“No, Father, but the spirit said I would see Hur-ar again and...” she looked at her hands in her lap and paused.
“And what?”
“The swirling spirit with fiery eyes said after I found a family, she would descend from the Heart of the Dragon and carry me to Paradise.”
I should have woken Setenay. He felt like a boy swimming in water much too deep and swift. The current began to carry him away, but still, he kept swimming.
“What is the ‘Heart of the Dragon?’”
Sarah pointed to the darkening sky. “There, in the northern sky, do you see the star that does not move? We call that the Heart of the Dragon. The long constellation surrounding it, which rotates around the star throughout the night, is called The Dragon.”
Aizarg squinted. “We call that the Home Star, as it will always lead us to shore. I think I see this constellation you call The Dragon. We call it the Marsh Snake. Is a dragon a kind of snake?”
“No, Father. A dragon is a creature of terrible power. It can fly and vomit fire. Legend says a mighty dragon drove the Narim from their homeland before they settled in the Hur Valley.”
Aizarg wanted to change the subject, to swim back to familiar waters. He winked at her and gave her another squeeze. “The spirit likely speaks of a day many summers from now, when you are as old and wise as dear Setenay. You will have a long, happy life.”
A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth, but the shadow never fully left her face. “Perhaps.”
“Enough,” he said. “I need to ponder these revelations. Go to sleep now.”
Before she settled onto her mat next to Setenay, Sarah threw several more dung chips onto the fire. Soon, she fell asleep.
Aizarg lay on his back and considered everything Sarah said. His mind raced, trying to formulate a plan to get them to the Narim. He watched the Marsh Snake slowly revolve around the Home Star.
What did she call it, the Dragon?
Aizarg’s eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep.
***
Ba-lok sat with his back against a scrub oak, his knees pulled up against his chest and his blanket tightly tucked under his chin. He faced north with his back to the low ground. In a moonless sky the stars bathed the hilly steppe with cool, milky light.
Ba-lok snored like his grandmother, unaware of the mist rolling in from the northern horizon. It flowed over the distant hills, spilling over one hill, building in the low ground like milk in a bowl, and then spilled over the next. Sometimes, tendrils of mist twisted their way through the lowlands like pale serpents. The mist almost seemed to glow in the starlight as it quietly slipped south.
Ba-lok grunted, fell over, but didn’t wake. He curled into a fetal ball below the tree and pulled the blanket over his head.
Above him, shooting stars began to streak across the sky. At first, only one or two per minute but soon, dozens, and then hundreds a minute blazed overhead.
The falling stars radiated outward from the Heart of the Dragon in sheets of dazzling light.
17. The Last Quest Of Fu Xi The Wanderer
I recounted the tale of my journey to Wu. Mother sat in silence, expressionless. Through my words I believe she relived the choices of her immortal life. Through my words I believe she finally understood the judgment of the Emperor of Heaven.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
It was deep into the night before Fu Xi finished his account of the journey to Wu. He couldn’t remain still as his tale poured forth like a confession. Fu Xi recalled each trial, each temptation encountered on his journey to the edge of the world and back. Sometimes he spoke in hushed, reverent tones recalling wonders beyond imagining. Often, he clenched his teeth in suppressed rage, reliving horrors he could not forget. Dawn was still an unfulfilled promise as he knelt before his mother, tears filling his eyes.
“I return from Wu with two magnificent horses, armor and a sword of red orichalcum metal. I also bring home shame and grief. Once again, because of my pride I have failed and all of Cin will pay.” He bowed and placed his head in her lap.
Nuwa stroked his hair. “You have not failed. To the contrary, you have triumphed.”
Fu Xi looked at his mother, his face wet with tears. “I don’t understand. Paqua, the god-prince of Wu will come, and with him an army no force in Cin can stand against, even me. In the coming war of gods we will lose. I’ve placed all we love in peril. ”
“He will not come nor will his kind ever threaten Cin. This god-prince, this Paqua...he and his kind are doomed.”
