by Ava D. Dohn
A happy, crackling fire spewed forth a shower of golden sparks as a hickory log erupted in a blaze of light. Shadows danced to and fro across rough-hewn timber walls, leaving much of the room hidden in darkness. The fire was warm and the building sound, creating a comfortable, cozy feeling that all was well even though the winter winds should blow. And blow they did.
Driving snow pelted the tiny windows as howling winds battered the door in its angry fury. Yet, for the lone figure slowly rocking back and forth before the glowing hearth, all was at peace, the snapping and popping of a roaring fire and the ‘creak-creak’ of the old wicker chair the only melody falling on the person’s ears.
Hidden within the shadows, two emerald-green eyes peered deeply into the burning light, a sweet, gentle tune being hummed by half-closed lips…
“No hurry… No hurry…
Let the night winds cry.
No hurry... No hurry...
For tonight brings on a happy sigh.”
Hands relaxed on the chair’s gnarly arms, fingers curled over and around its knobby ends. Naked feet resting on the hard, oaken floor would slowly push down, sending the person in the chair back into the shadows until, tired of the struggle, they would surrender to the moment, sending chair and rider up into the firelight. Back and forth, back and forth, the musical creaking of the chair blended in melodious harmony with the little humming tune.
“No hurry… No hurry…
The night is young.
No hurry...”
The mellow light of the musical fire revealed a tiny brown furry creature scurrying across the floor in search of fallen crumbs, also being rewarded with small pieces of cheese scattered among the morsels. Eyes closed as a contented smile grew across the face of the ‘oh, so untidy person’ listening in the shadows. Moments of peace such as this had been all too rare over many centuries. It felt good to have the antics of this little mouse be the biggest intrusion into their cozy dream-world.
In the middle of a bite, the mouse froze. Then, still holding tight its treasure of well-aged cheese, it sniffed the air as if searching for an answer to a disturbance in the cabin’s restful ambiance. For a heartbeat, the creaking of the chair ceased, the person also hearing the harmonic shift in the winter stormwinds. All so soon the chair began its music again, the shadowed figure displaying no concern. But the furry little creature hurried away, holding fast its trophy of the night. Something approached, its power great, and the little fellow wished not to be found in such an open, conspicuous place no matter how inviting the banquet.
Above the unyielding pitch of the blizzard, distinct sounds of hard-soled boots on tired wooden stair treads echoed across the room. The one seated in the rocker appeared to pay no notice, and continued rocking to the little tune being hummed.
“No hurry… No worry now…
The night is young…
The night is very young…”
The heavy iron door handle began its mournful cry as rusty tumblers resisted being awakened by a determined hand seeking the latch’s surrender, allowing the hidden power escape from the fury of the storm. ‘Sha…clack!’ The ancient bolt broke free of its rusty prison, surrendering up the door to the whims of the night. With glee, the winter winds pummeled the door, seeking to breech the walls of the one unconquered fortress in this vast, desolate world.
Exerting great effort, a hand held fast the tempest, engaging in a contest for the gate. A struggle ensued, the winds beating relentlessly against flesh and wood, seeking to best the lone sentinel refusing it entry. At length, the battle ended, the warrior taking control of the pass, entering the warm solitude of the comfy cabin, but not before the storm’s flanking guard managed a coup by slipping between the legs of its protagonist, sending a chilling blast into the room.
The fire roared to life, sending a swirl of sparks upward through the hewn stone chimney, flames soaring high in defense of the warmth it had birthed, driving down the bitter winds to defeat, consuming any of the chilling breeze that stood defiantly before it. ‘Slam!’ went the door, quickly followed by the crack of the bolt being driven home, securing the latch. At that, the winter tempest began a howling of angry frustration that lasted several minutes, but to no avail. The battle was lost.
Nervously peering out from behind an old musty trunk, the mouse, still holding close in tiny paws its cheesy delight, watched closely, eyeing with trepidation the giant standing in the shadows at the edge of the fire’s light. Nary did this giant move, not until tiny rivers of water and chunks of melting snow falling from cleated boots puddled the floor upon which it stood. Still, the person rocking said nothing, watching intently with sea-green eyes the crimson blaze beyond the hearth. At long last, the tiny furry creature tired the wait and turned its attention to the cheese, keeping a wary eye on possible danger while savoring the feast secured in its grasp.
At length, still tingling from the cold, the newly arrived visitor strode toward the fire, extending chilled hands while stamping frozen boots to free them of any remaining ice. As the person stood there, rubbing life into numb fingers, a voice quietly asked, “Did you slip away unnoticed?”
There was no immediate reply, just the sound of hands being vigorously rubbed together. In time, the person at the fire stood erect, pulling back a fur-lined hood with slender fingers now returned to life and feeling. With one graceful movement, the cape, with hood attached, swept from handsome shoulders, revealing the comely form of a woman goddess. Tall, muscular, sensual, the fire could not disguise this woman’s beauty. As young in appearance as a sprite, but with a haunting face and furrowed brow as ancient as the mountains, this woman was no child, but an ancient of Ancients, a witch from before the dawns of time.
Firelight flickered across ghost-grey eyes, revealing a latent power held in check by an iron will whose struggles had weathered such a handsome face into stone-like beauty. But the eyes burned bright, full of spirit, even as the body gradually withered from a cancer slowly consuming its might.
There was no smile in the woman’s reply, no emotion or energy, it having been consumed by the winter storm. “I took the lone night patrol along the Nebulan Cloud Bank. It interrupts our inter-ship communication as well as our scanners. No one is expecting to hear from me for many hours.”
Looking around the room, the woman shook her head, recalling innocent days of long ago. “I have not visited this place since the constellations of the AntonSodoney rose in celebration over the southern hills of EdenEsonbar and Gradian’s Clock chimed the coming hour of rebirth. That is nearly twenty-six thousand years past. Was I the last of my kind to seek the solace of this haven, for I sensed my spirit still lingering upon the handle of the door?”
