmapour, which has not existed in four or more years since the people overthrew their king. I know not the lay of the land there any more. I’ve not been there since the revolution.”
Zom Loa considered this.
The visiting prince left. Life went on for Zom Loa as usual as the Court Storyteller, but every chance he got he would ask every visitor if they had heard of the Jewels of Zingtai. Too few, however, had ventured north to learn the customs and tales of the people there. Zom Loa grew restless and at last requested of the king to have a year or more to himself to travel and collect more tales, to head north and discover the truth, if any, and origin of this tale.
The king, so pleased with the prestige Zom Loa brought to his court, graciously granted the requested and suggested he pay for Zom Loa’s travels with the kingdom’s coffers.
Zom Loa was set about his way to discover more tales.
As he had suspected, it took a year or more to come to the northern lands. Once there, he was dazzled by the people, their customs and their land. So cold was it there that they forever wore furs and pelts. It snowed nearly every day. Whole communities lived in long huts wherein meetings were held, babies born, and elders spoke of the early days of the world’s creation when few but the select Gifted Ones existed. Zom Loa hired a translator, learned the language himself and listened carefully to all their tales. Most of all, he would don his own furs, which had been gifted as a welcoming present by the benevolent people, and step out into the bitter cold air to watch the great colors dance as ribbons in the night sky as it did no other place in the world.
“I once heard,” he spoke with an elder as they watched the shifting colors above, “that if a mortal were to possess a jewel from Zingtai’s wings he would become an Immortal.”
“Oh, yes,” confirmed the elder. “But you must first get to Zingtai and free it from her wing. No one has ever done it for no mortal could reach so high and no Gifted One would need such a jewel.”
Zom Loa lowered his head. “Have you a tale explaining the reason why mortals die?”
The elder searched his memory. He shook his head. “No, we do not.”
Zom Loa sighed.
Time passed and Zom Loa felt, though he had learned nearly twice the tales he had once known, his trip was unsuccessful. Then while watching the streaking lights again night he thought to ask the elders, “What is farther north? It seems there are more lands.”
The elders grew nervous. One explained, “There are more lands to the north, indeed, but no one ventures there. We are the last people, farthest north. We do not even hunt there.”
“Why not?” asked Zom Loa.
The elder shook his head, “It is much too dangerous. Not only is the weather and land more dangerous, but there are tales of a demon that lives to the north that devours mortals. Perhaps three of the many that have ventured north have returned and yet those three were in agony for the last days of their lives, which were short once they returned.”
The elder’s words stirred the embers of Zom Loa’s mind. The mention of a devouring demon reminded him of his childhood toy. “I must see this northern country,” he said.
The good people denied him, stating they would not show him the way. “It is simply north,” Zom Loa said. “I will go. You have been most hospitable, but I am a visitor and a guest, I am not bound by your laws. I can and will go.”
Zom Loa attempted to hire a guide, but no one would show him the way. He set out alone and on foot, heading north. Days passed, a blizzard came to the lands. The food in his pack did not last. He grew thin with hunger. Yet, through snowy winds and arctic hail he pressed until he came to the side of a small mound of ice. He sat low next to it, using the hill to block some of the wind. There he stayed a long time, wondering if the storm would ever let up. He moved sideways next to the hill and stepped on something soft. A grunting roar of pain cried out. Zom Loa jumped sideways, back the way he came and strained to look more closely. White against white, snow against blubbery flesh he saw a collection of walruses lying snug against the hill, piled next to and on top one another for warmth and protection. One glared at him in pain. Zom Loa knew then he had stepped on the creatures’ flipper. He gave the creature his apologies.
The blizzard weighed on them heavily. Zom Loa looked to the walruses, wondering if any of them, himself or the animals, would survive.
The walrus he had stepped on looked at Zom Loa, waving his flipper as if to tell him to come closer. Zom Loa did so hesitantly, slowly. He crouched lower, closing in on the walrus. The walrus snorted before he lay his head down. Zom Loa curled close to him, their bodies sharing warmth, and covered his face completely with his fur overcoat and hands.
The storm raged. The walrus wiggled closer. Zom Loa bundled up tighter still. He wondered at the strength of will and courage the northern people for living in such harsh lands. His heart raced with thoughts of death. He feared he had come to the northern country seeking immortality only to die. At last, worry and anguish draining him of mettle and the warmth of his blubbery companion soothing him, Zom Loa fell asleep.
The grunt of walruses woke him some time later. Looking up, Zom Loa found the skies still filled with snow, but the storm largely subsided. He looked to the walrus next to him who, in turn, looked at Zom Loa. Their whiskers, both man and creature, were iced over. Their breath came out as steam from their noses. The crisp, cold air hurt Zom Loa’s lungs.
“I will not last here,” he told the walrus.
The walrus turned, waddling away. Zom Loa watched him go some way before the creature stopped with the other walruses.
Curious, Zom Loa got up, his pack empty of supplies but still on his back, and walked in pain towards the group. As he approached them he saw they were inspecting a spot on the ground. Zom Loa bent, looking. There he could see a thin patch of ice. “It must have been open water here before the blizzard. You are seeking a way through the ice?” Zom Loa asked the walrus he had slept near. The walrus stared at him, blinking.
Zom Loa removed his pack, dug through it and produced a small pointed knife. Using it as a pick, he quickly dug a hole through the ice. The walruses grunted and groaned and bellowed their pleasure. As soon as the hole was wide enough the walruses started diving through the hole, one by one. Zom Loa’s walrus was the last to go. He looked at Zom Loa some time before diving in.
Zom Loa stared at the hole for a bit. He looked to the sky. Everything was white. He tried to remember which way was north, but was uncertain of any direction.
The walrus came splashing back through the hole with a mouthful of mollusks. He spit them out at Zom Loa’s feet before diving back into the water.
Zom Loa had helped the walruses. His walrus, in turn, was helping him. He knelt and, using his knife, pried open the mollusks and ate them raw. The walrus returned, gulping down his own fish. Zom Loa looked at him.
“I am Zom Loa. I seek the way north.”
“I am Tarn," spoke the walrus, "I will show you the way, but why do you wish to go north?”
“I seek the demon that devours mortals.”
“Are you ready for your demise?” asked Tarn. “For that creature ushers souls into the lights high above each night.”
Zom Loa shook his head. “I may have known him once, long ago when I was a child.”
Tarn did not understand, but he felt he should help this man who had helped him and his people. “Follow me.”
Together they traveled northward for many days and nights as the snow ceased its torrent.
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CHAPTER 4
When at last they came to a cliff Tarn said, “Can you see the small color against the white snow and ice at the bottom of this cliff?”
Zom Loa looked, “Yes, I do.”
“That is your Devourer. Get on my back, I can travel faster down to that point than you can walking.”
Zom Loa threw his leg over Tarn. The walrus pushed with his flippers, shifting his weight and sliding down the great cliff’s face. Zom Loa, at first frightened by the speed and height, cheered and laughed all the way down. When they reached the bottom, he dismounted Tarn and said, “I did not know danger could be fun.”
Tarn groaned with laughter.
They walked some small way further and came to the patch of color, a giant purple flower growing out of the ice with long vines lying across the land like serpentine tentacles.
“What an odd place for a weed to grow,” remarked Zom Loa.
“It is no weed,” corrected Tarn. “This is your Devourer.”
“This is the demon?”
“I know not if it is a demon, though I understand how some would call it such. It is the only Devourer, however, anywhere here in the north.”
Zom Loa nodded. He cautiously approached the flower, examining it, stepping over its massive vines atop the ice and roots protruding from under the snow. The flower was purple all over except the edges which were pure gold. The flower was closed and stood twice the height of Zom Loa. As he drew closer, the flower opened as though blossoming.
Zom Loa jumped, looked back at Tarn, then approached closer still. “I am Zom Loa,” he said. “Are you the Devouring Flower?”
The flower said nothing. Zom Loa stepped closer and closer, examining the interior of the flower. One of the vines moved, grabbing him about the waist and pulling him into the its center. Zom Loa screamed as the flower closed around him.
Tarn stood and watched, wondering if Zom Loa had met the fate he had desired. He waited.
Inside the flower, the vine letting go and receding back outside, Zom Loa fought to find an opening. The golden pollen within filled his lungs. He gasped for air. He punched and kicked to find a way out. He produced his knife once more and punctured holes in the flower, sending the plant shivering with pain and rage. The holes Zom Loa punched, however, immediately healed over.
“I do not wish death!” cried out Zom Loa.
“If you did not wish death,” spoke the flower from within, “why did you come to me?”
From outside, Tarn heard and saw nothing, though inside a man fought for his life.
“I came because I thought, perhaps, I once knew you. As a child I had a toy, an idol I thought, of a horned creature with a gaping mouth. I felt certain his place in the universe was to devour something, perhaps souls. When I heard the tale of your existence here in the north, I came to discover you and see for myself if you were the same creature.”
The flower was silent for a moment, unmoving. “I am not the creature you seek, though I am the Devourer of Life. I am but one of the many incarnations of Death, however. I do eat souls, as I will eat yours and send you to my belly to glow in the heavens above.”
“I did not come here to die!” Zom Loa screamed.
“Then why did you come to these lands?”
Zom Loa sighed. “I came seeking immortality. I had heard tales I could find it here in the northern country.”
“You hear many tales, mortal.”
“I am a teller of tales. I collect them and, perhaps foolishly, pursue them.”
Again the Devourer was silent a moment. Zom Loa felt tiny, invisible vines picking at his mind. “Stop it!” cried Zom Loa, grabbing at his temples.
“You are quite wise,” said the Devourer. “Your tales are numerous. Your time is yet to come, though that would usually not stop me from my duty of your demise. You seek one of the stars of the night sky, one of the Jewels of Zingtai. You have heard they can bring immortality.” The Devourer then confirmed, “And immortality they can bring.”
Zom Loa was shocked to hear the truth. “Are you certain?”
“Indeed.”
“The elders of the nearest village, however, said no mortal could reach such heights so as to gain possession of one of the jewels.”
“Mostly that is true,” said The Devourer, “However, a mortal in favor of a Gifted One may meet with success.”
The flower opened beneath Zom Loa. He slipped from the purple plant into a field of darkness and quickly moving stars. It seemed to Zom Loa as if he were standing in the night sky. Out of the darkness moved a shadowy creature. It was almost human and two men tall, its head a black skinned cephalopod with webbed tentacles where chin and mouth would be. Its two eyes glowed iridescent red tinged about the edges with purple. Its body was a dull gray mottled about the shoulders with black spots. Its belly was enormous, fat. Its arms were long extending into three long black tentacles. The creature was mobile by a vast number of black tentacles where legs and feet would be on a man.
Zom Loa stepped back in fear as the creature approached. “What are you? A demon?”
“Not a demon,” said the Devourer in a deep gurgling voice, its mouth tentacles moving as it spoke, “but something different entirely. My history extends farther than that of demons, my family older perhaps than the world itself. I am The Devourer of Souls. This is my realm.”
Zom Loa looked around at the starry field he stood in. “Where is this realm?”
“You are in the realm called Latvica where the dead dance and fight forever, never to rest, glowing as ribbons in the night sky.” The Devourer breathed deep. “I can grant you powers beyond your enlightened imagination. But I must ask you: will you give your will over to me? This means I may call upon you at some point in the future and you must obey my command.”
“If in the end I gain the immortality that I seek, I do indeed,” spoke Zom Loa though he feared betrayal. “Why is it you would help a mere mortal?”
The Devourer’s fat belly swelled and relaxed. “Your path is set before you by The Cosmos. If I were to conduct my usual duty and eat your soul now, the world would go on without notice of your existence. Your name would be lost in the history of your feeble people.” The creature gurgled a bit with laughter, “But if I were to help you, you could fulfill your destiny of unleashing a great demon into the world. Your name will never be forgotten and the demon will cause severe balance shifts within all things as it defies the will of The Cosmos. That, dear mortal, would please me and my kin.”
“But my immortality would be assured?”
“I can provide you the opportunity to gain immortality,” said The Devourer. “Whether you succeed is your own doing.”
“Then I will give myself over to you willingly,” answered Zom Loa. “I will not fail by my own regard.”
The Devourer gurgled with deep laughter. “Good, good.”
Zom Loa once more felt invisible tentacles, this time all about his body, inside and out. He looked at himself in horror as his furs were ripped from him until he stood nude. His favorite robe, the silk that showed blue, appeared about his form but now also showed a field of moving stars much like the field of stars he now stood in, giving him the appearance of being a portal onto the night sky. Great black tentacles grew where once his feet and legs were and they smoked as smoldering embers in a campfire. He felt healthier than he had in years.
Zom Loa looked at The Devourer. “Am I immortal?”
The Devourer gurgled out laughter. “So focused is your mind. No, you must steal a Jewel of Zingtai for your immortality, but with your new form your chances of doing so are far greater. Go now, fulfill your role and release the demon. Become the Immortal Black Tentacle! Return when you have the Jewel of Zingtai!”
Zom Loa was inside the purple flower once more, the starry sky and the Devourer gone from his vision. The flower opened not in a plain of ice, but on a field of wild grass. His tentacles lurched out, pulling him away from the flower. The flower closed behind him. He looked all about. Before him stood an incredible, imposing mountain. Behind him was a cliff and, looking down, he discovered the world far below him. Zom Loa was on the Mountain That Lived in the Sky. Zom Loa had been sent by The Devourer to Taliesin.
He turned to look at the mountain once more. Over its peak flew Etain and behind her came Kalavata and the darkness of night. Below Kalavata flew the butterfly Zingtai with her wings twinkling brightly. “If I could climb that peak,” said Zom Loa to himself, “I could perhaps get close enough to grab one of those jewels. I could steal away and become, at last, immortal!”
Zom Loa’s black tentacles whipped out, one after another, stretching and pulling his form toward the mountain.
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Be sure to check back next Friday for the conclusion of "The Theft of Heaven"!
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
"The Theft of Heaven" -- The Universe of Xiao-tep Returns!!!
The universe of Xiao-tep returns! I'm posting this later in the day than I had wanted. Serious electrical storms and a rather long Act I has kept me from posting this until now. I'll have to read over it again one last time later, so please forgive any mistakes. Thanks and enjoy "The Theft of Heaven"!
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"The Theft of Heaven"
(C) 2007 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author(s) and/or artist(s).
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ACT I: MOMOKI THE MARMOSET WATCHES THE WORLD FORMING
PROLOGUE: WHEREIN THE WORLD IS FORMED; MOTHARUS QUESTIONS THE WAY OF THINGS; TWILA IS RESCUED BY MOMOKI AND GOGI; MOMOKI’S FALL
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CHAPTER 1
In the Time of Mist, when the gentle hand of The Cosmos was slowly caressing all things into being, there was a mountain that lived in the sky, the mountain named Taliesin. Upon Taliesin lived Momoki the Marmoset, the mountain’s sole guardian. His fur was gray, soft and flowed liked the wild fields of grass on Taliesin. His tail was ringed with black stripes. While his face was brown, out of each temple grew long splaying tufts of white fur.
Within the angled fields, atop the craggy stones and through the forever bearing apple and cherry blossom orchards did Momoki play. He ate the delicious golden and green apples as he would bask in the sun’s warm rays. He slept in the wide, open fields and tended to the gardens. Each day for Momoki was filled with work, duty, play and contentment.
On one occasion Momoki dug a root from the ground and, using a stone as a tool, carved for himself a long, bent pipe for which to smoke and enjoy the pleasant tobaccos that grew high on Taliesin’s sides. It became habit for Momoki to find himself, after a day’s work and play and his last meal, sitting on the side of the mountain enjoying a bowl full of freshly picked tobacco, warming himself in the sun and reflecting, ruminating upon all the beauty taking shape far below him.
