The Riddle of the Gods

by Lyra Shanti

  With tears in her emerald eyes, Sri looked up at her true love and said, “I’d do it all over again for you, my heart's desire. I would stretch my very soul to the ends of time for you, and no mad, jealous priests could ever stop me!”

  “Oh, my love, thank you,” said Adin, crying now, “but I fear they will call you a witch. Or worse, they will never allow either of us to return to Deius. They will reject everything you and I have ever tried to teach. They may not even acknowledge that I am alive. They will write their own story about my life and force it down the throats of future generations. I can see it now, as if it has already happened.”

  Sri cupped Adin’s face and said, “But there is one thing they cannot alter or distort, and that is my love for you. That, you can be certain, will stay as true and deep as this river.”

  Adin half-smiled, feeling as though her love for him was now dooming her to a lonesome life of exile.

  “Thank you, my beloved,” Adin sorrowfully whispered while holding her, “but you deserve more than this. You should have been known as the greatest scientist of our time… and you should have been my queen.”

  “Well,” she smirked, “perhaps it’s even better that I will now be known as a Dryndi witch. At least I won’t have those damned Dei priests down my throat any longer. They’ll fear me, and I doubt they’ll come anywhere near Kri. There’s too much sin for them here. They wouldn’t even try.”

  Adin didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Was it possible they were finally free of restraint; free of those who wished them both harm? It seemed almost too good to be true.

  It is indeed too good to be true, thought Ayn as he came out of his vision, focusing his eyes on Ona’s beautiful, tear-stained face. Realizing now, without a doubt, that Ona had lived as his Sri in their past life together, Ayn felt as if a dagger had been rammed through his heart. He still didn’t know all the details of what had happened, but he now knew for certain that Sri had stood by him, and no matter how seemingly impossible, she brought him back from the dead. The truth of how deep and old their bond went felt overwhelming.

  The more Ayn listened to the funeral music, the more his mind and heart felt swept away with emotions. He then felt a strong pang of guilt wash over him. The feeling was Adin’s, yet it was his own as well. He never wanted to cause his true love pain, let alone force her to live a solitary life in Kri where her name would eventually be associated with witchcraft and sexual deviancy. Even though Adin inside of Ayn was telling him they at least had each other, it still made his heart hurt.

  Looking over at Ona, who now seemed to be calming down with fewer tears, Ayn wondered how much, if any, she remembered about Adin and Sri. Realizing she may not have any memories whatsoever about that time, Ayn began fearing he was making it all up in his head. He felt so adamant and sure about Ona having been Sri, but if she denied it, he knew it would make him feel like a foolish madman. He really didn’t want to seem crazy, especially not to Ona.

  As Emelanthia and Arna scattered pinkish gold pedals from the Jou flower, known as “heaven’s wings,” into the wind, Emelanthia told everyone to say their final words to Atlar and that his spirit would hear it while his mortal body traveled down the river.

  Each person was then handed their own pedals from a bowl, distributed by Iliya. Ayn was moved by his young cousin's kindness. He hadn’t known the child long, but since she was his only surviving family, Meddhi withstanding, he wanted to take care of Iliya for as long as he lived.

  Smiling at Iliya as he and Ona took some pedals into their hands, he patted her head and said, “Thank you, little one.” She smiled back and bowed, then quickly went over to Reese and Baran to hand them pedals too.

  Reese was a mess inside, but not showing it. She appeared stoic with only her dark blue dress to reveal her sadness. Baran also hid his deep pain, but together, they stood strong. Pei was not present since he was told by the healers, and by Reese, that he needed more rest. He was worried for Reese, however, and had tried to go with her to the funeral. There was no winning with her stubbornness, however, so he merely watched from a window inside the palace.

  Pei saw Reese standing with Baran as they threw their pedals hand-in-hand. He was doing his best not to be jealous, but it wasn’t working. Something just felt wrong.

  He honestly didn’t even think his wound was that bad, but Reese was steadfast in making him stay in his room. He feared she wanted to be alone with Baran at the funeral, and he felt shut out from that part of her. It made his heart ache much worse than the plasma burn, which still somewhat stung his side under his bandages.

