tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88205417810555583452024-03-05T03:32:58.710-06:00Irly Scribblings of David J HartungDavid J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.comBlogger203125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-7875318144678633202017-08-03T22:12:00.002-05:002017-08-03T22:12:42.993-05:00Beyond the Rim 28"The forge needs more wind, Oorgo."<br />
The small boy jumped on the bellows again, puffing out his breath just as heavily. Thurgod struck the molten metal with his hammer again. The metal formed perfectly, and Thurgod smiled.<br />
"Why do we have to do this?"<br />
Thurgod pointed his face at the child, aiming a foot above the belt buckle. "You must learn smithcraft."<br />
"Why?"<br />
"Because you are my apprentice, Oorgo. The fire needs more wind, child."<br />
Oorgo jumped again, catching the top of the bellows and pulling it down with his weight.<br />
"You should reach with your arms, child. You must grow in strength."<br />
"But my arms are tired."<br />
"Tired is when you begin to exercise. Exercise is when you get strong."<br />
"But why do we have to do this at all?"<br />
Thurgod set his project back into the forge. "The Fourth Mine needs parts for one of the machines. We must make it. We are the great smiths."<br />
"But you don't need fire for that."<br />
"Eh? Don't need fire? I can bend steel in my arms, but you cannot. And..."<br />
"Not your arms, master. You can just tell it to bend and it does. Why do we need a forge at all? I saw you melt the chain."<br />
Thurgod squatted down, putting his weight on the balls of his feet. He tried to keep his face pointed at the boy's face, but he could never be sure. "Pushing metal by command is a hard thing." Thurgod tapped the metal square that rimmed in his head and blocked his eyes. "I cannot do that all the time. And there is more. You cannot move metal that way. No man can move metal that way. So I forge it, that you may learn smithcraft."<br />
The god and the boy instantly turned their faces towards the door as a tremendous crash thundered outside. Oorgo began to run towards the door, but Thurgod stuck his immovable arm in the way. "Oorgo. Let us play Find Me If You Can. The rule is that you must stay in this forge."<br />
"But it's hot..." Oorgo was torn between his love of the game and his desire to escape the forge.<br />
"The rule is the rule. We agreed that I get to make a rule when we play. Now you should stay."<br />
Thurgod allowed no more disagreement, and stepped past the boy, slamming the door behind him. He reached with his mind and slid the locks shut. Oorgo could not reach the upper deadbolt. Then Thurgod moved his mind's eye in front of him.<br />
A god was here. A demi-god. Thurgod sniffed.<br />
"I can't imagine being blind so long."<br />
"Ah. It is you."<br />
"Indeed, thrall-god."<br />
"What do you call yourself now?"<br />
"I have always been called Gilgod."<br />
Thurgod twitched mildly at the neck. "Welcome to my compound, Gilgod. Why have you broken down the door?"<br />
"Wasn't that a neat trick? I did it by sheer will."<br />
"Is it so much greater to do a thing by power than by your own body?"<br />
The two deities stood in a courtyard of Thurgod's compound, facing one another, in silence for a few seconds.<br />
"I am here for the boy."<br />
"What boy?"<br />
Gilgod smiled."Is that how it is going to be, Thurgod?"<br />
Thurgod smiled. "I do not seem to recall any boys here. Something inhibits my mind."<br />
The visitor laughed. "Very well. You sit right there, and I'll see if I can't refresh your memory."<br />
Gilgod walked over immediately to the smithy from which Thurgod had emerged. "You locked this with your powers, did you? Well, I'll open it by mine." Gilgod placed his hands on the door, then a sharp sound exploded from the spot, and the door flew in.David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-5923613102418650182017-03-21T23:41:00.001-05:002017-03-21T23:41:12.574-05:00Beauty and the Beast and the Tale as Old as Time<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>What Beauty and the
Beast Can Teach Us<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am a Christian, and that affects how I do everything,
including how I watch movies. Watching Beauty and the Beast, I was floored by
how it illustrates, subtly and beautifully, some beliefs that I hold dear. When
I saw Disney’s 2017 <i>Beauty and the Beast</i>,
I was reminded of how God, perfect and beautiful, has lifted a curse off all of
us, beastly humans as we are.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The Beast<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Bible teaches that all people are under a curse, a curse
which we received as a consequence of our own actions. This curse caused us to
lose the beauty we once had as perfect creatures, what the Bible calls being,
“made in the image of God.” In <i>Beauty and
the Beast</i>, the prince lives in a castle filled with riches, and ample
resources to spare. When an old woman comes to him, seeking shelter from a
storm and offering him a gift in respect, he spurns her, and dismisses her out
of his castle, because he finds her ugly. If there is anything everyone can
agree is morally wrong, throwing an old woman out into a cold storm is on that
list. Intuitively, we agree that the prince should be punished. Later, Beast
sings of how he, “never needed anyone.” Mrs. Potts informs us that while still
human he lived very selfishly. Really, the curse only serves to make him look
on the outside like he was on the inside all along: a Beast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Left alone in his castle, Beast devolves into savagery. As
he lives apart from true beauty, he grows only worse, dressing in rags and
lapping up soup form his bowl. Left to his own ends, he does not improve. While
we may not think our crimes as cruel as Beast’s, we know that we often behave
selfishly, even at the expense of others. Though we do not have the horns and
fangs, really, we are Beasts. This does not mean we are worthless or scum; it
just means that we, at the last, have some bad built into who we are.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It may still be surprising to think of ourselves like the
Beast. We think we are not so bad as that. And most likely, you have never done
a thing so obviously terrible as he did when he threw the old woman out. But
this is just another way we are like the Beast. When Belle objects that her
father should not be given a life sentence for a rose, Beast counters, “I was.”
But he is mistaken. He thinks he was given his curse because of that once
incident, and particularly the part about the rose. But he was cursed for his
extreme selfishness, which flowed through his whole life in many ways he didn’t
think of. We, like the Beast, often imagine our misdeeds as fewer and smaller
than they are.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Belle</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Beast is not left in this miserable condition. The story
picks up when he meets Belle. When she sacrifices for her father, getting him
out of prison, Beast cannot understand this kind of unselfish behavior. He
calls her foolish and shuts her away. However, he knows she might be the only
way out of his curse. He begrudgingly commands her to come to dinner, which she
refuses. He commands that she get no food unless she eats with him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In some ways, Belle’s relationship to Beast parallels God in
his relationship to us. Many people try to approach God the way Beast
Approaches Belle. They know they need something from Him. They are not
interested in changing their behavior; they just want out from under a curse.
When God refuses to meet them on these terms, they think to make demands on
God. They offer an exchange. Beast offers food; many people offer a change in
some of their worse habits, or money, or church attendance, or lip service. One
thing that is different about God is that he does not need anything from us;
the whole exchange idea will not work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<b>There’s Something There That Wasn’t There Before</b><br /><div class="MsoNormal">
Before things get better for Beast, they get worse. Belle
flees the castle because she cannot stand to be around Beast and his rage. But
when Beast wounds himself protecting her from the wolves, she recognizes his
unselfish act and his attempt to change. Again, here there is a difference. God
would not be in any danger apart from us; the wolves are no problem for him.
The parallel is in how Belle’s return is voluntary. She could have left Beast
to freeze. In fact, when she is dressing his wounds, and Belle graciously
thanks him for protecting her, Beast tries to leave the blame on her for
running off. She sets the record straight, that the whole thing is the result
of his bad temper. He ceases to defend himself, accepts thanks, and even thanks
Belle.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Belle and the Beast now get on the right foot. Belle catches
him reading the equivalent of a romance novel; belying his rugged and beastly
character. Beast admits to being moved by the poetry Belle is reading. Some
people have difficulty relating to God because they will not allow their
facades to fall away. For some, they hide behind cynicism, and others hide
behind skepticism. Before Beast can begin to grow, he must drop his façade of
rugged, individualist, cynical thinking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is worth noting that these characteristics only become
facades as he is changed by Belle’s presence. He spent years in the castle
sullen, angry, and bitter. But even a little exposure to Belle proves that
these traits are not really him; they are as much results of the curse as his
horns and fangs. Similarly, some (though not all) of the bad about us has been
added on. We explain this when we apologize after an outburst by saying, “I
don’t know what came over me.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Beast gives Belle the library. He shows her the magic book
that takes them away to Paris. Beast learns to drink his soup in as civilized a
method as his features allow. Notably; Belle does not change. She is already
beautiful, but is now helping Beast to become less ugly. They dance, and the
song Tale as Old as Time always hits me right in the feels, but more on that
later. At last, Beast allows Belle into the sanctum of his curse, where he
hides away and nurses the wound that has made him who he is. He lets her see
the magic mirror. All is well until…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Belle spoils the moment. She says, “It’s hard to be happy
when you aren’t free.” What’s more, Belle’s father is in trouble. Beast knows
what he should do; he lets Belle leave to protect her father. It is a beautiful
reversal of his crime. He was cursed for keeping an ugly old woman out of his
house, and now he releases a beautiful young woman. What’s more, this beauty
was his one chance to cease to be a beast. He knows she won’t come back; he
knows she shouldn’t. He is ugly; she is beautiful.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Evermore<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, in my second favorite song, Beast tells us what it is
like to see the beauty and hope go away. He recalls the entirety of this story
so far. Let’s take it verse by verse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I was the one who had
it all / I was the master of my fate / I never needed anybody in my life / I
learned the truth too late.<br />
</i>Beast says he had it all, was the master of his fate, and never needed
anyone. But he knows these are lies. The story tells us so: He did not have a
mother, an enchantress ruined his fate, and he needed a huge staff to take care
of him and a town’s economy to support him. He learns the truth, as Belle
changes his way of thinking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I'll never shake away the
pain / I close my eyes but she's still there / I let her steal into my
melancholy heart / It's more than I can bear<br />
</i>His experience with true beauty will never go away. His cynicism and
bitterness were ruined, and now his heart is broken as he only now begins to
realize the depth of his beastliness all this time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Now I know she'll
never leave me / Even as she runs away / She will still torment me, calm me,
hurt me / Move me, come what may<br />
</i>He knows he can’t go back to how he was. He has seen true beauty. What
Belle taught him tormented him as it revealed how ugly his curse was, calmed
him as she loved him despite it, hurt him as his pride was sapped, and moved
him to admit to all of it. He accepts this, even with its sad results.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Wasting in my lonely
tower / Waiting by an open door / I'll fool myself she'll walk right in / And
be with me for evermore<br />
</i>He must remain alone, accepting his fate. He desperately wishes she’d come
back, but he knows he’s fooling himself. The Beauty has no reason to have
anything to do with him, now that he’s let her go.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I rage against the
trials of love / I curse the fading of the light / Though she's already flown
so far beyond my reach / She's never out of sight<br />
</i>Love has brought him great pain; he now knows his hopes have faded. But
even though the Beauty has departed, he knows he’ll never stop seeing it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Now I know she'll
never leave me / Even as she fades from view / She will still inspire me, be a
part of / Everything I do<br />
</i>The effects of Belle upon his personality will never leave, even though she
does. Her sacrifice, love, and unselfishness inspire him. She has elevated him
from some of his beastliness, and now everything he does is different.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Wasting in my lonely
tower / Waiting by an open door / I'll fool myself she'll walk right in / And
as the long, long nights begin / I'll think of all that might have been / Waiting
here for evermore!<br />
</i>He accepts his lonely fate, but still wishes things might have gone
otherwise. He knows he cannot lift the curse, and will remain a beast, forever.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some people, at least somewhat aware of their own ugliness
and beastliness, try to escape that curse by keeping Beauty prisoner with them.
They try to change their behavior to make Beauty more comfortable to stay with
them. They may try a religion’s rules or doctrines to chain down God and use
him to escape their beastliness. But even as Beast shares the library, the
grounds, the food, and the West Wing, learns good manners and learns to
appreciate poetry, he’s still a Beast. He is now well groomed and rather nice,
but still undeserving of love from Belle. When Beast let’s Belle leave his
castle, it is like admitting that our own codes of ethics and our own good
deeds cannot make us good enough for God. We are beasts; He is not.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The Mob’s Song<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Belle returns to save her father, Gaston recognizes the
threat the Beast poses. He desires Belle, and imagines himself worthy of her.