Once, after a long day of gardening, full of supper fruits, Momoki ascended to Taliesin’s highest peak with his pipe and tobacco and had a long, fine, soothing smoke. As he watched the hands of the Cosmos work the world into form he thought, “How nice it would be to visit these new realms The Cosmos are making before me.” He puffed at his root pipe. He watched the misty hand of The Cosmos molding through his thick, rolling smoke.
Rarely did The Cosmos visit Taliesin for they trusted Momoki, but when next there came a small mist to the mountain to gently water the lush gardens and orchards there Momoki cried out, "O Cosmos! My life here is serene, but the lands you make far below are so beautiful. Will ever there be a time I could visit these other lands?"
No answer was given. The light rains merely passed over Momoki and disappeared. He was not surprised nor did Momoki truly expect an answer for, he knew, The Cosmos did not answer to any creature, but rather all creatures must answer to The Cosmos.
Momoki went about his way, tending the gardens and orchards and smoking his pipe and eating the delicious apples, but some of his delight in these activities had been lost. He was not sad, but he was not joyed, either.
Eventually The Cosmos reached an end to their work, though truly their work is never ended, but the world below Taliesin came close to being fully formed and it filled with creatures of every kind, coming alive with activity and movement. Momoki watched it all from his perch, smiling and quietly desiring.
As the world below filled so did Taliesin. Insects of every variety came to feast and play in the gardens and fields with Momoki. Birds filled the skies and perched with him and made their nests high atop the mountain. Momoki once again was overwhelmed with joy and excitement for his tasks and for meeting new friends. He made friends with burrowing bugs, cackling crows, buzzing bees and industrious ants he would stop only to give him a quick "Hello!" before scurrying off to find more things to do, which suited Momoki fine for that's all he wanted. He found the new cricks and cracks, cries and chatterings of a teeming Taliesin combine into a the Sweet Song of Nature. It pleased Momoki to find himself amidst glorious bustlings and, for a time, he forgot his troubles and the world far below.
Momoki's greatest, closest friend was Gogi the Grasshopper who did not enjoying smoking as Momoki did, however he did savor the taste of the fine tobaccos of Taliesin so instead chewed upon their leaves.
Day after day, after their meals were done and work fulfilled, Momoki and Gogi would sit atop Taliesin smoking and chewing, spitting and puffing and chatting the time away.
"How did you come to Taliesin?" asked Momoki.
Gogi was a timid creature for he was a small creature. In his nervous way, wringing his tiny hands as he spoke, he said, "I-in the world far below," he said, "a friend of a cousin of mine once spoke of a tale they'd heard from their friend's uncle or some such, who was a gander I think... yes, yes, I-I think he was a goose."
Momoki looked to the skies, "Which one? Many geese fly by here."
"Oh," said Gogi nervously, for he could not remember the cousin's friend's friend's uncle's species quite, but did not want to fully admit to that, "W-well, maybe it was a goose? Or a bluejay? Or maybe it was a cat. No, no... that would make no sense. They had to have been a bird."
"Go on with your story," Momoki urged with a smile.
"Y-yes, yes. The story. Well, this bird told a tale about the gorgeous gardens of Taliesin. He loved the sight of the gardens so much that he would fly over them all the time."
Momoki looked up as a gaggle of geese flew overhead. "I wonder of one of them his him," he said.
Gogi shrugged, feeling foolish for not having remembered the details. "I-I didn't know them myself," he explained. "I simply heard the tale. I-I guess I was too overwhelmed by the thoughts of Taliesin to care about some of the details. All I know is that he was the uncle of a friend of a friend of a cousin of mine... I-I think." Gogi was now thinking over the details and second-guessing himself.
Momoki saw his friend perplexed and coaxed him to continue his tale, "His tale is what brought you here?"
"It is. Many called the tale of a mountain that lived in the sky preposterous, silly even. But it all sounded so wonderfully pretty to me," Gogi's voice took a romantic tone, "I wanted so badly to see Taliesin with my own eyes. I chased every rumor for two years to discover this mountain's location. When at last I found it, I-I had the problem of trying to reach it. I-I didn't want to fly on the back of a bird for fear the bird would eat m-me."
"Then how did you get here?" asked Momoki.
"I jumped," Gogi answered simply.
Momoki's eyes grew wide with wonder. Smoke from his pipe swirled before his face. He spoke, "how can someone so small jump so high? Not even the mountains of the land far below reach this high. Many of the clouds, even, do not dare this height!"
"It is v-very high," Gogi said. "And I-I tried many, many times before I made it. In fact, on the last jump that brought me here I-I prayed to Parnopius for my safety for I knew if I m-missed Taliesin there would be no surviving such a great fall. I-I don't think any creature could survive such a fall. Even an immortal such as yourself, Momoki."
"I can only imagine," Momoki puffed at his pipe.
Gogi sighed in relief, "But somehow I made it and I was able to grab hold of the underside of Taliesin. I was so afraid I refused to jump the rest of the way to the gardens. I instead walked. It took me three days!"
"That's quite a tale," Momoki said.
"I've all the fear I've ever needed in that jump. I've had all the adventure I can handle in my lifetime."
Together they laughed. They sat together staring at the world far below for a moment. Then Momoki asked, "What is the world below Taliesin like?"
Gogi thought a moment, for once he made it to Taliesin he hadn't thought much about the world below. "Much like Taliesin, I suppose. Both are filled with life. Some of it as beautiful as what's to be found here on Taliesin, too. Thought the view here is greater by far."
Momoki leaned on his elbow and looked at Gogi. "There was a time when the world was not so full."
"Oh?"
Momoki nodded. "In fact, I remember a time when the world barely was."
"Was what?"
"Was. I witnessed its creation by the hands of The Cosmos."
This astounded Gogi. "Have you been here since the beginning?"
Momoki again nodded. "Since the beginning."
Gogi thought on this. "How adventurous your life must have been thus far. W-was it frightening?"
Momoki smiled. "No," he said. "It was actually quite beautiful." Thinking on this, Momoki's heart filled with peace with his station in the universe, though still his mind wandered into wonderment.
The two friends sat in the soft wild grass on the side of the mountain, smoking and chewing, chewing and smoking and telling tales and laughing.
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CHAPTER 2
On went the lives of Momoki and friend Gogi for a long while. So much did Gogi appreciate Momoki's friendship and so much did he love Taliesin, he felt he should mark the day of his first full year living on the floating mountain with a gift to his friend. "But what shall I give him?" he asked himself.
For many days Gogi strained with thought. Then, one day while drinking from a small pond, a tiny worm fell from a cherry blossom nearby and landed squarely on Gogi's back. So scared was Gogi by the sudden impact that he scampered away without looking. Curiosity, however, took hold of him as he turned to look back. There where he was standing was a beautiful, sparkling white worm. Cautiously, slowly Gogi returned, nervously calling out, "A-are you hurt?"
The worm arched and spoke back at him in a heavenly feminine voice so soothing it sounded like distant chimes on the wind. The sound chased away all fear from Gogi, usually a timid creature due to his small stature. "I am well," said the silk worm. "Thank you for saving me." The silk worm crawled towards Gogi.
Gogi asked, "S-saved you? How did I save you?"
"By breaking my fall," chimed the silk worm.
"Oh," Gogi didn't want to admit to not intending to break her fall for fear he may appear foolish. "As long as you're safe," Gogi said.
The silk worm approached. "I am Szu Ri, the Silk Worm of Taliesin. Is there any way I can repay you for your kindness."
Ashamed at the undeserved attention and ashamed to admit the truth, Gogi shook his head, "No, no."
But Szu Ri took Gogi by his hand, leaving a small, glowing warmth there and a bit of silk. "If ever you need a favor, come see your friend Szu Ri in the Cherry Blossom by the Pond," she said.
Gogi merely nodded.
"I must head out. It will take me a long time to get back in that tree."
Again Gogi merely nodded.
He watched her go and as he did he felt a certain satisfaction in knowing he was not the only creature on Taliesin that was so small.
He looked at his hand and the silk there, the welcoming warmth Szu Ri had left. The silk was beautiful. it felt like a cloud encase his hand. He looked up, chasing after the silk worm.
"Szu Ri! Szu Ri!" he called.
She stopped and turned. "Yes, friend?"
"This silk," he looked at his hand then at her. "Can you make it in any color?"
She nodded. "Any color."
"Would you be able to make a gift for my friend of your silk? He is a marmoset and quite larger than you or I. Is it possible?"
"How wonderful," she said. "I offer a favor and you take it on behalf of a friend. Of course I will make you a gift to give o your friend. What kind of gift would you like me to make?"
Gogi stammered a bit. "I'm unsure."
"Tell me about him."
As Gogi spent time talking with Szu Ri, sharing with her his friendship with Momoki and his adventure jumping to Taliesin, their conversation leading eventually into smaller chatting, Gogi discovered he was making a new friend
"I like you, Szu Ri," Gogi said.
Szu Ri giggled, "I like you, too, though you've yet to tell me your name."
This horrified Gogi. "Oh, oh, oh! I am so v-very sorry! I am Gogi, the Grasshopper." Gogi blushed in his shamed.
Szu Ri laughed. "Do not blush, Gogi. It does not suit you. And you've nothing to be ashamed of. We've not needed our names until now."
Together they laughed and decided upon a proper gift for Momoki.
When the gift was completed by Szu Ri and given to Gogi, the little grasshopper scurried off hurriedly to his friend's side instantly. "Momoki! Momoki!" he cried, climbing the tallest peak of Taliesin with the gift in tow. there he found Momoki smoking his long, bent pipe after a day's work and enjoying the sun, laying in the wild, cool grass.
"Momoki! Momoki! Momoki!" Gogi cried over and over again as he ran to Momoki's side.
Momoki sat up. "What is it, Gogi?" he chuckled at his friend's enthusiasm.
"I've a gift for you!" Gogi presented it to Momoki.
Momoki lifted the gift from the grass. It was a headdress made of silk and looking much like a paper fan. It was lightweight and red except for the very center where it rested upon the head it was gold and the whole thing shone like the sun.
"Do you like it? Do you like it?" Gogi asked.
Momoki smiled and donned the headdress. It tilted some into the fur tufts at the sides of his head and blended there to give him the appearance of having a full lion's mane. At the center was a silk cherry blossom that hung from the main portion of the headdress down to rest upon Momoki's forehead. "It's beautiful," he told Gogi.
Gogi smiled and laughed and clapped. "I was so worried you may not like it! Do you see the colors? I asked her to make it look like the sun since we're always laying up here in the sun together."
Momoki kept smiling at his friend as he asked, "But why, Gogi? Why such a wonderful present?"
Gogi hesitated a bit. "I-I've been here a year now... and you're the best friend a grasshopper could ever hope for."
Momoki, moved almost to tears, leaned over towards Gogi and said, "Thank you, friend. And welcome to Taliesin."
Gogi smiled, "Thank you, Momoki. I feel at home here. And safe."
"And forever shall you be, as long as your old friend Momoki is charged with Taliesin's care. Now," Momoki leaned back on an elbow and puffed at his pipe, "tell me of this girl you've met... this woman that made this gift for me."
Gogi blushed.
"Come, come! We're friends. Share with me," Momoki said.
Gogi laughed in delight. "Oh! She's wonderful!"
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CHAPTER 3
Above the clouds, above Taliesin, is the Realm of Heaven reserved for Gods and Immortals and Gifted Ones and their friends should they wish to live there. There is always room in the Realm of Heaven, however they gods themselves are not always so welcoming.
As the misty hands of The Cosmos caressed the Realm of Heaven they manifested into Stork, a beautiful white bird, whose sole duty was to watch over the Realm of Heaven for all time. She flies constantly, rarely landing to rest or eat, but on occasion she flies low to the world to observe the mortal creatures there and smile at them.
One day while flying low she met Drae, a mortal man. She smiled and he waved and smiled back. How thrilled she was to make such contact with the world below the Realm of Heaven! She felt a warm smile and a wave was the greatest gift she could ever receive.
She made it habit to visit Drae, flying around him and chattering as he worked his wetlands for food. He would talked with her, sing to her, tell stories and jokes and laugh. Finally she worked the courage to land and talk with him without bothersome flight.
In time Drae and Stork fell in love. They commemorated their love with child, a son, whom they called Motharus, a demi-god. He was born with human body of golden brown skin and a kestrel head. Great white wings grew from his back. It was decided that Motharus would stay with his father as Stork patrolled the Realm of Heaven each day, though on occasion he would fly to visit his mother in the Realm of Heaven.
“This must be the highest point in all of creation,” he once said, awestruck at the beauty he witnessed while on one visit.
“No,” Stork corrected, “The sun is the highest point of all.”
“I must see the sun!” Motharus said. He flew higher and higher, his wings outstretched and flapping. As he grew closer to the sun, his feathers soaked in its rays and became colored, brilliant with red and tinged with blues from sky along the edge. His head, too, became sun-dyed in the same manner. Try as he might, however, Motharus simply could not reach the sun. Tired from his journey, he returned to his mother’s side.
“Oh!” she gasped. “You are so beautiful! What a wonderful gift the sun and sky have given you.”
Drae loved his son dearly. He would often sing to Motharus as Stork took care of her duties in the Realm of Heaven. He also taught him how to read the lands and find food so he could survive should he ever wish to travel to other lands.
Time passed. Stork continued tending to the Realm of Heaven. Drae grew old and Motharus grew strong and large.
The time came at last when Drae grew sick, feeble and unable to work his fields. Motharus and Stork naturally grew concerned. On his deathbed, Drae said to Stork, “Thank you. You gave me reason to live I lived for you and our son. I love you” and he died.
Drae’s death pained Motharus greatly. “Why,” he asked his mother, “did father die?”
“Because he was mortal, my son. His life is not permanent as ours are.”
“Why do we live and not father?”
Stork shook her head. “That is a question for The Cosmos.”
“The Cosmos be damned!” cursed Motharus.
“Son… no. Do not curse The Cosmos. It is the way of things. If you attempt alteration of things, harm will come to you.”
“Wisdoms have no weight in such moments. Loss is loss and today I lost my father.”
Stork allowed her son time to grieve. She watched over the Realm of Heaven, but her thoughts were always on Motharus.
Motharus raged. He flew higher and higher in another attempt to reach the sun, but he could not fly that high. “It must be The Cosmos that keep me from the sun! As they keep me from my father!”
He looked out across the world and in the far distance saw the hands of The Cosmos finalizing the world. “The Cosmos be damned!” he cursed again. He flew as fast as he could towards the end of the world. Once there he threw punch after punch, kick after feeble kick at the misty hands. His attacks flowed through the mist, causing no harm. The Cosmos continued their task undaunted for The Cosmos answer to no creature, but all creatures must answer to The Cosmos.
“Ignore me, will you?” Motharus attacked and attacked but could do nothing. He punched and kicked, kicked and punched until he was so exhausted he fell from the sky in the lands far below.
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CHAPTER 4
Motharus fell from the sky and landed upon the Hill of Srang Bo, The Wicked Wizard. Srang Bo, dressed in his long blue multi-layered robe, went to Motharus for he had seen his fall. “Had it not been for your wings,” Srang Bo explained, “you would have died.”
Motharus struggled to his feet. “Damn my wings and damn The Cosmos,” said he. “If only I could join my father in death. If only we all could die.”
“I suspected you an Immortal,” Srang Bo admitted, his curiosity piqued by Motharus’ curses. “I am Srang Bo. With whom do I speak?”
“I am Motharus, son of Stork and the mortal and now dead Drae.”
“A mortal and an Immortal’s child? You are then a demi-god, are you not?”
Motharus nodded.