  In reality, however, Reese and Baran were feeling far from romantic. They were both lost in grief, clinging to each other for comfort.

  Also not present at the funeral was Meddhi who had only just started to regain his memory. He could barely remember his friendship with the fallen king of Kri and thought it best if he kept his distance. He was also busy formulating a plan with Hynfir. Together, and with Baran's approval, they schemed how best to invade Deius. This, of course, was completely unbeknownst to Ayn, for the time being anyway.

  After the funeral, just as the sun set over the Sri-Hara falls, there was to be a private dinner for those closest to Atlar. Ayn felt grateful to be included, considering he had barely known Kri’s great king. Ona needed him more than ever, so there was no question about him being present.

  As they gathered themselves and turned to leave for dinner, Ayn looked back at Emelanthia who bent down to Iliya, thanking her for helping with the service, then gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. Ayn suddenly had a strong impulse, and acted on it without thought.

  “High Priestess, may I ask a favor of you?” said Ayn as he approached Emelanthia.

  “Yes, Your Holiness?” she replied with a serene smile.

  “I was wondering if you would honor us with your presence at dinner,” he said as he looked at Ona, “if it’s alright with the princess, that is.”

  Ona smiled and nodded. “Of course it’s alright with me,” she said. “It’s more than alright. I am deeply grateful to you, Emelanthia, for providing my father with a very beautiful funeral. It was both spiritual and viscerally moving. I can’t thank you enough for arranging it so wonderfully, and I would love for you to attend dinner tonight. You may bring your student priestess as well.”

  Emelanthia graciously smiled and half-bowed. “Thank you, Your Highness. I am honored.”

  “What about me? I helped!” Iliya squealed with a small hop and raised hand.

  Laughing, Ayn picked Iliya up and said, “Of course you can come! You are my family, after all.”

  Ona smiled watching him with Iliya. Immediately, the desire to have children with Ayn hit her like a tidal wave. She couldn’t help but think how good he’d be as a father, though she knew he was still so very young. She realized she’d have to wait, but she also worried he’d soon be going to war. Two halves of her mind struggled as she watched her beloved man tickle and hug his little cousin.

  Even Reese was warmed by watching Ayn with Iliya. She had become so attached to the little blonde girl, and had even thought of herself as Iliya’s surrogate mother. Of course, she was aware, as a Lirhan warrior, she didn’t have the time and attention Iliya deserved. Reese couldn’t help but want that sense of family, however, now more than ever.

  Looking over at Baran, who seemed lost in thought as they walked together toward the private dining room, Reese had a sudden vision flash into her mind. She saw her and Baran walking with Iliya in between them, holding their hands and smiling up at them. Reese shook her head a little and snapped out of it. She immediately felt silly for picturing such an image and tried not to think of it again.

  Almost as if by psychic senses, Baran looked at Reese and said, “What is it? Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” she said with chin up and a slight sniff.

  Baran looked at her doubtfully. “Come on, Reese… it’s me. If you want to talk, you can. I know I’ve failed
you in the past, but I’m here for you now.”

  Reese could feel herself breaking. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, things she should have told him before, but just couldn’t. She was almost mad at Baran for being so kind and saying the things she wished he had said years ago. She didn’t know whether to hit or hug him.

  Instead, she did neither and rested her head against his shoulder, quietly walking with him to the dining room, keeping her tears hidden for the time being.

  Once everyone arrived at the dining table, they were shown to their seats by Frey and her mother, Mair, both of whom Ona considered to be more family than servants. They had insisted upon overseeing the dinner, however, so Ona didn't put up a fight. After helping everyone to their seats, Mair and Frey poured drinks, such as wine and water.

  Baran asked for harder stuff; he wanted the Lirhan battle-drink called Abloentis. It was dark purple, and after a few glasses, it usually rendered the drinker unconscious. Baran didn’t care. He didn’t feel like being all that conscious anyhow. He had forgotten about the secret meeting he'd planned with Meddhi and Hynfir to be held after dinner. At this point, all he wanted was to forget about the loss of his father and the king, even if it meant getting utterly sloshed.

