The Cradle of the Gods (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 1)

by Thomas Quinn Miller

  The bear raised its head to eye level with Ghile and just stared.

  “I've calmed down,” Ghile called into the outer cavern.

  “Let him out, Babe,” he heard Mother Brambles call from behind the bear.

  Babe yawned, showing a row of large teeth. They reminded Ghile of the blade his Uncle Toren carried. Shifting its bulk from side to side, Babe wiggled back out of the opening and lumbered to its feet.

  “Babe?” Ghile asked. He followed behind the bear as closely as he dared.

  When he could finally see around Babe, he noted this cave was not much larger than the one he had been in, about the size of a roundhouse. It had a central hearth as well, the smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling. Mother Brambles sat next to it, stirring a kettle.

  “That is what he was when I found him.”

  She ladled a handful of the hearty smelling stew into a bowl.

  “Here. All that healing will make you hungry.”

  “I thought I heard the others?” Ghile asked as he moved to sit next to the hearth. He thanked her and accepted the bowl.

  “I told them to eat outside. I figured you would stop punishing yourself when you smelled my stew.” She motioned for him to sit.

  He sat down and stared into his bowl, feeling sheepish. Ghile raised the bowl to his mouth and gingerly tested its heat.

  “Suppose you know who I am?” she said.

  “You are Mother Brambles. You are the chief of the druids,” Ghile said. The stew was a little hot, but he was too hungry to wait.

  “And you are Ghile of Last Hamlet. Son of Ecrec and Elana. You have a younger sister named Tia and you had an older brother named Adon,” she stated more than asked.

  Ghile nodded. There was something about the way she said the word had. “Adon was culled,” Ghile added.

  “Culled or murdered?” Mother Brambles asked. She drew a small stick from the fire and lit a pipe she produced from one of the many folds in her green robes.

  “I'm sorry?” Ghile said, still chewing. He stared at the ancient woman. The shaved front of her scalp was almost completely blue, the runes were so many and so close.

  “You should be. But, I take you are saying you don't understand instead of apologizing for the way you treated the ones who saved you back at Lakeside.”

  Her questions had a way of feeling more like statements.

  “I am sorry about the way I acted,” Ghile added, feeling his face warm. “I did hear you. He was culled.”

  “Why not murdered?” This time it was a question. She watched him over her pipe, her ancient eyes missing nothing. Ghile felt like a lamb who just spotted a wolf.

  “The dwarves cull those of us who might cause the return of the Hungering God,” Ghile answered as he had been taught. “It is to protect the world from his return. We are a cursed race.”

  “Sheep scat, the lot of it,” Mother Brambles said waving the pipe smoke away from her face along with his words.

  Ghile touched his chest and felt the hard stone through his woolen tunic. How could she so easily dismiss the histories?

  “What I am is not sheep scat, Mother Brambles.”

  “And what are you, Ghile of Last Hamlet?” she said.

  “I'm cursed. I'm a vessel for the Hungering God,” Ghile said louder than he meant to. He had stopped eating and felt the emotions welling up in him again. He half expected her to run away screaming.

  Mother Brambles continued to stare at him and puff on her pipe. “What does that feel like, then?” she asked between puffs.

  “What?” Ghile couldn't believe his ears. Was she crazy? Had living all these years in a cave with a giant bear been too much for her?

  “You say you are a vessel for Haurtu, the god of wisdom and learning and that you are cursed. What does that feel like?” Mother Brambles repeated.

  How could she sit there so calmly? What did she mean god of wisdom and learning? He asked as much.

  “I refer to Haurtu as he was known by us, not as he is known by the dwarves,” she said. She leaned back and continued to puff on her pipe.

  She motioned for him to continue to eat. “Eat all of that, Ghile of Last Hamlet, and I'll tell you of your people and their creator.”