But what do we know about Gaston? From his own song, we know that he is
especially good at spitting. His other claims to fame are excessive size,
excessive force, and cruelty. He proves himself to be as selfish as can be when
he leaves Maurice to die in the wilderness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Bible teaches that God, and humans, have an enemy who
embodies selfishness. We know him today as the Devil, but these days that word
creates a lot of confusion. Many tall tales have featured the devil, and he is
the subject of many jokes. People often picture someone in red tights with a
pitchfork when they think of the devil. But the Bible teaches none of these,
only that the devil is a murderer and a liar, and works through everyone who
does the same.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I see Gaston whipping the town into a frenzy over tall
tales about the Beast, and convincing them to lock Belle and Maurice away, I am
reminded of how the Bible says the devil blinds the eyes of those who might
otherwise see God. For the townsfolk, the best possible end is that Belle and
the Beast come together. It will mean the reunion of families and the return of
livelihood and prosperity to the poor provincial town. But just when they are
about to get what they really need, Gaston convinces them it is the worst
possible fate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the same way, the devil has used many false religions,
false churches, and false philosophies to convince everyone that the God
Christians believe in and which the Bible reveals is their worst enemy. Gaston
is right. When threatened, in fear the people will do just what he says, and if
he succeeds, they will miss out on the best possible life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The angry mob breaks into the castle, but Beast does not go
down to defend them. While earlier the Beast would have happily chased them all
off or killed them, now Beast is different. He knows he is a Beast and the
people are misguided. He does not even defend himself. Just when Gaston would
have got him, Belle returns. She does not return because she needs the Beast to
save her again. Her father and she have escaped on their own. She comes back
only because she wants to save the Beast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then Beast has Gaston by the neck, hanging over a deadly
fall. Then Beast proves his change of heart. He refuses to kill Gaston. He has
every right to; he’s already bleeding from the wound Gaston inflicted. He will
not become a murderer himself. He leaps to Belle; she’s all he wanted anyway.
But Gaston is a murderer from the beginning; he makes good on his boast of
sneaking up behind animals in the hunt, and shoots the Beast in the back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the Beast breathes his last, and the last petal falls.
The Beast can change, and even learn to love Belle, but this is not enough to
lift the curse. Even his greatest acts of unselfishness, releasing Belle and
releasing Gaston, have not broken the curse. He must be loved by another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happily, he is, and the curse is lifted. Even more happily,
so are we. God, the source of all true beauty, has chosen to love us, beasts as
we are. Not only has he loved us, he has pursued us. He has lovingly, slowly,
exposed us to more and more of Him, helping us to change. When we acknowledge
that our own efforts cannot earn his love, he comes back just when we need it
most, and gives to us a whole new life. In receiving his love, the curse comes off,
and we can be made beautiful as well. The Beast is made into the Prince, the
royal love of Beauty itself, and made happier than he has ever been.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Tale as Old as Time<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I promised more on the “Tale as Old as Time.” This song
beautifully summarizes what I find deep, beautiful, moving, and true in <i>Beauty and the Beast</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Tale as old as time / True
as it can be / Barely even friends / Then somebody bends / Unexpectedly.<br />
</i>In our beastliness, we are barely aware of God. Our relationship is very
forced, like Belle and the Beast. But then somebody moves closer. The Bible
tells us God moves first in seeking us, and this is very unexpected.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Just a little change /
Small to say the least / Both a little scared / Neither one prepared<br />
</i>This change may be gradual at first. The whole gap is not bridged. (Here
the song does not parallel the truth. While we may be afraid of God and
unprepared to meet him, he is not scared of us, and is ready).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Beauty and the Beast.<br />
</i>God is the Beauty, and we are the Beast.<i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Ever just the same / Ever
a surprise / Ever as before / Ever just as sure / As the sun will rise.<br />
</i>Once you are caught in the Beauty’s love, the love never varies, but it is
always a surprise to be so loved. Because it is God loving, and he is not
sometimes good and sometimes selfish, but always good, the continued beautiful
love is as sure as the sunrise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Tale as old as time / Tune
as old as song / Bittersweet and strange / Finding you can change / Learning
you were wrong.<br />
</i>Being caught in God’s beautiful love and pulled away from beastliness is
sweet, but also bitter, as we must admit to having the beastliness in us,
learning we were wrong.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Certain as the sun / Rising
in the east / Tale as old as time / Song as old as rhyme / Beauty and the
Beast.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Tale as old as time / Song
as old as rhyme / Beauty and the Beast.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This tale is as old as time itself; God has always been
pursuing every person. For all of time we have told stories of the beautiful
and the ugly, and how the ugly could rejoin the beautiful. We have done this
because deep inside we know it is true, and we wonder how it can be. <i>Beauty and the Beast</i> helps me picture
this just a little, if I look through the outer wrappings for what makes it
such an enduring tale.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is why I love Disney’s <i>Beauty and the Beast</i>. When I watch this movie or listen to its
songs, I am reminded of how even though I am a Beast, the truest Beauty of them
all has sought me out, is working to change my beastliness every day, has
lifted a curse off of me, and promises me new life, that one day I will walk
right into heaven and be with the Beauty…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Forevermore.<o:p></o:p></div>
David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-79633970235517327862017-03-13T17:48:00.000-05:002017-03-13T17:50:40.454-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 27Oorgo clung to the knobby knee of Thurgod's immutable godflesh, as he watched his mother, sister, and father wave goodbye atop a journey cart. Thurgod watched the screws in the frame and the horses bits, and listened to the boys' sniffles.<br />
"Why do they have to leave, Master?"<br />
"For each person is his life, and for each life is a place, and work. They should go back to theirs, and you stay with yours."<br />
"Why can't I go with them?"<br />
"Because the Queen would not allow you to leave."<br />
"Would you let me leave?"<br />
Thurgod pointed his face at the boy. The crude belt buckle could not betray the boy's feelings, but the increasingly sticky mess accumulating on Thurgod's kneed did. "That is a question with no answer, for I am under the Queen, and you know her word."<br />
"But if you didn't have to do what she wanted..."<br />
"All within the Rim must do as she orders, for there is none stronger than her."<br />
"Maybe she wouldn't notice me leaving."<br />
"She would."<br />
"But maybe she wouldn't care."<br />
"She would."<br />
Oorgo slammed his little fist into the back of Thurgod's leg, then clutched his arm and squelched a cry.<br />
Thurgod squatted and caught the boys shoulders. "You must be careful with godflesh, or you will hurt yourself. It does not give to anything."<br />
Oorgo looked up, then brushed his hand along Korlythe where it met Thurgod's forehead. "Anything?"<br />
Thurgod whispered, "It gives to one thing."<br />
"Is it stronger than godflesh?"<br />
Thurgod's teeth chattered. "Yes."David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-70302317771014127902017-02-20T16:32:00.002-06:002017-02-20T16:32:52.157-06:00Beyond the Rim Installment 26Cart wheels clattered along the Way. Thurgod watched their wheel rims, and the bits in the horses' mouths. He watched the chain that linked him to Oorgo roam this way and that, wrapping in a circle around Thurgod's waist as Oorgo cycled from viewing the city over the rail, then back to watching the traffic.<br />
Thurgod had sent the message by way of the town golem many days ago. He knew what to look for. A sack of silver coins, and one boon-coin. Such a cache of metal would not be discernible at a great distance. All traffic entering the city would have to come along the Way eventually.<br />
Oorgo stumbled as he ran out the chain's length. Thurgod felt the child drop to the pavement, relieved to hear him giggling. "Child, if you would not wrap circles around me, you could walk further."<br />
"Come over here, Thurgod. Come over here."<br />
Thurgod followed the voice. "That is not my..." Thurgod paused. The chains were wrapped tightly around his legs.<br />
Oorgo's giggling redoubled, and Thurgod smiled. He pushed on the metal with his mind, melting the links, sewing them together again. But then he winced. He could not push that kind of power.<br />
Oorgo did not seem to notice, and only kept laughing. Thurgod looked at the metal in his mind. The job was half done, but with his recent torture he did not have the heart to finish it. The chain was ruined, until he could devote more time or a natural forge to it.<br />
Thurgod bellowed, "Looks like you'll be learning chain forging this afternoon, child. I am too tired to push it the rest of the way."<br />
Only then did Oorgo survey the oddly curled metal strip which the chain had become. "I can't move with that."<br />
Thurgod said, "Certainly not." He reached to his waist and undid the fastener, then stepped his way out of the metal loops awkwardly. "Today, you walk without the chain." Thurgod knelt down, and undid the fastener on Oorgo's belt, linked to the buckle.<br />
The belt buckle was a crude thing. Oorgo's first smithing practice had mostly resulted in a slight increase in the boy's muscle. His greatest accomplishment thus far was the belt buckle. Thurgod watched it in his mind. Without the chain, it would be his only means of tracking the boy.<br />
As soon as the fastener was clicked off, the belt buckle bolted away, and Thurgod heard a small boy's laughter grow rapidly quieter at the same rate.<br />
"Oorgo!" Thurgod bellowed. He did not understand this sudden burst of energy. For seven days they had not left the compound, and focused on training Oorgo in smith work, and not once had he acted like this.<br />
"Find me if you can!"<br />
This was a game Thurgod knew. "In this crowd? I will blunder into the street, young one." Oorgo had explained this game on the fourth day of smithing practice. They had tried it exactly once, in which Oorgo was only ever found after he grew bored. The blind god was a terrible seeker, and he had told Thurgod so.<br />
"No you won't!" Thurgod kept his mind on the belt buckle, now very small. Then he opened wider and looked at all the belt buckles, the chariot wheel rims, necklaces. There were not a lot of people on the Way, and not many carts.<br />
Thurgod extended a hand in front of him and muttered. "I am blind. I am blind." Thurgod hoped Oorgo would imagine himself hidden and become stationary. He could not travel quickly. After only a few steps he remembered the metal wreckage he had left behind. He backtracked and picked it up, then smashed the thin strips in his unflinching hands. Thurgod focused back on the belt buckle.<br />
It was lying flat and stationary. Oorgo was laying on the ground. Thurgod shambled his way forward, hand extended, muttering. "Oorgo, your master has need of you."<br />
The boy did not say anything, but this did not surprise Thurgod. This was the way the game was played, Oorgo had informed him. Oorgo either did not remember or did not care how little Thurgod had explained that he liked the game.<br />
Finally Thurgod reached the spot, then quickly dropped and put his hand on the boy. But his hand met only the buckle and the stone pavement of the way. The fabric strip was there. The boy had dropped the belt.<br />
Thurgod turned his head this way and that in an ancient habit of looking around. He grabbed the shoulder of a passerby, using a necklace to aim. "Human! Have you seen a small boy?"<br />
The human stood transfixed in fear. To see the smith god was one thing, to be touched by his godflesh, another.<br />
Thurgod withdrew his hand. "My servant has run off. I am blind. Have you seen the small boy?"<br />
"I... I... I have seen many small boys. Running errands. Apprentices are all over the street."<br />
"What about one with no belt, running no errand?"<br />
"I... I... I am sorry, lord, I..."<br />
"I am no lord, sir. If you have not seen my boy, I must be going." Thurgod turned away and walked quickly, bellowing, "Blind! Blind! Oorgo?"<br />
Chariot rims rolled by. Purses on chains. Sandals. A golem approaching down the street. Coins. A journey cart with a depleted sack of silver coins and one boon coin, stopping to a halt.<br />
The boy's parents. Thurgod inhaled deeply and faced the cart.<br />
"Father! Mother! Mairda!"<br />
Oorgo's voice. He had spotted the cart and ran at it, his life spared only by the attention of three different cart operators, all yanking on their horses' bits.<br />
"Oorgo! My boy!"<br />
The elated screams and yells of the family were followed quickly by the curses of the three drivers.<br />
"He's right there!"<br />
Thurgod watched as a small necklace turned to face him. The rims of the journey cart turned as it was pulled to the margin of the street, amid apologies and curses by various drivers and one occupant of the cart.<br />
Thurgod looked down the street. Of course, he couldn't be hurt by anything rolling or walking along, but mortals interacted poorly with implacable godflesh. If a chariot hit him, a charioteer's livelihood might be destroyed with no harm to his divine body.<br />
The golem was very near. Mortals always gave golems a wide berth on the street. Thurgod slipped through the gap and crossed the street.<br />
"My servant has found his family, then?" He said.<br />
"And quite obliged we are to you, Master Smith," said a deep voice.<br />
A feminine voice agreed, but even Thurgod could hear the forced nature of her words, "You do our son a great honor and favor."<br />
Thurgod bowed. "It is a privilege to teach the boy smith craft. But the driver is delayed. He should be let go."<br />
Henlick asked, "Where are we to go?"<br />
"You have come to see the boy. Or have I misjudged?"<br />
"Well, yes. But where are we to stay?" the mother's nervousness was evident.<br />
"Room will be found for you in my compound. And you shall see the city, as well, unless you already know the capital?"<br />
Henlick gathered up a the sack of coins, and the boy's mother a sack of hearty rolls. Mairda leapt down from over the wheel, to the remonstrance of her mother, and the chariot was ordered away.<br />
"Oorgo, why do you have no belt on? Your trousers sag..."<br />
Thurgod answered, "I have it here, lady. He discarded it in a game of Find Me If You Can."<br />
"Thurgod can see metal, but not anything else!"<br />
Nobody said anything for a minute. Thurgod did not understand the silence.<br />
"You... play hide and seek with our son?" There was a catch in the lady's voice.<br />
Thurgod swallowed. "Yes. It is... our favorite game."<br />
The necklace moved quickly, toward the metal buttons on the father's jacket.<br />
The girl's voice followed immediately, "Can we play at your house?"<br />
Thurgod pointed his face towards the voice. The voice was eager. She played the game, too? He muttered an incoherent filler then said, "Of course! But perhaps you two shall seek me?"David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-29813012608195531322016-06-06T20:43:00.002-05:002016-06-06T20:43:32.584-05:00Red Rain 2 - Not Really. It's Red Rain 1 Again!<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>One Hundred Sixty-Four Words from the Co-Author</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