Fu Xi looked up at his mother in shock.
“You knew of them, of the god-princes from the east?”
“Your journey was a test. I sent you east, knowing the temptations you’d face in Wu. Frankly, I had little hope you would return. You returned and, in doing, gained the favor of the Emperor of Heaven.” Her stare intensified as she stood and held her face close to his. “You did what I could not; you resisted the temptation of pride.”
Fu Xi searched his mother’s face. Nuwa stood and held out her hand. “Come. Let us finish our journey together. We only have a little way to go.”
He took her hand and they walked arm-in-arm into the night. When they came to the Place of Perfect Sorrows, Fu Xi saw his traveling clothes, cleaned and folded, along with a fresh pack of provisions, on the Altar Rock.
“Why?” he asked, pointing to his clothes.
“Paqua’s father is my brother and, like me, has been known by many names. There are more of us scattered across the world, charged by the Celestial Emperor to guide a fallen world back to redemption. In the end, it was we who fell.”
Nuwa knelt down next to the northern canal and ran her hand in the water.
“We call this plane of existence ‘The Water’. Time radiates...flows from the Throne of Creation.” She motioned to the Eternal Tree. “It’s intoxicating and seductive, much like you experienced in Wu. We forgot our purpose and turned away from our vows.
“But Mother, you’ve been steadfast in your service to the Celestial Emperor.”
She shook her head. “What you see is but a moment; the last fallen grain upon the heap at the bottom of the hourglass.
“Long before your father was born, I fell in love with another. He was powerful and beautiful, and our passion was forbidden. I loved him, but I knew he would not, could not, return it. But I did not care. We were drunk on The Water and consumed with the sensual pleasures of our flesh.”
Nuwa’s eyes were distant. “I stole a mortal form which was not offered me so that my lover might ravish me. When my ecstasy ebbed I fled in shame. I bore a child, a son, whom I loved dearly. I was foolish to hide, for the Celestial Emperor found me. I begged him for forgiveness. He took my child that he should not be corrupted.”
“I have a brother?” Astonished, Fu Xi held his head with both hands and paced about.
“Yes.” Nuwa pointed to the clothes and provision on the Altar Rock. “And you must seek him out.
“For your entire life you’ve sowed seeds of wisdom across the land. Some of this seed has taken root, some has fallen among the thistles and barren rock. None of this matters now, for all your work will be like the soft clay under the spring downpour. It is destined to wash into the sea, forgotten under the slime of ages. Now you serve another destiny.
“Go west and harvest fruit sown by the Celestial Emperor himself. This fruit is precious to him. They are a lost people, a good people. Bring them to a promised place of safety and ensure their story is not forgotten. Do this not by my command, but for the Emperor of Heaven himself. These are your children now, my son.”
Fu Xi paused. “How will I know them from other men?”
“There will be no other men,” her voice was flat. “But you will know them by their leader, a man with hair like snow who carries the Two Dragons within his spirit.”
Fu Xi stepped back. “What do you mean, ‘no other men?’”
Nuwa stood and her voice once again took on th
e aura of a goddess. A blue light began to shine in her eyes.
“Before you rode into Nushen your head was full of questions of strange wonders and dark omens encountered along your return journey from Wu.”
“Yes.” Fu Xi feared what his mother might say.
“These signs proclaim the Emperor of Heaven has forsaken the earth. The world is hopelessly corrupt and he will destroy all who dwell upon it.”
Fu Xi fell to his knees at her feet.
“No, Mother! Beseech him to turn his wrath, I beg you!” He thought of the hundreds of villages filled with good and decent people scattered throughout Cin. Images of children and their families flashed through his mind. “There is still so much goodness in the world. If I see this truth, certainly the Emperor of Heaven must see it, too?”
“This wrath is not only mankind’s to bear. He will cleanse the world of my kind and our offspring. The world cannot be free as long as the Fallen and our children roam the earth.”
Fu Xi rushed to the Altar Rock, yanked the Offering Blade from its hidden slot and held it to his chest. “So be it! Let us pay this price, but not the mortals. Let him wipe away us and the Black God, but spare mankind.”
