The Last Pantheon: of spiders and falcons

by Jason Jones

  ©2010-2016

  The Exodus Sagas

  The Last Pantheon

  Jason R Jones

  The Last Pantheon

  I

  by Jason R Jones

  “An exodus is a grand departure of spiritual importance composed of flight from persecution, loss, suffering, or slavery, resulting in a journey to a place of holy sanctuary, guided by the divine.”

  For my brother, Jeremy

  In every story, a bit of whom put the pen into the vial is within the pages, should one seek out such things. It is for this reason that I would read long into the night of books long forgotten and tomes unknown. Who wrote them, who told them as facts or fictions, and to whom did they find audience that took them to worldly belief? My search is just beginning, these times are dark with uncertainty, and now truths are twisted by those with the power to do so. To war they cry and command, but to what end?

  A man may war with swords to claim his treasures. He may fight for nation, for people, and for justice before his watching God. His sword may strike down the wicked and never may he feel the worse. He may fight those that are different, those that disagree, and those he is told to battle. Warrior he will become, soldier, enforcer, defender even, perhaps a great leader of iron renown. Yet his shadow shall tell of him before he speaks otherwise, and so shall the pages he knows not written of his deeds. To know himself, is that not the true journey?

  At the end, a man may say at length who he is with words upon the air, yet wind and ears are prone to interpret at a whim. Fear of judgement by men and Gods, the sorrow of a life lived in illusion, and all the things done and undone, these may drive a man to greatness or tragedy in any given life. However, when a father looks to the eyes of his son, and knows he must take responsibility for all that he has become, only then would he feel the truth so painfully rise within his chest.

  It is as such, for me, that I look to my sword upon the mantle and rest, as I let it also rest. My fury and sorcery and steel will to fight, they would see me do more of what I have been led to believe is righteous. Whether my truths are revealed, or written, or worthy of passing on to my son is why I now read at length. For in these books I now delve into with a vigorous quest paving the road for me, there must be answers for my eyes to find. I need to see what of the world is true, and what indeed has been hidden from us, and find my place within it all. In my library, in these books, shall I hope to find who I am, and who I once was.

  CONTENTS

  From The Book of Carician Myths…

  Prologue

  Knights I:I

  Knights I:II

  Beasts I:I

  Maidens I:I

  Curses I:I

  Knights I:III

  Exodus I:I

  Hunters I:I

  Exodus I:II

  Curses I:II

  Exodus I:III

  Heirs I:I

  Curses I:III

  Exodus I:IV

  Hunters I:II

  Heirs I:II

  Sorceries I:I

  Exodus I:V

  Sorceries I:II

  Curses I:IV

  Princes I:I

  Exodus I:VI

  Knights I:IV

  Intermezzo

  Masks I:I

  Exodus I:VII

  Knights I:V

  Princes I:II

  Hunters I:III

  Exodus I:VIII

  Curses I:V

  Masks I:II

  Knights I:VI

  Exodus I:IX

  Princes I:III

  Exodus I:X

  Maidens I:II

  Curses I:VI

  Princes I:IV

  Hunters I:IV

  Beasts I:II

  Curses I:VII

  Heirs I:III

  Hunters I:V

  Princes I:V

  Exodus I:XI

  Hunters I:VI

  Exodus I:XII

  About the author

  Epilogue

  The Siddoran Pantheon

  The Forty Four Immortal Children

  The Gimmorians

  The Thirteen Throne Angels

  The Caricians

  From The Book of Carician Myths…

  God awoke to the void of eternity, His immortal hand reached, yet there was nothing. His fingers curled as the blackness swirled, and He heard a calling. And Yjaros created the world and named it Siddora. Yet the forming earth was dark and desolate to Him. Almighty God then conjured the two moons and then two suns and there was light abound, but still He walked alone. God knew He must fill the world and skies that had been born to Him. Eleven heavenly bodies on which to stand, thirty three revolving moons, forty four creations in His existence among the stars, and so His task was complete. God listened to the emptiness and heard the echoes of time. Yjaros then fostered three beings to rule his domain.