Those of you who read this blog are very likely to already be fans of Aubrey Hansen. And if you're not, then I will leave you to discover the ample online material surrounding the authoress herself, including the earlier posts from this distinguished blog tour, linked to at bottom.<br />
You probably know that some time ago I enjoyed basking in her fandom by writing a fan fiction sequel to her <i>Red Rain</i>. Much more recently in development, I pulled it off again but this time got my work in the freshly published prequel <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Project-74-Unaccepted-Short-Story-ebook/dp/B01DNKAGNO/" target="_blank">Project 74: An Unaccepted Short Story</a></i>. This is long-time fans first chance to get a peek at what the published hybrid of Aubrey Hansen and David Hartung (that's me!) plan to produce this fall in the upcoming sequel. Aubrey did a lot of work to refine my draft, and you can be sure she and I will be working together to make sure that inserting my content into her world doesn't become a jarring experience.<br />
Aside: Thanks to all of you who have provided reviews of that experience on Amazon. I take to heart your criticism and your praise. I want nothing more than to make all the old Aubrey fans out there happy with the upcoming content.<br />
Without further ado, my contribution to the blog tour: a little excerpt from Red Rain!<br />
<br />
<i>Cea was silent. I glanced over at her. She was bent over the crate, holding the digital picture frame in her hands. The picture of Ephesus was still on the screen.</i><br />
<i>Cea frowned and squinted. </i><br />
<i>“That’s my older brother,” I explained. </i><br />
<i>She jerked her head up. Her face was colorless. </i><br />
<i>“He’s your brother?” </i><br />
<i>“Was.” I looked down at the gray sweater in my hands. “He was sent to Mars on scientific business as well... But his transit home exploded.”</i><br />
<i>“I know,” Cea said quietly. </i><br />
<i>I looked up again. </i><br />
<i>“You know?” </i><br />
<i>She nodded and stood up. She held the frame close to the wall, and the magnets snapped into place. </i><br />
<i>“ I’ve met him.” </i><br />
<i>She gave the corner a tweak, adjusting the position. She regarded the image for a moment, then glanced back at me. </i><br />
<i>“This was the base he worked at.” </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Blog Tour Schedule</b></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong style="line-height: 1.8em;"><u>June 2</u></strong></div>
<a href="https://bookishorchestrations.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Bookish Orchestrations</span></a>-Tour Introduction and Excerpt<br /><a href="http://laurelgarver.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Laurel’s Leaves</span></a>-Author Interview<br /><a href="http://www.franceshoelsema.wordpress.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Frances Hoelsema</span></a>-Excerpt<br /><a href="http://aubreyhansen.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Aubrey Hansen, Author and Screenwriter</span></a>-Excerpt<br /><a href="http://perpetualgardener.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Perpetual Gardener, Writer, and Mormon</span></a>-Book Spotlight<br /><a href="https://clairembanscbach.wordpress.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">The Overactive imagination</span></a>-Book Spotlight<br />
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong style="line-height: 1.8em;"><u>June 3</u></strong></div>
<a href="http://www.jgracepennington.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Grace Pennington</span></a>-Excerpt<br /><a href="http://gabriellyn.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Gabriellyn</span></a>-Excerpt and Author Interview<br /><a href="https://www.superbokerah.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Joyful Peacock</span></a>-Author Interview<br />
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong style="line-height: 1.8em;"><u>June 4</u></strong></div>
<a href="http://anniedouglasslima.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Letters from Annie Douglass Lima</span></a>-Excerpt<br /><a href="http://www.another-otherworld.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Another OtherWorld</span></a>-Character Interview with Philadelphia<br /><a href="http://www.jayelknight.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Jaye L. Knight</span></a>-Excerpt<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong style="line-height: 1.8em;"><u>June 5</u></strong></div>
<a href="http://www.mhrlifewriter.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Mary’s Writing World</span></a>-Book Spotlight<br /><a href="http://godspeculiartreasurerae.wordpress.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">God’s Peculiar Treasure Rae</span></a>-Book Spotlight<br /><a href="http://www.rachelrossano.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Rachel Rossano’s Words</span></a>-Excerpt and Author Interview<br />
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong style="line-height: 1.8em;"><u>June 6</u></strong></div>
<a href="http://www.lauraelizabethandrews.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Tale Weaver</span></a>-Author Interview<br /><a href="http://www.lisaswinton.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Lisa Swinton Queen of Random</span></a>-Book Spotlight<br /><a href="http://www.davidjhartung.blogspot.com/" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue;">Irly Scribblings of David J Hartung</span></a>-ExcerptDavid J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-37124323801036959322016-04-29T19:38:00.000-05:002017-02-08T11:31:56.734-06:00Beyond the Rim Installment 25Thurgod commanded the gate to his compound to open as he flicked his hand. He watched as the latch gave way and the metal swung away. The smith god's rounded shoulders slumped, and his hand trembled at his side. He stepped through the gate, then reached behind and threw the gate shut again. The gate shut with a loud noise.<br />
Thurgod proceeded to the door of his living quarters, but stopped as he saw its hinges turn open before he reached it.<br />
"Is that you, child?"<br />
"I heard the gate bang shut."<br />
Thurgod took a tenuous step forward. "I am sorry, child. I was not thinking of your sleep."<br />
Oorgo stood in the doorway, staring at the moonlit silhouette of the smith god.<br />
Thurgod sniffed, and reached forward with his hand. "If you are still in the door, I cannot come in, child."<br />
"Sorry, master." Oorgo stepped away, and hearing the footsteps Thurgod stepped inside. He pictured his bed of iron only a few rooms away.<br />
"Thurgod?"<br />
"That is not my name, child."<br />
"Sorry, master."<br />
Thurgod had taken half of a step towards his own door, but then paused and pointed his face at Oorgo. "It is I who should be sorry. I have woken you, and when you have obviously wanted to ask me a question, I have rebuked your sleepy head. What did you wish to know, Oorgo?"<br />
"The Queen. What did she say?"<br />
"What did she say?"<br />
"When you went to talk to her."<br />
"The Queen. Yes. Yes. I spoke with her tonight. She had questions for me."<br />
"Questions about smith work?"<br />
Thurgod remained still, frozen in his half-turn. "Questions from one god to another."<br />
"But what about? Why did she call you away?"<br />
"Are you afraid, child? What is the meaning of so many questions?"<br />
"Are my parents coming?"<br />
"What do..." Thurgod canceled his own question to catch Oorgo as the first sob nearly threw the boy over.<br />
"The queen is terrible. She..."<br />
"Your mind is too small at this hour, child. You need sleep." Thurgod cupped two of his fingers over the boy's mouth, but left his nose open. "Little boys should not be wakeful at this time, not after so much walking."<br />
"...my parents..."<br />
"I think that they are coming, child."<br />
"You do?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Why?"<br />
"If you were not going to believe me when I answered, why did you ask me?"<br />
"Huh?"<br />
"Why did you ask me to tell you, if, when I told you, you would only ask why I thought so?"<br />
Oorgo began to answer, but his answer was lost as his head flopped onto Thurgod's arm, and he was asleep again. The smith god carried the child back to the bed of straw, and before putting him in he remade the bed.<br />
"The hearts of little boys should not be troubled with so much, but for now it has to be. You will be made stronger."<br />
"Stronger?"<br />
Thurgod's eyebrows raised.<br />
"Yes. Stronger. You will have arms like mine. Metal will bend because you strike it. You will be a fine smith."<br />
"Stronger."<br />
"Yes, child. You will carry a whole crate along the whole Way and not grow tired."<br />
"A magic crate?"<br />
"Yes. You will carry a Queen's Chest, full of secret things that you have made."<br />
"What kind of things?"<br />
"Things you invent. Things I could not make."<br />
Oorgo tried to answer again, but only muttered a whisper.<br />
Thurgod continued. "You will go through the city, and some will say, 'There is Oorgo.' And you will enjoy sunsets. And you will be the smith for people, as I am the smith for gods."David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-35766838457286017922016-03-10T01:09:00.002-06:002016-04-29T18:46:20.463-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 24<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Thurgod. You are delayed in answering my summons. Why?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod was not in her amphitheatric court. She was back in the Room of
Green Marble, her personal quarters. It was an austere room, with tremendous
ribbed doors as its gate, of metal a few inches thick. This room was hidden
away within the mountain, away from natural light. It was only ever lit by the
light that emanated from unrestrained godflesh, or the incantations of the
demigods who attended.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Her question hung in the air as Thurgod silently took shambling steps
towards her. “My lady, do you wear mortal raiment today?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“I do. Projecting the image of clothes to the human minds may be well
enough for thrall-gods, but it was time that the Queen of All Gods distinguish
herself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“You have distinguished yourself among gods by draping cloth over your
body? My queen, the body is but an option to us. It cannot be improved.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod laughed a single syllable. “Advisement on appearances comes
from the blind god? You cannot even see what I wear.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“It is more than your crown, Queen. A coat of mail, ill crafted by a
lessor smith, this cannot become a the Goddess for…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
The Queen raised an arm, draped over with a deep blue sleeve. “Kor!
Kor! None of that talk here! And I think that your crown would remind you of
it. And here you have flattered me and saught to avoid my question. I sent a
summons to you by my swiftest demigod, my personal messenger. You received it
hours ago, many of them. You might have come during the day. Yet now it is
night. I give you a chance to explain yourself.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“I was summoned while my servant was with me, and he is of a tender
age…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Now there is an interesting fact! You choose the most unusual
servants, Thurgod. This boy cannot have seen fifteen winters, and you have made
him the chief servant to the greatest smith there has ever been?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“A strong arm can be put onto any man with enough labor. Knowledge of
metals can be taught. That boy has what cannot be put in by any god within the
Rim.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod folded her hands together and crossed her legs. “Oh? Are there
gods beyond the rim?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod dropped to his knees, beginning to pant.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“You know, Thurgod, you sometimes talk about the strangest notions. You
talk about gods being made for something, and not for another thing. You talk
about there being a world outside these mountains that is not pure desolation
and emptiness. I’ve even heard you to whisper in your deepest soul about a god
before all gods, before me. Are you going mad?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod dropped to his face, writing on the floor as forbidden memories
were aroused, and grunted a gross bellow, followed by something just better
than a snarl.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod laughed three syllables this time. “Why, you look mad! Look at
you, so precious in your limitations! And to think that with your mind and body
so castrated as it is that you still have the audacity to scheme against me in
my own city.” Thurgod’s neck twitched furiously, but he clenched his teeth
against making noise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Do you remember when you once walked outside this city? Do you
remember what the trees looked like?” She pronounced each of the last three
words delicately, with wet lips. “Do you remember having a face that did not
appall every mortal….”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod rolled onto his back, seizing at the smooth floor below him.
His roar of pain struck just the note to reverberate a dozen times in that
stone room, shaking the metal doors on their hinges. His bass tone was
complemented with sick harmony by the ringing laughter of Cyllgod.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod struggled to articulate. “Torment. You brought me here, to
torment me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod stood from her seat on the raised dais. “Oh no, no sweet
Thurgod. I brought you here to ask you questions. But you were not going to
answer them. You mean to keep a secret about that boy of yours. So if you will
not comply and bring forth what you can but will not, then I will bring forth
what you will, but cannot.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Liar. Queen of them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod stepped forward, her leg projecting from dress she wore below
her newly sewn robes of state. She stepped with perfect balance, her silver
crown never wavering. “Queen of everything, to you, thrall-god.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod repeatedly beat the side of his face into the ground, the
Korlythe chipping at the floor. Thurgod made every effort to pronounce words,
but only managed to produce foam.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
With an infinitely graceful movement, Cyllgod was suddenly kneeling
beside Thurgod’s head. “Oh, little Thurgod, my favorite little god. You hurt so
badly. Shall I lift the pain?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod’s breathing stoped, except occasional wheezes. He could only
manage to whisper out the L sound repeatedly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod’s voice dropped two octaves from its usual pitch, and she
muttered words not ever heard within the rim. Silver streaks churned around her
face, concealing her bluish hue, until quietly she voice faded to whisper.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod took a series of sharp breaths. The air. Except for the scent
of Cyllgod, it was clearer. It was like…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>The mountain was cold, and the
pair climbed in snow that was knee high. They both were fully aware of the
cold, but they did not mind it. They were gods.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>She did not care. She was with
the smith-god, and this was a fine adventure.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>“I remember when the flakes were
taken from the sea. It will be long before they return.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>“You should tell me when they
return. We can… watch them melt.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>She laughed a hearty chuckle,
“You’re silly. What fun is there in watching snow melt? It is always melting.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>“Do you know where all of them
are? Every drop and every flake?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>“I know when they leave the sea.