Green eyes twinkled, recalling fond memories, while a head nodded dreamily. “Yes. Yes, it is so. Do you not yet know that you, alone, have been my only love to have discovered this place? I built it for you, my dear one, long ago, when the universe beyond EdenEsonbar still belonged to the Ones Who Came Before. It is full of mystery and secrets that only you hold the key to. I had envisioned it as a gift to you when the secret of life was revealed to my children.” The person saddened, shaking her head. “Alas, it shall never see such innocent mirth as I purposed. This place will, instead, become your sanctuary in future days when the worlds are again at peace. I am but the caretaker of it until that hour arrives.”
The woman nodded but made no reply. She looked around and, spying a stool half hidden in the shadows, pulled it near the hearth, sat down and quietly removed her pilot’s boots. With a grunt, followed by a relaxing sigh, the last boot was pulled from her foot. She then busied herself in gently massaging life back into cramped toes.
As practiced hands soothed the flesh, a tired voice went on to speak of other matters. “The storm is most intense. Had I not felt your presence, I doubt it would have been possible for me to find this place tonight. As it was, I made my way through a mile of frozen drifts, having to abandon my
ship in a distant field, I fearing the danger of a collision should I pursue further travel with that machine.”
A smile crept across the face of the person in the rocking chair. “Few there are who could have mastered the elements this eve. Do you think it by chance the weather is so outrageous? My dear one, there are many evil forces who have great power. Spies abound in your world. Only a fool would have dared follow you into this maelstrom… save only one…and he is far from this place at the moment. I can feel it to be so. It was important for my heart to seek you out in secret tonight. I desired no one, not even an innocent, to interrupt our meeting.”
There was a long silence in the room. The woman sitting on the stool hung her head as if in tired disappointment, her long, flowing, silver hair falling almost to the floor. Staring at the worn planking, she finally replied, “I am your servant. Please, my Meter, what is it your heart wishes to speak about?”
The person in the chair turned her head, smiling. “Long have your lips been silent with that name, my Tolohe.” She returned her gaze to the fire. “Tolohe? Tolohe… ‘Pillar of the Sun’, ‘StuloHelios’, Tolohe. You do recall it is a name given you by the gods of ages past, when you still suckled at my breasts. Few speak of you by that name anymore. Why do you hate it so?”
Tolohe raised her eyes toward the flames, searching for a reply. “When the world was young, it was so beautiful. There were but the two of you, my Meter and Chrusion, my lover and mentor. Oh yes, I do recall the strange beings that flitted in and out of our lives, sometimes so handsome as to outshine Chrusion, and yet at other times taking on wild shapes that could be laughable or frightening.”
“I knew you only by the name I gave you, ‘Meter’… ‘Mother’, until I was well in my teens, when those same gods spoke in secret to me their own fond words for you, and how deeply they cared for the one giving them life so long ago. It was long ago, beyond the ages of time, and yet I feel that I, too, have lived beyond the ages of time. So long my heart has ached over lost love, long before this Rebellion. I have hidden my heart in a shadow-world until it stands alone in a desolate land. Few are my lovers. They fear my sickness lest they may fall prey to a diseased mind. My beauty faded long ago until it is little more than a ghostly ruin of its former self. Chrusion broke my heart before the First Age was passed. When it died, along with it went the beauty of the wondrous name given me in that forgotten time.”
Tolohe looked into her mother’s face. “And should I complain? Has not your heart been ripped from your own bosom, being crushed by the man we both loved for so long? Does not the very name given you by my young siblings testify to the changed world that exists around us? Yehowah! God of the new age, King of the Throne of Salvation, Bringer of Rage and Storm! I stood beside you the day you declared to the man who was once our lover, ‘I shall become whatever I need to become in order to crush you… you belly-walking worm!’ From that day forward, my sweet, innocent Meter has carried the name of war and death, ‘Yehowah’ …a name so unfit for the person I love so dear.”
Again there was a long silence. “Meter… it is a name that is so comforting to my soul.” Meter – ‘Ma-we’ - looked into Tolohe’s eyes. “My dear, I am no ruler, never have been. The Ones Who Came Before did not see me as a ruler or a god. I was but one with them, they having come from my very essence. I do not like to rule, and that is one secret you know better than all the others except… except… we shall not speak anymore of him.”
She reached out, touching Tolohe’s knee with playing fingers. “Tonight, for a few fleeting hours, Tolohe needs to again become the Pillar of the Sun, the pillar for Meter to rest her weary head upon.”
Tolohe gripped Ma-we’s hand, tears filling her eyes. “I am your servant, your lover, your companion. Whatever your slightest wish, I shall move the heavens to bring to you. You ask so little and deserve so much more than your child can possibly give.”
Ma-we leaned her head back, resting it against the chair. She closed her eyes in silent ponderings, the crackling fire the only sound coming from within the tiny cabin. Peeking out from its hiding place, the skittish mouse, overcome by hungry desire for more crumbles of cheese, chanced the moment, hurrying forth to abscond with another of the morsels scattered upon the floor. If anyone heard, no one paid heed. Cheeks full of rich reward, the little fellow happily scampered away to its hiding place.
At long last Ma-we took up the conversation. “I have brought you here tonight for many reasons. Some, as you know, are fraught with personal and selfish desires. Still, had it not been for other more necessary ones, I would not have troubled a soul weighed down with the needs of the universe. The future of all living things hinges upon decisions soon to be made. I fear you, alone, will have the power to force those decisions onto the correct path.”
She sat forward, turning her chair so as to face Tolohe. “I’m sorry. Such a rude host, you know. My mind’s been off in a fog. Please, can I offer you something to warm your tired soul and feed a hungry belly?”
