The Punishment Of The Gods (Omnibus 1-5)

by Jake Yaniak

  During the time of Leonara's infancy Volthamir was all but forgotten to the people of Amlaman. He had taken ill the morning before his birthday and had not had the strength to leave his bed for more than two months. When he finally rose from his bed he was pale and thin. It was said that from the day he took ill, his flesh never quite regained its full color.

  King Vulcan dealt fairly with the boy, as far as he was able. He named Volthamir his heir, since he had no sons of his own, and from thenceforth referred to him as his nephew and taught him to call Leonara his sister. He had young Volthamir educated and trained in every discipline that seemed necessary for a prince. He was affectionate also, though Volthamir rarely returned any of his kindnesses. In truth, King Vulcan was ever haunted by the memory of the death of his cousin and the way the small boy rushed to his feet and bowed in fear. He felt that he must somehow take the place of the father he had destroyed, as absurd as such a thing may sound. He had truly convinced himself that when the boy came of age he would be able to understand and approve of his uncle's bold deeds.

  But none of his overtures and none of the dainties of the kingdom could erase from the boy's mind the terror and humiliation he had experienced on that night, so many years ago. He found himself often alone, thinking and cursing his dreadful lot. He also found himself constantly awaiting the infrequent visits of the mysterious Lord Havoc. He heard a great deal about his deeds in battle against the goblins of Daunrys, and a considerable amount regarding the work he was overseeing on Mount Sten-Agoni, but for his own part he had neither seen nor heard from him since the day that he took ill.

  Chapter II:

  The Altar of Agonistes

  Restoration

  On the top of the westernmost peak of the Daunrys mountains there was an ancient temple. In the ancient tongue it was called Sten-Agoni, which means, 'the Altar of Agonistes'. It was once the center of the Amlaman cultus, where the ancient priests held the men of Weldera in awe.

  But for the past several centuries it had been empty and all kinds of plants and animals had made their homes in it. Lord Havoc insisted upon the temple's restoration. In the spring following the death of King Voltan, Lord Havoc and King Vulcan departed from Japhrian and traveled to the mountain on horseback.

  The road up the mountain was overgrown and it soon became impossible for them to continue except on foot. They left their horses in the care of their servants and continued on alone. Lord Havoc made his way through the thorns and tree roots with ease, as one does who is thoroughly familiar with his route. King Vulcan was hard-pressed to keep up with him and would frequently stop to catch his breath. The air was thick with the smell of the grass and the buzzing of tiny little flies. It seemed that with every breath he would draw them in and them cough them out. This went on for several hours till they came to the top of the mountain.

  Daufina was a small mountain. If the road had been clear it would not have taken a horseman more than an hour to reach the top. Just west of the peak there was a large flat plain on which the ancient temple complex was built. After nearly three hours they emerged from the brambles and thorns, the temple ruins looming ahead. King Vulcan fell to his knees and rested, thoroughly appreciating the cleaner air. 'What is the importance of this place?' he demanded, 'that you would half-kill me to show me.'

  Lord Havoc just laughed.

  The two made their way through tall grass to the center of the complex.

  'Here on the southern side is the wash-house and the stable. It is here that the sacrifices were cleaned in the Ago stream and prepared for their fates. In the center is the temple of mighty Agonistes, god of Amlaman. We shall have a closer look at this place shortly. On the left side of the temple there is an old path leading to the nunnery, which lies less than two leagues to the north in a small valley in the midst of the Daunrys.'

  'But what are WE here for,' Vulcan demanded, showing his lack of patience. 'There are perhaps better things for the King of Amlaman to be doing with his hours.'

  'Have you followed my advice all of these years to turn against me now?' Lord Havoc said, suddenly seeming large and menacing.

  Vulcan sighed, 'Show me then, I will see what you will have me see.'