I know when they return. They tell me all their adventures.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>The smith-god put his thick hand
lightly on the other god’s face. “The flakes brushing your face now? What are
their stories?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>“That was just an excuse to touch
my face, wasn’t it?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>The smith was silent for a
moment. “Apparently not a good enough one.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>She smiled. “I didn’t say you
needed a better one.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Do you like it, Thurgod? Being a god again?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod opened his eyes and realized he was breathing evenly again.
Cyllgod was kneeling beside his head, which rested on the cool marble, which
was wet with his own sweat.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“What. What have you done?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Korlythe is just an ornament now. I lifted the curse.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“I hear. I hear the Sea.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Oh, all your memories must be rushing back in. It’ll be fine,” she
rested her right hand on his right shoulder. “Just ease back into it. You’re a
god again, a real god. Greater than the fledgling demigods.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“A god again? I have always been a god. A god for doing, a god for
doing smith work.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Yes. That is how you were made. But here, in this valley, within this
impenetrable Rim, there are only two gods, and true gods do not need to stay as
they were made. I was the goddess of beauty. I am now Queen of Gods. What could
you be, Thurgod?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“I am always the god for smithing. I should not be any else.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod was silent for a moment, and then she traced the forefinger of
her left hand along the outline of Korlythe. “You do not need to wear this
anymore. I could call the crystal golems. We could draw it off.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod’s voice leveled. “What are you doing, Corsinial of Old? What
are you seeking to take from me now?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod leaned over, putting eyes just peering into the top of
Thurgod’s vision. “Take from you? I am seeking to give to you. To make you
great. Let you become a true god.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Speak the truth plainly, Corsinial. It is unbecoming of you to conceal
from me still yet, when you say you are releasing me from a curse.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“You could be the Prince of Gods, and we could reign together. No
mortal and no demigod should see a difference.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“What?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“You and I. We are the only read gods here. Gods who have climbed the
hill were First God once reigned.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod was silent.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod leaned her face directly over Thurgod’s face, only a few inches
from his. “Together. Gods and rulers, together. As I wanted when first we
came.” She paused, but Thurgod did not respond. “I was so glad when you were
found in the camp. Not for the gems you carried in your belt, or for the golems
you would build for me, but for you, Thurgod, my sweet…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod spat, catch her full in the face. “I rule no humans. I rule
no…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Cyllgod struck him across the face as she stood up. “How dare you? How
dare you assault…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod was on his feet, “Are we not both gods? One god to another,
Cyllgod, you are a liar, the Queen of Liars, a murderess, who plotted the death
of Meldus, who ousted First God from the world.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“I killed Meldus and I killed First God, and I’ll kill you, too if you
do not learn to keep silent before your betters! Korlythe, awake!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Thurgod felt the metal band tighten around his mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>The cold snow did not bother his
back. It did not bother her. They were gods. Her foam white hair spread across
Thurgod’s chest from where she had lain her own head, watching the sky display
Meldus’ glory. Rainbows of color flickered in the sky, and the smith scarcely
cared for them. They were a good excuse.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<i>Then there was a void, and there was
no snow, and no foam white hair.</i></div>
David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-2603581497283438712016-01-23T13:12:00.000-06:002016-01-23T13:12:09.495-06:00Beyond the Rim Installment 23Oorgo and the smith god arrived at last on the fringes of the city as evening arrived. The evening was grey as the sunset was veiled by cloud, and the shadows of the mountains were now creeping up into the city. Still Oorgo's pace had not slackened, and he kept the chain taught as he went on ahead, fascinated again by the wares of this city's edge marketplace through which they had passed that morning. By now though the merchants and sellers were gathering together their wares and sealing them up, either to carry home or to leave in Queen's chests, metal boxes able to be opened only by the owner, a device of cunning for which Thurgod was surely responsible, though they bore the Queen's name. Oorgo paused and stared at one of these, fascinated as the merchant spoke to it.<br />
The merchant muttered a nonsense password, "Cumunreal," and the box flipped its lid open. Oorgo jumped back, and blundered into a porter carrying away the greater half of another merchants wares.<br />
The porter turned and muttered a curse as his load, carefully balanced across his shoulders, wobbled. Then seeing the chain he through down his load and said, "So now the gods make slaves of our children, eh?" He stooped and picked up a stone.<br />
"Have not gods held humans by the nape of the neck all of your history?" said Thurgod.<br />
"To think you lead a child around on a chain!" and he hurled the stone at Thurgod.<br />
It struck the smith square in the face, but then rebounded in a random direction at the same speed with which it had flown in. A woman selling pottery ducked as one of her largest pots was shattered.<br />
Thurgod bellowed in the direction of the porter, "Fool! How is that it is I that am blind, but it is you who cannot see? The child leads me!" and he gave a shake to the chain that connected him to Oorgo. "See, even now your anger is misplaced, and your own kind are hurt for it, and the gods pass on untroubled."<br />
"I'd soon live to see the day you die, smith-thrall."<br />
"And I have lived to see a hundred generations of men die, and am but a day older. It would be better if you let your anger pass, for it is fruitless."<br />
The tension hung in the air for a moment, but knowing that another stone thrown could do no good, the porter turned and balanced his burden on his back again. He meandered to a side street, muttering, as the pottress chased after him howling her remonstrances, and asking who is employer was.<br />
Thurgod resumed his walking, giving a tug on the chain to wake Oorgo from his petrified state. "The Queen waits for me, Oorgo. It would be better if we did not make her wait long." As Oorgo caught up to the god Thurgod scooped him up and placed him on his shoulders again, walking quickly.<br />
"He broke the woman's pot."<br />
"I am sure the courts of the city will settle that dispute."<br />
"The queen's court is gonna do something about it?" asked Oorgo.<br />
"No. There are other courts. Magistrates."<br />
"I saw some magic crates. They opened when the man spoke to it."<br />
"You have the wrong word again, Oorgo. A magistrate is a man who tells other men what to do when they are upset at each other."<br />
"So are you a magistrate?"<br />
"Am I man?"<br />
"No."<br />
"Then I am not a magistrate."<br />
"Did you make the boxes?"<br />"They are called Queen's chests."<br />
"Why didn't the stone hurt you?"<br />
"I am made of godflesh, and godflesh does fear to be struck by a stone thrown in anger."<br />
"What about copper? Can godflesh get hurt by copper?"<br />
"No. Godflesh cannot be wounded by copper."<br />
"Iron?"<br />
"Godflesh cannot be wounded by any thing you will find on the planet, child?"<br />
"Then what's wrapped around your face?"<br />
Thurgod stumbled, and toppled to the ground, forcing Oorgo to make a rough dismount, and also crash to the ground.<br />
The child immediately began to breath deeply and to whimper. Thurgod had known children enough to know what would come next, so he roused himself from his reeling and said, "We are already too slow. We must move on."<br />
"My arm hurts. It hurts."<br />
"Did it crack?"<br />
"No."<br />
"You do not walk with your arms; your are not so small a child as that, nor are you an ape. The Queen requires that we move on."<br />
"What's an ape?"<br />
"I will only answer that question if you are walking."<br />
Oorgo hopped up, but then winced as he felt his shoulder. Thurgod began speaking immediately, "An ape is a creature with huge arms, so huge that it walks with them like feet. And instead of feet, it may have hands."<br />
"I saw a juggler once. Can apes juggle?"<br />
Thurgod skipped a stride as he walked. "Can it juggle?"<br />
Oorgo just nodded and made a little skip forward, gaining a half-stride lead on the smith god. "You know. Throw balls or things in the air and catch them and throw them."<br />
"I, I, I have never seen an ape juggle."<br />
"Have you ever seen anything?"<br />
Thurgod slumped his shoulders slightly. "Yes."<br />
"I mean besides metal. Have you seen things that aren't metal?"<br />
Thurgod did not respond, but his breathing deepened.<br />
Oorgo looked down and slowed his pace. "I guess you must have. You knew that sunsets on the mountainside are beautiful."<br />
Thurgod jiggled the chain idly, toying with the slack as they walked together. "Yes. They are."<br />
The pair then walked in silence for a few minutes, Oorgo hanging closer to the smith god as the darkness fell and they reached where the shadows of the mountains fell onto the city. They finally obtained the Way again, and walked with the sunset before them, just showing between the jagged mountain peaks.<br />
The cobbles of the Way were cool before they descended onto the city streets, and the iron of Thurgod's gate cold when they arrived. Thurgod opened the gate and let Oorgo in, then released himself from the chain. "It is the privilege of humans to close their eyes and no longer see the world. May your dreams be good, child."<br />
"When will you be back, Master?"<br />
"When you are asleep, if the Queen does not delay me."<br />
"Do you know what she wants you for?"<br />
"I think I do, but the mind, or whim, of the Queen is unknowable to most."<br />
"Who can..."<br />
"No more questions. It is not the time for it." Thurgod shut the gate and turned away, lumbering his stocky form as he retraced his steps towards the Way.David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-27240401056029406372016-01-22T20:19:00.000-06:002016-01-22T20:19:26.950-06:00Beyond the Rim Installment 22Thurgod was suddenly interrupted in the midst of the story. He and the child were only one terrace from the top of the final descent to the Sixth Mine, preparing for the long and level journey along the causeway. As they approached the last turn there appeared a sudden flash of brightness before them, and after the flash an altogether more amazing sight.<br />
A human shape between seven and eight feet tall stood before them, its form made of twisted vines of blue, just slightly deeper than the sunniest of skies, and a color altogether foreign to those within the Rim. Obscuring his woven blue interior was the wreath of flame, blue at its base and green at its tips, which robed every part of its body save for the face and hands, and the face was obscured by a red-flame beard. Oorgo jumped back behind Thurgod, unexpectedly called out of the story which Thurgod told.<br />
"Thurgod, thrall of Cyllgod, and Master of Smiths, you are summoned at once to the Queen's Court." The demigod's voice betrayed not even a hint of the flame that surrounded him, but was interrupted with frequent noises of snapping.<br />
"I will come," said Thurgod. "Tell our mistress I shall come when the child is returned to my compound."<br />
"The walk is long. You will not then be to her court by nightfall, and will make excuse to come another day. She says you must come at once."<br />
Thurgod inclined his head slightly to be pointing his face at the messenger. "Is this how I have been in the past? When has the smith god said one thing to the Queen and then done another? Am I now suspected of deception?"<br />
"You should be silent and do as you are commanded, thrall. It is not yours to ask questions."<br />
"Nor is it yours to command me, nothing-god."<br />
"I am the emissary of the queen. You are to come at once."<br />
"I will come when the child," Thurgod tugged on the chain that connected him and Oorgo, drawing the child close to him again, "is safely returned to the compound. You know that evil men do wicked things to children caught on streets at night."<br />
"I will take the child home; he will be in my care." The demigod spread his arms wide, a sight which caused Oorgo to stand beside Thurgod's leg, peering out at the mosntrous arms that might have embraced a dozen men at once.<br />
"Tell the Queen this, that the smith god will come to her court when he has taken his servant safely home, and then come to her at once."<br />
"It will be late. The stars will be bright before you could arrive."<br />
"Has the Queen learned to need sleep? Are we not gods, free of being ruled by daylight? Did we not once..." Thurgod did not finish that sentence, clenching his jaw.<br />
"You dare the question the queen's power of divinity? To her own emissary?" The green flares of the god's flame increased, and he stepped toward the diminutive pair.<br />
"Emissary is a grand word to describe a nothing-god. Stand aside, and the child will go home with me."<br />
"I will not return to my Queen without your consent to come at once."<br />
"Then you will walk with us, and be yourself late on your return."<br />
The demigod completed his stride toward them. "It appears your servant is a distraction to you from your duties. I will take him home now."<br />
Thurgod stepped forward to meet the demigod, leaving only two more of his own paces, or one of the messenger's, between them. "And if I disallowed it? What then, nothing-god?"<br />
The demigod swung his elongated limb at Thurgod, grasping his shoulder and tightening the grip, with crackling and snapping intensifying as his flame beard changed to white in fury. But the smith god stood still, his metal-wound countenance unflinching.<br />