Tolohe smiled, nodding. Soon there were hot cakes and jam, along with steaming jasmine sweet tea to tempt the palate. As the newly appeared dishes magically filled with sumptuous delights, the woman wryly commented, “My powers are greatly diminished through this sickness of mine. No longer can I conjure such a repast without the aid of machines made by ageless hands. Little more than that cup could I produce for this meal. The witchery of my mind, though, is still sharp and I can see deep into the heart of space and time.”
Ma-we grinned reassuringly. “My daughter shall be made new again, that I know. For now, let us pretend… pretend that things are so different. Now then, tell me of my concoction. Does it titillate the senses as it once did?”
Tolohe took the cup of hot brew, inhaling its delightful fragrance, a smile growing on her face, and then sipped. “Ahhhh…you have outdone even yourself. None better have I ever tasted in all my days. You are the greatest witch of all, making the simplest things treasures to behold.” She looked deeply into Ma-we’s eyes. “You, Mother, make the best tea. I do so miss it when I am away.”
Ma-we grinned again, lifting up her own cup. “Then we shall drink it to the day when there will be no need for us to part!”
For a while the two became lost in innocent chatter, each one outdoing the other with rhyme and song, stories from happy days long forgotten. The little mouse danced with glee at seeing the countless crumbs falling to the floor, a feast in the making.
At length, the hour had come, the food consumed. Ma-we’s face sobered, her dark thoughts harkening other speech. “My dear child, there are many dangerous roads we must travel before innocence will again rule the worlds.” She looked toward the fire, a newly placed log having freshly ignited the sparking flames. “The Prisoner Exchange is but a few days future. I do so wish your company at that time, but I know it is not possible.”
Tolohe nodded, asking for another cup of tea, stalling for time. As she stirred the fresh, hot brew, she asked, “So, do you intend to continue with your plan, even after the last council?”
Ma-we nodded. “I can wait no longer. I have seen into the demon’s mind and watched him stew in his anger. I must force his hand now.” She looked into Tolohe’s face, the age of troubled times reflecting on her own. “It is no longer an issue of ‘are we ready?’ It matters not the cost to us, for it shall be high. Chrusion must be made to move, show his hand in power. He must be goaded into action before he is fully prepared.”
Tolohe studied her tea as if stirring it was most important. After sniffing in the satisfying aroma, she quietly recommended, “May I suggest you take Tizrela and PalaHar with you as standard bearers? Neither fears the Worm, each having contested against him on the field of honor. They also understand the hour and the day, counting no guilt toward you, but hold themselves accountable for the evil that lives among us.”
She set the spoon down, staring again in
to Ma-we’s green eyes. “It is true, we have become weak and, as at other times in the past, not heeded your council or listened to your wisdom, but trust me, there is still a fiery strength hidden within your loyal children. We will weather the coming storm.”
Ma-we slowly shook her head. “Strength like an aged, weathered tree… Your kind will, as you so often have before, take the blow, but that age is passed into meaninglessness. Your kind must become the aggressor, the monster that tears up its prey. I doubt such a feat still exists with them.”
After taking a sip and giving time for her palate to luxuriate in its robust delights, Tolohe replied, “I trust you have a remedy to deliver a cure, for never have I heard you pose such a dilemma without having searched out a solution.”
Nodding, Ma-we answered. “Oh, yes! But a bitter one it is! A long night is coming, and I fear that the Field of the Minds shall fill to overflowing before the daylight again arrives. My children…” She was so remorseful. “…my children…so many will sleep the long sleep before the evil hour’s hunger is fully satisfied.”
Looking down at her hands, she lamented, “I have the power to bring this madness to a finish, but I cannot, for then I, myself, should become the greatest of evil serpents! The blood of freedom of all my children, of all I stand for, cries out from beyond the abyss, condemning me for even thinking such selfish thoughts. No! The victory must come at the hands of my children even to the destruction of them all.” She began to quietly weep.
Placing the cup down and taking her mother’s hand, Tolohe promised, “My dearest one, my love, please do not torment your tender heart. Such calamity will not happen. I will not allow it. Dear one, your children will not fail.”
Ma-we’s pleading eyes looked out from a tear-stained face. “How can you promise such folly when I have seen your very demise in fire and smoke? How can you know with such confidence that my children will succeed?”
Shocked at first by Ma-we’s revelation, Tolohe quickly recovered, answering, “The blood of our mother flows in each of my siblings. She is not weak from fear and neither are they. Foolish? Yes! And also dull of senses, drugged by the happy days of ancient bliss.”
She squeezed her mother’s hand, leaning close with a pleading answer. “We love you with such intensity that each one of us would eagerly sacrifice all things, forever, rather than see our dear one hurt. We lack wisdom, must learn how to pull victory from longing hearts, but it can…will be accomplished. There is too much love within us to fail. Show us how to love and we shall conquer all that is evil, bringing it down to Gehenna for all time!”
The flow of tears eased and soon stopped, Ma-we watching the fire surge in intensity as the winter winds cried out in empty frustration. The heat of the blaze, along with the sweet smell of flaming apple-wood newly placed on the hearth, refreshed her spirit. A sudden ‘pop!’ sent an army of tiny sparks up the chimney. Ma-we watched until the last one disappeared from sight. “You know… I believe I lit a fire under my children at the last council meeting.”
Tolohe silently nodded, not wanting to intrude where uninvited. Mother was oftentimes a secret person, the reason for riddles. So much she kept to herself, always had, feeling she did not have the words to convey the real meaning hiding in her heart.
Tonight was different. Ma-we wanted her daughter to see, to understand all that lay beneath the surface of her outer soul. “I have revealed to my children the third of my three Swords, TrishaQaShaibjal. I am sorry to have not sought your council in this matter, but… but, still, what do you think of my choice?”