“In this matter the Emperor’s will is set. He has hardened his heart. He stood here,” she motioned to fountain, “and I begged for your life.”
The Offering Blade clattered to the floor as he slumped against the Altar Rock. “How much time is left?”
“It has already begun.”
“What must I do?”
She pointed to the pillars at the entrance to the Second Realm. “Mount the gray mare and ride west until the mountains scrape the sky. Climb the Roof of the World and do not stop. Do not sleep. Do not rest. Do not eat. Your mare will not survive. When she dies, leave her body and mount the black stallion. Ride him until you come to this place.” She produced a stalk of wheat from the folds of her robe and handed it to Fu Xi. “This place is called the Navel of the World. Remain there until the curse is lifted.
“Be warned, the limits of your immortality will be tested. The Celestial Emperor only promised you a chance for life, not that your fate was assured. Now, get dressed. You haven’t much time.”
“How will I know the curse is lifted?”
“You will know,” she whispered.
Fu Xi removed his robe and donned his travelling clothes. As he dressed, she continued her instructions.
“Fu Xi, you have one last gift to give the Tall Men, to these lost people you must seek out. This is a gift I do not possess. It lies with your half-brother.”
“Where can I find him?”
Nuwa stepped over the eastern canal and motioned around the courtyard.
“Let the Place of Perfect Sorrows be your guide. If you survive to see the end of the scourge, depart the Navel of the World to the west. As you pass into unknown lands, keep the red sword close and always wear your armor.”
“Why?” Fu Xi asked as he reached for the red sword on the table.
“In case your brother finds you first.”
Fu Xi hesitated, and then slid the sword in his sash. “What is his name? How will I know him?”
“Totaresh, though I fear he has forgotten that name. Through him you will be tested.” She laid her hand on his sword arm and whispered, “Your only hope is to recognize each other’s kindred spirits before...” she trailed off. “That is all I can say.”
Unsure what to say or feel, his mind swirled with more questions. This was all happening too fast, even for a god.
“Mother, I...”
“The time for questions is over. A new journey, a new quest awaits you. Flee! Your horses are fed and watered in the pasture below.”
Fu Xi looked down at his hands as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Will I ever see you again?”
“Do not weep, child. There will be many more days of sorrow before you see the sun again.”
Fu Xi sobbed and reached to embrace his mother, but she pulled back. “I need you to understand everything I did, I did for love,” she whispered.
“Will I see you again?” he repeated.
“When you depart, I will no longer be Nuwa, Celestial Goddess of the West. That grace has been stripped from me. The silver torches are cold and her light will depart forever. He has given me a new charge and a new name that I may be redeemed.”
***
Nuwa stood at the stairs under the Threshold Dragon until she sensed her son enter the pitch black forest, riding hard away from the false dawn. Fu Xi dutifully obeyed her, but she sensed his tears drying in the cold air.
“Ride, son,” she whispered. “Do not look back, for I have just begun to cry.”
She lingered there a little longer and watched the dawn for the last time with human eyes. As she turned to go back inside the temple, the flame in the Threshold Dragon’s eyes died.
***
As Nuwa straightened up the cottage, she noticed Heng’s breathing growing more ragged.
“It’s getting chilly in here, my love,” she said and threw a few more faggots into the fire. She swept the floor and cleaned off the table. She carefully washed the ceramic cups in the cistern and placed them back on the wooden shelf built into the bamboo wall.
Nuwa looked around the cottage. Everything was neat and in its place. Newly born daylight glowed ruddy through oil-skin windows as she considered Fu Xi’s bound bedroll.
Do not cry! I will not spend my last few moments in sorrow. The Emperor of Heaven made me a promise and I will trust him.
She lay down next to Heng on the couch. The plush couch and his silk robe represented her oath of service to mankind, an oath to place their needs above hers. The ancient oath held no power over her, her heart now burdened by another.