Thurgod opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it to again, forestalling words that would have caused him pain. He reached up and flung the arm off his shoulder, and then said, "It is now you who delay me. Leave me now to return my servant to his home, or I will have the Queen know it was your own vanity that delayed me."<br />
The messenger leered, glancing at Thurgod for only half a moment, and then rested his eyes on Oorgo. He said the boy, "We will meet again, child," and then he started, as though to leap at the boy. Oorgo tried to run away but the line that held him to Thurgod caught him, and he fell backwards onto the seat of his trousers.<br />
With a flash the emissary disappeared, with only half a laugh in the air.<br />
Oorgo ran to Thurgod, sobbing. He gasped for breaths, "He had fire and...." "How did you..." "...so scary..." "...why did he..." "what did he..." "I hate..." but Thurgod clapped his hand over the boys' mouth.<br />
"Have you not seen, child, that the business of gods is beyond a boy? Then it would be better if you cared not for it, no more than it affects you or your human kind. If I and a god should disagree then it would be better if you did not think of it until you may learn from it, and you are small child. The hour grows late, and we are far from home."<br />
Somehow the words quieted the boy, though they were little comfort. The thought of the bed of straw and waking to Thurgod's hammer on an anvil latched onto the boys mind. Within five minutes he was running ahead of Thurgod again, nearly dragging the smith god forward.<br />
"Why do you live so far from the mine?"<br />
"I live very far from the Sixth Mine. I live above the First Mine."<br />
"There is a mine under my bed?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Then why don't I hear picks and golems, and there are no carts?"<br />
"There are none who mine there now."<br />
"The causeway is like a big spine, if the city were a really flat animal."<br />
"Yes, child."David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-49169737141821523752015-12-15T20:15:00.000-06:002015-12-15T20:15:00.185-06:00Beyond the Rim Installment 21<i>The two boys approached the cliff softly in a spirit of reverence and not of stealth. Their risk of detection was no less here than any other earth they tread. Their people had known these cliffs to be magical for years, but only the elder of the boys here truly knew anything of why, and he very little.</i><br />
<i>At the brink of the vertical stone face the boys paused.</i><br />
<i>"You must tell me when, Threader."</i><br />
<i>"I have only a little idea myself, Holder."</i><br />
<i>They stood looking below toward the floor of the abyss before them. At this time of morning fog lurked, and the bottom could not be seen. Neither of them knew if a river lay at the bottom or not. They had never fallen so far.</i><br />
<i>Then without warning Threader jerked over the edge calling, "Now!"</i><br />
<i>Holder barely had time to catch the leader's hand but was soon falling with him. To Holder's sight, this was a suicidal leap, but his faith in Threader and their master told him otherwise.</i><br />
<i>Threader could see the Gaps. Called "hihms," being the plural of a single "hihm," the Gaps appeared as rapidly fluctuating bubbles with neither shell nor center. They were not vacuums, as though air had lost its place, but voids, tears in the fabric, or otherise ripples in a river, made by the dropping of an immense stone upstream. Threader could never say what they looked like, but when pressed he said it was like having your eye in glass, an unending sea of clarity.</i><br />
<i>As Threader gained speed, the Gaps became more manageable. With any luck or happy providence he would find one of them before he found the ground, and his gift would save him, and any he pulled along.</i><br />
<i>Shortly before the mist would have enveloped the boys utterly Threader found his Gap. Racing as fast as gravity would draw him the Gap took shape just below his feet, and then for a moment neither he nor Holder knew anything. Then Holder would awake in a new place, as snapping to from an unplanned sleep. Threader's mind strained under the journey. He traveled through colors, as though they were brushing limbs of trees. He said it was like "falling outside," not in any particular direction, just out. Afterwards he would only have scattered impressions and lingering visions, recollections of meeting beings with too many faces or with too little other than faces, with the faint notion that he had, while away, met a god the sight of which defied words that asked him where he was going.</i><br />
<i>The landing was narrowly made. The tandem team alighted from that glassy dreamland on the sill from which they had last escaped.</i><br />
<i>"A dangerous choice, Threader."</i><br />
<i>"I asked," then he corrected himself without pause, "aimed for the scroll room itself. Sure beats sneaking here with the Guardian's ears on the ground."</i><br />
<i>"I heard you. You said 'asked,' again. There is a god."</i><br />
<i>"There is no reason to think there is a god. I speak where I wish to go and go there. Only because there are some gods do we imagine there must be another."</i><br />
<i>"They say you are in another place while you make your way here, dragging me along."</i><br />
<i>"They also say that you are to waste no time while we are within his bastions." Threader pointed to the jars and chests they had left.</i><br />
<i>Holder stepped lightly over to a drawer in a tall chest, withdrawing the slender scroll from which he had been reading when last he and Threader had ventured there.</i><br />
<br />
Thurgod soon passed under the Wild Gate, made when he had learned from Bendu the image of wildness, and forged the watcher which ruled the portcullis. The image of the true wild glowered down at the smith-god, the tension of every beast waiting to spring inscribed in its folding metal. Without a word or a motion the will which Thurgod had forged into it lifted the portcullis, and the smith-god entered the first city.<br />
The Wild Gate opened upon Bendu's Quarter, where the people answered to him. That tract was wide, and though it was called a city there were forests within its walls, or so in Bendu's Quarter.<br />
Bendu's quarter offered little material to Thurgod, but always a trickle of inspiration. From vine was learned chain, and from from branch was learned beam. From wing was learned wing, and from from tooth, saw. But what Thurgod needed was not in Bendu's Quarter.<br />
Deep into the city Bendu's Quarter came to an end, it's wide swath suddenly cut by a gigantic circular way, paved with stone perfectly smooth and without crack, maintained pristine by Endro himself, when business should call him there. Thurgod cut straight across the stone slab, stepping over the grate he had made to the ditch below, where rain would run into the sewer, which was of Itris' design.<br />
It was the genius god whom he saught. Itris, whose mind was broader than that of any other god. She had made the sewer in her mind; Endro had delved it with his command. She had framed the tower in which she lived on paper, and the many lessor gods of clay-baking and wood-cutting had built it. It was the most austere of her designs, a block of brick framed in wooden beams, with dingy clay of brown color just paler than human skin, but it served her purpose.<br />
Thurgod rang upon the door, clanking a knocker which he himself had made, after her design. At the first clang a shutter opened above the door, revealing a glass eye, which shut itself again in an instant. A moment later the door was opened inward, and Thurgod progressed onto a platform and said, "To the Lady."<br />
The platform immediately rose into the air, with a graceful acceleration. Thurgod rushed past windows and balconies as he stood tensely maintaining his balance. With equal grace the ascent ceased, and Thurgod stepped onto a carpeted projection from a more distant balcony. Aesthetics and the use of empty space in pronouncing grandeur were not lost on the genius god when she could see a purpose in them. For the entrance to her private study, nothing else could suffice. Thurgod passed by a dozen golems of pure glass, difficult to spot in that pale blue light which glowed from hallowed crystals which Endro had given Itris as a gift. And then the door into her study opened.<br />
Itris needed no throne room; a throne could not add to the perception of her deity, for any who made eye-contact with her felt their own minds grow small and dim in comparison, though when they walked away they knew they were in fact more capable than ever before. On a plush cushioned stool sat the genius herself, her mind pouring into a book, upon the pages of which were scrawled notes in a letters and organization more efficient than lines, but the pattern of which perhaps none but herself could discern. Her hands were idle on her knees, and not for her bright clothing her entire appearance might have been missed in that dim room.<br />
"Master Smith? I do not recall summoning you. Have you come to learn of me again? Your thirst for knowledge is uncommon."<br />
"Your assumption of knowledge is all too common, Scholar Queen," said Thurgod, smiling.<br />
"Ah, there again I have assumed motive where no motive force was visible. You make me wiser."<br />
The door shut behind Thurgod as he entered the room, carefully avoiding stepping on the tools and rubbish. It was hard to discern the difference when in her study, so many devices beyond comprehension of both mortal and divine littered her private chambers.<br />
"I hope you can make me wiser. I have found a metal that bends neither to my command nor to my hammer."<br />
Itris showed surprise, but said nothing, until Thurgod allowed a protracted silence. "Go on," she said.<br />
"Meldus took me into a cave, and through a crack in the cave into a hall, wherein was a flat space, and then a raised dais."<br />
"Is this the Hall to Bendu that Endro said he was making? It was to be a surprise, Thurgod."<br />
"It is not that hall. While Meldus and I wondered at its common beauty, and its unexpected existence, I smelled Xerphii."<br />
Itris involuntarily closed her book. "Go on."<br />
"No Xerphii appeared, and no challenge was made to us. In worry Meldus broke his body and streamed into the sky, sending Endro to meet me. There we searched out the scent, and found behidn the dais, buried a few feet, a metal which would not break for him, nor be bent by me. Instead, when I had summoned up a hammer, the shaft was bent and head shattered."<br />
"From what was it made, your hammer?"<br />
"Endro summoned up the finest iron ore he knew, and gave it to me pure, unsmelted."<br />
"There are harder things that can be made."<br />
"And my shaft was of my own divine making, and it was bent."<br />
Itris bit her lip. "Certainly something from out of the world, then."<br />
"And it smelt of Xerphii."<br />
"Then we should call it xerphyn, the metal of the Xerphii."<br />
"What is more, Scholar, behold this," and Thurgod showed his right hand in a patch of light from a narrow ceiling window.<br />
"You bleed?"<br />
"The hand that struck the xerphyn is pierced, as though slashed by claw, in many places."<br />
"You must visit Derad and have him heal you. He understands godflesh as well as mortal flesh or the flesh of beasts."<br />
"It hurts no more than to have wrung hard metal. I will attend to that at my own time. The God of Growth need not be disturbed by the Smith-God's pains."<br />
"A wound made by xerphii or xerphyn are both grave. He must learn from this, in case there is another war beyond heaven."<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>A crash awoke Holder from his reading. A stone spike had whizzed by him and smashed a clay jar behind him into pieces. The same sound woke Threader from his unplanned nap.</i><br />
<i>"I'm an idiot!" blurted Threader as Holder leapt to him, catching his arm.</i><br />
<i>"Obviously. Now out the window!" They leapt to the sill and bent to dive out. Holder kicked off the wall, but was brought back by Threader's grasp, as Threader tumbled back into the room. His waist had been grasped in the stone grip of the Guardian.</i>David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-82593952786310990572015-10-09T18:21:00.002-05:002015-12-15T19:14:41.757-06:00Beyond the Rim Installment 20"In the western foothills, far from this city and far from the Queen, lived a peaceful people. They harvested the crops of the wild trees of that region, a fruit of which I cannot even begin to tell you, and herded cattle. There were among them no rulers, for each house was far from the other, and against one another there was no ill will. Thieving was harder than honest work in those days, so far apart did people live, and also because the wilderlands were not without danger. Though humans did little that was unfair to one another, nature himself was harsh, for he did not care to have humans in that place. The hills were sacred to him; they were to him an art he had made, and to see them sullied with human flesh made him angry.<br />
<div>
"Nature sent his manticores down from his sacred slopes, from those temples to him above mist and cloud, and they scoured the hillsides, gobbling goats and sheep, and chasing people into caves or under roofs.</div>
<div>
"A certain of the manticore descended upon a lonely lodge, where lived a young man by himself, without wife or child. The beast descended from the sky with a roar, invoking that unutterable name of Nature, which no ear but..." and Thurgod winced, "no ear in this valley can hear in total. The roar was terrible, but the man was brave, and he burst from his lodge with a long spear.</div>
<div>
"But this manticore was more terrible than others. His tail was long, and split into three on the end, each spiny spike dripping with greedy venom. From his jaw draped a beard longer than the man in height, advanced by two fangs nearly like tusks."</div>
<div>
"Like what?" asked Oorgo.</div>
<div>
"Like teeth the size of arms, little one."</div>
<div>
Oorgo had learned that perfect balance of fear which makes the story more exciting but does not distract from it.</div>
<div>
"The manticore was most beautiful, perfect in each dimension, sullied only by its love of human blood and even, when most enraged, the blood of manticore."</div>
<div>
Oorgo gasped a little, as he had learned that the bard enjoyed. He had heard that manticore and yeti were too civilized to eat one another.</div>
<div>
"The sight that greeted the man was terrible. Even in the moment it had been on the ground it had slain nine of his animals in the very fold, each now writhing on the ground as the venomous tail slashed about, looking to catch more. In a surge of bravery the man leaped forward, plunging his spear into the flank of the brute, caught unawares, for the lodge of that man was carved into the hill, and few would have seen it even from the ground.</div>
<div>