Tolohe rubbed her chin in thought while staring into the half-empty cup of tea. “Well, I detect that not everyone was pleased, including my sister, Mihai. Meter, I trust to your wisdom. As for the woman? I do not know her well. She served under my command for a time, but only as a common officer. When observing her, I find few secrets. She hides herself so well in shadows of mystery, something that I believe has been the doing of your hands.”
She frowned. “There exists a power within the woman that troubles my spirit. It is dangerous, barely contained, and smells of evil. Had it not been at your very hand she was delivered here, I would say a demon raised from Hell the woman to be. Yet I know her not to be such, for you have sealed her heart in lasting life. I trust you.”
Ma-we smiled, nodding, “Others of your kind have not been so generous with my choice. They see her as a bastard child of these realms, an unfit usurper of privileged powers.”
Tolohe picked up her cup of tea, drinking the remainder down, offering, “You have purposes secreted from the wisest of your children. PalaHar has spoken of this to me. He is both troubled and amused. He and I trust fully in your actions and accept this child of the earth into our inner circle. My hope…no, I am certain that my brothers and sisters will come around and not only embrace her as our new leader, but become willing to learn at her feet the ways of the North.”
Thanking Tolohe, Ma-we added, “You speak with discernment. The child’s heart is twisted by the very forges of Hell that have engulfed her old world in violence down to this day. But it is by such a twisted heart that salvation shall come to your people in later days and… and at the Prisoner Exchange.”
Tolohe wondered, “PalaHar says the woman has no feelings, but stands as emotionless as a mountain wall. How will my people trust her if they can see no love or compassion flowing from her?”
Ma-we grinned. “Oh, she has love and passion. And I have already begun the process to reawaken it from within. My little boy is busy at work on her heart. I sent him away on a scent that he will be unable to shake from his nostrils. Soon Trisha’s ardor will grow beyond control for…well, you know how Zadar is.”
Tolohe laughed. “You need not given him the witch’s potion to boot. He has the power to make a woman surrender to his wiles even should she be upon the field of battle. Once the dam has burst, will Trisha have the fortitude remaining to lead your children to war?”
Answering, Ma-we shook her head. “It will take a great deal of witchery to deliver that child to Zadar’s bed. She is a tough case. In the years since her arrival, she has refused every offer of romance, be it dream-share or otherwise, she feeling repulsed by even the thought of her sister’s touch. No, it will be no easy matter for my son to carry the gate to take her heart, but I trust he will… and at the right time, too.”
“Are you sure you sent him?” Tolohe asked, chuckling. “She is quite comely, more so than most, and those stodgy clothes can hide only so much. Zadar would have sought to uncover the woman’s secrets soon enough if left on his own.”
Ma-we laughed. “True! True! Still, this child is so different, badly damaged, I feel…so much so I fear that Zadar would tire the chase if left to his own powers. Oh, he will struggle with her, with his personal feelings… already is. Who knows, he may well fall in love.”
“Zadar fall in love?!” Tolohe laughed. “The world is not prepared to deal with that man captured up in love.”
Ma-we also began to laugh with Tolohe. It felt good to laugh, and if someone could bring on her light spirit it was Tolohe. When the joyous tumult eased, she became serious, resting a hand on Tolohe’s knee. “He loves you. Always has. Why do you dismiss his advances? You know how sweet his kisses are and how they revive your soul.”
Tolohe frowned then smiled. “You’re right. I have been derelict in my duties. I will not refuse the boy his advances the next time he offers. He has a way that can make my heart sing on the dreariest of nights.”
“Good! Good! Please do so, for my sake.” Ma-we went on to other business. “Mihai also revealed the secret of the other Swords, pointing out that the first was already walking among them, hiding in the shadows.”
A chill swept across Tolohe’s heart. “Meter, this one is very dangerous. Only by your reassurance have I come to trust her. Even I have trouble remembering when she passes. More like the mis
t is she - an angry mist filled with vengeance. There is good reason she is called the ‘Death Angel’, the ‘Gravemaker’. Hairs rise on the back of my neck when she comes into my presence. Like living death she feels to me. She is there and then gone without a trace. I cannot find a soul within her. Is she truly real, a child from forgotten lands, or is it a machination of your witchery sent to test us out?”
Shaking her head, Ma-we answered, “She is very real, very damaged…far beyond Zadar’s repair. Her owner will one day rescue her heart. A danger? Not to you or your kind, but to those who rebelled she is most deadly. A heart more corrupted than the Stasis is hers, but still filled with a sweet love for all that is good. A formidable force is she to your wicked brother. Even now she haunts his worlds, walking unseen in his holy places. There is an hour coming when a crack will rupture in the wall surrounding her heart…a sad hour, but one that will begin the healing.”
Tolohe was curious. “So you created this being when making her new in these realms or how?”
“No.” Ma-we again shook her head. “Chrusion has created a demented world filled with pain and sorrow. It bends and twists the hearts of many so that even my powers cannot mend the damage. I must trust to Time for the cure. Until that hour, I can use the destructive forces instilled into the Worm’s victims to wreak vengeance upon his world - just reward for what he has committed against these innocents.”
“With such a foul-smelling heart, my child can enter in right among those evil miscreants, they sensing no abnormality in their harmonics. For the moment, my Sword’s heart releases a harmonic song that cannot be detected even by Chrusion’s powers. She has even put pig piss in his omen cup!” Ma-we laughed derisively. “She is become a shadow-dancer. The rebels believe a traitor walks in their midst and they know not what to do about it. She is a very trustworthy spy.”
Leaning forward, Tolohe asked, “So she keeps close in touch?”
“Oh, yes!” Ma-we answered. “Your brother’s war councils do not remain secret to my ears. I have learned much about the coming Prisoner Exchange from my attentive daughter.”
“Meter,” Tolohe asked, “why put her at such risk? She is still mortal and inexperienced. Have you no better way to gather needed information?”