“Tell me, Motharus, why do you curse The Cosmos? Is it your fathers death?”
Motharus nodded once more.
“I understand.”
“You do?”
“Indeed,” Srang Bo confirmed. “For I desire Immortality myself. It is the reason I am on the path that I am on.”
Motharus’ bird eyes grew wide. He tilted his head, leaning with listening.
Srang Bo judged his movements and Motharus what he wanted to hear, “It is unfair of The Cosmos to provide great destinies for some and horrid pain for other, to allow some eternal life and an end in death for others.”
Motharus nodded again ad again. “You speak true, Srang Bo. Who are you exactly?”
“I am Srang Bo. You now stand upon my hill. And you are Motharus, the demi-god that fell from the sky. Together,” Srang Bo plotted his words carefully, “perhaps we can challenge the order of things and remake them anew. We would make a good pairing.”
“We would indeed,” agreed Motharus.
And so began the training of Motharus by Srang Bo in the ways of mysticism. Motharus learned to make sacrifices of blood from chickens, goats and cats. He learned that blood is the source of all life, as is water, and that all creatures contain both within their bodies. He learned to control these elements through conjuration and pacts. In time, the skills of Motharus caught the attentions of the demon Adonai Ku-jal. The demon would often visit Motharus in his dreams.
Motharus stood in a cylindrical chamber blackened with darkness. Somewhere bonfires burned and lit only him, casting dancing shadows all about him. “Be warned,” said the demon’s disembodied voice, “you dabble in thing carrying grave consequences. The price is high: pain unlike any other pain, death without dying, rape and murder of the inner self.”
“There can be no greater pain than that which I have already felt,” Motharus explained in his dream.
“But there is. Trust me in that and know you the price of consorting with demons.”
“If, in the end, I can defy The Cosmos and make things right as I see them, no price is too great.”
Adonai Ku-jal’s laughter exploded, echoing through the Black Chamber. “It would seem your mind is already made up on the matter. If you wish to pursue your training, I will help you. I will grant you all my powers as you need them. You will be able to alter your body, to make it as the mist or to make it stone so you would be as a moving statue. You will also be able to summon fire into your hands incapable of harming you or anything that you don, but igniting all else that you touch. Oh, indeed there are many things I can offer you, but I warn you a final time: the price is high. The choice is yours.”
Motharus did not hesitate. “Train me, O Great Demon.”
“Then it is settled.”
When Motharus awoke the next morning he knew that the demon Adonai Kul-jal had not left him and two great, thick, curled rams horns had grown on the sides of his head. One eye had been made pure white, without pupil, while the other glowed blue. He pulled his hands together, one hovering over the other, and an orb of fire appeared. It did not harm him. He did not even feel it. He threw the fire and set a tree and some grass of Srang Bo’s Hill aflame. With another thought and yet another he changed his body first into mist and then to stone, though he kept his visage the same.
Srang Bo looked upon him and admitted his jealousy, “You have been chosen. Your powers now will forever be great. I would, if I could, slip a knife into you and spill your blood and powers, but I doubt anyone could defeat you, including me. Such betrayal would be worthless to me.”
Time passed and Srang Bo grew older. He admitted to Motharus his own shortcomings, “You need strength in ways that I cannot teach.”
“How is that?” Motharus asked. “My training is complete. A powerful demon grants me powers. What more do I need?”
“You are strong in dedication and conjuration, but you are weak in body.” Srang Bo coughed, set himself upon the soft grass of his hill. “I say this not to harm you, but to further aide you in the matters I could not fulfill. Defy The Cosmos,” Srang Bo instructed. He breathed his last breath.
Motharus was aghast. “Explain yourself!” He grabbed Srang Bo by the shoulders, but his mortal master was dead. He buried Srang Bo atop the hill. This enraged the demon Adonai Kul-jal. “We could use his blood,” the demon spoke inside Motharus’ head.
“He was good to me,” Motharus explained.
“And he could be good to you one last time. Dig up his body and drain it.”
Motharus shook his head. “No, not Srang Bo.”
“Your loyalties will kill you. Break yourself of this.”
Motharus ignored the words, though as he left the Hill of Srang Bo, he felt the desire to return and follow Adonai Kul-jal’s orders.
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CHAPTER 5
Motharus came to a large town filled with mortal men and women. Debauchery reigned supreme here as the law had left long ago. The town hall had been converted into an arena long ago and therein fights were held daily. Motharus sat and watched many fights in the packed town hall. He drew much attention to himself, though few spoke with him. One such person was Tanas. “We rarely see Gifted Ones in this region,” Tanas told Motharus.
“I do not see many attractive things here,” Motharus said. “Except, of course, for the fights.”
“Do you fight?” Tanas asked.
Motharus shook his head. “I have yet to learn.”
Tanas considered this. “I am a trainer. I have a stable of three fighters. One of them is fighting now, the one in the black pants.”
Motharus watched as the man that Tanas pointed out as he struck his opponent with a chop to the neck. His knuckles dug in, collapsing the wind passage and breaking the neck. The opponent fell to the floor, dead.
“How would you like to fight like him?”
Motharus considered this. “Will you train me?”
“I would,” Tanas nodded.
The following day Tanas lead Motharus out of town to a field where an abandoned farmhouse sat. It was old, decrepit and in ruins. It had once been made of large gray stones, but now was strewn about its base. “Pick up the stones and arrange them in rows of five,” instructed Tanas. He then left Motharus to move the stones alone.
It took Motharus three days to do as he had been instructed. With each stone his muscles grew larger, his shoulders growing broader, his stomach and back hardening with the work. When he was done the surrounding field was filled with the stones and Tanas returned with several lengths of thick, handmade hemp rope. He tied the rope about Motharus’ forearms and lower legs.
Tanas pointed to the stones. “Now break them,” he instructed.
One by one Motharus broke the stones. He used his elbows, knees, forearms, low kicks and horns. He flew high and dived down on the stones. Each one in turn exploded into many smaller pieces. When he was done, the field had become a vast array of rubble.
Tanas nodded. “Let’s go get you into a fight.”
They returned to the town and to the town hall. Tanas spoke with a man there. “I have a new fighter,” he said.
The man looked at Motharus. “Him? He’s an Immortal. He cannot fight here!”
“Why not?” Tanas asked.
“We fight to the death here. How is he supposed to fight to the death if he does not die? He cannot fight here!”
“He could fight until he submits,” Tanas said.
The man shook his head. “No, no. He cannot fight here! Take him someplace else! Take him to The Peony or someplace else! He cannot fight here!”
Tanas and Motharus stepped outside, Tanas in deep contemplation over matters.
“What shall we do now?” Motharus asked.
Tanas shook his head. “I suppose we do as he said. We’ll go find another place for you to fight. My other fighters will not enjoy moving. They like it here. And why not? They make good money here.”
“What of this Peony he spoke of?”
“He speaks of The Peony Teahouse. It is a place much like our town hall here, only it is open to all manner of creatures, including immortals,” Tanas explained.
“Why not take me there?” Motharus asked.
Tanas shook his head. “No. You’re not ready. The best fighters go there.”
“Who is to say I am not the best fighter? I can break stone!”
“Stones do not fight back. Breaking stones is training, not fighting. We must first get you fights elsewhere before we consider The Peony.”
“Bah!” Motharus turned and flew away.
“Where are you going?” Tanas cried after him.
“To find The Peony!” Motharus called back.
Days passed. Motharus fed off the land, hunting and gathering. He chased rumors of The Peony. One day, he found several eggs lying on the ground near a rock while he was flying. He swooped down, grabbed the eggs up in his hand and fly off, higher and higher, eating the eggs one by one as he went until he had a last egg left. “You,” he looked at the egg, “I will savor.”
He flew higher until he saw the glorious floating mountain Taliesin. He flew towards it and landed in a field there to enjoy his last egg.
Momoki the Marmoset and Gogi the Grasshopper watched from nearby. “W-what an odd looking creature,” said Gogi.
“Indeed,” concurred Momoki. “What is that he has in his hands?”
“I-it looks like a stone.”
Momoki squinted, straining to see. “That is no stone! It is an egg!” He hurried off towards the stranger. Gogi called after him, “Momoki! What are you doing? Come back!” Without thought, Gogi followed.
As Momoki drew near Motharus he cried out, “Stop! No creature shall harm another creature while upon Taliesin!”
Motharus looked at the charging Momoki. “Who commands this?”
Momoki slowed as he drew near. “I am Momoki the Marmoset, Guardian of Taliesin, the mountain you are now on. It is my charge and station.”
“Charge and station? By whose command?” Motharus demanded.
“By The Cosmos, of course,” answered Momoki.
Motharus’ differently colored eyes grew wide with rage. “The Cosmos? They seek to control even the morsels I eat? The Cosmos be damned!” He raised the small egg to his beak.
“No!” Momoki cried out as he jumped, grabbing for Motharus’ hand. He held fast and pushed at the bird-man’s head with his feet to keep him from eating the egg.
Motharus grabbed Momoki by the scruff of the neck and threw him to the ground. “Stop it! I will do as I please!” Again he raised the egg to his beak, but by then Gogi had caught up and jumped into Motharus’ face, landing on his beak and making a racket of such calamity that it distracted Motharus momentarily.
Motharus swatted at Gogi, who jumped and jumped and yelled, “Let the egg go!”
At last Motharus was able to target the small Gogi and slapped him from the air.
Momoki got back to his feet, grabbed up a nearby rock and jumped. His screeched as he flew through the air, his ringed tail twirling round and round. He brought the rock down upon Motharus’ beak and cracked it. The crack appeared as a bolt of lightning on the left side, split into two.
Though Motharus had been trained in mysticism and fighting, never had he been struck. The shock of the sudden pain frightened him. He dropped the egg and flew off. Before he was out of reach, he put one palm above another, conjuring fire and throwing it down onto the fields of Taliesin. He then disappeared from sight.
Momoki dropped the rock and ran off, screaming a warning to all that a fire was slowly growing in the fields.
Gogi, battered and badly bruised, stood up and crawled toward the egg Motharus has dropped into the soft grass. The egg shook. It cracked. Gogi’s eyes grew wide. “Momoki!” he cried. “Momoki!” But Momoki was busy tending to the fire with several of the other creatures that inhabited Taliesin.
Gogi backed away as first a nose then a head appeared through the broken egg’s shell. The head was small, green and had a spot of red at each temple. Soon the egg fell away from a whole and complete and newly born turtle.
The fire out, Momoki returned to Gogi’s side and saw the tiny turtle. “Hello, little one,” Momoki scooped her up. “Are you hurt?”
The turtle shook her tiny head.
Momoki smiled. He looked at Gogi. “We have a new resident.”
“B-be careful, Momoki,” Gogi warned. “She m-might be a demonic b-being.”
Momoki shook her head. “She’s not evil. She is simply a turtle.” He bent low and showed Gogi the turtle. “What should we call her?”
Gogi shrugged.
“I think she looks like a Twila. Does Twila sound good?”
Again Gogi shrugged, nervously shaking.
“How about you?” he asked the turtle. “Does Twila sound good?”
The turtle nodded and smiled and rubber her little head along the length of Momoki’s thumb.
“Then Twila it is. Twila, welcome to Taliesin.”
She smiled and playfully danced in Momoki’s hand.
Twila grew big and strong. She grew big enough for Momoki to ride on her back when they played together in the fields. Gogi, too, learned to trust Twila and they became friends. All three would play and bask in the sun and eat. Szu Ri, the Silk Worm, would occasionally join them on picnics under the cherry blossoms and ride on the back of Twila, crying out, “This is amazing! You move so quickly!”
Gogi would often tell Twila about the world below, the world from which she came but knew nothing of. Szu Ri and Momoki would also listen, enchanted by the tales of his family and the adventures of friends of friends of uncles or aunts or cousins.
“I would like to visit the world below,” Momoki would often say.
A year passed. To commemorate their year of friendship, Twila asked the termites of Taliesin to build Gogi a cane and a small wooden box for Momoki in which he could store and draw tobacco leaves for smoking. They held a picnic and she gave the presents to her friends.
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Gogi.
“I can carry my tobacco anywhere!” Momoki was pleased.
They each thanked her for the presents. “But,” Gogi was hesitant. “Why a cane? All my legs are in perfect order.”
“You are always telling us abut your travels and you run all over Taliesin constantly, Gogi. I felt a walking cane was appropriate.”
Gogi considered this. “Oh! It is! It is!” He first hugged the cane, then Twila.
While Gogi was visiting Szu Ri once, Twila and Momoki lay in the sun on the side of Taliesin. Twila said, “Gogi told me recently of how you bravely rescued me from the beak of a bird-man. I thank you.”
“No thanks are needed, Twila. It is my charge and station. My thanks is our friendship.”
Twila nuzzled his thumb with her nose.
Momoki smiled. He leaned towards her and whispered, “I love you, Twila.”
Twila blushed and receded a small way into her shell. When she came back out she once more nuzzled at Momoki’s thumb. “Oh, Momoki. I love you, too.”
Then one day Twila and Gogi found Momoki sitting at the edge of Taliesin, spying the world far below.
“What are you doing?” asked Twila.
“Watching and wondering,” explained Momoki.
He sat like that for several days, each day leaning farther out to get a better view. Each day Gogi and Twila would visit him.
“Still watching?” Twila would ask.
Momoki would not.
“B-be careful,” Gogi would warn. “That fall would be most dangerous.”
Momoki did not tend to his duties in the fields and orchards. Taliesin became overgrown. Twila and Gogi decided they needed to discuss matters with Momoki. They approached him. Momoki was now leaning far forward.
“Momoki, we are concerned for you,” Twila said softly.
Momoki leaned farther out, “I can almost see people down there.” His weight shifted. His balanced moved far forward. Momoki’s eyes bulged. He gasped. He scrambled to grab the grass and rocks of Taliesin, but he missed.
Momoki’s friends watched as he slipped away. He fell, his tail whipping in the air. He screamed out for help, but there was nothing anyone could do. His three friends watched in horror as he disappeared below the clouds. The fall was immense, too immense for even an Immortal to survive. Momoki was no more.
Twila burst into tears, Gogi whimpered and Szu Ri tried to comfort them both.
Twila cried and cried. She cried for two days until her tears formed a pond around her, spilling out over the edge of Taliesin as a waterfall and created the first rains in the world below. She floated in the pond of her own tears. Gogi remained nearby, but could not reach her as she began to be swept away by the waterfall’s current. She could not fight against the strong flow, but she did not want to.
Twila was washed over the side of Taliesin and joined Momoki in death.
Gogi, panicking, ran away. He ran as fast as he could and hide beneath a rock, weeping for his lost friends. He hurt so badly he felt as though he never wanted to move from his hiding spot under the rock.
In lands far away where The Cosmos were yet finishing the edge of the world, a small patch of mist turned and headed for Taliesin.
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Watch for Act II next Friday!
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"The Theft of Heaven"
(C) 2007 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author(s) and/or artist(s).
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ACT I: MOMOKI THE MARMOSET WATCHES THE WORLD FORMING
PROLOGUE: WHEREIN THE WORLD IS FORMED; MOTHARUS QUESTIONS THE WAY OF THINGS; TWILA IS RESCUED BY MOMOKI AND GOGI; MOMOKI’S FALL
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CHAPTER 1
In the Time of Mist, when the gentle hand of The Cosmos was slowly caressing all things into being, there was a mountain that lived in the sky, the mountain named Taliesin. Upon Taliesin lived Momoki the Marmoset, the mountain’s sole guardian. His fur was gray, soft and flowed liked the wild fields of grass on Taliesin. His tail was ringed with black stripes. While his face was brown, out of each temple grew long splaying tufts of white fur.