  They chopped their way through some thick brush and made their way to the east. On the western face of the temple there was a large stone stair. 'This was once a stair of pure white stone, but now it is cracked, soiled and over-grown. You will have to restore it, though I do not expect that it will compare to its ancient beauty.'

  The two men made their way up the stairs to the main entrance of the temple. There were two ancient wooden doors now broken down and shattered on the porch. The opening of the temple was almost twice the height of a man and wide enough for ten men to walk abreast.

  'It almost seems like this door was made by giants,' Vulcan said as he stumbled over the vines and stood beside Lord Havoc.

  'That is the purpose of this door,' Havoc said, 'It will inspire awe of the deity even before the people enter.'

  They stepped under the enormous entrance and looked into the main hall. On the eastern side of the temple there was a huge wall of vines and bushes climbing from the floor to the ceiling. There were two large doors on the eastern wall, one on each side of the central altar. There was room enough within this temple to fit thousands of people. But as they looked at it they could not even see the stones of the floor beneath them for the ages of vines and grass that now covered them. Vulcan just stood with his mouth open, staring at the immense hall in awe.

  'Fear not, great King Amlaman!' Lord Havoc laughed. 'You will not have to do this work yourself!'

  With those words, Lord Havoc left him standing there and continued toward the eastern wall, where all the vines covered the altar. He set a fire at the bottom of the vines and stepped back quickly as the dry leaves ignited. He returned to Vulcan's side and the two watched as the fire crept up the wall and burned away the vegetation.

  Vulcan gasped as he watched an enormous stone face appear from beneath the flaming vines. Within a half an hour the vines burned up revealing a terrifying statue, carved out of a great black stone. For all the years that it lay there buried and neglected it was in good condition. 'Remarkable!' Vulcan exclaimed. 'It could be a new stone, untouched by the elements!'

  'It is, like the white stones of which the temple is made, a heavenly stone. It fell to the earth many ages ago and came to rest on this mountain. The white stone is believed to have come from the heavens also. But it did not land here. The white stones were brought from Dadron, long ago. Neither stone, whether white or black, is likely ever to be quarried again.'

  'Is this Agonistes?' Vulcan said in almost a whisper.

  'You might say that,' Lord Havoc laughed. 'He is more like Agonistes when the temple is filled with dancing and wine and more like a stone when the morning light comes over the mountains and shines into the temple through its great windows. Agonistes is the lord of the burning fire and of the darkest night, even as Pelas is lord of the cold stars and the bright day.'

  King Vulcan stood there in silent confusion. He was startled for a moment by the fluttering of wings. Lord Havoc's great crow, Arus, flew past his ears and lighted on top of the statue. Lord Havoc smiled and then continued. 'The people will see more than this statue when their senses have been quickened by the rites of the priests and the dances of the holy virgins. In the ancient days the gods walked openly before all mankind. But now that their altars have become run down they keep themselves aloof from our troubles. But Ramlos will soon have need of the power of a god.'

  Lord Havoc oversaw much of the restoration personally. The first task to be accomplished was the rebuilding of the road. The brush was cleared away and the trees were pulled from the ground or felled. New stones were brought from quarries in the southern foothills to make the way smooth and easy to travel on. By the end of the third month there was a wide road going from the base of the mountain, winding its way east and then rising gently to the north to
enter the temple complex.

  They next spent their efforts on the nunnery. They first had to clear the path that led from the temple complex down to the northern face of the mountain. Then they made a new road that wound down into the valley leading up to the western gate. The nunnery lay in the middle of a serene forest in a large clearing, though there was now a great deal of tall grass and thorn bushes obstructing the view. There was a gentle stream that flowed through it from one of the eastern mountains. The stream passed through the eastern gate of the nunnery where it was then channeled into a stone pool before passing out through the western side of the building. One of their first tasks was to restore this channel so that the clean water from the mountain could flow through the building undisturbed and unpolluted.