Ma-we pondered aloud. “Risk? Mortal? Inexperienced? Well yes, you might be correct, at least about the mortal part. Inexperienced and at risk? That I must argue. First, I do not put her in danger. She is a creature of free will and chooses to do as she wants, merely delivering to me information pleasing to her. And” She squinted, searching Tolohe’s eyes, “the only danger is to Chrusion and his people. The child has powers greater than yours - many latent, for sure - but still sufficient to deal with the likes of those rabble. Indeed, there has never been a child with greater glory than her and those others I have delivered to these worlds. But for now the glory remains to be found in my Swords, new creations of untold strength and might.”
Leaning back in the chair, Ma-we sighed. “Even as a mortal, there is no force to be found among the enemy that can stop my child. Why, she could create heaps upon heaps of bodies should Chrusion’s elite guard attempt her capture. That woman could walk through a company of his best like a whirlwind through a wheat field. Only could Chrusion check her hand.”
Ma-we offered more tea. When the cups were full, she continued. “As for the spying, I refuse to steal freedom even from the wicked. I will not stoop to such loathsome antics as searching hidden rooms with my mind, nor steal another’s thoughts for my purposes, even if they are well intended. The ends do not justify the means. A game is a game and a riddle is a riddle. No matter the cost, rules must be followed. It is the root-law of freedom.”
Tolohe agreed.
Taking first a sip, Ma-we added, “It is by this fly on the wall I have come to know many secrets, and, by law, I can use this information against him. You will see him fail. This Prisoner Exchange will not be to his liking. What he learns there will set matters in motion that will force him to act prematurely, leading to his final defeat.”
The two lost themselves in discussion concerning the Prisoner Exchange, the latest council, the attitude of the children regarding the newcomers from the Lower Realms, and any pertinent gossip relating to current events. Tolohe was not satisfied with the state of preparedness of the military, making recommendations while listening to several suggestions from her mother. She was most attentive to Ma-we’s detailed account of Ardon’s actions regarding Darla, saying nothing for fear of stirring a troubled pot.
Finally, Ma-we revealed the real reasons for requesting Darla’s presence at the Prisoner Exchange, asking, “Was I remiss in pushing so? Did I do the right thing?”
Tolohe defended her youngest sister. “Darla will cause you no injury, but beware, she may well destroy herself should truth be twisted beyond reason.” She frowned. “The child is a misfit, a queer thing, spooky, but she is not dangerous other than to herself. I believe you have chosen wisely. What this world needs are more like her. Had she been a million, this war would never have begun.”
“At Memphis she saved more on that day than perished in fire and torture. She held the gap – how, I do not know. Against odds of a hundred-to-one, her band stole the enemy’s glory, surrendering up to him a hollow victory filled with his own countless dead.” She clasped her hands, remembering, “Twice I have carried her shattered body from the field, thinking the child no more. At Fortress Mordem, we found her nearly frozen, she refusing to abandon Depais’ body to the wolves and vultures. We were forced to promise to gather the dead before she would abandon the field.”
Shaking her clasped hands while nodding, she added, “Darla is an outstanding leader. A shame she has never been recognized as such. She is the bravest soldier I know, and smart. Godenn underestimated her once and nearly lost his head for it. If she survives this coming fury, may she be honored with the glory she deserves.”
Ma-we eyed Tolohe. “She will survive! Must!” Then turning away toward the fire, added, “As for the older councilors, Darla is not refined or smooth, with diplomatic speech. She speaks her mind when offered the moment. Few of the oldest on the council have seen, first hand, the horrors of war, or have they smelled the distress of battle. If they could witness her heroism, they might well feel differently about her.”
Tolohe asked, curious, “So you have chosen to keep the child alive so that she cannot die?”
“Not I!” Ma-we waved a hand. “There are forces at work in this universe that even you have not come to fully understand. You, the child of the Cherubs, should realize that I do not enforce law as some king or dictator would. There are those whose council I even pay close heed to.”
“No, I fear not the loss of Darla’s body, but that of her mind. The demon grows in might by the day, consuming more of the child’s mind into its own. Already it has done lasting damage. How much, I cannot tell. When rid of that monster, she will be forever changed. How much is for the future to tell. At this time, I must set wheels in motion that will bring to a finish what grows within.”
Concerned, Tolohe asked, “Is there no cure other than a sojourn into damnation?”
“There has ever been only one other, and none of my daughters will release their control over that destiny long enough for me to bring it.” Ma-we sadly shrugged. “So it must be a journey into damnation to receive the cure. But my child does not go alone. Her friendly host is most caring. Never has she been abandoned to the darkness, never will she. Trust me, though heaven and earth should pass away, my girl’s rescue will arrive in time.”
Ma-we continued, dismayed. “When the evil of Chrusion’s corrupt mind entered the world, I could well see it in Michael’s mind, but I became so preoccupied with her that I abandoned my responsibilities with Darla, my dearest Rachel. When I discovered the demon growing within her, it was far too late to make a cure. I soothed her as best I could, but ha
d to allow the monster its day. And because of it my child has suffered in so many ways.” She sighed. “Her suckling did save Michael’s mind, though, it slowing the demon’s growth.”
“Meter! Is there nothing we can do? What of the powers beyond this universe?”
“No!” Ma-we bemoaned. “Only by some great orgasmic reaction exploding from within her own soul will such a deed be accomplished. It must be so great as to threaten her very existence. It must happen soon or we will lose her anyway, and then I don’t know… I don’t know.”
Tolohe nodded, understanding all too well. If Ma-we failed to deliver the cure, and her child fell into damnation, she would see herself as a mother unfit to even live. Could she contain those feelings for eternity? She was immortal, having life within her personal being. Death could not come to her, but… but, she feared, would her heart sink to such levels so as to destroy her mind, bringing on an eternal forgetfulness and a ruination to all living things? Long had the possibility troubled her. Only Tolohe understood its depth.