  First created was Megos, who would rule Carice, his white moon, and he would give magical light to all. He would be a son, a brother, a ruler in His own image. Hair of white, eyes of brilliant blue, and a presence of majesty swirled about Megos. God touched his wings and said:

  Kneel my son, and view the white moon I have made for you. It is called Carice. From there you shall watch over mortal life and the realms I have created. You shall see and learn and giveth light to those that need it.

  Then rose Seirena who would create the earthen life and she would give Yjaros many children. Her hair was as silken mesh of golden waves, orange flame, and starlight. Her eyes were green as the newborn land, ivory feathered wings spread, and her body was dotted with marks of beauty that only the sun revealed. God embraced Seirena and spoke:

  Kneel my daughter and wife, for you shall inherit the world below this green moon. I have named it Siddora. You shall create life there with our children, beings of all shapes and forms that honor Me and My offspring. You shall be their mother and give them what they need of the earth.

  Lastly, She That Cannot Be Named would sit beside him on his green moon, sharing the shadow of His throne and giving power to His voice. She arose in darkness with dark eyes and hair of black against her soft pale flesh. Her beauty was beyond dreams as her black feathered wings curled around her petite immortal form. Yjaros whispered to She That Cannot Be Named:

  Kneel my concubine and daughter, my shadow and voice, and look to the green moon. It is mighty, it is grand, and it is called Gimmor. There you shall rule and watch in my stead, as I am tired and must rest. We will make children to rule over all. You will uphold my immortal edict in the night so all know that I am God.

  Yjaros told His three He must father forty four angelic children with His immortal women, to predestined design, and they would account for all remaining aspects of known existence. He brought into being all things, all but love. Then God took rest.

  The first eleven born of God and Seirena were mighty, having the strong seed. Shukuru, the firstborn among them, declared the worlds, and all surrounding them, for his Father. Twenty six were then born to God and She That Cannot Be Named, and the aeons passed. Life was growing upon the world. All bowed to Yjaros, all worshipped Him, and all knew who Almighty God was and would be forever. Yet, the peaceful dream of such a divine family was short lived, for some immortal children loved each other, and this Yjaros could not understand. Whispers came from His children of betrayal of the immortal flesh. Yjaros summoned all immortal beings to Gimmor, and they came as ordered. God shed His one and only tear, feeling the love between Megos and Seirena. Forty four children he saw upon the green moon, yet seven He did not father Himself, seven He knew not. And Yjaros grew angry. And the earth shook with the heavens and moons.

  Megos and Seirena were punished for their
love of one another and their seven offspring banished beyond the white moon. They would be known as the Caricians. Twenty six children swore loyalty to God, the Gimmorians, and vowed to rule the green moon. Some children revolted and blackened one of the suns forever in defiance. Their love for their Mother was strong, and they thought themselves mighty enough to challenge God and protect Seirena. Those powerful firstborn eleven were given the dark regions for penance and were named the Nochtilians. Immortals flew in fear, fled the moon of Gimmor, trembling as God became vengeful. His firstborn children rose from flame and sought further retaliations upon the mortal world. God and His Gimmorians enforced rule and war began. The realms of the moons and stars were divided forever. Mortal wars erupted, His children had worshippers upon the world that would fight and die for their Gods. This was blasphemy, and God would see justice done. The Age of Betrayal had begun.

  Terror ruled for centuries, so God stepped to the mortal ground. Yjaros chose the most loyal human men, the sons of Altestan, gifted their lineage, and gave them commandments to suffer none before themselves and God. Yjaros named three kings from the chosen north to be His three divine emperors and holy eyes upon His world. His mortal temples, soon too numerous to count, His faithful of Altestan held His will, and the world was to be His and His alone. Then Yjaros rested once more; He drifted to other realms some whisper, and God was not seen for thousands of years. Only Altestan heard his decrees in prayer. Only Altestan continued His will.