  Ghile finished that bowl and two more, just as full. Mother Brambles told him the histories as he had never heard them. The way she told it Haurtu was a wise god and the humans flourished under his hand. He not only created humans, but many of the other races that still existed today and some that didn't. Haurtu believed in natural selection and the survival of the fittest. She explained these concepts to Ghile. Haurtu created diversity so the best of his creations would survive and grow wiser by surviving.

  The old druid explained that Allwyn, the All Mother as Ghile knew her, was everything that was this world. She was the world itself and the air and clouds around it. She also was in a perpetual state we would most understand as dreaming.

  For reasons known only to Allwyn herself, she awoke and gave birth to the Primordials. In the beginning there were many and they were scattered across her. Some died off while others survived. Those who survived grew powerful over the ages and eventually became something more. They could no longer die and they could create offspring as Allwyn had. And as their creator had given of herself to create them, they had to give of themselves to create. For unlike the creatures that were of the All Mother and thus were the All Mother, the Primordials were created from her, but were no longer of her.

  Ghile didn't really understand this, but Mother Brambles tried to explain what the Primordials were by explaining what they were not. The Primordials were not creatures of Allwyn. They could not mate and have children even though they seemed to have long ago chosen to be either male or female for purposes known only to them. They originally were a physical entity, but had evolved to the point they no longer needed to stay that way. But, no matter what form they choose to take, they were bound to Allwyn and existed within her. So, Ghile understood this to mean they could appear as a human or a dwarf if they wished, but could just as easily be smoke or water. The Primordials became gods.

  So the Primordials who had achieved godhood created life from themselves as Allwyn had. The creatures that were created lived on Allwyn, but were not her creations. They were descended from gods, though, and thus in their own way were immortal. Ghile understood this. This was why when a person died, their soul lived on. Mother Brambles had nodded at his observation and pointed out it was the part of them that was of Allwyn, their body, that returned to her when their immortal soul left.

  There were only a few Primordials who survived the long ascension to godhood. Haurtu, God of wisdom and learning. Daomur, God of law and justice. Islmur, Goddess of magic. Alyssiana, Goddess of music and art. Katriko, Goddess of love and passion. And Hideon, God of hate.

  Since they were immortal, they did not need things like sleep and food. Ghile accepted that easily enough. But, they did find some form of spiritual nourishment from their followers, Mother Brambles explained. Each of the gods had taken on certain beliefs or moral codes. When the life they had created performed those primary acts, they were nourished by it. Not like food nourishes, but more invigorated by it.

  The gods thought they had found their reason for existence. They were created to thus create life and as that life went through the cycles of Allwyn they would nourish the gods with their actions.

  Ghile had long ago finished his food and sat beside the fire listening to Mother Brambles. The others had come in at different stages, settling around the hearth fire, to quietly listen.

  Ghile glanced at each in turn as they settled in. The young druid and her barbarian shieldwarden barely nodded at him, choosing to sit near Mother Brambles. Riff sauntered in behind Master Almoriz and sat across the hearth from Ghile. Master Almoriz stared through the flames at Ghile. He wouldn't have thought it possible to look as miserable as he felt, but the old sorcerer was succeeding. It must be those he had hurt with the flames. Riff simply dro
pped down and gave Ghile a confident nod, the ever present smirk still there.

  He realized as the night wore on and Mother Brambles taught him her version of the histories, he was hungry for the knowledge. He wanted to know. He said as much to Mother Brambles and she pointed out this was only natural. He was human and thus descended from Haurtu, God of learning and wisdom. Haurtu the Hungerer, Ghile thought to himself.

  It was this very hunger that lead to Haurtu's exile. He came to the belief that the other gods were wrong, this was not their purpose. He too was sustained by the worship of his creations, but felt the gods had stopped evolving. Everything that lived as part of Allwyn struggled to survive and through that struggle grew. Haurtu felt the gods were stagnant. They were meant to evolve. But to what end? Haurtu thought on this for a very long time, but eventually came to the conclusion that the All Mother really wanted an All Father. That was why she had awoken and created them separate from her. She wanted an All Father to join her in her eternal dream, thus completing her. Did not all her creations have a male and female aspect?