"The manticore whirled about, its tail indiscriminately swatting down a few living animals, which lay still on the ground in petrified fear. The suddenness of the turn caused the man to drop the spear, and he lay sprawled on the floor of the fold, the manticore staring into his own eyes."</div>
<div>
"The manticore said, 'Fool! I am a beast of majesty, and you a petty human. Your wound is nothing to me,' and even as it spoke thus one of its tails curled around the weapon, still lodged in its flank, and cracked it off, then dug out the head. The venom expunging from the tail proved a balm to the flank, and its blood ceased quickly.</div>
<div>
"Then in a flash the middle tail of the manticore slashed over its own head and struck the man in his foot, pinning it to the ground. The greedy venom rushed in, and slowly seeped from the foot to the ankle, and then towards the knee.</div>
<div>
"'Nature will have its way with thee,' growled the beast, and then it launched into flight. The man dragged himself back into the lodge, where he found his own ax and severed his leg just below the knee, just above where the venom had reached.</div>
<div>
"In the following dayshe built for himself a false leg so that he might still walk, and tend to the animals. For a year he lived thus, until the leg was no pain to him. For another year he lived, and soon none could have told he had ever fought a manticore. In another year he took a wife, and in another year he had a son. In another year, the manticore returned.</div>
<div>
"It was the same noble beast that had come before, and now it had spotted the fold again. When it struck the ground it remembered the lodge, and forgetting the animals it strode towards the door. It could smell the human smell. But before it even reached the door the door was flung open, and the man emerged, holding again a long spear. He said, 'Take the animals and go, or I will spill your blood again.'"</div>
<div>
"The beast laughed, 'Was my blood spilt in a time past? I have no fear of you.'"</div>
<div>
"'The scar on your left flank belies you, as does the grass which never grows where your life was drained, if even only for a moment.'</div>
<div>
"'Shall I flee and be left hungry, because a man pointed a bit of a tree and a stone at me?' it bellowed, bristling its tails.</div>
<div>
"'Do not flee hungry, but full, for all the animals may be yours, and you need not fear to spill blood.'</div>
<div>
"The beast replied not at all, but turned and in a handful of moments had slain every creature in the fold and devoured it, and then it flew away."</div>
<div>
"After five more summers the beast returned, and said, 'Not your animals this time, human. I must bring home human blood. Give me your son.'</div>
David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-56440927969416475272015-10-09T17:10:00.002-05:002015-10-09T17:17:55.284-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 19Thurgod's face betrayed feeling less readily than most, primarily because it's expressions were nearly void of movement in the upper face. His eyebrows might still move about, and the far regions of his face twitch as though trying to move his eyes emotively, but the expressions did not resolve. Oorgo was shocked at the expression, of extended jaw and knit brows, that was revealed despite the unholy band.<br />
"Stallid, this part that I have repaired by my skill, it belongs to an augury golem, does it not?"<br />
"You know it does. The augury golems were of your design."<br />
Thurgod winced, "I fashioned them, indeed. And they dig very deep, searching for the rarest metal ores. That is why the Sixth Mine is here?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
Where a man might have approached uncomfortably close to the golem, Thurgod did not, but kept his distance of a few paces. "Then why, in the Queen's name, are there men down there? It was so that no men should risk those hot and hateful depths, tunnels and seams that despise mankind and light, that I constructed the augury golems."<br />
"It was ordered that the mining not cease. With the augury golem out of commission I was forced to send worthless men..."<br />
"What? Is it Stallid that is speaking?" Thurgod stepped closer to the silver golem, his nose turned upward, the movement he would make instead of cocking his head when other men squinted to see.<br />
"You know it is."<br />
"Then why do you call them worthless men? I built you to know that... that... that there was not such a thing," said Thurgod, drawing a corner of his nose tense.<br />
"That is what they are called. It is how I know them."<br />
With a sudden motion Thurgod lurched forward, catching the back of the golem's head with his left hand and drawing it down into his shorter forcefully, though with gentleness. Then in an instant he had pulled out the little metal strips again and was carefully investigating their grooves in his hands, and then under his nose. He replaced them carefully and stood Stallid up again.<br />
"Do you remember the day you were fashioned, Stallid?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Tell me of it, servant."<br />
"Of course I do not know from where in the ground came my substance. Yet I do remember the heat, as my metal was made hot and fluid, flushed around to take on a shape, though the shape was not mine. And then I arose, still red hot, but solid, and had mind as metal has. I stood before my lady, the great Queen, and there was told my duty. Why do you ask me to tell you this, Master?"<br />
Thurgod's jaw quivered. He asked as though in a dry throat, "Stallid. Has another, besides myself, come and done the work of the smith-god, to change metal by mind? Has another taken out the slats of thought I gave you and changed them?"<br />
"The Queen herself. She has changed me. Why do you ask?"<br />
"Have any died?"<br />
"Any?"<br />
"Any of the," Thurgod mouth moved to spit but his throat to swallow, "worthless men?"<br />
"One has died, as stone gave way above him. Because I knew this would make the Queen angry I sent you the Flying Word requesting a hastier repair."<br />
Thurgod said nothing until he had breathed three times, while the golem stood still with infinite patience. "He was one of the Queen's worthless men, who owe to her a great debt?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
Thurgod breathed once more, then said, "When it rains, Stallid, you must get under a solid cover," and he turned away, Oorgo forgot to walk until the tug on the line that connected him to Thurgod reminded him, and then he bounded ahead.<br />
"Did the golem say that a man died?"<br />
"Yes, he said that." They walked past the squared golem, but it did not move, as Thurgod inhibited it. The two humans passed through the gate.<br />
"One that owed her a great debt?"<br />
"What, child?" Thurgod was recalled from another thought.<br />
"A man who owed her a great debt died?"<br />
"Yes, child."<br />
"I owed her a great debt."<br />
"In her words, child."<br />
Oorgo said nothing, until, "Would I have died?"<br />
"Whether the Queen would have sent a child to the Sixth Mine I cannot know, nor even if she would have known it."<br />
An off-beat breath escaped from Oorgo's nearly heaving chest, and at last Thurgod thought of the mortal beside him.<br />
"It would be better if you made your mind quiet. This is not a thing for you to think."<br />
Oorgo fell sideways, his head flopping into Thurgod's leg. The child did not struggle with his tears.<br />
"There is no need for you to fear today, Oorgo. You have a master who is a god."<br />
"But you can't keep me safe from her, you said it, you said it..." he clutched his arms around Thurgod's knee, and the deity ceased attempts to walk.<br />
"She hates me and my sister and I've said bad things about her and..."<br />
"And she will do nothing about them. Cyllgod is a foolish..." and the Thurgod too collapsed, narrowly missing Oorgo, and they were left there, Thurgod on his knees gasping as he leaned into the child, and the child with his face plunged into the smith god's chest just under his neck.<br />
The two of them knelt there for nearly a minute, the block shaped golem observing without evaluating. At last Thurgod stood up suddenly, and Oorgo leaned again into the god's hip. Thurgod reached down and grasped the side of Oorgo's head. "Now child, it is not good for us to think so. I may not think the true words, and you do not know them. It is best for you to trust me that this is not your fate, and that if it were, it would be well."<br />
"How can it be well?"<br />
"Your question is large. It must be answered while walking."<br />
"I can't walk," said Oorgo, beginning to breathe faster.<br />
"Yes, you can," said the god, "I have seen you, and there is nothing but yourself stopping you."<br />
Oorgo tottered forward, shaking in trepidation.<br />
"Before I answer your question, I will tell you a story."David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-35076246415558358792015-10-02T18:11:00.000-05:002015-10-02T18:11:40.888-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 18From this point in the West of the city even Oorgo, at his height, could see a fair ways. Because of the elevation of the Way the great road lacked cross-ways, and all traffic moved along its length. Most traffic kept to the outsides, with the center lane reserved for the royal chariots of state. Thurgod and Oorgo kept to the right edge, as foot traffic heading towards the Gate was expected to do. Within a few minutes of starting along the Way, a chariot driven by a servant of Cyllgod and carrying in it one of her demigod agents thundered through the middle of the street.<div>
"Why don't you have a chariot for you, Thurgod?"</div>
<div>
"It would be better if you called me Master, child. Others may call me by that name, but you may have a better one."</div>
<div>
"But Thurgod's your name. Why can't I call you by your name if everyone else can?"</div>
<div>
Thurgod cocked his head once before he got it straight again, but even in that time Oorgo's face went pale. "Because to you the important thing is not that I am called Thurgod, but that I am Master. But I have been a brute and ignored your question. I do not have a chariot because the Queen has not given me one."</div>
<div>
"Why can't you have one?"</div>
<div>
"Horses are rare, even now."</div>
<div>
"But surely a god..."</div>
<div>
"There are many gods, have you not seen? Were there not many in the Queen's Court when you went to make your request?"</div>
<div>
"But aren't you greater than them?"</div>
<div>
"If you want me to answer questions, you must learn to ask them while walking, child."</div>
<div>
Oorgo skipped ahead of Thurgod then said again, "But aren't you a greater god than all of them except her?"</div>
<div>
"Well, what would make one god greater than another?"</div>
<div>
"Being able to do... things!"</div>
<div>
Thurgod laughed, and his gait slowed as he did so. "I suppose you mean that I am greater because I can smash metal from one shape to another? Do you think that no one else can do this?"</div>
<div>
"And you can make golems! No one else can do that."</div>
<div>
"What you say is not strictly true, but nearly enough," he said. As the words left the god's mouth his face might have been seen to wince very briefly, but Oorgo paid no attention, neither did the child see the mirth of the previous question melt completely from the deity's face as he elevated his chin slightly.</div>
<div>
"But they can do that thing where they turn into light and fly away. I saw them do it in... what did you call it?"</div>
<div>
"Probably the Queen's Court."</div>
<div>
"Can you do that?"</div>
<div>
"Turn into light? Why would I want to? Light cannot bend metal on this planet."</div>
<div>
"What's a planet?"</div>
<div>
"It's like a ball of rock very far away up by the stars."</div>
<div>
"But can you do it? All of those gods had funny shapes their light came from. Do you have a funny shape inside you?"</div>
<div>
"I cannot change into light. And the funny shapes, cores they are called, are only there when a god looks like light."</div>
<div>
"How far is it to the Sixth Mine?"</div>
<div>
"Long enough that I expect you will ask me that question probably five more times before we get there."</div>
<div>
"I wish we had a chariot."</div>
<div>
"You might wish it for a moment, child, but from how taught you keep the line I expect you would want to be out of its seat before we got there."</div>
<div>
"You said you can see the wheels of the chariots. Are my parents coming here soon?"</div>
<div>
"Are your parents made of metal? Or how should I see them?"</div>
<div>
"If you could see the wheels..."</div>
<div>
"Then how should I know who rides in them? Besides, I cannot see forever. And even did I know I might not tell you that I did."</div>
<div>
"Why?"</div>
<div>
"I can neither tell you what I know nor why I will not tell it to you."</div>
<div>
Oorgo opened his mouth, but Thurgod preempted him, "Nor will I tell you why I will not tell you why I will not tell you, and neither will I be tricked into answering that monosyllabic question again."</div>
<div>
"Monoslabbic?"</div>
<div>
"Monosyllabic. It means it only little grunt to say it."</div>
<div>
New words slowed down Oorgo. They stuck in his mind as he tried to fill them out with memories and unconscious associations as he had done with all other words. Thurgod did not mind the respite from questioning.</div>
<div>
Within a few hours the pair had escaped the Way and then the city proper, descending the winding path which trekked across the steep hillside descending from the capital. The Sixth Mine began down below the ridge, slowly eroding the base of the North Spire, which lay at the north extreme of the Gate. By time they had accomplished only a quarter of the descent Oorgo had grown tired, and rode the rest of the way on the shoulders of the smith god.</div>
<div>
At the bottom of the track they were greeted by a stone fence, and in it a gap serving as a gate, guarded by a stone golem with a block shaped head. "State your business here, and show your authorization to enter."</div>
<div>
Thurgod set Oorgo down and whispered to him, "The golem asks you a question."</div>
<div>
Oorgo just stood, staring at the golem and its curiously squared limbs.</div>
<div>
"Why are we here, child?"</div>
<div>
"To bring this."</div>
<div>
"That is what he wants to know."</div>
<div>
Oorgo stepped forward. Somehow this machine was more intimidating even than the butcher or Mister Henlick. "I... I am here to bring this."</div>
<div>
The golem looked down at him. This was not a phrase it knew. It did not know how to look at a thing and know what it was. It had been given gate duty because it had grown old, and not useful for swinging a pick. But with a silent command from Thurgod's mind it said, "Good. What is your authorization to enter?"</div>
<div>
Oorgo looked back at the god. "What does it mean?"</div>
<div>
"It wants to know who says you can be here."</div>
<div>
"Thurgod, Master Smith, says I can be here," he repeated to the golem.</div>
<div>
This command it understood, and after a moment of searching its own mind for the truth it found that indeed, Thurgod had told it from afar that a small boy would be there that evening.</div>
<div>