Within the angled fields, atop the craggy stones and through the forever bearing apple and cherry blossom orchards did Momoki play. He ate the delicious golden and green apples as he would bask in the sun’s warm rays. He slept in the wide, open fields and tended to the gardens. Each day for Momoki was filled with work, duty, play and contentment.
On one occasion Momoki dug a root from the ground and, using a stone as a tool, carved for himself a long, bent pipe for which to smoke and enjoy the pleasant tobaccos that grew high on Taliesin’s sides. It became habit for Momoki to find himself, after a day’s work and play and his last meal, sitting on the side of the mountain enjoying a bowl full of freshly picked tobacco, warming himself in the sun and reflecting, ruminating upon all the beauty taking shape far below him.
Once, after a long day of gardening, full of supper fruits, Momoki ascended to Taliesin’s highest peak with his pipe and tobacco and had a long, fine, soothing smoke. As he watched the hands of the Cosmos work the world into form he thought, “How nice it would be to visit these new realms The Cosmos are making before me.” He puffed at his root pipe. He watched the misty hand of The Cosmos molding through his thick, rolling smoke.
Rarely did The Cosmos visit Taliesin for they trusted Momoki, but when next there came a small mist to the mountain to gently water the lush gardens and orchards there Momoki cried out, "O Cosmos! My life here is serene, but the lands you make far below are so beautiful. Will ever there be a time I could visit these other lands?"
No answer was given. The light rains merely passed over Momoki and disappeared. He was not surprised nor did Momoki truly expect an answer for, he knew, The Cosmos did not answer to any creature, but rather all creatures must answer to The Cosmos.
Momoki went about his way, tending the gardens and orchards and smoking his pipe and eating the delicious apples, but some of his delight in these activities had been lost. He was not sad, but he was not joyed, either.
Eventually The Cosmos reached an end to their work, though truly their work is never ended, but the world below Taliesin came close to being fully formed and it filled with creatures of every kind, coming alive with activity and movement. Momoki watched it all from his perch, smiling and quietly desiring.
As the world below filled so did Taliesin. Insects of every variety came to feast and play in the gardens and fields with Momoki. Birds filled the skies and perched with him and made their nests high atop the mountain. Momoki once again was overwhelmed with joy and excitement for his tasks and for meeting new friends. He made friends with burrowing bugs, cackling crows, buzzing bees and industrious ants he would stop only to give him a quick "Hello!" before scurrying off to find more things to do, which suited Momoki fine for that's all he wanted. He found the new cricks and cracks, cries and chatterings of a teeming Taliesin combine into a the Sweet Song of Nature. It pleased Momoki to find himself amidst glorious bustlings and, for a time, he forgot his troubles and the world far below.
Momoki's greatest, closest friend was Gogi the Grasshopper who did not enjoying smoking as Momoki did, however he did savor the taste of the fine tobaccos of Taliesin so instead chewed upon their leaves.
Day after day, after their meals were done and work fulfilled, Momoki and Gogi would sit atop Taliesin smoking and chewing, spitting and puffing and chatting the time away.
"How did you come to Taliesin?" asked Momoki.
Gogi was a timid creature for he was a small creature. In his nervous way, wringing his tiny hands as he spoke, he said, "I-in the world far below," he said, "a friend of a cousin of mine once spoke of a tale they'd heard from their friend's uncle or some such, who was a gander I think... yes, yes, I-I think he was a goose."
Momoki looked to the skies, "Which one? Many geese fly by here."
"Oh," said Gogi nervously, for he could not remember the cousin's friend's friend's uncle's species quite, but did not want to fully admit to that, "W-well, maybe it was a goose? Or a bluejay? Or maybe it was a cat. No, no... that would make no sense. They had to have been a bird."
"Go on with your story," Momoki urged with a smile.
"Y-yes, yes. The story. Well, this bird told a tale about the gorgeous gardens of Taliesin. He loved the sight of the gardens so much that he would fly over them all the time."
Momoki looked up as a gaggle of geese flew overhead. "I wonder of one of them his him," he said.
Gogi shrugged, feeling foolish for not having remembered the details. "I-I didn't know them myself," he explained. "I simply heard the tale. I-I guess I was too overwhelmed by the thoughts of Taliesin to care about some of the details. All I know is that he was the uncle of a friend of a friend of a cousin of mine... I-I think." Gogi was now thinking over the details and second-guessing himself.
Momoki saw his friend perplexed and coaxed him to continue his tale, "His tale is what brought you here?"
"It is. Many called the tale of a mountain that lived in the sky preposterous, silly even. But it all sounded so wonderfully pretty to me," Gogi's voice took a romantic tone, "I wanted so badly to see Taliesin with my own eyes. I chased every rumor for two years to discover this mountain's location. When at last I found it, I-I had the problem of trying to reach it. I-I didn't want to fly on the back of a bird for fear the bird would eat m-me."
"Then how did you get here?" asked Momoki.
"I jumped," Gogi answered simply.
Momoki's eyes grew wide with wonder. Smoke from his pipe swirled before his face. He spoke, "how can someone so small jump so high? Not even the mountains of the land far below reach this high. Many of the clouds, even, do not dare this height!"
"It is v-very high," Gogi said. "And I-I tried many, many times before I made it. In fact, on the last jump that brought me here I-I prayed to Parnopius for my safety for I knew if I m-missed Taliesin there would be no surviving such a great fall. I-I don't think any creature could survive such a fall. Even an immortal such as yourself, Momoki."
"I can only imagine," Momoki puffed at his pipe.
Gogi sighed in relief, "But somehow I made it and I was able to grab hold of the underside of Taliesin. I was so afraid I refused to jump the rest of the way to the gardens. I instead walked. It took me three days!"
"That's quite a tale," Momoki said.
"I've all the fear I've ever needed in that jump. I've had all the adventure I can handle in my lifetime."
Together they laughed. They sat together staring at the world far below for a moment. Then Momoki asked, "What is the world below Taliesin like?"
Gogi thought a moment, for once he made it to Taliesin he hadn't thought much about the world below. "Much like Taliesin, I suppose. Both are filled with life. Some of it as beautiful as what's to be found here on Taliesin, too. Thought the view here is greater by far."
Momoki leaned on his elbow and looked at Gogi. "There was a time when the world was not so full."
"Oh?"
Momoki nodded. "In fact, I remember a time when the world barely was."
"Was what?"
"Was. I witnessed its creation by the hands of The Cosmos."
This astounded Gogi. "Have you been here since the beginning?"
Momoki again nodded. "Since the beginning."
Gogi thought on this. "How adventurous your life must have been thus far. W-was it frightening?"
Momoki smiled. "No," he said. "It was actually quite beautiful." Thinking on this, Momoki's heart filled with peace with his station in the universe, though still his mind wandered into wonderment.
The two friends sat in the soft wild grass on the side of the mountain, smoking and chewing, chewing and smoking and telling tales and laughing.
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CHAPTER 2
On went the lives of Momoki and friend Gogi for a long while. So much did Gogi appreciate Momoki's friendship and so much did he love Taliesin, he felt he should mark the day of his first full year living on the floating mountain with a gift to his friend. "But what shall I give him?" he asked himself.
For many days Gogi strained with thought. Then, one day while drinking from a small pond, a tiny worm fell from a cherry blossom nearby and landed squarely on Gogi's back. So scared was Gogi by the sudden impact that he scampered away without looking. Curiosity, however, took hold of him as he turned to look back. There where he was standing was a beautiful, sparkling white worm. Cautiously, slowly Gogi returned, nervously calling out, "A-are you hurt?"
The worm arched and spoke back at him in a heavenly feminine voice so soothing it sounded like distant chimes on the wind. The sound chased away all fear from Gogi, usually a timid creature due to his small stature. "I am well," said the silk worm. "Thank you for saving me." The silk worm crawled towards Gogi.
Gogi asked, "S-saved you? How did I save you?"
"By breaking my fall," chimed the silk worm.
"Oh," Gogi didn't want to admit to not intending to break her fall for fear he may appear foolish. "As long as you're safe," Gogi said.
The silk worm approached. "I am Szu Ri, the Silk Worm of Taliesin. Is there any way I can repay you for your kindness."
Ashamed at the undeserved attention and ashamed to admit the truth, Gogi shook his head, "No, no."
But Szu Ri took Gogi by his hand, leaving a small, glowing warmth there and a bit of silk. "If ever you need a favor, come see your friend Szu Ri in the Cherry Blossom by the Pond," she said.
Gogi merely nodded.
"I must head out. It will take me a long time to get back in that tree."
Again Gogi merely nodded.
He watched her go and as he did he felt a certain satisfaction in knowing he was not the only creature on Taliesin that was so small.
He looked at his hand and the silk there, the welcoming warmth Szu Ri had left. The silk was beautiful. it felt like a cloud encase his hand. He looked up, chasing after the silk worm.
"Szu Ri! Szu Ri!" he called.
She stopped and turned. "Yes, friend?"
"This silk," he looked at his hand then at her. "Can you make it in any color?"
She nodded. "Any color."
"Would you be able to make a gift for my friend of your silk? He is a marmoset and quite larger than you or I. Is it possible?"
"How wonderful," she said. "I offer a favor and you take it on behalf of a friend. Of course I will make you a gift to give o your friend. What kind of gift would you like me to make?"
Gogi stammered a bit. "I'm unsure."
"Tell me about him."
As Gogi spent time talking with Szu Ri, sharing with her his friendship with Momoki and his adventure jumping to Taliesin, their conversation leading eventually into smaller chatting, Gogi discovered he was making a new friend
"I like you, Szu Ri," Gogi said.
Szu Ri giggled, "I like you, too, though you've yet to tell me your name."
This horrified Gogi. "Oh, oh, oh! I am so v-very sorry! I am Gogi, the Grasshopper." Gogi blushed in his shamed.
Szu Ri laughed. "Do not blush, Gogi. It does not suit you. And you've nothing to be ashamed of. We've not needed our names until now."
Together they laughed and decided upon a proper gift for Momoki.
When the gift was completed by Szu Ri and given to Gogi, the little grasshopper scurried off hurriedly to his friend's side instantly. "Momoki! Momoki!" he cried, climbing the tallest peak of Taliesin with the gift in tow. there he found Momoki smoking his long, bent pipe after a day's work and enjoying the sun, laying in the wild, cool grass.
"Momoki! Momoki! Momoki!" Gogi cried over and over again as he ran to Momoki's side.
Momoki sat up. "What is it, Gogi?" he chuckled at his friend's enthusiasm.
"I've a gift for you!" Gogi presented it to Momoki.
Momoki lifted the gift from the grass. It was a headdress made of silk and looking much like a paper fan. It was lightweight and red except for the very center where it rested upon the head it was gold and the whole thing shone like the sun.
"Do you like it? Do you like it?" Gogi asked.
Momoki smiled and donned the headdress. It tilted some into the fur tufts at the sides of his head and blended there to give him the appearance of having a full lion's mane. At the center was a silk cherry blossom that hung from the main portion of the headdress down to rest upon Momoki's forehead. "It's beautiful," he told Gogi.
Gogi smiled and laughed and clapped. "I was so worried you may not like it! Do you see the colors? I asked her to make it look like the sun since we're always laying up here in the sun together."
Momoki kept smiling at his friend as he asked, "But why, Gogi? Why such a wonderful present?"
Gogi hesitated a bit. "I-I've been here a year now... and you're the best friend a grasshopper could ever hope for."
Momoki, moved almost to tears, leaned over towards Gogi and said, "Thank you, friend. And welcome to Taliesin."
Gogi smiled, "Thank you, Momoki. I feel at home here. And safe."
"And forever shall you be, as long as your old friend Momoki is charged with Taliesin's care. Now," Momoki leaned back on an elbow and puffed at his pipe, "tell me of this girl you've met... this woman that made this gift for me."
Gogi blushed.
"Come, come! We're friends. Share with me," Momoki said.
Gogi laughed in delight. "Oh! She's wonderful!"
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CHAPTER 3
Above the clouds, above Taliesin, is the Realm of Heaven reserved for Gods and Immortals and Gifted Ones and their friends should they wish to live there. There is always room in the Realm of Heaven, however they gods themselves are not always so welcoming.
As the misty hands of The Cosmos caressed the Realm of Heaven they manifested into Stork, a beautiful white bird, whose sole duty was to watch over the Realm of Heaven for all time. She flies constantly, rarely landing to rest or eat, but on occasion she flies low to the world to observe the mortal creatures there and smile at them.
One day while flying low she met Drae, a mortal man. She smiled and he waved and smiled back. How thrilled she was to make such contact with the world below the Realm of Heaven! She felt a warm smile and a wave was the greatest gift she could ever receive.
She made it habit to visit Drae, flying around him and chattering as he worked his wetlands for food. He would talked with her, sing to her, tell stories and jokes and laugh. Finally she worked the courage to land and talk with him without bothersome flight.
In time Drae and Stork fell in love. They commemorated their love with child, a son, whom they called Motharus, a demi-god. He was born with human body of golden brown skin and a kestrel head. Great white wings grew from his back. It was decided that Motharus would stay with his father as Stork patrolled the Realm of Heaven each day, though on occasion he would fly to visit his mother in the Realm of Heaven.
“This must be the highest point in all of creation,” he once said, awestruck at the beauty he witnessed while on one visit.
“No,” Stork corrected, “The sun is the highest point of all.”
“I must see the sun!” Motharus said. He flew higher and higher, his wings outstretched and flapping. As he grew closer to the sun, his feathers soaked in its rays and became colored, brilliant with red and tinged with blues from sky along the edge. His head, too, became sun-dyed in the same manner. Try as he might, however, Motharus simply could not reach the sun. Tired from his journey, he returned to his mother’s side.
“Oh!” she gasped. “You are so beautiful! What a wonderful gift the sun and sky have given you.”
Drae loved his son dearly. He would often sing to Motharus as Stork took care of her duties in the Realm of Heaven. He also taught him how to read the lands and find food so he could survive should he ever wish to travel to other lands.
Time passed. Stork continued tending to the Realm of Heaven. Drae grew old and Motharus grew strong and large.
The time came at last when Drae grew sick, feeble and unable to work his fields. Motharus and Stork naturally grew concerned. On his deathbed, Drae said to Stork, “Thank you. You gave me reason to live I lived for you and our son. I love you” and he died.
Drae’s death pained Motharus greatly. “Why,” he asked his mother, “did father die?”
“Because he was mortal, my son. His life is not permanent as ours are.”
“Why do we live and not father?”
Stork shook her head. “That is a question for The Cosmos.”
“The Cosmos be damned!” cursed Motharus.
“Son… no. Do not curse The Cosmos. It is the way of things. If you attempt alteration of things, harm will come to you.”
“Wisdoms have no weight in such moments. Loss is loss and today I lost my father.”
Stork allowed her son time to grieve. She watched over the Realm of Heaven, but her thoughts were always on Motharus.
Motharus raged. He flew higher and higher in another attempt to reach the sun, but he could not fly that high. “It must be The Cosmos that keep me from the sun! As they keep me from my father!”
He looked out across the world and in the far distance saw the hands of The Cosmos finalizing the world. “The Cosmos be damned!” he cursed again. He flew as fast as he could towards the end of the world. Once there he threw punch after punch, kick after feeble kick at the misty hands. His attacks flowed through the mist, causing no harm. The Cosmos continued their task undaunted for The Cosmos answer to no creature, but all creatures must answer to The Cosmos.
“Ignore me, will you?” Motharus attacked and attacked but could do nothing. He punched and kicked, kicked and punched until he was so exhausted he fell from the sky in the lands far below.
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CHAPTER 4
Motharus fell from the sky and landed upon the Hill of Srang Bo, The Wicked Wizard. Srang Bo, dressed in his long blue multi-layered robe, went to Motharus for he had seen his fall. “Had it not been for your wings,” Srang Bo explained, “you would have died.”