  The building itself was quite impressive. There were fifty apartments for the sacred virgins built along the inner court, each with ornate windows looking in toward the center of the structure. At each of the four corners and also on the center of the northern and southern walls there were built tall guard towers. In the center of the building, where the waters were gathered, the ceiling was open. It was said that few places in Tel Arie offer a better view of the starry heavens.

  'On the outer wall on the southern side of the building are the cloisters, where the priests would live in ancient times,' Lord Havoc informed King Vulcan, 'there were more priests than were needed. We will not be making that mistake, however. There are perhaps few things more likely to breed evil and depravity than the dark thoughts of idle holy men. Keep them busy!' Lord Havoc laughed, 'Keep them busy and they will not have time for folly.'

  On the outer side of the north wall there were quiet rooms made up for guests and pilgrims. 'These rooms were once without any rival,' Lord Havoc reflected, 'There was no race more famed for their hospitality than the Amlamani. I've heard that men have come from far-off Kharku to wash their weary feet in these waters and to listen to the songs of the virgins.'

  By the end of the year the nunnery was completed and restored to a semblance of its former glory. 'This will have to do,' Lord Havoc said disappointedly. 'I had hoped it would shine as it did in the days of old. But there is no way to restore that ancient luster, save for cutting new stones from the quarry in Dadron. But that is beyond our grasp for now.'

  Thousands of slaves and prisoners labored for seven years under the hot sun and through deep snow to rebuild and repair the entire ancient temple complex. Wise men were gathered from all over Ramlos and Amlaman, some even from as far away as Rinin and the foothills of Desset. These men were trained in all the ancient rites of the temple of Agonistes until each of them was well prepared for their perpetual service. Achil, the elder of Lapul, became the High Priest of Agonistes and swore an oath to serve him with sincerity and passion. A eunuch by the name of Reonus was set in charge of the holy virgins, of which there would always be thirty. It was his duty to guard the virgins as he saw fit and also to educate them and train them in their sacred dances. Accordingly, Reonus hired Belran of Dighn to guard the nunnery. Belran was a brave warrior and he brought with him a guard of thirty men, each armed with tall shields, sharp swords and long spears.

  To oversee the animals and the wash-house, they summoned Jaedor and named him Shepherd of Agonistes. He would preside over the animals, both those that labored and those that would be sacrificed.

  Rededication of the Temple

  Thus, after seven years of constant labor and at an incredible cost, the Temple of Agonistes was restored and the people of Amlaman and Ramlos were summoned to a great feast on the top of the mountain. The road was now smooth and fair, giving the travelers no difficulty, though it had once been treacherous and impassible. As Vulcan himself arrived, he could not help but notice further that there was not a fly nor a gnat to be seen flying in the warm spring air.

  'Flies will no longer trouble us here,' Lord Havoc told him. 'They will not come near the Holy Temple.'

  'How can this be?' Vulcan wondered. 'Is this the power of the god?'

  Lord Havoc laughed, 'One might say that,' he said. 'Or one might say that it is the power of alchemy, an art in which the the priests of Agonistes are well-trained.'

  Thousands of people came, mostly noblemen and magistrates. As the afternoon drew on there was a steady line of people walking and riding up the road toward the summit. So many that the King grew nervous that many would have to be turned back.

  'Nay,' Lord Havoc told him. 'Turn no soul away. Let them crowd in around the temple and let them pack themselves in until they are pinned one against the other. This way those within the temple will be more excitable and those without will be more credulous.'

  Night came swiftly and the people could no longer approach the temple. Camps were made and food was distributed to those still on the road. Messengers would ride down from time to time to bring tidings of the night's events. Those who were closer could see glimpses of the leaping flames from the temples mighty lamps and torches, and hear the pounding of the great drums. There was music and an abundance of food and wine. Roast pig and lamb were sent down among the people from the altar and all of them partook of the sacrifice. Long into the night this feasting continued, until the people were exhausted and their senses were dulled. Some fell fast asleep on the cold grass with their cloaks pulled over them. It was in this hour that the holy virgins performed their rituals.