  Holy Altestan unleashed wrath upon the world of God and the followers of any but Him. The mortal wars echoed across lands and oceans as these pious men persecuted to the ends of the world those that refused God. Men fled the holy lands of the north, seeking a freedom from the empires of Altestan, yet they were followed without mercy. The faithful of Yjaros knew no boundary, His punishments were endless, and soon many of His children were torn and banished. Gimmorian immortals stood and guided the chosen men of Altestan until their conquest of many continents was complete. Pantheons and temples to the Caricians were burned. When it was over, God was awakened, and His children brought before Him.

  God took the eye of Seirena, since she looked upon Megos with such love. He placed the green eye into his own forehead and banished her to the world of mortals. God took the sword of Rumac, Gimmorian judge and elder of the green moon, and cut the hand of Megos, the hand that touched Seirena with such affection. He twisted it into a wreath of white bone and placed it upon His brow. God vowed to strip the name of His third child from living memory and swore to exile her for eternity. For even She had loved another, a mortal man, and betrayed Him, and this God would not allow. Yet She could not be found, and God grew angry. Yjaros took rest, bitter and betrayed, alone and supreme.

  Those that escaped the eyes of the northern emperors found refuge in the south. For Solquar was defeated, as were Teth, Osanamyr, Azorim, Serran, Jal Adeen, and the lands of the Great Hundred Invogoi Kings. Altestan had become a mighty empire, enslaving the lessors, and conquering the infidels that swore not to their God. Their eyes now looked south across the great oceans, to where it was said many had fled their rule.

  The unknown realms of Agara were filled with men that were different from Altestan. There were dwarven people who inhabited mountains, elven folk who had beautiful cities, timeless fey temples, mystical beasts and giants, and kingdoms that flourished with honor and piety to the seven Carician children of Megos and Seirena. This continent took any and all survivors from the northern empires and their wars, loved them, and gave them homes in a mythical land. Twas a dream of a dream. It was not to last.

  Brotherhood between dozens of races and nations was founded. A united people stood ready the day the empires of Altestan arrived from across the Soltaic Ocean. The day came as millions under banners of God and emperors landed on Agarian soil to impose rule. Infidels of lesser gods faced an uncountable armada of the one God. For three centuries they warred, but eventually the Agarian forces retreated further and further south and west, giving ground against the mighty north. The last continent free of Altestani occupation, was about to fall.

  Alden, the last born of Megos and Seirena, the last born immortal child, stood with his brother Annar upon the lands of Agara. Soon they were joined by Solumet, Siril, Vundren, Vasentanessa, and Haddius under the watchful eyes of Megos and Seirena. Their immortal power could not be denied, and the wars were halted with divine presence. Yjaros awoke once more, vindictive and wicked from his ages of sleep. He saw the banished Caricians standing against His chosen men. His was told of mortal protectors hidden from his sight that fought against His Gimmorians, mortals given powers of earth and moon. God saw this faraway land that knew Him not, full of righteous infidels, and the hells shook with anger from the Father of all.

  Shukuru saw it as well, and he begged to Yjaros from the deepest flames.

  Father, he said, I have declared all for you and yet I sit judged with mine in purgatory. Let me reclaim what the infidels have stolen from you, let me reclaim your glory.

  God released Shukuru and Cancuru, His firstborn Nochtilian sons, and ordered them to tear the wings from Alden as a warning to His banished offspring. Much like thousands of years prior, the Nochtilians could not be controlled or commanded. They did tear the wings from young Alden, then defiled his immortal body, and imprisoned mighty Annar forever beneath the earth. The Nochtilians grew mad with freedom, bringing fire to the world with them, and uncountable demons that blackened the skies. The Caricians and their mortals scattered in terror as the feathers of Alden swirled in a storm. Shukuru did not stop there. Great cities of Agara were burned by the Nochtilian immortals that swept through the skies commanding great mortal forces that were told they were the judgement sent by God. The last pantheons of Carician worship smoldered, not one of ten temples left to stand in their circles upon the earth. Solumet of the sun and Haddius of the oceans were also taken and imprisoned by the firstborn children of God. Siril led his elven people to safety, Vundren led his dwarven folk into hiding, while Megos and Seirena could but watch their children fall. The world darkened with smoke, and death, and blood.