Nuwa snuggled up against Heng. He felt clammy. She reached down and pulled a thin wool blanket over both of them. His breathing became more labored. She wrapped her arms around him and held his hand. Nuwa heard his heart slowing and soon her heart beat in rhythm with his.
***
Nuwa could no longer bear the screams rising from Nushen.
“I chose Fu Xi!” she screamed at the Celestial Emperor’s feet.
Nuwa could bear many of the temptations of the Water, even pride. The one she could not resist was love. For love, she betrayed her oath and her master.
“It is for love’s sake I grant forgiveness,” the Emperor of Heaven replied. “Out of love I spare Fu Xi. Understand, wayward servant, the price of forgiveness is blood. It is a price even I must pay.
“Keep your promise and I shall keep mine.”
***
Heng drew his last ragged breath. She saw his spirit, young and handsome, slip away and float upward toward the door. Heng didn’t look back; his face lifted up toward something else.
“Goodbye, my love,” she whispered.
She would not need a mortal shell for her new duty.
“Let the spirit and the flesh be parted,” she exhaled, and released the spirit from her shell. Lian’s childlike spirit cloaked itself in the ghostly memory of her Offering Robes. She floated forward and took Heng’s hand. He smiled down at her and together they faded away.
For the first time in countless millennia, Nuwa was truly alone.
A white mist materialized around Heng and Lian’s dead bodies on the couch. Tendrils snaked away and flowed over the floor and began to swirl. After a few moments, the mist took a vague human shape. A light, like a blue flame, flickered over the swirling mist, then descended into the smoky form. The apparition’s eyes showed forth with brilliant blue light as it turned and floated out of the hut.
The apparition’s face briefly took on Lian’s childhood form and then Mia’s. With each step, it transformed into a new likeness. Each new face revealed the story of Nuwa’s past, like the rings of an ancient tree. The blue flames in her eyes pulsed as her earthly forms flashed by.
As she passed from the Inner Realm to the Place of Perfect Sorrows, the faces
flickered by faster than a hummingbird’s wings, occasionally pausing on those who held special significance to the Goddess Nuwa.
One was the woman called Gaia, her shell when she gave birth to Fu Xi and founded the village of Nushen. That face faded and the lineage continued back into time, to Offerings that preceded the Nushen and the Acolytes of Nuwa. These faces belonged to girls from tribes so ancient they were forgotten even to the gods.
Two faces briefly flashed by, of an old woman and a young woman. These were not shells from her past, but souls she had very recently touched far to the west.
The misty form floated to the fountain at the base of the Eternal Tree and stopped. So, too, did the parade of faces.
The mist spun faster and faster until a howling gale blasted between the pillars. The form grew and stretched until it towered above the courtyard.
The mists congealed into a snakelike dragon writhing above the mountain like a tornado.
She looked down upon her temple, her home for so many thousands of years. She arched back her head and poured gouts of white flame into the crater. The cottage and the surrounding forests instantly incinerated. Flames shot through the courtyard and vaporized the Eternal Tree. The inferno flashed the water in the canals to steam and the resulting detonation blew apart the courtyard. Still, she continued to pour liquid fire onto the mountain until it flowed like lava between the columns and through the entrance below the Threshold Dragon. It flowed down the Silver Stairs like a waterfall of sunlight until it reached Nushen and the Tree of Immortality and wiped them from existence.
The golden spirit dragon lifted into the heavens, into the northern stars called The Dragon and vanished with the dawn. Nuwa, Celestial Goddess of the West, protector of mankind and bringer of enlightenment, took a new form for a new task.
She became Death.
18. The Gray Death
Rain was rare in that forgotten land. While thin clouds often covered their world, they were sterile. Ice and snow existed across the distant Adyghe Mountains, but not a drop of rain fell west of their slopes.
Shallow, cold streams irrigated the g’an. They originated in the unknown north and spilt into the Great Sea. What parts of the steppe the streams didn’t quench, the ice mists did.
Black Sea Gods: Chronicles of Fu Xi Page 21