  Frey was hesitant to serve such infamous liquor, but when she looked at Ona for approval, the princess gave a nod. Frey went into the kitchen area, then soon brought out a purple bottle, leaving it on the table where Baran sat.

  Reese, however, who was sat next to Baran, did not approve. As soon as Baran picked up the bottle, Reese quietly asked him, “Are you sure you want to knock yourself out in front of the princess and The Bodanya? It’s your choice, of course, but if I was trying to sway someone so powerful to help fight a war with me, I’d probably not go for the Violet Death.”

  Baran half-smirked and whispered to her, “I’m only having one glass. I’ll be fine.”

  Reese shrugged and replied, “You know, that’s what you said on your twenty-first birthday, and you ended up sleeping with your platinum-haired cousins from the North. You remember those strange, albino twins, don’t you? I thought they looked like alien creatures from another dimension, but you seemed to really like them for some reason - their buxom bodies, no doubt. Anyway, I think they were underage, only sixteen, if I remember correctly... and your father had to break you out of jail because you had somehow gotten your-”

  “Yes, yes! I remember!” blurted Baran as he stared at Reese, embarrassed and hoping no one had heard what she'd said. No one had, but Reese loved watching Baran squirm. It had become her routine with him over the years, and somehow, the sight of his frustrated, blue eyes made her happy. Oddly enough, it was comforting for her to see him angry; she’d certainly take it over seeing him miserable.

  Reese grinned at Baran, forcing him to grin in return.

  “Oh, Gods, Reese,” he said with a slight laugh. “Forget about the drink. It will be you that is the death of me.”

  Reese smiled and nodded, pleased with herself as she picked up the bottle for Frey to remove.

  On the other side of the table, Ona and Ayn conversed with Emelanthia about the service, and about Atlar’s last requests, mostly having to do with Baran as his official heir, which used to bother Ona, but no longer. She believed wholeheartedly that Baran would make a wonderful king, if elected, which she was certain would happen. Of course, Atlar had imagined Baran and Ona as husband and wife, but as Emelanthia reminded Ona, “Fate has taken a very different turn, as it often does.”

  Ona nodded uncomfortably.

  “What matters,” said the dark-haired, golden-eyed high priestess, “is that you are happy and healthy. Atlar was most concerned with how your spirit would recover if he passed, but I am sure he is watching from the nether-world and can see how you are so lovingly cared for.” Smiling at Ayn, then back at Ona, she added, “Your love is pure and true. Anyone can see its blinding beauty. I’m sure your father sees it well and is at peace.”

  Ona smiled with a hint of sadness. “Thank you, Emelanthia. You know, I can’t help but be a little surprised at how secretly religious my father seemed.” She then sipped the cream of carrot and ginger soup that had been brought out by Mair to everyone at the table. According to Ona, it was Atlar’s favorite soup, and Ayn thought it was the best he'd ever tasted.

  “Please,” said the high priestess, “call me Em, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you, Em,” said Ona, “and please call me Ona as well.”

  Emelanthia nodded and smiled. “About your father,” she added, “many would be surprised to know he never missed a candle lighting for the new moon, which was in honor of your mother. It was, however, also in honor of the holy cycle of the Great Sky Mother, which Atlar observed diligently.”

  “Really?” asked Ona, wild-eyed. “Do you think it was because of my mother’s influence? He never talked much about her, other than how she was beautiful, loving, and good. He hardly ever spoke in detail about her spiritual beliefs, or even what she preferred for breakfast. It seemed to cause him too much pain to speak about it.”

  The elegant high priestess nodded in sympathy as she sipped her soup. “Yes,” she replied softly, “your father was deeply influenced and affected by your mother. I am sure her beliefs had a strong impact on hi.”