Motharus struggled to his feet. “Damn my wings and damn The Cosmos,” said he. “If only I could join my father in death. If only we all could die.”
“I suspected you an Immortal,” Srang Bo admitted, his curiosity piqued by Motharus’ curses. “I am Srang Bo. With whom do I speak?”
“I am Motharus, son of Stork and the mortal and now dead Drae.”
“A mortal and an Immortal’s child? You are then a demi-god, are you not?”
Motharus nodded.
“Tell me, Motharus, why do you curse The Cosmos? Is it your fathers death?”
Motharus nodded once more.
“I understand.”
“You do?”
“Indeed,” Srang Bo confirmed. “For I desire Immortality myself. It is the reason I am on the path that I am on.”
Motharus’ bird eyes grew wide. He tilted his head, leaning with listening.
Srang Bo judged his movements and Motharus what he wanted to hear, “It is unfair of The Cosmos to provide great destinies for some and horrid pain for other, to allow some eternal life and an end in death for others.”
Motharus nodded again ad again. “You speak true, Srang Bo. Who are you exactly?”
“I am Srang Bo. You now stand upon my hill. And you are Motharus, the demi-god that fell from the sky. Together,” Srang Bo plotted his words carefully, “perhaps we can challenge the order of things and remake them anew. We would make a good pairing.”
“We would indeed,” agreed Motharus.
And so began the training of Motharus by Srang Bo in the ways of mysticism. Motharus learned to make sacrifices of blood from chickens, goats and cats. He learned that blood is the source of all life, as is water, and that all creatures contain both within their bodies. He learned to control these elements through conjuration and pacts. In time, the skills of Motharus caught the attentions of the demon Adonai Ku-jal. The demon would often visit Motharus in his dreams.
Motharus stood in a cylindrical chamber blackened with darkness. Somewhere bonfires burned and lit only him, casting dancing shadows all about him. “Be warned,” said the demon’s disembodied voice, “you dabble in thing carrying grave consequences. The price is high: pain unlike any other pain, death without dying, rape and murder of the inner self.”
“There can be no greater pain than that which I have already felt,” Motharus explained in his dream.
“But there is. Trust me in that and know you the price of consorting with demons.”
“If, in the end, I can defy The Cosmos and make things right as I see them, no price is too great.”
Adonai Ku-jal’s laughter exploded, echoing through the Black Chamber. “It would seem your mind is already made up on the matter. If you wish to pursue your training, I will help you. I will grant you all my powers as you need them. You will be able to alter your body, to make it as the mist or to make it stone so you would be as a moving statue. You will also be able to summon fire into your hands incapable of harming you or anything that you don, but igniting all else that you touch. Oh, indeed there are many things I can offer you, but I warn you a final time: the price is high. The choice is yours.”
Motharus did not hesitate. “Train me, O Great Demon.”
“Then it is settled.”
When Motharus awoke the next morning he knew that the demon Adonai Kul-jal had not left him and two great, thick, curled rams horns had grown on the sides of his head. One eye had been made pure white, without pupil, while the other glowed blue. He pulled his hands together, one hovering over the other, and an orb of fire appeared. It did not harm him. He did not even feel it. He threw the fire and set a tree and some grass of Srang Bo’s Hill aflame. With another thought and yet another he changed his body first into mist and then to stone, though he kept his visage the same.
Srang Bo looked upon him and admitted his jealousy, “You have been chosen. Your powers now will forever be great. I would, if I could, slip a knife into you and spill your blood and powers, but I doubt anyone could defeat you, including me. Such betrayal would be worthless to me.”
Time passed and Srang Bo grew older. He admitted to Motharus his own shortcomings, “You need strength in ways that I cannot teach.”
“How is that?” Motharus asked. “My training is complete. A powerful demon grants me powers. What more do I need?”
“You are strong in dedication and conjuration, but you are weak in body.” Srang Bo coughed, set himself upon the soft grass of his hill. “I say this not to harm you, but to further aide you in the matters I could not fulfill. Defy The Cosmos,” Srang Bo instructed. He breathed his last breath.
Motharus was aghast. “Explain yourself!” He grabbed Srang Bo by the shoulders, but his mortal master was dead. He buried Srang Bo atop the hill. This enraged the demon Adonai Kul-jal. “We could use his blood,” the demon spoke inside Motharus’ head.
“He was good to me,” Motharus explained.
“And he could be good to you one last time. Dig up his body and drain it.”
Motharus shook his head. “No, not Srang Bo.”
“Your loyalties will kill you. Break yourself of this.”
Motharus ignored the words, though as he left the Hill of Srang Bo, he felt the desire to return and follow Adonai Kul-jal’s orders.
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CHAPTER 5
Motharus came to a large town filled with mortal men and women. Debauchery reigned supreme here as the law had left long ago. The town hall had been converted into an arena long ago and therein fights were held daily. Motharus sat and watched many fights in the packed town hall. He drew much attention to himself, though few spoke with him. One such person was Tanas. “We rarely see Gifted Ones in this region,” Tanas told Motharus.
“I do not see many attractive things here,” Motharus said. “Except, of course, for the fights.”
“Do you fight?” Tanas asked.
Motharus shook his head. “I have yet to learn.”
Tanas considered this. “I am a trainer. I have a stable of three fighters. One of them is fighting now, the one in the black pants.”
Motharus watched as the man that Tanas pointed out as he struck his opponent with a chop to the neck. His knuckles dug in, collapsing the wind passage and breaking the neck. The opponent fell to the floor, dead.
“How would you like to fight like him?”
Motharus considered this. “Will you train me?”
“I would,” Tanas nodded.
The following day Tanas lead Motharus out of town to a field where an abandoned farmhouse sat. It was old, decrepit and in ruins. It had once been made of large gray stones, but now was strewn about its base. “Pick up the stones and arrange them in rows of five,” instructed Tanas. He then left Motharus to move the stones alone.
It took Motharus three days to do as he had been instructed. With each stone his muscles grew larger, his shoulders growing broader, his stomach and back hardening with the work. When he was done the surrounding field was filled with the stones and Tanas returned with several lengths of thick, handmade hemp rope. He tied the rope about Motharus’ forearms and lower legs.
Tanas pointed to the stones. “Now break them,” he instructed.
One by one Motharus broke the stones. He used his elbows, knees, forearms, low kicks and horns. He flew high and dived down on the stones. Each one in turn exploded into many smaller pieces. When he was done, the field had become a vast array of rubble.
Tanas nodded. “Let’s go get you into a fight.”
They returned to the town and to the town hall. Tanas spoke with a man there. “I have a new fighter,” he said.
The man looked at Motharus. “Him? He’s an Immortal. He cannot fight here!”
“Why not?” Tanas asked.
“We fight to the death here. How is he supposed to fight to the death if he does not die? He cannot fight here!”
“He could fight until he submits,” Tanas said.
The man shook his head. “No, no. He cannot fight here! Take him someplace else! Take him to The Peony or someplace else! He cannot fight here!”
Tanas and Motharus stepped outside, Tanas in deep contemplation over matters.
“What shall we do now?” Motharus asked.
Tanas shook his head. “I suppose we do as he said. We’ll go find another place for you to fight. My other fighters will not enjoy moving. They like it here. And why not? They make good money here.”
“What of this Peony he spoke of?”
“He speaks of The Peony Teahouse. It is a place much like our town hall here, only it is open to all manner of creatures, including immortals,” Tanas explained.
“Why not take me there?” Motharus asked.
Tanas shook his head. “No. You’re not ready. The best fighters go there.”
“Who is to say I am not the best fighter? I can break stone!”
“Stones do not fight back. Breaking stones is training, not fighting. We must first get you fights elsewhere before we consider The Peony.”
“Bah!” Motharus turned and flew away.
“Where are you going?” Tanas cried after him.
“To find The Peony!” Motharus called back.
Days passed. Motharus fed off the land, hunting and gathering. He chased rumors of The Peony. One day, he found several eggs lying on the ground near a rock while he was flying. He swooped down, grabbed the eggs up in his hand and fly off, higher and higher, eating the eggs one by one as he went until he had a last egg left. “You,” he looked at the egg, “I will savor.”
He flew higher until he saw the glorious floating mountain Taliesin. He flew towards it and landed in a field there to enjoy his last egg.
Momoki the Marmoset and Gogi the Grasshopper watched from nearby. “W-what an odd looking creature,” said Gogi.
“Indeed,” concurred Momoki. “What is that he has in his hands?”
“I-it looks like a stone.”
Momoki squinted, straining to see. “That is no stone! It is an egg!” He hurried off towards the stranger. Gogi called after him, “Momoki! What are you doing? Come back!” Without thought, Gogi followed.
As Momoki drew near Motharus he cried out, “Stop! No creature shall harm another creature while upon Taliesin!”
Motharus looked at the charging Momoki. “Who commands this?”
Momoki slowed as he drew near. “I am Momoki the Marmoset, Guardian of Taliesin, the mountain you are now on. It is my charge and station.”
“Charge and station? By whose command?” Motharus demanded.
“By The Cosmos, of course,” answered Momoki.
Motharus’ differently colored eyes grew wide with rage. “The Cosmos? They seek to control even the morsels I eat? The Cosmos be damned!” He raised the small egg to his beak.
“No!” Momoki cried out as he jumped, grabbing for Motharus’ hand. He held fast and pushed at the bird-man’s head with his feet to keep him from eating the egg.
Motharus grabbed Momoki by the scruff of the neck and threw him to the ground. “Stop it! I will do as I please!” Again he raised the egg to his beak, but by then Gogi had caught up and jumped into Motharus’ face, landing on his beak and making a racket of such calamity that it distracted Motharus momentarily.
Motharus swatted at Gogi, who jumped and jumped and yelled, “Let the egg go!”
At last Motharus was able to target the small Gogi and slapped him from the air.
Momoki got back to his feet, grabbed up a nearby rock and jumped. His screeched as he flew through the air, his ringed tail twirling round and round. He brought the rock down upon Motharus’ beak and cracked it. The crack appeared as a bolt of lightning on the left side, split into two.
Though Motharus had been trained in mysticism and fighting, never had he been struck. The shock of the sudden pain frightened him. He dropped the egg and flew off. Before he was out of reach, he put one palm above another, conjuring fire and throwing it down onto the fields of Taliesin. He then disappeared from sight.
Momoki dropped the rock and ran off, screaming a warning to all that a fire was slowly growing in the fields.
Gogi, battered and badly bruised, stood up and crawled toward the egg Motharus has dropped into the soft grass. The egg shook. It cracked. Gogi’s eyes grew wide. “Momoki!” he cried. “Momoki!” But Momoki was busy tending to the fire with several of the other creatures that inhabited Taliesin.
Gogi backed away as first a nose then a head appeared through the broken egg’s shell. The head was small, green and had a spot of red at each temple. Soon the egg fell away from a whole and complete and newly born turtle.
The fire out, Momoki returned to Gogi’s side and saw the tiny turtle. “Hello, little one,” Momoki scooped her up. “Are you hurt?”
The turtle shook her tiny head.
Momoki smiled. He looked at Gogi. “We have a new resident.”
“B-be careful, Momoki,” Gogi warned. “She m-might be a demonic b-being.”
Momoki shook her head. “She’s not evil. She is simply a turtle.” He bent low and showed Gogi the turtle. “What should we call her?”
Gogi shrugged.
“I think she looks like a Twila. Does Twila sound good?”
Again Gogi shrugged, nervously shaking.
“How about you?” he asked the turtle. “Does Twila sound good?”
The turtle nodded and smiled and rubber her little head along the length of Momoki’s thumb.
“Then Twila it is. Twila, welcome to Taliesin.”
She smiled and playfully danced in Momoki’s hand.
Twila grew big and strong. She grew big enough for Momoki to ride on her back when they played together in the fields. Gogi, too, learned to trust Twila and they became friends. All three would play and bask in the sun and eat. Szu Ri, the Silk Worm, would occasionally join them on picnics under the cherry blossoms and ride on the back of Twila, crying out, “This is amazing! You move so quickly!”
Gogi would often tell Twila about the world below, the world from which she came but knew nothing of. Szu Ri and Momoki would also listen, enchanted by the tales of his family and the adventures of friends of friends of uncles or aunts or cousins.
“I would like to visit the world below,” Momoki would often say.
A year passed. To commemorate their year of friendship, Twila asked the termites of Taliesin to build Gogi a cane and a small wooden box for Momoki in which he could store and draw tobacco leaves for smoking. They held a picnic and she gave the presents to her friends.
“Wonderful!” exclaimed Gogi.
“I can carry my tobacco anywhere!” Momoki was pleased.
They each thanked her for the presents. “But,” Gogi was hesitant. “Why a cane? All my legs are in perfect order.”
“You are always telling us abut your travels and you run all over Taliesin constantly, Gogi. I felt a walking cane was appropriate.”
Gogi considered this. “Oh! It is! It is!” He first hugged the cane, then Twila.
While Gogi was visiting Szu Ri once, Twila and Momoki lay in the sun on the side of Taliesin. Twila said, “Gogi told me recently of how you bravely rescued me from the beak of a bird-man. I thank you.”
“No thanks are needed, Twila. It is my charge and station. My thanks is our friendship.”
Twila nuzzled his thumb with her nose.
Momoki smiled. He leaned towards her and whispered, “I love you, Twila.”
Twila blushed and receded a small way into her shell. When she came back out she once more nuzzled at Momoki’s thumb. “Oh, Momoki. I love you, too.”
Then one day Twila and Gogi found Momoki sitting at the edge of Taliesin, spying the world far below.
“What are you doing?” asked Twila.
“Watching and wondering,” explained Momoki.
He sat like that for several days, each day leaning farther out to get a better view. Each day Gogi and Twila would visit him.
“Still watching?” Twila would ask.
Momoki would not.
“B-be careful,” Gogi would warn. “That fall would be most dangerous.”
Momoki did not tend to his duties in the fields and orchards. Taliesin became overgrown. Twila and Gogi decided they needed to discuss matters with Momoki. They approached him. Momoki was now leaning far forward.
“Momoki, we are concerned for you,” Twila said softly.
Momoki leaned farther out, “I can almost see people down there.” His weight shifted. His balanced moved far forward. Momoki’s eyes bulged. He gasped. He scrambled to grab the grass and rocks of Taliesin, but he missed.
Momoki’s friends watched as he slipped away. He fell, his tail whipping in the air. He screamed out for help, but there was nothing anyone could do. His three friends watched in horror as he disappeared below the clouds. The fall was immense, too immense for even an Immortal to survive. Momoki was no more.
Twila burst into tears, Gogi whimpered and Szu Ri tried to comfort them both.
Twila cried and cried. She cried for two days until her tears formed a pond around her, spilling out over the edge of Taliesin as a waterfall and created the first rains in the world below. She floated in the pond of her own tears. Gogi remained nearby, but could not reach her as she began to be swept away by the waterfall’s current. She could not fight against the strong flow, but she did not want to.
Twila was washed over the side of Taliesin and joined Momoki in death.
Gogi, panicking, ran away. He ran as fast as he could and hide beneath a rock, weeping for his lost friends. He hurt so badly he felt as though he never wanted to move from his hiding spot under the rock.
In lands far away where The Cosmos were yet finishing the edge of the world, a small patch of mist turned and headed for Taliesin.
****************************************************************************
Watch for Act II next Friday!
Friday, April 11, 2008
"The Sagas of the 70,000 Gods" -- Part One
Since 2000, I've been working on a collection of tales that my friend Jason Ho has dubbed 'The Pirate Epic'. The tales are truly about pirates and perhaps is epic in that the stories chronicle the world's first major war.