"You may enter," it said, and then resumed its stature looking out from the gate, as it had stood most of each day for dozens of years.</div>
<div>
After they passed it, Oorgo asked Thurgod in a whisper, "Is that golem dumber than the other ones?" He looked behind them to be sure it did not here.</div>
<div>
"Yes. It was made for swinging a pick, and blocky stone does not hold wisdom well."</div>
<div>
"Why doesn't it mine anymore?"</div>
<div>
"A fall chipped its right foot, as may have escaped your notice, but enough to make it unworthy of mine work, where a stumble is very dangerous." Then Thurgod raised his voice, "Sallid! Your master needs you here."</div>
<div>
Suddenly a tall golem with metal limbs, covered all over in gears, levers, and sliding joints, turned. Its limbs were spindly, thinner in each part than the crystal golems of Cyllgod's house. It strutted over to the pair, other lessor golems adjusting their routes to avoid his as they moved hither and thither carrying loads.</div>
<div>
"How can I serve the Master Smith?" the voice clanked. Unlike other golems of a more solid make, Stallid had no definable exterior shell except for the top and front of his head. Where his mouth was to be, as his face was clearly designed, there was a small aperture into a metal box, the most solid thing about him besides the dome which made the top. What wonders went on within the box to produce speech were known only to Thurgod.</div>
<div>
"First, you must meet my new mortal servant, the child Oorgo."</div>
<div>
Stallid's metal eyes turned unnaturally towards the boy. With the limited dimension of his skull, he occasionally looked through his own head, in this case rolling his eyes downward to look through where a human would have had a jaw.</div>
<div>
Thurgod interrupted the golem's greeting, "Have you been out in the rain, Stallid? This is not how I built you to behave."</div>
<div>
"No."</div>
<div>
"An underground sea, it was then? Have you felt any water lately?"</div>
<div>
Stallid's eyes rolled back to look straight at Thurgod, and he knit his brow, "I do not recall meeting water, but is the nature of water that I would forget it. What part of my service is unsatsifactory?"</div>
<div>
"You forget to turn your head when you look towards things near you, instead rolling your eyes freely. Humans find that unnerving." Oorgo was clutching Thurgod's leg.</div>
<div>
"I am sorry, Master Smith..."</div>
<div>
"That is not all, Stallid. You I suppose it was that sent me the Flying Word?"</div>
<div>
Oorgo looked up and whispered, "Is that the bug machine with the message?"</div>
<div>
Thurgod pointed his face down and said, "Yes," in an undertone.</div>
<div>
Stallid responded, "Yes. I had not received a golem part back from you which I desperately needed. I have been forced to great pains without it..."</div>
<div>
"You wrote your message on parchment, Stallid."</div>
<div>
"Yes, sir. That is how I usually send messages of an official nature."</div>
<div>
"You have forgotten, then, that I am the blind god."</div>
<div>
"A god, blind?"</div>
<div>
Thurgod sighed. "Yes. You must have been in water. You have forgotten to use the metal messages I gave you. Kneel down, Stallid."</div>
<div>
Stallid knelt into the dirt without protest, sullying his silver limbs. Thurgod reached into the golems head, then drew out a thin bar of metal, covered all over in tiny grooves. He blew on it, then into the compartment from whence it came, and the rust scraped off.</div>
<div>
The smith god replaced the thin bar, and then did this action seven more times on other little bars. At last he replaced the last one and said, "Stand up, Stallid."</div>
<div>
The golem stood, and for a moment its eyes flicked about, but never beyond their expected places. It even moved its head down to look at Oorgo, and then back up again. It clanked, "It is good. It is like a haze has been blown away. I see much better now."</div>
<div>
"May I leave this part with you and have you replace it, Stallid? I am eager to return home."</div>
<div>
Stallid reached down and accepted the golem piece from Oorgo. "Yes, this will be easy. When I have done so, I will tell the men to come up from that mine as the golem returns."</div>
<div>
Thurgod had begun to turn when he arrested his own movement. He turned back to Stallid and said, "Repeat that. Are you sure the haze is gone?"</div>
<div>
"Yes, and you would know better than I. I said I would bring the men back up from that mine when this golem was ready to return."</div>
<div>
Oorgo did not like the expression which Thurgod's metal-marred face took on at that moment.</div>
David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-10992083017967123012015-10-02T16:45:00.000-05:002015-10-02T16:46:31.342-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 17"Now, Oorgo, we must go out of the compound and return to the main thoroughfare. Do you know the way?"<br />
"I think I do, Master."<br />
"Good. The sixth mine is against the Setting Wall; we avoided it when we climbed into the mountains."<br />
"When I explored the little cave high up there, and then told you about the sunset because you could not see it?"<br />
"That is not why you told me about it, but it was that day. Unless you learn to talk while moving your feet we will have to cease talking, if we are to make our transit there and returned before the day grows late. I do not prefer to walk back in darkness."<br />
"Doesn't it all look the same to you?"<br />
"That is a question which I think I am unable to answer honestly, because neither yes nor no speaks the truth. But see here, your feet are still planted. I'll not answer another question until we are out of the gate."<br />
Oorgo bounded, Thurgod feeling the tension increase on the guiding chain increase suddenly, and began to walk. Within another moment Oorgo called, "I'm out of the gate!" then Thurgod heard the sound of his feet pattering along the stone road.<br />
Thurgod grinned as he stepped beyond the door into his walled compound. "You're out but not going far. This chain is for more than my guidance." And immediately there was a thud as Oorgo tripped up, held back by the god's planted feet as the deity dropped the metal latches of his door shut again. "Now we may move forward, boy."<br />
Oorgo ran along excitedly, with Thurgod stomping along his short strides behind him. The line that connected them stayed nearly taught. From its varying direction, Thurgod could tell that Oorgo was running hither and thither across the street, looking down the streets that crossed with theirs.<br />
Thurgod lived on what been the western edge of the city a thousand years ago, but was now surpassed by two more quarters of the city, a distance which the city had grown in the first few centuries of the city's growth, whereupon population growth, except by immigration and forced resettlement, ceased. His home lay within a walled compound - the exterior walls of his home were the walls - all surrounding that inner courtyard in which the messenger machine had landed. His living quarters occupied less than a quarter of this ring, with storage sheds and work chambers forming most of the rest. The gate of his compound faced south, towards that main causeway of a road which ejected from the Rim Gate, which, truthfully called, was merely a door into Cyllgod's castle, for none ever ventured beyond the Rim. The road was more of a causeway because it insisted upon remaining perfectly level, ignoring the fluctuation of terrain, and so was, by time it reached this distance from the Rim Gate, being considerably beyond the tallest foothills, nearly forty feet above Thurgod's home.<br />
What it lacked in practicality, Cyllgod's Way made up in grandeur. Built in an era before Cyllgod's attending demigods had grown proud and lazy, each of its stone was laid by immortal hands which did not tire from lifting, and which might work for five hundred years at one task and not grow weary. Oorgo could hardly help but find a path to it, as the road loomed overall the houses, apartments, and shops which lay between Thurgod's compound and the Way.<br />
On the north side of Thurgod's compound the ground had been worthless before the compound was built. When Thurgod had been established there and had drilled down for water he had discovered a great lake of it, fed by snowmelt draining through the mountainsides and into subterranean rivers. The stories said that he and an army of golems had descended thither, and below the ground built mighty waterworks which provided the moisture for the soil downhill, and thus was established the Smith Farms, a colony of growing food in the valley.<br />
By now they had reached the foot of the Way, and Oorgo had stopped, forgetting in which direction the stairway was located. Thurgod's legs, though, knew the way, Oorgo to guide or no, and he naturally turned to the right, against the way their little road up from his gate, which lay at the end of a north-south road, had veered. Oorgo immediately agreed and came up along Thurgod, this time not running further on.<br />
"So does it all look the same to you?"<br />
Thurgod's mind had been otherwise occupied, but he quickly recalled the topic from which this question sprung. "My eyes see things no differently, but I see different things."<br />
"I thought you didn't see anything."<br />
"Now, child, you know I see some things. Or how else did you think I could make the device you carry far too unsteadily?"<br />
Oorgo unconsciously tightened his left arm. "You can see metal. But metal's the same in the day or the night."<br />
"What men do with metal is different. More knives and, whether you would believe it or not, more coins move around at night than at day."<br />
"Can you see other people's coins?"<br />
"They are all my coins. Every coin with which every thing is bought and for which everything in the Rim is sold was made by my strike, by my mold, or by my golem, and they all bear my seal. I have given them to the Queen's nation, so that it may profit by trade."<br />
"How far can you see?"<br />
"Far."<br />
"But how far? Can you see the Queen's crown from here?"<br />
"If I stopped to look for it, yes."<br />
"And the rims on the wheels of her chariots, can you see them?"<br />
"If I cared to."<br />
"And the golems with metal heads in other towns, do you see them?"<br />
"There is no golem within the Rim that I do not see."<br />
"Are there golems outside the Rim? I was taught there was nothing outside the Rim?"<br />
Thurgod suddenly sat down and drooped his head. He rubbed his hand against the Band, but then quickly withdrew it.<br />
"Can't you talk about things beyond the rim?"<br />
"No, I can't, Oorgo. It is forbidden."<br />
"Does the Queen not want anyone to know about things past her gate?"<br />
Thurgod fell down flat on the stone pavement, and Oorgo began to cry.<br />
"I am sorry, Master. I am sorry. I..."<br />
Thurgod put up a hand to tell the child to stop, or otherwise to grasp the child's shoulder, but instead ended up palming the boy's face. This, by reason of its strangeness, had the desired affect of ending the child's blubbering. Thurgod stood up, then released the boy's face.<br />
"There is no need to cry for my pain, child. When I chose you I might have known you would have questions on questions, and some I could not answer. I am older than this pain, and fear it not. See, even now it is gone. We must be walking up the stairs"<br />
Before Oorgo could wimper any more he found himself being pulled along by the leading line, and then in another minute he had forgotten the last time he made his master drop down short, though anyone who was the pink lines of tears which had appeared as rapidly as they do for children would have known something had happened amiss.David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-9610938714280218122015-09-19T19:56:00.001-05:002015-09-19T19:56:35.890-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 16Oorgo opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Thurgod said, "It would be better if you asked me no more questions of the hammer."<br />
"Is it one of the things you're not allowed to talk about?"<br />
Thurgod was spared the jab of pain by a sudden distraction. A curious sound, a mixture of whirling and whooshing, caught the attention of both master and apprentice. Thurgod proceeded out into the courtyard beyond, with Oorgo coming behind him, still slightly wheezing. His breath was utterly caught when he looked up towards the sound.<br />
A curious device, shaped like a butterfly but with an extra set of wings placed crosswise over the semi-sphere of its body was hovering over the courtyard, slowly descending. It spun about on its own axis even as it flapped its thin, metallic wings.<br />
"This is the work of a master smith, Oorgo," said Thurgod, speaking slightly above his regular volume, to overcome the sound.<br />
The device flew perfectly, though gracelessly and with an increased buzzing noise as it approached to a small half-column that stood in Thurgod's courtyard, capped with metal. Thereupon it landed, and its wings slowed their movement gradually.<br />
"Is it magical, Master?"<br />
"You might call it that, but even the wisest of men would know better. It does not take the word of a god to move this, only the smith craft of one. Perhaps in a dozen lives of men, or in a score, or in a hundred, they will fashion a thing like this." Thurgod gave the underbelly of the machine a twist and it came loose, resembling a basin in his hands. The metal was very thin, and Thurgod held it in his hands very gently. It looked as though even Oorgo might have crushed it in his hands.<br />
"What is it?"<br />
"It is a machine that I made years ago. You must be both young and from a far place to have never heard or seen one of these. These carry the messages of Cyllgod's government."<br />
"Is it a golem?"<br />
"It is less than a golem in intelligence. If a bird struck it while it was in flight, it could not right itself, nor could it tell its master of the problem. Happily, most birds are wiser than to do so."<br />
"Why is it sent to you?"<br />
"That I have yet to gain. Do you read, child?"<br />
"No, but I can count," Oorgo replied.<br />
Thurgod grinned, then grunted, "Yes, I can do the second as well, but on the first I suppose we both struggle. Perhaps I have asked the wrong question. Is there parchment in this carrier, Oorgo?"<br />
The child hopped over and looked inside. "Yes, master, and it has writing on it, and a wax symbol at the bottom."<br />
"Can you describe the symbol to me? Perhaps we will know who has sent this machine to me. Whoever it is is not wise enough to remember that I am the blind god."<br />
"The seal looks like dying moon with a pole coming from its center where the god's grave opens."<br />
"So it is one of the mines. They call that thing a pickax, child. Is there a number below it?"<br />
"There is something that I cannot read. Could that be a number?"<br />
"Tell me what it looks like, and then we'll know."<br />
"It looks like most of a circle."<br />
"Yes, all numbers in this country are that way, child. But which part of the circle?"<br />