  Haurtu acted on his discovery and attacked his fellow gods. At first the gods did not understand what he was doing. They could not be destroyed. They were eternal. But Haurtu also knew this and had never intended on destroying them. Upon defeating them, he consumed them.

  Here Ghile was confused again. Haurtu ate them? Mother Brambles replied it was more like when moss absorbs water. Haurtu defeated them and then absorbed them into his being. The two became one. Ghile didn't understand where the other gods went once absorbed by Haurtu, but no other explanations Mother Brambles tried to give made any sense to him.

  One by one, Haurtu challenged and consumed the other gods. First Alyssiana, then Katriko. But, this war was not only fought between the gods. Their creations also warred. Humans fought against the other races of Allwyn just as their god fought against the creators of the other Races. It is said even the other creations of Haurtu fought alongside the humans. Of these races Mother Brambles only knew of the goblins and vargan as races that still existed today.

  Hideon knew they must come together and attack Haurtu. But with each god Haurtu defeated he grew in power as did those who worshiped him. Hideon had a plan. The remaining gods, Daomur, Islmur, and Hideon confronted Haurtu. Hideon battled Haurtu and in the ensuing battle, Hideon was consumed. But Hideon's sacrifice allowed the last two to trap Haurtu. Islmur used her magic to open a doorway to the space outside Allwyn, a place not in any place but more between. There Haurtu was banished. Daomur bound the door with his laws and decreed only Haurtu could free himself. The perfect trap, or so the gods thought.

  Ghile thought about what he had been taught about the Hungering God. The version he had learned taught that Haurtu had gone mad and consumed the other gods. Daomur, Islmur and Hideon had defeated him and exiled him from Allwyn.

  Mother Brambles shared how after Haurtu's banishment, the gods returned to their docile existence of being nourished by their followers. The humans were decimated and those that survived dispersed. The other races of Haurtu were either annihilated or such a small number remained that they skulked off into the ruins and wilds of Allwyn.

  They thought it was over. But Haurtu was wise, and discovered a way over time to reach back into Allwyn and seed himself into his creations, and through them, free himself from his prison.

  Upon discovering this, Daomur charged his most abundant surviving race, the dwarves along with Islmur's, the elves, to remove Haurtu's races from the face of Allwyn for good. Ghile knew of this time. It was called the Great Purge.

  Ghile told Mother Brambles this was when the first druids had sung to the All Mother. Mother Brambles agreed, but said they were not druids then, but the surviving priestesses of Haurtu. With the banishment of their god, they had lost the power that comes to those who make their life's work serving their god's tenants.

  They knew no other god would listen to them so they prayed to Allwyn for mercy, the only thing they thought could save them. Many had tried praying to the Mother of the Gods in the past. Even the gods had tried to awaken her to learn from her, but none had ever succeeded.

  But it was in this hour of need, when the human race was almost at the point of extinction, that a female priestess of Haurtu finally heard the All Mother's Dream Song and for the second time since all creation awoke her.

  Allwyn rose to the defense of Haurtu's offspring and commanded the gods to end the purge. Daomur and Islmur pleaded with Allwyn and they came to an accord. If the purge was ended, the remaining gods could do only what was needed to keep Haurtu imprisoned. Mother Brambles pointed out that the All Mother would not answer the remaining gods whether what Haurtu had done was right or wrong. The concept seemed foreign to her. Allwyn then returned to her dreaming.

  So, Daomur passed laws down to his followers that they were to shepherd the humans and cull those Haurtu might use to enact his return. He further restricted them from things that were sacred to Daomur to show his disfavor. The working of stone and the creation of metal were to be acts that honored him and thus forbidden to the races of Haurtu.

  Islmur also passed tenets to the elves forbidding them from sharing the knowledge of learned magic with the surviving races of Haurtu. They shared the art of imbuing magic into objects with the dwarves before they retreated to their goddess's sacred places in the deep wood. It is said Islmur lives among them and nurtures them still.