  In truth, Emelanthia hadn’t known Atlar all that well herself, but her mother, Umara, had counseled him after his queen had passed from illness. It was a very sad time in the kingdom, and without her mother, she was certain Atlar never would have worked past his grief.

  Emelanthia had only been a child of ten when Queen Pira passed on, but she remembered the ordeal vividly. Atlar had barely eaten or slept, and everyone in the palace worried. Finally, he came to the Dryndi temple during the twilight hours. She had been asleep, but got up to see what was happening. What she saw changed her life; her mother was singing and swaying to a song of healing while naked as she rubbed Atlar’s back with her hands. Though young, Emelanthia saw the king’s aura turn from dark blue to a yellowy-orange. At that point, she knew that he, and the entire kingdom, would be alright.

  Emelanthia had been taught by her mother that the body was a vessel for healing, and neither nakedness, nor sensuality was a sinful thing. It was quite the opposite. For a Dryndi priestess, the sensual senses, both physical and mental, were considered the holiest of holies. After witnessing her mother heal the peoples' souls with just her voice or her touch, Emelanthia wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

  The high priestess found herself talking about her mother to the princess and the Bodanya, though she spared them the more sensual details.

  Ona had never gotten to know Emelanthia as a person before and found her fascinating. She had merely thought of her as the high priestess, same as Emelanthia’s mother had been. Now, however, Ona saw her in a different light. As the high priestess further spoke to her and Ayn about Atlar and his friendship with her mother, as well as Dryndi beliefs, Ona and Ayn became even more intrigued, wanting to know the mysterious woman with dark hair and gold eyes.

  Ayn felt especially curious. He had been raised so withdrawn from other religions and societies. The Dei priests seemed to detest The Dryndi philosophy and mocked it openly. Growing up, Ayn had never understood why, but he now guessed much of it had to do with their resentment against Sri Unda.

  “Em...” he said as everyone finished their soup, “may I ask you a personal question?”

  She smiled and coyly said, “That depends on what the question is.”

  “Well,” Ayn replied, “it’s about your belief in the sensual pleasures, seeing them as holy, rather than sin. Am I right to assume you believe enlightenment comes from pleasure? If so, have you found such enlightenment?”

  “It is not just physical pleasure we believe to be holy,” she corrected him. “It is every sort of vulnerability in our souls, whether pleasurable or painful. To us, sensitivity is the essence of living, and it is through that emotional portal we may find our t
rue nature, as well as our personal connection to the grand energy- web of the cosmos. As for finding enlightenment, I believe we all find our own version of that... in our own time.”

  For a moment or two, Ayn was stunned. He and Ona both felt as if they were talking to a person who was hundreds of years old, yet Emelanthia looked to be no more than a woman in her mid-thirties. With her golden eyes and long, black hair, she appeared to Ayn almost like a wild witch from an old story he'd read as a child. When looking at her longer, however, he could see her proud chin and strong mind. She was delicate, yet strong, and utterly fascinating to everyone seated at the table.

  “We need you, Emelanthia!” Ayn suddenly exclaimed as they brought out the salad.

  “Ayn,” said Ona, immediately embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, realizing his break in decorum. “What I meant is my planet needs you. You see, from my point of view, Deius is still hurting from hundreds of years of religious dominance, as well as the disdain for the flesh that The Dei have always had. It is why there is civil unrest, and probably why The Tah were able to gain such numbers in the first place.”

  “They didn’t always have that disdain,” said Emelanthia, cool as water.

  “They didn’t?” asked Ayn, wide-eyed and confused.

  “No,” she said before sipping her wine. “Your Holiness, Deius is very old. Before The Dei took control of your planet’s religion, taking control over your royal family as well, there used to be a freer society, which looked to the stars for answers in a scientific, yet spiritual way. Even before King Adin tried to re-forge that bond between spirit, mind, and body, Deius was once ruled by a governing council of wise spiritualists. My family on my mother’s side - The Hessens - actually come from those scientifically minded spiritualists. Of course, this was thousands of years ago, mind you, but it was a time of peace and understanding. It is documented in the historical records in our great library here on Kri.”