  Vasentanessa, the Carician mistress of love, tried to make peace with God and the firstborn children, and she pleaded for her mother and father. Her cities were next in the path of Shukuru and his brothers, and she feared all the world would be aflame should it continue. Then the waters of the west suddenly rose in a terrible storm. Alden arose from beyond, his immortal form bloody and wingless, and he pulled down the surrounding armadas of Altestan into the unforgiving Vateric Ocean. The western coast flooded, an unbridled cataclysm, and very few survived. The ghostly form pointed to the green moon and spoke holy words:

  You may be powerful of flesh, great God with your demon sons, but we you deem infidels are powerful of love and spirit. This I pass to those that believe and those that know. And I call the waters to drown the men responsible for my torn body, and those that serve them, and those with them that watched. My children are the few and the free and the innocent. This spot where my wings were torn shall be a holy place between man and blood and earth. This shall not be undone.

  With that, Alden was lifted to the heavens beyond the white moon, not to be seen again. The shining light Alden left in his wake burned the demon armadas from the skies. Yjaros was without words, for how this was possible, He knew not. As God stared, men and infidel creatures fought back against His Altestan, while millions of His faithful were drowned off western shores.

  God threw his wicked Nochtilian children back to the netherworlds for failure, condemned the Caricians to their lonely fate in the heavens they claimed, and enforced His lonely dominance once more. Upon the very stone of the green moon He wrote His terms of peace to be forever obeyed.

  No immortal shall kill another, shall love any but Him, nor shall seek worship from mortal men. None but Him shall set foot on the mortal world without repurcussion. Those that defy God and His words shall face retributions untold, for Yjaros will come for
justice upon you and those that hail you before God.

  Yjaros would see all others but Himself forgotten. God was bitter and spited from the betrayals of His own blood. He left the realm of men to their own destinies, and then God abandoned His children. The words of Yjaros are still heard from beyond, only by the chosen men of Altestan, and His loyal emperors, who pass their worldly inheritance through the ages, for the one true God.

  Upon Agara however, the symbol of Alden being torn survived in the minds of men who were witness. His rising from immortal death had forever burned hope into lesser mortal men without guidance. Symbols changed over the centuries to bloody wings, then broken wings, and then feathers circled as an icon of sacrifice. Finally, a feathered cross was fashioned generations after that. Agarian men remembered the storm and the salvation, they passed down the tales, and worship to one other than Yjaros has endured the ages. Holy Alden was the voice and symbol of hope, who came at a dreadful time of need, and that banner has carried forth from long ago.

  If the Caricians still search for their lost brothers and work miracles, it is unknown to mortal men. Only one is remembered of the old pantheon, one who died and ascended for their freedom. The temples of Alden number in the thousands upon Agarian soil. The Nochtilians brood in the realms of purgatory and wait for the night in which they may be released once more. The Gimmorians watch from the green moon, waiting for God to return, seeing his uncountable temples on many nations fill with the faithful chosen and conquered. Altestan has reigned for too many centuries to count, yet the southern continent of Agara alone, has never fallen.

  Prologue

  South of Gillian

  Shanador

  The silver feathered cross of Alden spins silently as it dangles in my hand. I place it where I have left off in this tome, one of hundreds I have yet to search for meaning and answers to so many questions. The priests have given the cross to me, to use for prayer, as my wife is suffering from a pestilence unknown. They tell me it will help, yet I have my doubts of both faith and learning. My eyes catch a hint of light down the stairs. Dawn is coming, the candles seem less bright, and I need peace and fresh air. The silent steps I take, the unheard placement of the tome back upon the stack of so many others, all so those above will not wake.