Staring at the floor, Tolohe answered reassuringly, “You will succeed.” Looking up and into Ma-we’s eyes, hers reflecting that same sadness, she promised, “We will succeed. The blood that my brothers and sisters have shed will not be wasted upon some empty victory! We will do whatever is necessary to carry the future to success. You will not falter, cannot. My little sister will win her contest. Mihai will learn wisdom. Meter, there is much more to you than you wish to see. You say you do not want to be ruler. I say there is none better to rule than you. Your strength of will is far greater than even your heart. You can hold all the fires of torment in your bosom for all the ages and never waver in your purposes. There is nothing that is impossible for you. Nothing! When you feel at your weakest, your strength is only then made evident. I have seen it. It burns in your children, in the gods beyond this world, and in you… the Maker of our souls. Meter…my Love of loves…you will succeed!”
Ma-we’s fingers gripped the arms of her chair. Little could she hide from this intuitive creature, her troubled heart exposed by distressed words. “Thank you for such kindness, but you know I have failed my children… still do. But you…your leadership is unmatched by anyone living or dead. I wish you to have been my firstborn. You can calm a troubled soul… have. You bring me real refreshment.” She looked sadly into Tolohe’s eyes, confessing, “I have used you up, depended too much on your might, to the point I have kil’t your soul by my many demands.”
Tolohe shook her head in denial, but said nothing. The cancer was hers to carry, the stress of the ages having destroyed her immune system. The woman would not charge against another the burden she had chosen to carry so long ago. Still, Tolohe hoped a cure. There was another who might save her, but that request must come at the proper time, for he saw not the ways of mortals and understood little the panderings of a selfish heart.
Silence filled the room, the fire not quite as comforting as before. Ma-we wished to change the mood and bring back the warmth. She spoke of other matters. “Michael Morning Star has rejected the crown.”
Tolohe perked up, smiling. “It’s good! Did you succeed with your other offer?”
Ma-we nodded. “The child is now king over a tormented land that she, alone, can secure and return to brightness. I have set in motion the tools necessary for her to accomplish the task.”
Looking into Tolohe’s eyes, she asked, “Now that it has come to pass, will you not accept what is - what should have always been yours? You are the second in line to the Firstborn and have proved yourself fit and worthy. Will you take the crown offered Michael and deliver the blessing up to my daughters?”
Laughing, Tolohe answered, “A woman born was I and a woman I shall remain until the breath passes from my lips. This you’ve long known. Besides, you’ve already chosen the King of kings in your heart, did long ago. It should go to the one woven by your magic. He is the one deserving the crown, being so much like you.”
Surprised, Ma-we raised an eyebrow, squinting the other eye, asking, “Why do you speak in such riddles?”
Tolohe cautioned, “Don’t play innocent with me! I know your heart nearly as well as you do. Need I tell you the tale of the world beyond? I will anyway.”
“At one time, in the Realms Below, you wanted a nation to be built, made to show the rest of mankind how generous and loving a person you really were. Alas, you put your daughter here to the task, resulting in what I believe to have been disappointment. From the days of Abram down to glory’s hour, I led them and directed them. What happened? The world of men came to think of you as a cruel, demanding and aggressive God, one to be worshipped out of fear. To this day, they call down evil on you for the acts of war I delivered upon wicked men.”
She shook her head. “I am a warrior, will die with my hand on the sword before any sickness will take me. Valiant and harsh are my ways. You call me ‘Pillar of the Sun’. Your own children have named me ‘HierosEchidnaMnema’, ‘The Holy Serpent that brings down to nothing’. No! My ways are harsh, almost evil. You are too pure for me to represent your spirit. I have grossly misrepresented you.”
Looking into the blaze, she continued. “Later you delivered Mihai upon the scene. Through her love, she has changed the world of men, but not their understanding of you. For many, Mihai’s God is weak, unable to do anything but love, unwilling to bring justice. May I add there is some just reason for them to think so. When the hour chosen was delayed - as it has been now for so many centuries - the men of that world tired out, feeling your promise only a metaphor, the hope only remaining at some other place after death. For this and other reasons, I do not feel Mihai a truly suitable person to represent you.”
Ma-we disagreed. “It was not the fault of my daughter that the hour of salvation was delayed. I could not risk her demon’s glory over her, and your brother’s treachery with tricksy words fooled even the hearts of many of my loyal children, and… and there were so many other reasons I allowed the universe to wait upon a moment. I still wait… still wait.”
Tolohe leaned forward, resting a hand on Ma-we’s forearm. Her reply was filled with love, but it could not hide bitter disappointment. “My Meter, no matter the reason, the delay has been most costly. For three times we drove the evil of Hormax and his confederates down, bringing devastation upon the lands of Mizraim, Magog, and Javan, desolating those worlds of men. And only then, in the end, as the blood of Haudenosaunez’s kindred and your own loyal children made holy the field of slaughter – our dead counted by the thousands of thousands - he and I, side by side, felled the last of the Anakim at Camorra Heights, bringing the first breath of freedom since the days of Japheth to those tortured lands of demon possession. My Love, your children cannot survive another delay. I cannot survive another delay. My hour is close, for I have seen its wretched end should time fail me.”
Tolohe sat back, ashamed of her rueful accusations. How well she knew the sacrifices her mother had made, but only here, in this one place, in the company of this one person, could the great Pillar of the Sun become the tired, lonely, disheartened child. For this reason Ma-we remained silent, allowing her daughter time to grieve over the loss of her own virginity - innocence.
Shaking her head to clear troubling memories, Tolohe returned to the subject, a stoic appearance of weathered granite clouding her face. “Neither Mihai nor I are qualified to carry the Horn of Rachel before the universe of men. We are the extremes of your personality. No…no, the king who sits your throne must be just like you. Your blood must flow through his veins.”