  But, all was not lost for those descended from Haurtu. Those races who had lost their god were not completely forsaken. Certain ones, for some unexplained reason, always females, could now hear the Dream Song. They could listen and learn the way she wanted her children to live. This was the birth of the druids.

  Ghile asked of sorcerers. Mother Brambles was not certain why, but a very select few human males had the innate ability of magic buried deep within them. Some say they are descendants of generations of powerful wizards who had survived the Great Purge and still held the magic they had once practiced deep within them. But, she did not know the truth of it.

  Those that showed the gift were but shadows of their ancestors and were but mere tinkerers in comparison. They were not considered threats by the other races.

  Ghile asked how what Master Almoriz had done with the fires could not be seen as a threat?

  “It would appear the presence of a stonechosen augments our magic,” Master Almoriz said. The guilt in his voice called to Ghile's own.

  Mother Brambles patted his knee. “You did not know, Almoriz.”

  “What does that mean? I don't understand,” Ghile asked.

  “It means you are my new best friend,” Riff said.

  The others had eventually sought their furs for some much needed rest. Ghile lay their near the hearth staring at the flames. They seemed to trust he would not try to run again. Babe seemed happy to have his den back and the rumblings of his snores echoed off the cave's uneven walls.

  What did this all mean for him? He was a chosen of Haurtu. An instrument in his return. How? Did he want the banished god freed? He wasn't sure, but he definitely didn't want to die.

  Sometime during the morning he felt his powers slowly return. He entertained the idea of sharing his dream teachings with Mother Brambles and the others, then reconsidered. Somehow it didn't seem the time. He knew more than he had, but he still didn't know what he was going to do.

  He thought about his family and knew they would be in danger because of him. He wished he could speak with his uncle. He was always there when Ghile needed advice. It was then that he realized Uncle Toren had never arrived in Lakeside for the summer festival or his first Rite of Attrition. Nothing could have kept him from being there for Ghile. Something must have happened to him on the Horn. Ghile needed to find out what.

  33

  Decisions

  Ghile wished he had more time. He kept pacing back and forth in front of Mother Bramble's cave. Riff knelt near the entrance, his back against the stone cliff, silently watching.
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  Ghile knew his family was in danger. He was sure the dwarves were already looking for him and the first place they would go was Last Hamlet. He hoped his father was thinking the same thing and took the family to safety.

  His very existence was hurting those around him. Gar was dead because he had tried to do what he had seen Ghile do. He had no way of knowing Ghile had used his new powers to make that jump. Ghile knew he hadn't forced Gar to jump, but he bore the guilt all the same.

  What would the dwarves do when they didn't find him in Last Hamlet? The look on the culler's face left little doubt in Ghile's mind. He had to go to Last Hamlet and stop the dwarves from hurting anyone else because of him.

  But what to do about his new companions. They were only interested in getting him as far away from the Cradle as possible. He was too special to risk now, they had said.

  Damn the gods, he hadn't asked for any of this.

  He had even thought of taking his own life. It was the one way he felt he could make sure those he loved would be safe. But, he hated to admit to himself he was afraid to try. He remembered the way Adon had described the souls of his race floating in some kind of dreaming limbo. Could he commit himself to that? He had committed Gar to it already. Those people who died in the ash and fire. They were now there as well. Waiting.

  What about his race? He had the chance to free the god that created them and in doing so, free the souls trapped in that limbo and allow them to re-enter the cycle. Be reborn to live new lives. If he went with his new protectors, he could help free his people from the dwarves. Not free like the barbarians, under constant attack, but free and equal. They would have their god back. They could call on him for aid.

  But would he listen? In freeing Haurtu, would he just attack the gods again? Mother Brambles had described the war that was fought on Allwyn while the gods battled. Would freeing Haurtu bring about such a war?

  Ghile could feel the panic crawling up from deep inside him. He had only just become a man. He still felt very much a boy. Why was he having to make these kinds of decisions? He told himself to remain calm, stopped pacing and slowed his breathing.