As part of the world creation process for the pirate epic, I started writing "The Sagas of the 70,000 Gods". It is a holy text, also a collection of tales, telling about the gods of this fictional pirate epic world and recounting the world's creation.
In February 2007 I began truly writing these sagas.
Here I present to you for the first time anywhere the first four "books" of the sagas. I will present them in two parts. Part One will be posted today. Part two will be posted next Friday. Let me know what you think.
As always, enjoy!
******
BOOK 1
"The Sorrows of Amir"
******
Let it be known, in the time before Time when all as yet did not exist but the seventy-thousand gods and Nothingness, the blessed gods, with all their strength, wisdom and undying lives, could not yet exist peacefully together, but instead each god and goddess raged angrily, waging war upon his and her brethren and sistren.
Woe, these were not joyous times, this time before Time, for our Holy Parents. For, as gods immune to the mercy of death, they could not end their suffering. Neither could they end their wars. Great and mighty battles were held, wars that would make the future wars of mortals pale with frailty and weaken with wonder.
Lo, no war is ever without pain, regardless of scale. It is a matter destined to be relearned.
Despite the great battles of the seventy-thousand gods, no victory was ever won for no god or goddess allowed defeat, even by the capable hands of a peer. None could die, none could experience triumph.
The most warmongering gods were also the most numerous. These were the Immortal Dragons and they numbered ten-thousand and one. With malicious breath, poisoned teeth, claws of such length they could pierce the chests of a dozen mortals or more at once. The Dragons reigned in these wars as they would often form alliances with one another against all other gods.
Pity now the gods for their hearts are not shallow nor their collective conscience unadorned, unweighted nor free. For a mortal's fleeting lifetime of suffering, theirs is eternal sorrow. For a mortal's span of defeat, theirs is forever unvictorious, unaccomplished. The lay of the gods is stagnation. Ruminate upon this, for blessed are endings.
In this time, when Time did not yet exist, a time the gods themselves named The Forever Wars, there was one god above all others who warred the least. He found friends with most other gods, alliances and even adoration. The Dragons, too, called him brother. He was Amir, God of Wonder and Justice; The Quiet One; The God of Inspiration and Love.
Behold the sorrow of Amir's heart to bear witness to the fury of his kind against one another. Feel the sadness of the insults hurled by one god unto another that Amir felt. Echo Amir's love and fairness, inspiring the plight of justice to wash out hate, fear and ugliness.
Now feel Amir's pain take form as a tear, filling space within the Void, in the time before Time.
Lenius, the great Dragon Goddess of Fertility and friend to Amir, witnessed this tear and was perplexed by it. She studied upon it for some time before speaking with Amir.
"My dear Amir," she began, "what is this thing you have made? With it you have created a thing of form that cannot exist as we do and, since I can remember when this thing did not exist where now it does, you have also created Time. How is this so?"
"I cannot answer, for I truly do not know. This droplet is sorrow manifested. Forever we fight, forever we ridicule and mock one another, forever we breed hate.
"War is logical, for not one of us could ever be expected to think or feel or desire as every other one. From that comes misunderstanding, belief, passion and even deception and from those come war. War is natural. However, since our wars are never conclusive, since we never tire, I fear this is how things shall forever be: hate upon hate, war upon war, without respite. The hate will grow and drown the hope of love and peace. I fear this must be the fate of all gods. In my sorrow I wept and in my weeping grew this tear."
Lenius was astonished. Never had she heard such wisdom and compassion.
Amir said, "I implore you, dear friend, leave me to reflect upon this droplet."
Lenius did as her friend asked.
Let it be known that the whole of the seventy-thousand gods beheld the Tear of Amir. Though their wars did not stop, they slowed as the vast and many gods were held in contemplation.
The tear hung silently in the darkness of the Void and all the gods came to speak of it, studying upon Time.
Amir returned to his friend's side. "Lenius, my friend," said he, "I ask of you a favor. Whether it is great or small is your choosing, but if you fulfill this request I shall forever be indebted to you. I shall make repayment my destiny."
"Quiet your thoughts," said Lenius. " I will do this favor and refuse any debt. Yet, I am confused. Is not Amir a god like the rest of us? What could I could do and not yourself?"
"I could easily fulfill this task myself. Yet, for reasons I do not fully understand, I must ask this favor of you. I feel it is the effect of Time that brings me to you. I know that as you do this task for me, should you agree, I will be provided more time in which to ruminate. I cannot explain fully. I feel we must leave reason alone."
Lenius was disturbed by her friend's notions, but she said, "As you wish, friend. What is this favor?"
"I ask that you gather the seventy-thousand gods around the tear to hold audience with me."
"Seventy-thousand wills gathered at once would be impossible, even for a god. However, curiosity for this droplet may make it an easy task after all. I will do as you ask."
Amir showered Lenius with gratitude and they parted.
******
BOOK 2
"The Gathering of the Gods"
******
Let it be known, the whole of seventy-thousand gods gathered round the tear as Amir desired. Lenius, as she had suspected, found implacable curiosity within each god, thus making her task easy. They drew near Amir and the droplet.
"O sistren and brethren! Woe is our lay and this droplet we now surround is evidence to such, for this droplet is fear and sorrow manifested into form."
"It looks silver. I would wager it would shine in the light," interrupted Sharafar, The Elephant God, Ruler of Curiosity and Courage.
"That is no wager. We can all see it would shimmer grotesquely," whispered the hoarse voice of Cloak, The Unseen, Ruler of Shadows.
"Perhaps a blast of my fiery breath will settle the matter," spoke Krogan, The Fire Dragon, his comment joined by the laughter from many of the Dragons.
Lenius called for silence and Amir continued.
"Our wars will never end, I fear, as long as we give no pause for breath. Suspicion will fuel hatred, hatred will feed these Forever Wars. We all grow tired, weary. Hatred and anger drains the self and only more hatred can fire the gut, fill the heart."
Watching eyes lowered in sadness at the truth Amir spoke. Each god in turn thought how wise Amir was.
"With this one tear," Amir continued, "I give to you a solution."
The gods crowded to listen, a great mass of Nothingness surrounding minute form.
"We must create more," Amir proclaimed. "Perhaps not tears, but we must create form from our Nothingness. Let us fill the Void! Let us cry or roar, bellow or sacrifice to create more from ourselves, spreading all things out in growth and motion and Time. Let us create worlds to rule and call our home, to separate ourselves from the bitterest enemies and gather with friends. Let us fill this Void so as to breathe, so as to never war again!"
Amir knew the folly in his words, for war is logical. It was his hope, however, to appease his kin, to end their wars so hatred would not completely consume them, so that peace, at least at times, could be within their destiny.
The congregation broke into smaller groups, discussing Amir's wisdom through low mumbles.
Lenius and Amir remained at the tear's side.
"Will they think I have gone mad?" asked Amir.
"They are gods. They will find wisdom," Lenius assured.
And so it came to be that it was so tempting for the gods to have worlds of their own, so tempting to end their Forever Wars, that all the gods would agree, though some reluctantly.
As part of the world creation process for the pirate epic, I started writing "The Sagas of the 70,000 Gods". It is a holy text, also a collection of tales, telling about the gods of this fictional pirate epic world and recounting the world's creation.
In February 2007 I began truly writing these sagas.
Here I present to you for the first time anywhere the first four "books" of the sagas. I will present them in two parts. Part One will be posted today. Part two will be posted next Friday. Let me know what you think.
As always, enjoy!
******
BOOK 1
"The Sorrows of Amir"
******
Let it be known, in the time before Time when all as yet did not exist but the seventy-thousand gods and Nothingness, the blessed gods, with all their strength, wisdom and undying lives, could not yet exist peacefully together, but instead each god and goddess raged angrily, waging war upon his and her brethren and sistren.
Woe, these were not joyous times, this time before Time, for our Holy Parents. For, as gods immune to the mercy of death, they could not end their suffering. Neither could they end their wars. Great and mighty battles were held, wars that would make the future wars of mortals pale with frailty and weaken with wonder.
Lo, no war is ever without pain, regardless of scale. It is a matter destined to be relearned.
Despite the great battles of the seventy-thousand gods, no victory was ever won for no god or goddess allowed defeat, even by the capable hands of a peer. None could die, none could experience triumph.
The most warmongering gods were also the most numerous. These were the Immortal Dragons and they numbered ten-thousand and one. With malicious breath, poisoned teeth, claws of such length they could pierce the chests of a dozen mortals or more at once. The Dragons reigned in these wars as they would often form alliances with one another against all other gods.
Pity now the gods for their hearts are not shallow nor their collective conscience unadorned, unweighted nor free. For a mortal's fleeting lifetime of suffering, theirs is eternal sorrow. For a mortal's span of defeat, theirs is forever unvictorious, unaccomplished. The lay of the gods is stagnation. Ruminate upon this, for blessed are endings.
In this time, when Time did not yet exist, a time the gods themselves named The Forever Wars, there was one god above all others who warred the least. He found friends with most other gods, alliances and even adoration. The Dragons, too, called him brother. He was Amir, God of Wonder and Justice; The Quiet One; The God of Inspiration and Love.
Behold the sorrow of Amir's heart to bear witness to the fury of his kind against one another. Feel the sadness of the insults hurled by one god unto another that Amir felt. Echo Amir's love and fairness, inspiring the plight of justice to wash out hate, fear and ugliness.
Now feel Amir's pain take form as a tear, filling space within the Void, in the time before Time.
Lenius, the great Dragon Goddess of Fertility and friend to Amir, witnessed this tear and was perplexed by it. She studied upon it for some time before speaking with Amir.
"My dear Amir," she began, "what is this thing you have made? With it you have created a thing of form that cannot exist as we do and, since I can remember when this thing did not exist where now it does, you have also created Time. How is this so?"
"I cannot answer, for I truly do not know. This droplet is sorrow manifested. Forever we fight, forever we ridicule and mock one another, forever we breed hate.
"War is logical, for not one of us could ever be expected to think or feel or desire as every other one. From that comes misunderstanding, belief, passion and even deception and from those come war. War is natural. However, since our wars are never conclusive, since we never tire, I fear this is how things shall forever be: hate upon hate, war upon war, without respite. The hate will grow and drown the hope of love and peace. I fear this must be the fate of all gods. In my sorrow I wept and in my weeping grew this tear."
Lenius was astonished. Never had she heard such wisdom and compassion.
Amir said, "I implore you, dear friend, leave me to reflect upon this droplet."
Lenius did as her friend asked.
Let it be known that the whole of the seventy-thousand gods beheld the Tear of Amir. Though their wars did not stop, they slowed as the vast and many gods were held in contemplation.
The tear hung silently in the darkness of the Void and all the gods came to speak of it, studying upon Time.
Amir returned to his friend's side. "Lenius, my friend," said he, "I ask of you a favor. Whether it is great or small is your choosing, but if you fulfill this request I shall forever be indebted to you. I shall make repayment my destiny."
"Quiet your thoughts," said Lenius. " I will do this favor and refuse any debt. Yet, I am confused. Is not Amir a god like the rest of us? What could I could do and not yourself?"
"I could easily fulfill this task myself. Yet, for reasons I do not fully understand, I must ask this favor of you. I feel it is the effect of Time that brings me to you. I know that as you do this task for me, should you agree, I will be provided more time in which to ruminate. I cannot explain fully. I feel we must leave reason alone."
Lenius was disturbed by her friend's notions, but she said, "As you wish, friend. What is this favor?"
"I ask that you gather the seventy-thousand gods around the tear to hold audience with me."
"Seventy-thousand wills gathered at once would be impossible, even for a god. However, curiosity for this droplet may make it an easy task after all. I will do as you ask."
Amir showered Lenius with gratitude and they parted.
******
BOOK 2
"The Gathering of the Gods"
******
Let it be known, the whole of seventy-thousand gods gathered round the tear as Amir desired. Lenius, as she had suspected, found implacable curiosity within each god, thus making her task easy. They drew near Amir and the droplet.
"O sistren and brethren! Woe is our lay and this droplet we now surround is evidence to such, for this droplet is fear and sorrow manifested into form."
"It looks silver. I would wager it would shine in the light," interrupted Sharafar, The Elephant God, Ruler of Curiosity and Courage.
"That is no wager. We can all see it would shimmer grotesquely," whispered the hoarse voice of Cloak, The Unseen, Ruler of Shadows.
"Perhaps a blast of my fiery breath will settle the matter," spoke Krogan, The Fire Dragon, his comment joined by the laughter from many of the Dragons.
Lenius called for silence and Amir continued.
"Our wars will never end, I fear, as long as we give no pause for breath. Suspicion will fuel hatred, hatred will feed these Forever Wars. We all grow tired, weary. Hatred and anger drains the self and only more hatred can fire the gut, fill the heart."
Watching eyes lowered in sadness at the truth Amir spoke. Each god in turn thought how wise Amir was.
"With this one tear," Amir continued, "I give to you a solution."
The gods crowded to listen, a great mass of Nothingness surrounding minute form.
"We must create more," Amir proclaimed. "Perhaps not tears, but we must create form from our Nothingness. Let us fill the Void! Let us cry or roar, bellow or sacrifice to create more from ourselves, spreading all things out in growth and motion and Time. Let us create worlds to rule and call our home, to separate ourselves from the bitterest enemies and gather with friends. Let us fill this Void so as to breathe, so as to never war again!"
Amir knew the folly in his words, for war is logical. It was his hope, however, to appease his kin, to end their wars so hatred would not completely consume them, so that peace, at least at times, could be within their destiny.
The congregation broke into smaller groups, discussing Amir's wisdom through low mumbles.
Lenius and Amir remained at the tear's side.
"Will they think I have gone mad?" asked Amir.
"They are gods. They will find wisdom," Lenius assured.
And so it came to be that it was so tempting for the gods to have worlds of their own, so tempting to end their Forever Wars, that all the gods would agree, though some reluctantly.
Friday, January 11, 2008
"At the Peony Tea House" - Part 2
Here is Part 2 of my original short story "At the Peony Tea House". Enjoy.
"At the Peony Tea House" - Part 2
by Charles Shaver. Copyright 2008 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.
************************************
PART II
THE FOX AND THE FROG: Wherein Wu Chan Chu and Comet Fox Fight; Old Friends Reminisce; A Small Fortune Goes Missing
************************************
Comet Fox danced back and forth. His arms swayed from side to side while his feet took turns supporting him atop the polished wood floor of the Peony. His red fur waved as an ocean at sunset.
Wu Chan Chu was confused by this new dance. Never had she seen her old friend move so. "What new trickery have you learned in our time apart?" she asked.
"Come," Comet Fox challenged, sneering, "Find out what new tricks this old dog has learned."
Wu Chan Chu charged Comet Fox, but Comet Fox cartwheeled sideways and was suddenly at his opponent's side with a fist in her gut.
Wu Chan Chu gave a small croak.
The crowd roared with laughter and cheers.
Wu Chan Chu stepped away, coughed, and said, "Beautifully executed, but tricks will not win a war."
Comet Fox answered by jumping, flying, darting towards Wu Chan Chu with great speed.
Wu Chan Chu took a defensive stance, her eyes upon the swiftly approaching fists. She brought up her arms in a block.
Comet Fox, just before hitting Wu Chan Chu, pulled up quickly, flipping mid-air over Wu Chan Chu. His fists, instead of landing upon Wu Chan Chu's raised arms, floated instead to his sides while his head slammed into the top of Wu Chan Chu's skull in a fierce headbutt. She groaned, coughing, gurgling. Blood sprayed from her left nostril.
Comet Fox landed softly upon the wood floor behind her.