Ma-we leaned back, replying in thoughtful consideration. “So, you’ve put me in a pickle. Who is there remaining, fit and qualified to take up the scepter and return to my daughters their youth and dignity?”
Tolohe chided, “Don’t play the part of an innocent waif. You may well have tricked with the foolish, dumb and blind, but your riddles have been sec
reted by me from this world’s founding, for well I am aware of the unholy union and its offspring. And long have I known that you wove your own blood into the belly of the woman who bore the Son of Salvation, and I do see that that blood still flows rich in the veins of a man born from darkness and light. You have not hidden well your intentions in our dream-shares together.”
Cocking her head to the side while shaking a finger, Tolohe postured, “I harbor no ill will concerning these matters. You are the Maker of all things. You are Law. Whatever is your slightest desire is my most impassioned want. So then, I recommend what will satisfy most your heart, a man-child who shares your soul, heart, and yes, even your blood. For the right man, you have held in abeyance the four winds down to this day and he, I believe, you have now discovered. ‘Yehowahboam’… ‘The Man Who Stands In the Place of God’…Shiloh…‘Sword-King Over Heaven and Hell’.” Tolohe’s eyes wandered as she described the man, her face blushing rose while two lips struggled to hold back a girlish smile.
Patting Tolohe’s leg, Ma-we stared into her eyes, squinting. “The scent of a storm’s coming ever heralds upon the approaching breeze and a maiden swoons at the thoughts of her hero’s embrace. Has my daughter been smitten by the breeze that tells of a coming man who is but still a child? Does her heart yearn for love from a hero yet to prove himself? I detect feelings of love hidden in the music of your words. Love… such a dangerous possession for the heart to contain while the stallion is yet running the plain, unbridled.”
Tipping her head back, Tolohe closed her eyes, sighing sadly, “Oh, but this stallion has the heart of both its mother and father, fire and ice, power and tenderness, rage and compassion, tumult and peace. Hidden in the self-doubt of a frightened sheep there dwells a demon-monster waiting to rise, it awaiting the day its power is unchained. Dangerous he is, King of the Dragons! Lord of the gods or slave of the Serpent, himself… We must wait to see. Still, his scent excites me in ways long forgotten. My heart is bound with his to our glory or our ruin.” She leaned forward, clutching Ma-we’s arm, pleading, “The boy must not fail! For shall that happen, then I wish no longer for life itself.”
Ma-we caressed her child’s hand. “Death? Death is not yours to choose, for your fathers have purchased your soul and will do with it as they choose. But this I do know: I, too, trust in his success, but I have seen that in his glory will come your destruction. In his hour of test, in his greatest victory, he will call out to a woman who will not heed your council, but will attempt a coup upon her brother. A trap! A trap, I say, has already been laid at his door. Death to her is its intent. You will not let that happen for my sake and the blow will fall upon you.”
Ma-we slowly shook her head, tears falling. “To save my Michael, you must die.”
Tolohe bowed her head in silence. At long last, she whispered, “He will succeed. There is nothing else for it, or all heaven and earth shall pass away.”
Ma-we smiled, wiping away tears from her eyes. She finally asked as though speaking to herself, “So, has it come to this? The future existence of all my worlds depends upon the loyal love of a child not yet grown from his teens? We risk everything on the merits of a good heart borne along by a free will of a wild stallion let loose upon the torrid field, trusting that he will act in wisdom when his hour of darkness falls instantly upon him?”
Turning to stare into the crackling blaze, Ma-we pondered the coming hour when all of her works hung upon such an uncertain thread. It was all or nothing…always had been…but never violently exposed and violated to be spoken of with such openness. Still, it was the truth, the only way to bring absolution to the argument that she – Ma-we – was not wicked in the way she had made her children. Freedom must win! And she must prove that her way was the solution to bring real freedom. Looking back into Tolohe’s passionate eyes, Ma-we softly pronounced her willingness to stay the course at all cost. “Then so be it!”
Ma-we quickly changed the subject. “As I have said, Michael has accepted the kingship and will wield the King’s swords until he arrives. Because of this, I find myself in a most peculiar position in which there is need of your assistance. I have a serious request.” Tolohe bowed low, looking up and into her mother’s eyes. “Why do you need to make request? To my dying breath, all that I have is yours for the taking.”
After showing her gratitude with a kiss, Ma-we asked, “Please sit up and become my steward. The hour of the prophets draws ever closer and battle, this time, shall ruin all my wonderful works. Indeed! My womb shall cry out for its children who lay slain like fallen chaff upon an overripe field of grain. My grand ballrooms will become a lurking place of the dust mite. The spider will weave its tapestry across the doorposts of many great palaces that will echo only the sound of the fruit bat as it seeks refuge from the sun. It is a bitter hour. Who will survive?”
“In the middle of this maelstrom I have set my child, Michael. She will gather the storm and set the forest ablaze. Her hand will decide the time that this world shall die. But I have set up a protection for this child, should she listen to its wise council…which I doubt. The girl is reckless, unpredictable - a quality I will soon be using to my advantage – she will little tolerate the back seat when the cry for blood rents the air.”
“The crown and kingdom I have saddled her with will force my child to stand the throne while the world goes mad around her. But she is feisty and, if pushed, will enter the battle of warcraft. This is something that must not be allowed, at all costs. I cannot afford her capture and enslavement.”
Tolohe stopped her mother, asking, surprised, “I know you choose your words carefully. Why do you speak of her capture and not her death as being the worst of calamities?”
Ma-we glanced toward the door as though fearing the wind might carry away secrets to listening ears as she softly answered, “She cannot die...”
Aghast, Tolohe asked, “She has not yet passed into the worlds of the immortals, has she?! It is still for a future day, is it not?!”