  The people were excited into a drunken frenzy and the music roared to life. The drums pounded and incense was burned. Strange fire burned from the Altar, red and purple smoke whirled about. There was the rich scent of spices in the air, so thick that some began to cough and others to faint.

  The lamps were slowly dulled and the music slowed as the virgins finished their dance. King Vulcan then walked up to the altar, with his young daughter in his arms. When he held her above his head the people grew silent. There was a ceremony and a bull was slain, its blood pouring over the altar and into the large basin underneath. After this the altar was lit once more and flames leaped up. The crying child was returned to her mother and the sacrifices continued. Now the priests began to lead the people in hymns and songs in honor of the fierce god. They sang swiftly at first, but as the people grew excited they began to slow the pace of the songs down until their words hung long in the air. All through the mountainside the people were singing, so the sound rose into the night.

  By this time the expectations of the people were high and their perceptions were half-dead. It was at this moment that the fierce god appeared. In a flash the music cut off and the flames leaped to life. Fire burned in the eyes of the god and there was the sound of thunder in the distance. The god seemed to rise from the ground and smoke of many colors poured from his gaping mouth. The people grew frightened and began to shout and cry in terror, pulling at their hair and casting their cloaks over their faces.

  A booming voice rent the air and froze the people to the bone. Silence came upon the mountain, even among those who were at the very bottom of the path. For it was clear that something was happening atop the mountain. Even from afar the smoke and flame could be seen and the faint pounding of the drums could be heard.

  The speech was strange; no man understood it and the people began to shout in fear. 'We have awoken the god!' they cried, 'and we have become undone!'

  As the frenzy grew, Achil stepped up to the front of the altar and raised his hands before the face of the god as if to calm him. 'I will speak your words to this people,' Achil said. And then in a loud and clear voice the old man spoke to the people in their own language.

  'For many years my temple has lain in ruins. Since the day the accursed Pelas rose against me from the Elven-King's Fortress and drove me over the Daunrys and into the Razzun Highlands. There I have wandered for many ages, hungry and shamed among the jagged rocks and polluted streams. I wandered the land there and saw the door of the dead, where the souls of men pass on their journey out of this world. There in the wicked land of Razzun, Pelas the devil would have left me bound
and lost for eternity, as would his guardians in Dadron.

  'But I have returned from my exile, called by the sound of praises and the smell of burnt fat and flesh. But what I see here before me I am not yet certain. Is this a people, come to serve Lord Agonistes once again? Or is this a rabble of beggars who follow the smell of unearned meat and wine?

  'Tell me now you mighty men of Amlaman, you wise men of Ramlos. Have you come to serve Lord Agonistes? Or have you come to rob his altar?'

  At these words the people wept and they cried out for mercy. They cast themselves upon the floor and prayed and screamed, tearing at their hair. Some cast their money and their jewelry onto the altar. The mob of men and women were brought to a state of desperate fear when once more the god spoke in his unintelligible voice.

  'There is one thing for which I have returned from my exile. I have come that justice may be brought upon the head of the immortal Pelas who reigns in Dadron. Will this people fight for their god? Or have I crossed the threshold of the dead and traversed the poisoned rivers in vain?'

  The people began to cry out and to swear. They swore their lives and the lives of their children's children into the service of the fierce god. They swore away their wealth and lands and every other thing they could offer.

  Fire leapt into the air from Agonistes' mouth and smoke billowed out of his nostrils, choking the people and darkening the temple. Then the voice rang out through the air one last time. Achil interpreted once more.

  'Then let the people give me a token of their devotion, that I may know for sure that they speak earnestly. For I, Agonistes, am not a forgetful god, that I will take your words and return to slumber without seeing whether or not you will fulfill your vows. Bring forth the final sacrifice!'