Wu Chan Chu wiped the blood from her nose and turned to face Comet Fox. She wanted to scream her dissatisfaction at him, but chose to take a defensive stance once more instead.
Comet Fox flew at her once more. This time Wu Chan Chu was ready. She jumped, meeting him mid-air with a knee to his chest. Both fell to the ground, Wu Chan Chu upon her feet and Comet Fox Rolling on his side.
Comet Fox rolled up to his feet, sneering, laughing quietly.
The two warriors fought for hours, testing each other, feeling each other out. For a long time Comet Fox showed he had the edge, throwing more punches, landing more blows. In the end, both were bloody and bruised and the crowd was captivated.
"We have fought long enough," Comet Fox whispered to his opponent. "Let us end this."
"Indeed," Wu Chan Chu agreed. "Let's end this."
They circled, increasing distance from one another. When at lasdt they were at the farthest edges of the wooden floor from one another, they charged. Comet Fox flew. Wu Chan Chu jumped. Both struck and both blows were hard. Comet Fox's fist found Wu Chan Chu's neck. It sank into deep folds, finding esophagus and pinching it. Wu Chan Chu's eyes grew wide as she gasped for air.
As Comet Fox's blow landed, so too did Wu Chan Chu's. She brought both her knees up, one slightly above the other. One struck Comet Fox in the chest, expelling all the air from his body. The other struck his gut, sending bile into his throat.
Comet Fox and Wu Chan Chu both fell to the floor, coughing, choking, rolling in pain.
The people screamed, they cheered. They cried out for more. Men grabbed men and shook each other in excitement. Women grabbed women and screeched with joy. But soon, as the two fighters rolled across the wooden floor in agony, they all turned to wonder at who should be declared the winner. A clear winner was needed to settle all the bets.
The owner of the Peony stepped forward. "Let us agree," he cried out, "that whosoever should stand first shall be declared the winner!"
The people cheered, then grew silent. Then chants began, some for the champion Wu Chan Chu, some for the challenger Comet Fox.
Both struggled to stand. Both fell in doing so. But it was at last Wu Chan Chu who first got to her feet and was declared winner.
The crowd screamed with delight. A few booed. All applauded as the two fighters walked off the floor together.
************************************
The room was small and smelled of stank tobacco and sweat. Comet Fox couldn't quite get used to it. There was a small bed and a blue glass hookah in the center of the room. Flies and cockroaches skittered and flew everywhere.
Wu Chan Chu fell atop the bed. Comet fox used an overturned wood crate as a seat. He dabbed at blood trickling from his mouth with his pawed hand.
Wu Chan Chu busily, meticulously prepared some herbal leaves in the hookah. She carefully lit the flavored leaves and offered Comet Fox a hose. He took it and drew on the sweet smoke. It tasted of peaches. His mind went wild and he puffed out two more clouds of smoke. Wu Chan Chu did the same with another hose.
"You learned a new style," Wu Chan Chu said.
"And you're as strong as ever," Comet Fox replied.
"Tell me, where did you learn this new way of fighting?"
"After we parted," Comet Fox said, "I traveled the mortal realm for quite a time. I sowed a few seeds, drank a lot, and woke up one day with an island sun blinding me. On that island is where I learned my new fighting style. There I met Master Bakongo. There I learned from him Capoeira."
************************************
The Island of Black Soil and Oranges was small, sunny, bright and off the coast of a southern continent. It was populated by a mere few hundred and was occasionally adorned with hardened lava floes from a long-dead volcano. The people were happy, their lives hard but good. Fish and oranges were staples in their diet. It was here that Comet Fox awoke from a drunken haze.
He wandered the island until he found several people, both men and women, working on nets and lines and preparing foods before the day's fishing. Comet Fox asked, "I beg for your kindness... have you something for me to eat?"
The people laughed and scoffed at him. A woman named Risueña Cara grabbed his pawed hand and placed some netting in it that needed to be repaired, stating, "Work first, then we eat."
"But I'm hungry and I do not live here," Comet Fox explained.
"Then you do not eat here, either," said the Risueña Cara.
Comet Fox, with great reluctance, learned how to tie and repair nets for fishing that morning. As soon as the work was through, the whole community came out to eat. He was accepted into their midst, many gawking at him and asking questions, but none were mean, foul or inconsiderate. They allowed him to eat all he wanted and he ate his fill.
"Come," said Risueña Cara once more, "we must go to work."
"But, but..." Comet Fox stammered. "I do not live here."
"But if you would like to, you must work."
Fearing offending his hosts, Comet Fox boarded a boat and helped paddle out and helped with the day's fishing.
Later that night the groups of boats return with fish and food for the night's meal.
And so went Comet Fox's life for many days. He would awake, repair tools, eat, fish all day, return to the island and eat and sleep. He lost weight, grew muscles, gained clarity of mind.
After many weeks on the Island of Black Soil and Oranges, the people had a Moon Festival. Comet Fox did his part in the festival's preparation. He fished, decorated, chopped wood for big bonfires.
On the night of the Moon Festival the people danced, ate and ate and sang. At one point someone produced a ball and a type of singing, dancing game was started. Comet Fox found himself thrown into the mix. He laughed and hooted and cheered as he kicked the ball and danced and celebrated with the people. The people cheered his deft athleticism at the game. He flew above their heads with torches in each hand to light the night sky already bright with a full moon.
The following morning when he awoke for the day's work, he was told not do so.
"But why?" he asked.
"Someone wishes to speak with you today," Risueña Cara told him.
"Who?"
"Just stay while we go out fishing today," said Risueña Cara.
Comet Fox did as he was told, though he wondered if he had offended the good people of the island in some way the night before.
He sat along the shore a long time after the people had paddled out to sea before someone approached him. He was an elderly man, wrinkled with time and skin dark with the sun. "I am Akan Bakongo," the old man introduced himself.
"I am Comet Fox."
"I saw you playing our game last night."
"The one with the ball?"
"Yes."
Comet Fox smiled, "Yes, I liked it."
"You are quite good at it, quite natural to physical movement."
"Comet Fox shrugged, "I guess so."
"Come," Akan Bakongo said. He lead Comet Fox into a stand of palms Comet Fox had seen but never thought to venture into. Deep within was a small hut with a single room within. They entered. The hut smelled moist and alive. In the center of its lone room was a ball much like Comet Fox had played with the night before at the Moon Festival. Akan Bakongo tapped it with his foot. The ball slowly rolled to Comet Fox's feet.
"Kick it back," Akan Bakongo said.
Comet Fox did so and did so slowly, just as it had been kicked to him.
Akan Bakongo, with a quick twist of his ankle, kicked the ball again, this time sailing at a high speed toward Comet Fox's head.
Comet Fox deflected the ball with his head. The ball fell back to the floor and rolled towards Akan Bakongo who kicked it once more, this time even harder and with greater speed.
Comet Fox swung his arms, twisting his body as he had dancing the night before, and leaned way back to avoid the ball aimed for his chest. "What are you trying to do?" Comet Fox demanded as he straightened.
"Teach you."
"Teach me what? How to avoid being hit by a ball?"
"Exactly. Now return the ball to me. And keep those legs moving as if dancing, just like in the game last night."
************************************
"And so began my training in Capoeira," Comet Fox explained. "What of you? How is it you've come to be the champion here?"
Wu Chan Chu sighed. "XXiao-tep and I traveled together a long time after we left the Cottonwood Chamber, but eventually the time came for us to part. He needed to go his way and I mine. I supported myself by fighting here and there for money. Finally, a traveling immortal told me of this place and said there's money to be made here for a good fighter. As champion, I get ten percent of the house's take on the gambling plus this room to stay in and all the tea and food I want. It's been a pretty good life for me. A hard one, but a good one."
Comet Fox nodded.
A great commotion erupted in the hall outside the door. Wu Chan Chu flicked her tongue out and used it to slide the door open. People we rerunnign after the owner of the tea house.
Wu Chan Chu stood up and left, Comet Fox following closely behind.
When they reached the owner's side, Wu Chan Chu asked, "What is it? What's the problem?"
"Oh, my champion!" cried the owner. "The coffers! The Peony's coffers have gone missing! We are broke! Someone has stolen all our money!"
Wu Chan Chu grunted, sighed, then looked at Comet Fox.
"What? Why are you looking at me?" Comet Fox asked.
*****************************************
Look for Part 3 next Friday!!!
"At the Peony Tea House" - Part 2
by Charles Shaver. Copyright 2008 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.
************************************
PART II
THE FOX AND THE FROG: Wherein Wu Chan Chu and Comet Fox Fight; Old Friends Reminisce; A Small Fortune Goes Missing
************************************
Comet Fox danced back and forth. His arms swayed from side to side while his feet took turns supporting him atop the polished wood floor of the Peony. His red fur waved as an ocean at sunset.
Wu Chan Chu was confused by this new dance. Never had she seen her old friend move so. "What new trickery have you learned in our time apart?" she asked.
"Come," Comet Fox challenged, sneering, "Find out what new tricks this old dog has learned."
Wu Chan Chu charged Comet Fox, but Comet Fox cartwheeled sideways and was suddenly at his opponent's side with a fist in her gut.
Wu Chan Chu gave a small croak.
The crowd roared with laughter and cheers.
Wu Chan Chu stepped away, coughed, and said, "Beautifully executed, but tricks will not win a war."
Comet Fox answered by jumping, flying, darting towards Wu Chan Chu with great speed.
Wu Chan Chu took a defensive stance, her eyes upon the swiftly approaching fists. She brought up her arms in a block.
Comet Fox, just before hitting Wu Chan Chu, pulled up quickly, flipping mid-air over Wu Chan Chu. His fists, instead of landing upon Wu Chan Chu's raised arms, floated instead to his sides while his head slammed into the top of Wu Chan Chu's skull in a fierce headbutt. She groaned, coughing, gurgling. Blood sprayed from her left nostril.
Comet Fox landed softly upon the wood floor behind her.
Wu Chan Chu wiped the blood from her nose and turned to face Comet Fox. She wanted to scream her dissatisfaction at him, but chose to take a defensive stance once more instead.
Comet Fox flew at her once more. This time Wu Chan Chu was ready. She jumped, meeting him mid-air with a knee to his chest. Both fell to the ground, Wu Chan Chu upon her feet and Comet Fox Rolling on his side.
Comet Fox rolled up to his feet, sneering, laughing quietly.
The two warriors fought for hours, testing each other, feeling each other out. For a long time Comet Fox showed he had the edge, throwing more punches, landing more blows. In the end, both were bloody and bruised and the crowd was captivated.
"We have fought long enough," Comet Fox whispered to his opponent. "Let us end this."
"Indeed," Wu Chan Chu agreed. "Let's end this."
They circled, increasing distance from one another. When at lasdt they were at the farthest edges of the wooden floor from one another, they charged. Comet Fox flew. Wu Chan Chu jumped. Both struck and both blows were hard. Comet Fox's fist found Wu Chan Chu's neck. It sank into deep folds, finding esophagus and pinching it. Wu Chan Chu's eyes grew wide as she gasped for air.
As Comet Fox's blow landed, so too did Wu Chan Chu's. She brought both her knees up, one slightly above the other. One struck Comet Fox in the chest, expelling all the air from his body. The other struck his gut, sending bile into his throat.
Comet Fox and Wu Chan Chu both fell to the floor, coughing, choking, rolling in pain.
The people screamed, they cheered. They cried out for more. Men grabbed men and shook each other in excitement. Women grabbed women and screeched with joy. But soon, as the two fighters rolled across the wooden floor in agony, they all turned to wonder at who should be declared the winner. A clear winner was needed to settle all the bets.
The owner of the Peony stepped forward. "Let us agree," he cried out, "that whosoever should stand first shall be declared the winner!"
The people cheered, then grew silent. Then chants began, some for the champion Wu Chan Chu, some for the challenger Comet Fox.
Both struggled to stand. Both fell in doing so. But it was at last Wu Chan Chu who first got to her feet and was declared winner.
The crowd screamed with delight. A few booed. All applauded as the two fighters walked off the floor together.
************************************
The room was small and smelled of stank tobacco and sweat. Comet Fox couldn't quite get used to it. There was a small bed and a blue glass hookah in the center of the room. Flies and cockroaches skittered and flew everywhere.
Wu Chan Chu fell atop the bed. Comet fox used an overturned wood crate as a seat. He dabbed at blood trickling from his mouth with his pawed hand.
Wu Chan Chu busily, meticulously prepared some herbal leaves in the hookah. She carefully lit the flavored leaves and offered Comet Fox a hose. He took it and drew on the sweet smoke. It tasted of peaches. His mind went wild and he puffed out two more clouds of smoke. Wu Chan Chu did the same with another hose.
"You learned a new style," Wu Chan Chu said.
"And you're as strong as ever," Comet Fox replied.
"Tell me, where did you learn this new way of fighting?"
"After we parted," Comet Fox said, "I traveled the mortal realm for quite a time. I sowed a few seeds, drank a lot, and woke up one day with an island sun blinding me. On that island is where I learned my new fighting style. There I met Master Bakongo. There I learned from him Capoeira."
************************************
The Island of Black Soil and Oranges was small, sunny, bright and off the coast of a southern continent. It was populated by a mere few hundred and was occasionally adorned with hardened lava floes from a long-dead volcano. The people were happy, their lives hard but good. Fish and oranges were staples in their diet. It was here that Comet Fox awoke from a drunken haze.
He wandered the island until he found several people, both men and women, working on nets and lines and preparing foods before the day's fishing. Comet Fox asked, "I beg for your kindness... have you something for me to eat?"
The people laughed and scoffed at him. A woman named Risueña Cara grabbed his pawed hand and placed some netting in it that needed to be repaired, stating, "Work first, then we eat."
"But I'm hungry and I do not live here," Comet Fox explained.
"Then you do not eat here, either," said the Risueña Cara.
Comet Fox, with great reluctance, learned how to tie and repair nets for fishing that morning. As soon as the work was through, the whole community came out to eat. He was accepted into their midst, many gawking at him and asking questions, but none were mean, foul or inconsiderate. They allowed him to eat all he wanted and he ate his fill.
"Come," said Risueña Cara once more, "we must go to work."
"But, but..." Comet Fox stammered. "I do not live here."
"But if you would like to, you must work."
Fearing offending his hosts, Comet Fox boarded a boat and helped paddle out and helped with the day's fishing.
Later that night the groups of boats return with fish and food for the night's meal.
And so went Comet Fox's life for many days. He would awake, repair tools, eat, fish all day, return to the island and eat and sleep. He lost weight, grew muscles, gained clarity of mind.
After many weeks on the Island of Black Soil and Oranges, the people had a Moon Festival. Comet Fox did his part in the festival's preparation. He fished, decorated, chopped wood for big bonfires.
On the night of the Moon Festival the people danced, ate and ate and sang. At one point someone produced a ball and a type of singing, dancing game was started. Comet Fox found himself thrown into the mix. He laughed and hooted and cheered as he kicked the ball and danced and celebrated with the people. The people cheered his deft athleticism at the game. He flew above their heads with torches in each hand to light the night sky already bright with a full moon.
The following morning when he awoke for the day's work, he was told not do so.
"But why?" he asked.
"Someone wishes to speak with you today," Risueña Cara told him.
"Who?"
"Just stay while we go out fishing today," said Risueña Cara.
Comet Fox did as he was told, though he wondered if he had offended the good people of the island in some way the night before.
He sat along the shore a long time after the people had paddled out to sea before someone approached him. He was an elderly man, wrinkled with time and skin dark with the sun. "I am Akan Bakongo," the old man introduced himself.
"I am Comet Fox."
"I saw you playing our game last night."
"The one with the ball?"
"Yes."
Comet Fox smiled, "Yes, I liked it."
"You are quite good at it, quite natural to physical movement."