Tolohe’s excitement set the mood. Ma-we relaxed. “No. No, she is not yet immortal, but she has been changed as have a few of the others. You see, her spirit cannot escape the girl’s flesh. When Michael first returned from the Realms Below, I created a new body of flesh for her. When she accepted her rightful place in my kingdom by taking the crown, I set it aflame, waking its power. So, until the day she is gifted with immortality and is given authority over the spirit of the flesh, she is locked for good or ill in the body she now possesses. And that body cannot be fully destroyed. Thus is finally fulfilled the words of my prophets, ‘Death, where is your glory, for you have been made subject even to me.’”
“So here is the dilemma: should Michael be captured, or should her body be found as though dead upon the field, your brother will demand it be sent to him, there to be desecrated in horrible ways. Once it is discovered she possesses an indestructible mind and heart, when it is seen that by the very hidden energy of the universe the woman’s body would regenerate back to health, think of the tortures he will heap upon her until her rescue was secured. Then think, also, of the countless number of my children who will perish in fire and destruction attempting that rescue.”
A visible shudder ran down Tolohe’s back. “What, then, is my part in securing freedom from such a fate for this child?”
Ma-we’s answer was quick and sharp. “You must stop her from such folly! Whatever the cost, keep her safe!”
Tolohe shrugged in wonder, her arms outstretched with question. “How?! To her has all authority been given. She rules as king, lord, master over all living things. Yes, I am older than she, and my witching powers are far, far, greater, but what authority do I possess that will make her subject to me?”
Ma-we, too, shrugged but all so casually. “Then I will have to gift you with greater authority...” A blinding light flashed across the room. Tolohe cried out in surprise and pain as a fire-like
ache exploded in her right hand, racing up her arm. When her eyes could again focus, why there, shining every color of the gemstone world, rested a signet ring that, when the runes were translated read, ‘Yehowahboam’. Tolohe was stunned, speechless. She struggled for words while fighting back welling emotions growing in her breast.
Ma-we broke the silence, pointing. “That, my Dear, should satisfy your needs. Being the King’s signet ring, no one will question the steward wielding its power. And power it does have, enough to rule successfully over this universe… all universes.” Cupping Tolohe’s shaking hand in hers, Ma-we grinned. “It is yours to use as may be, but also a gift that you will bestow upon your King on the Day of Celebration.”
Tolohe burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably as she hid her face in her hands. Ma-we gently squeezed and then rubbed her child’s knee, understanding all so well the emotion of the moment. It was not the power or the authority the ring carried that so moved the woman. Indeed, it was not really the ring, but what her mother had said regarding it. “… bestow it upon your King on the Day of Celebration.” Oh, to come of age again! To become a maiden in the arms of a man who would never shun her love, a man so much like her mentor from the Elder Days but always faithful and true to the end of time! Yes, there was to be a rebirth even for her…
When Tolohe had finally composed herself, Ma-we smiled, cautioning, “Keep it hidden well. You do know how to hide it, safe in your mind. Please, for the moment, keep it secret. Use it only when all other hope is lost, when winsome words have fully waked the demon’s pride in my child, not before. This ring is very dangerous, made for an immortal’s hand to wield its power, and you, my Dear One, are not yet immortal.”
Nodding as final tears fell from her eyes, Tolohe promised to be oh, so careful with such a precious treasure. She leaned close and kissed her mother on the cheek. “I love you too much, my Meter, too much for my heart to bear. Should I fail you, how could I survive another day?”
Ma-we grinned, getting up to stretch as she did. “You? Fail me?! Child, more like your father are you than you do know. I should have delivered you up to immortality long ago, but…well, you know what I mean.”
Yawning loud, Ma-we lifted her arms toward the ceiling while standing high on tippy-toe. She was tired, and the ebbing flames reflected her mood. Walking across the room to the window beside the door, she stared into the wild and confused storm outside. “You know, it still looks mighty angry out there, an unpleasant night to forge through frozen drifts to find a half-buried ship.” She tapped the windowsill. “Now, if I were one to forecast the weather, I’d say that the morning will bring a break to this madness, but the clouds should still cover us with enough gloom to get you away unseen.” She began to hum a pleasant little tune.
Tolohe looked up to see not her mother but a tiny sprite of a woman-child, someone little more than in her teens. How beautiful this woman was when the weight of the universe lifted itself from her shoulders! Tonight was such a night. For a few fleeting hours, the troubles of the ages might be forgotten. Tonight… tonight sweet memories of forgotten days, when the world was filled with innocence and wonder, might fill this cabin with the music long unsung in Lowenah’s heart. Here stood the Maker of Worlds so longing to be a flirting maiden in a land of bliss.
Ma-we turned to Tolohe, firelight dancing off enchanting eyes. “Must you brave the cold outside so soon and leave go the warmth of this humble abode? Can you wait upon the day and hold close these fleeting hours in the quiet of this room?”
Tolohe laughed. “Did you really believe I journeyed these many miles only to fend my way off into this storm after such short council, one storm, I may add, that appears to be assisted by tampering hands? No. I could not depart at this hour should the Lords of Lagandow call out my name. Tonight is our night, yours and mine. We shall share it as we once did in days long ago when, as a much younger and innocent woman-child, I first unlatched that very door.”
Two lips touched, two souls embraced, the fire peacefully fell to slumbering. In but a short while the tiny cabin was filled with the sweet music of hearts reunited. To lands long abandoned but not forgotten journeyed the souls of time fulfilled. For the hour, for the moment, Time was but the boatman ferrying lovers upon an endless river to which the further shore could not be seen.
Soon all fell into silence, other, say, than the sounds of gentle breathing while stormwinds tired of their fury and… and a little mouse sat back on its haunches, happily munching on the feast of crumbs and cheese that had been so carelessly scattered upon the floor.