"Comet Fox shrugged, "I guess so."
"Come," Akan Bakongo said. He lead Comet Fox into a stand of palms Comet Fox had seen but never thought to venture into. Deep within was a small hut with a single room within. They entered. The hut smelled moist and alive. In the center of its lone room was a ball much like Comet Fox had played with the night before at the Moon Festival. Akan Bakongo tapped it with his foot. The ball slowly rolled to Comet Fox's feet.
"Kick it back," Akan Bakongo said.
Comet Fox did so and did so slowly, just as it had been kicked to him.
Akan Bakongo, with a quick twist of his ankle, kicked the ball again, this time sailing at a high speed toward Comet Fox's head.
Comet Fox deflected the ball with his head. The ball fell back to the floor and rolled towards Akan Bakongo who kicked it once more, this time even harder and with greater speed.
Comet Fox swung his arms, twisting his body as he had dancing the night before, and leaned way back to avoid the ball aimed for his chest. "What are you trying to do?" Comet Fox demanded as he straightened.
"Teach you."
"Teach me what? How to avoid being hit by a ball?"
"Exactly. Now return the ball to me. And keep those legs moving as if dancing, just like in the game last night."
************************************
"And so began my training in Capoeira," Comet Fox explained. "What of you? How is it you've come to be the champion here?"
Wu Chan Chu sighed. "XXiao-tep and I traveled together a long time after we left the Cottonwood Chamber, but eventually the time came for us to part. He needed to go his way and I mine. I supported myself by fighting here and there for money. Finally, a traveling immortal told me of this place and said there's money to be made here for a good fighter. As champion, I get ten percent of the house's take on the gambling plus this room to stay in and all the tea and food I want. It's been a pretty good life for me. A hard one, but a good one."
Comet Fox nodded.
A great commotion erupted in the hall outside the door. Wu Chan Chu flicked her tongue out and used it to slide the door open. People we rerunnign after the owner of the tea house.
Wu Chan Chu stood up and left, Comet Fox following closely behind.
When they reached the owner's side, Wu Chan Chu asked, "What is it? What's the problem?"
"Oh, my champion!" cried the owner. "The coffers! The Peony's coffers have gone missing! We are broke! Someone has stolen all our money!"
Wu Chan Chu grunted, sighed, then looked at Comet Fox.
"What? Why are you looking at me?" Comet Fox asked.
*****************************************
Look for Part 3 next Friday!!!
Friday, January 4, 2008
"At the Peony Tea House" - Part 1
After a two week hiatus, I'm back to make the first post of the new year. I hope everyone's holiday season went well. Mine was good, if not rushed.
Today I present to you Part 1 of "At the Peony Tea House", a story expanding upon the characters and continuing the story lines from the five-act story "The Children of Gods" which I wrote and posted last year. These are fantasy Wuxia stories with anthropomorphic characters. I hope you enjoy.
Here are links to the original "The Children of Gods" story:
"The Children of Gods" Act I
"The Children of Gods" Act II
"The Children of Gods" Act III
"The Children of Gods" Act IV
"The Children of Gods" Act V
Afterword
Let's get started.
"At the Peony Tea House"
by Charles Shaver. Copyright 2008 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.
************************************
PART I
THE RESIDENT OF THE PEONY: Wherein Wu Chan Chu is Challenged by Comet Fox
************************************
Popular with those that walk with divinity is the Peony Tea House, though it is not so innocent and charming as its name would suggest. It is true that many an undertaking generally considered immoral or otherwise in poor taste finds a home within the tea house, yet gods and immortals of variety frequent the establishment. All affectionately called the tea house simply "The Peony".
The house is painted with the greens of spring and a pink so light one might consider it white if not glared upon with some small intensity. Tea is their specialty, and few dislike it, but wine is most common.
The house never closes. In that there were many that could in some small way consider this unimposing structure their home. Few, however, could make that claim with any truth. Only the owners and select few of the staff could truly call the tea house home. Among those was Wu Chan Chu, as she was the tea house's resident champion and as champion was granted a room, free of charge, for her lodging.
Sweat and the haze from every imaginable smoking herb hung in the air of the main room of the tea house. Tables line the walls as do booths and three bars. The center of the room is clear of all obstruction and has a floor of fine woods, polished though scarred. If one did not know its true purpose, one might consider it a proper dance floor.
A dance of sorts does occur on the floor, but not that which is generally considered fine and civilized. For the Peony Tea House, above all else - before its duties as a tea house, before its use as a brothel, before its importance as a gathering place, before its liquors and multiple indulgences - is first and foremost home to games of physical skill, of combat.
Wu Chan Chu stood at the center of the polished floor. Beside her was a small man, one of the owners, calling for a challenger. She had lost some weight since she had fought side-by-side with her brother, Xiao-tep, long ago in the Cottonwood Chamber. She still bore the mark he had given her in the belly.
Her eyes drifted up, up to a small loft with a veranda overlooking the floor. There, in a plush chair and accompanied by various peoples and creatures sat the god Hanuman, seeking the joys of night.
Wu Chan Chu's fists opened and closed in anticipation.
"Come! Challengers! We need challengers! We will give good odds to anyone with fighting skills!" called out the owner through a leather funnel that caused his voice to boom, echoing off the walls of the tea house.
His beckoning was answered by a man claiming to be immortal. Though small, he was muscular and looked quite athletic. He stepped forward to the center of the polished floor.
Bets were placed, cheers thrown out, excitement grew. Everyone had come to witness the grand and fine champion of the Peony Tea House.
The owner removed himself from the floor and the fight began.
The stranger approached with an aggressive stance, throwing a quick and short punch to test his range against Wu Chan Chu's. The frog demi-goddess had to do nothing to avoid the punch. The stranger followed with a quick and low kick to her legs. She blocked it and he shifted with blinding speed to deliver a similar kick with his other foot. This one hit her calf and sent a bit of pain into her body. She blinked but did nothing more.
The stranger bolted in with a kick aimed high at her chest. Wu Chan Chu blocked the kick with a folded arm and countered with a kick to his inner thigh.
The stranger worked in closer, trying to get within her comfortable range, and was finally left standing near her chest. Wu Chan Chu threw punch after punch, haymaker after haymaker at the stranger but his arms were folded at his sides and took the brunt of the damage. She swung wider and wider, opening her chest more and more to attack. At last, the stranger attacked.
He delivered three punches, two to her chest and one to the healed cut on her belly.
Wu Chan Chu lifted her knee into the face of the stranger and he was sent reeling from the blow. She pressed the attack ad the crowd cheered her on. She threw first one knee then the other into his chest as he tried to escape backwards. She let him go, let him catch his breath. The people screamed for blood and booed their champion for allowing the man time to recuperate.
The stranger gathered himself and slowly started in towards the center of the floor once more.
Wu Chan Chu ran, jumped in a small way for her, twisting the weight of her body and bringing her knee up and out like a spearhead. She flew higher than most men are tall and her knee came crashing down on his skull. Blood sprayed from his nose, coughing from between his teeth and the stranger fell to the floor.
Wu Chan Chu collected her prize money for the win as the stranger was helped up and out of the tea house.
The owner appeared once more.
He beckoned again through the leather funnel for challengers. He called out, threatened and finally begged for someone to step forward, but no one would. He did not want to call an end to the evening's festivities. An early end meant less wine and tea sold, less bets placed, less money made.
"Surely," said he, "someone finds our champion full of nothing but luck. Please! I beg you! Rid me of her!"
Wu Chan Chu had heard this all before and was not offended. The owner was simply doing his job, making the sale, tempting the would-be challengers in the crowd too full of self-doubt or not yet full enough of liquor to step forward.
"Come! All challengers! Anyone? What a sad night this would be with such a pathetic ending! We need a new challenger! Can we allow our honored guest," at this the owner waved a hand towards Hanuman seated high above, "go home tonight without proper entertainment?"
At last the crowd parted. At last someone stepped forward.
Through the crowd came an old familiar face. Through the crowd came Comet Fox.
"I will challenge your champion!" he proclaimed and smiled at Wu Chan Chu.
Comet Fox now donned a sash about his chest, yellow like wheat in the fall, and holding to his form his ulus, his weapons of choice.
As the fox-god and frog demi-goddess drew together at the center of the floor, Wu Chan Chu spoke. "We entertain a god tonight."
"What's a god to a god?" Comet Fox asked.
"Let's tear this place apart."
"I won't hold back," Comet Fox sneered. They backed away from one another and the owner announced the fight before disappearing into the crowd to collect bets.
The gathered crowd chanted, "KU-MI-TE! KU-MI-TE! KU-MI-TE!"
Wu Chan Chu squared herself.
Comet Fox backed away, turning to the crowd and clapping his pawed hands together in time with their chanting. The crowd began clapping along, creating a riotous beat echoing throughout the tea house.
He then turned back towards Wu Chan Chu and bent forward, his legs kicking up and back like a rooster scratching at the ground.
As he cartwheeled, Wu Chan Chu thought her old friend wanted to tumble rather than fight. Confused, she knew then Comet Fox had not lost his roots as the son of a trickster god.
**********************************************
Check back next week for Part 2 of "At the Peony Tea House"! Thanks for reading! Let's have a good new year!
Today I present to you Part 1 of "At the Peony Tea House", a story expanding upon the characters and continuing the story lines from the five-act story "The Children of Gods" which I wrote and posted last year. These are fantasy Wuxia stories with anthropomorphic characters. I hope you enjoy.
Here are links to the original "The Children of Gods" story:
"The Children of Gods" Act I
"The Children of Gods" Act II
"The Children of Gods" Act III
"The Children of Gods" Act IV
"The Children of Gods" Act V
Afterword
Let's get started.
"At the Peony Tea House"
by Charles Shaver. Copyright 2008 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.
************************************
PART I
THE RESIDENT OF THE PEONY: Wherein Wu Chan Chu is Challenged by Comet Fox
************************************
Popular with those that walk with divinity is the Peony Tea House, though it is not so innocent and charming as its name would suggest. It is true that many an undertaking generally considered immoral or otherwise in poor taste finds a home within the tea house, yet gods and immortals of variety frequent the establishment. All affectionately called the tea house simply "The Peony".
The house is painted with the greens of spring and a pink so light one might consider it white if not glared upon with some small intensity. Tea is their specialty, and few dislike it, but wine is most common.
The house never closes. In that there were many that could in some small way consider this unimposing structure their home. Few, however, could make that claim with any truth. Only the owners and select few of the staff could truly call the tea house home. Among those was Wu Chan Chu, as she was the tea house's resident champion and as champion was granted a room, free of charge, for her lodging.
Sweat and the haze from every imaginable smoking herb hung in the air of the main room of the tea house. Tables line the walls as do booths and three bars. The center of the room is clear of all obstruction and has a floor of fine woods, polished though scarred. If one did not know its true purpose, one might consider it a proper dance floor.
A dance of sorts does occur on the floor, but not that which is generally considered fine and civilized. For the Peony Tea House, above all else - before its duties as a tea house, before its use as a brothel, before its importance as a gathering place, before its liquors and multiple indulgences - is first and foremost home to games of physical skill, of combat.
Wu Chan Chu stood at the center of the polished floor. Beside her was a small man, one of the owners, calling for a challenger. She had lost some weight since she had fought side-by-side with her brother, Xiao-tep, long ago in the Cottonwood Chamber. She still bore the mark he had given her in the belly.
Her eyes drifted up, up to a small loft with a veranda overlooking the floor. There, in a plush chair and accompanied by various peoples and creatures sat the god Hanuman, seeking the joys of night.
Wu Chan Chu's fists opened and closed in anticipation.
"Come! Challengers! We need challengers! We will give good odds to anyone with fighting skills!" called out the owner through a leather funnel that caused his voice to boom, echoing off the walls of the tea house.
His beckoning was answered by a man claiming to be immortal. Though small, he was muscular and looked quite athletic. He stepped forward to the center of the polished floor.
Bets were placed, cheers thrown out, excitement grew. Everyone had come to witness the grand and fine champion of the Peony Tea House.
The owner removed himself from the floor and the fight began.
The stranger approached with an aggressive stance, throwing a quick and short punch to test his range against Wu Chan Chu's. The frog demi-goddess had to do nothing to avoid the punch. The stranger followed with a quick and low kick to her legs. She blocked it and he shifted with blinding speed to deliver a similar kick with his other foot. This one hit her calf and sent a bit of pain into her body. She blinked but did nothing more.
The stranger bolted in with a kick aimed high at her chest. Wu Chan Chu blocked the kick with a folded arm and countered with a kick to his inner thigh.
The stranger worked in closer, trying to get within her comfortable range, and was finally left standing near her chest. Wu Chan Chu threw punch after punch, haymaker after haymaker at the stranger but his arms were folded at his sides and took the brunt of the damage. She swung wider and wider, opening her chest more and more to attack. At last, the stranger attacked.
He delivered three punches, two to her chest and one to the healed cut on her belly.
Wu Chan Chu lifted her knee into the face of the stranger and he was sent reeling from the blow. She pressed the attack ad the crowd cheered her on. She threw first one knee then the other into his chest as he tried to escape backwards. She let him go, let him catch his breath. The people screamed for blood and booed their champion for allowing the man time to recuperate.
The stranger gathered himself and slowly started in towards the center of the floor once more.
Wu Chan Chu ran, jumped in a small way for her, twisting the weight of her body and bringing her knee up and out like a spearhead. She flew higher than most men are tall and her knee came crashing down on his skull. Blood sprayed from his nose, coughing from between his teeth and the stranger fell to the floor.
Wu Chan Chu collected her prize money for the win as the stranger was helped up and out of the tea house.
The owner appeared once more.
He beckoned again through the leather funnel for challengers. He called out, threatened and finally begged for someone to step forward, but no one would. He did not want to call an end to the evening's festivities. An early end meant less wine and tea sold, less bets placed, less money made.
"Surely," said he, "someone finds our champion full of nothing but luck. Please! I beg you! Rid me of her!"
Wu Chan Chu had heard this all before and was not offended. The owner was simply doing his job, making the sale, tempting the would-be challengers in the crowd too full of self-doubt or not yet full enough of liquor to step forward.
"Come! All challengers! Anyone? What a sad night this would be with such a pathetic ending! We need a new challenger! Can we allow our honored guest," at this the owner waved a hand towards Hanuman seated high above, "go home tonight without proper entertainment?"
At last the crowd parted. At last someone stepped forward.
Through the crowd came an old familiar face. Through the crowd came Comet Fox.
"I will challenge your champion!" he proclaimed and smiled at Wu Chan Chu.
Comet Fox now donned a sash about his chest, yellow like wheat in the fall, and holding to his form his ulus, his weapons of choice.
As the fox-god and frog demi-goddess drew together at the center of the floor, Wu Chan Chu spoke. "We entertain a god tonight."
"What's a god to a god?" Comet Fox asked.
"Let's tear this place apart."
"I won't hold back," Comet Fox sneered. They backed away from one another and the owner announced the fight before disappearing into the crowd to collect bets.
The gathered crowd chanted, "KU-MI-TE! KU-MI-TE! KU-MI-TE!"
Wu Chan Chu squared herself.
Comet Fox backed away, turning to the crowd and clapping his pawed hands together in time with their chanting. The crowd began clapping along, creating a riotous beat echoing throughout the tea house.
He then turned back towards Wu Chan Chu and bent forward, his legs kicking up and back like a rooster scratching at the ground.
As he cartwheeled, Wu Chan Chu thought her old friend wanted to tumble rather than fight. Confused, she knew then Comet Fox had not lost his roots as the son of a trickster god.
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Check back next week for Part 2 of "At the Peony Tea House"! Thanks for reading! Let's have a good new year!
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