"The whole half on the left, and the lower half on the right."<br />
"It is the seal of the Sixth Mine, at the base of the Tranquil Tower on the Queen's Gate. The piece of a golem on which I have been working is from there. Perhaps that is the business for which they write."<br />
"Couldn't you ask the flying bug machine?"<br />
"If it were a golem, I could, but it is not so intelligent."<br />
"But it could see the post. It had to. It landed right there."<br />
"It is made of a smarter metal than anything I have made in your lifetime or that of your father or his father, for as many fathers as are remembered by even his father. But I did not infuse it to be a golem."<br />
"Confuse?"<br />
"No, child, infuse. It is a different word. It means to put a special thing into another one and change how it works."<br />
"Like yeast in dough?"<br />
"Yes. But it is time to restrain your questions until we start walking. I will fetch the things for travel; the sixth mine is across the city and down to the base of the towers."<br />
Thurgod re-emerged from the living quarters with a pack on his back, carrying ingots of iron, his sight coins, and true currency besides. He also carried a chain of very tiny links which had leather loops on each end. "I will need you to hold an end of this, Oorgo. It is long since I walked this path, and it may have changed. I will tell you where to go, but if I am to get there you must tell me where to step. But first I must get the golem-piece that remains in the forge." The god tossed the chain to the child and strode back into the forge, re-emerging carrying the joint-mechanism in his hand.<br />
"May I carry the golem-piece, Master?" asked Oorgo, as they prepared to step outside.<br />
Thurgod turned immediately and handed it to the child, who was immediately fascinated by the number of movable parts. He began to pull and to twist it this way and that. "You may carry it only if you do not do that with it. It is metal, but thin, and if you change its shape I must forge it all over again. I can undo the clasps and buttons the right way, but not you."<br />
Oorgo accepted the instruction and held it gingerly in his left hand, hanging down at his side, while his right was linked to Thurgod's left arm.David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-38986209383244423202015-09-19T18:52:00.001-05:002015-10-02T15:04:44.956-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 15Oorgo awoke to the seventh loud clang that echoed into Thurgod's common room. The boy stood up and brushed off the straw that had seeped into his sleeping space, simultaneously rubbing the parts of his body that had grown cold against the ground. Oorgo stepped out the back door of Thurgod's abode and crossed the courtyard outside, heading for the building from which smoke poured. The clang, Oorgo had already learned to guess, came from the chains on the deep well which Thurgod had dug himself. It was not properly a well, feeding in fact from a great underground lake and not merely from groundwater. By a screw-like mechanism, Thurgod could pull up water as much as he needed.<br />
Oorgo pressed lightly on the door, and it swung open. This was what Thurgod called the First Mortals Forge. It was the smallest of his smithies, and so named the First. It was also lightly constructed, with many windows and light doors, so that whatever wind would blow so low in the valley might allow the heat from the forge to dissipate, and there mortals might live. To Thurgod the heat was not pain; it was merely heat. He knew it in every degree and measured it precisely as it related to his smith work, neither fearing it nor withering under its oppression. The Last Forge, the Forge of the God, as it was called in the capital, was for Thurgod alone. There resided machines so heavy and heat so great that only his own stone golems were of any use. And there he could practice his craft undisturbed. In days past he had been known to labor in that chamber for days without ceasing, when he forged his greatest wonders. It had for over a decade now sat locked and cool.<br />
Oorgo had been shown these forges in the first days of his serving Thurgod. Into each of them he had stepped and been shown the machines, made of progressively tougher materials and filled with harder and longer tools.The strongest forges required a great amount of fuel to burn, and so it was impractical to fire one of them up for a routine task. Thurgod was the only golem-maker in the valley, a monopoly enforced by Cyllgod. When not building or repairing golems, Thurgod might be called upon to forge any tool or weapon for a government, and occasionally one of the treasures that Cyllgod gave as gifts to her most valuable supporters. The greatest mark of wealth and prestige was to wear a trinket forged by the smith god.<br />
Thurgod was at work on a small part of a mining golem. One of the living metal joints had gone into disrepair when the golem that used it had swung its pick askew. It was delicate work, but did not require much heat. For this, Thurgod would use the lightest forge. In days past he had had more mortal servants, but for a century now Cyllgod had only allowed him one.<br />
"I am awake, Master."<br />
Thurgod swung his hammer again from the elbow, bending back a red hot beam of the joint.<br />
"That is good. The time for sleep is over, child."<br />
"What will you have me to do?"<br />
"You should pump the bellows so that we may have more heat, and I may focus on the shaping."<br />
Oorgo stepped to the bellows, the upper handle of which was over his head, where he could just reach it. He tossed off the latch that held up the heavy handle, and immediately began to pump the bellows. Thurgod replaced the defective part in the fire with his hand, where it slowly began to redden. When Thurgod placed it there, he would stand motionless waiting at the anvil, his face pointed towards the glowing heat, waiting for it to be ready, while Oorgo continued to strain at the bellows.<br />
Within a few minutes, Oorgo could no longer pull down the upper handle of the large bellows without merely holding onto it and slumping towards the floor. With a whimper his hand fell off the handle and he drooped to the floor. "I cannot pull it anymore, master."<br />
Thurgod did not respond, but merely stretched his right arm over to where the child had stood, and began pumping the bellows with that one hand with twice the speed that Oorgo had managed. The fire blazed yellow and red, imparting its color to the metal. "This is the final round, Oorgo. Recover breath and strength."<br />
"Why do you make me do it?"<br />
"You need to become stronger, child." Thurgod reached into the fire and pulled out the red hot metal, setting it back on the anvil. He released the bellows and took up his hammer, making a few last adjustments to the joint.<br />
"How much stronger?"<br />
Thurgod struck the fastener one last time then set down the hammer. "To answer your question, I need you to come closer."<br />
Oorgo did not understand but did obey. Thurgod's outstretched hand found the top of the boy's head then dropped to his shoulder, sliding down his arm an inch. The god's fingers formed a full ring around the boy's arm. "I would say it must be much stronger. That is the smallest of the bellows, and the way of humans is already on you."<br />
"The what?"<br />
"You are already tired."<br />
"But if you wanted me to do hard work you shouldn't have taken me."<br />
"I did not take you to make you do hard work. I do not dislike hard word. You see that I do it with one hand, and so have I done for ages beyond your count, and I have two hands."<br />
"Then what did you take me here for?" Only by reason of his youth could this question went unasked in the first few days of Oorgo's apprenticeship<br />
"You are an apprentice. For what is an apprentice?"<br />
Oorgo grew nervous. Not understanding a grown-up's statement was regular course; he knew there was usually trouble if he did not understand a question.<br />
"Your father. Why does he make your sister bake? Is it because he cannot?"<br />
"Because she must learn."<br />
"Because she must learn to be a baker. And there is the same for you."<br />
"But he's not my master, he's my father."<br />
"The second is the first and more, as I may be, in time."<br />
Oorgo flattened his lips, nervous again.<br />
"I am sorry, Oorgo. I forget that for children not all things are easily seen."<br />
Oorgo's expression did not change.<br />
"You are my apprentice so that I can make you a master smith."<br />
"But that would take years!"<br />
"I have many of those, and you are a child, so you do, too."<br />
"Why would you want a master smith? You are the smithing god."<br />
"And what if I am not here? Then who to fashion golems to do dangerous work which men cannot?"<br />
"Where would you go?"<br />
"Gods may die. You will have heard that one did."<br />
"Cyllgod killed him."<br />
"Indeed, and the world was worse that he had only ever trained one servant among humans. I will train many, so that smithcraft cannot be lost. Men must shape metal, or they shape nothing at all."<br />
"Master, why is your hammer bent?"<br />
This time Thurgod was silent for a moment. "What do you ask, child?"<br />
"Your hammer. The handle is not straight. It is bent like a circle at the end. Why?"<br />
Thurgod pointed his face at the hammer still resting in his hand. His head jolted to a side and Oorgo back, but Thurgod instantly regained composure. Taking a deep breath the smith god said, "Because I bent it, Oorgo."David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-66463884470274350322015-08-27T22:33:00.001-05:002015-08-28T10:58:04.714-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 14<div>
<i>"Be quick, Holder. They will know that we have come in again."</i></div>
<div>
<i>"I can only read so quickly and still use the gift, Threader."</i></div>
<div>
<i>"Fine. I hold the torch and hope the guardians don't come down this hallway, while you read in peace."</i></div>
<div>
<i>Holder picked a scroll from the drawer and began to read.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
"This cave is grand, Meldus."<br />
<div>
"I knew you would appreciate a giant hollow of stone."</div>
<div>
"Do you know, wiser one, how it was made?"</div>
<div>
"The will of a being greater than the stone was applied."</div>
<div>
"Yes, but how? It was not made by humans, it is too perfect. Was it here when First God made the Earth, or was it the will of Endro himself?"</div>
<div>
"I do not think that Endro carved this. He would have said something to us about it, and it is not his way to put holes into the stone in such perfect shape."</div>
<div>
"And this, this Meldus. It appears like a dais. Some god has made a seat here."</div>
<div>
"I do not know any more of these mysteries, Thurgod. I found a crack and wondered of it, and found this hall, and immediately returned to court, seeking Endro to ask him of it. Finding you there and he gone..."</div>
<div>
Thurgod held up his hand and stared at the floor. "It would be better if you were silent."</div>
<div>
Meldus ceased from speaking, and looked where Thurgod stared. The smith god closed his eyes, dropped to his knees, and stroked his face along the smooth stone of the floor.</div>
<div>
"Xerphii."</div>
<div>
Meldus' form swelled, and the colors that usually rested amongst his pearled body shrieked out in arcs about his body. His voice assumed a ring he could not hold in, "We ousted them an eon past."</div>
<div>
Thurgod stroked his left hand along the floor. "There is no metal in this stone for me. I will be of little help."</div>
<div>
Meldus floated off of the floor, his form winding together into a tighter column of pearled magnificence. "Their skill of concealment has increased, or I would have shattered a hand of them already."</div>
<div>
"I do not think there are five, but you and I know one might be as evil two hands of them. They are each different."</div>
<div>
Meldus relaxed, returning to a shape with arms and legs. "I would rupture them each all the same, and then even Itris could not tell which part was from which," and the great god laughed.</div>
<div>
"It is metal, Meldus. I can feel it."</div>
<div>
"Metal that reeks of Xerphii?"</div>
<div>
"I tell you it reminds me of Xeprhii, and I know it like I know metal. It is below us."</div>
<div>
"Then Endro must be summoned. You and he are the ones to retrieve it. We must know the answer."</div>
<div>
"Perhaps Itris, as well? She would be the one to look at a thing and understand it."</div>
<div>
"You are the smith, Thurgod. Do not let your humility demand the time of a god who loves her studies as much as she. If when you have touched it you still do know understand it at once, and I am most mistaken about how your power is, then call upon Itris. I will send for Endro now, and when I am done, go to First God's home, to tell him of this when he returns."</div>
<div>
All at once Meldus disintegrated into ten thousand tiny pearls which set off in a stream out of the cavern by way of the cave through which the two gods had come. Thurgod knew that next the great god's form would ascend in a silver and rainbow pinnacle to the sky, from which he would call to Endro.</div>
<div>
Indeed the call came swiftly for a minute later, while Thurgod still rubbed his knuckles on the floor seeking the closer call of that metal which he had never felt, and which had never bowed to his stroke upon an anvil, Endro appeared.</div>
<div>
Endro was the most human-like of the gods, having neither remarkable beauty nor ugliness to make him noteworthy, and neither strength nor fatness to recommend him. Alone amongst the gods Endro could sift through earth and unrefined metal at will, and he breathed the grains of sand more happily than air. Endro stepped through the wall of the chamber. Endro's speech was initiated by a spew of dust and gravel from his mouth, which scattered on the floor. "I am summoned by Meldus. I would ask if you had carved this cave without my word, but I know better of you, brother."</div>
<div>
Endro approached Thurgod, and each at once placed his right hand firmly on the others shoulder and rapped their heads together sharply, then released the other. "My blood that is in you would have told you, and your blood in me would have not allowed it. I have found trail of Xerphii here, and I am aware of a metal I do not know."</div>
<div>
Endro stood stiffly. "I know every ore there is, and every cave that is made I know of, before stream can carve it I have seen its bed. Yet here I stand in air I did not allow. Where is the metal? For if there were Xerphii here, we would not so speak."</div>
<div>
"I think it is yonder," said Thurgod, pointing towards the couch of stone which rested upon a platform on the further end of the hall, "but I warn you, it resists being known by me, and no metal has ever done so before."</div>
<div>
Endro lurched towards the dais, his feet resting happily a few inches below the floor of the hall, and he sloshed his way through it, as humans walk through knee-deep water. Thurgod followed. As he ascended the dais, he dropped again to his knees, but then faced upwards, wincing. "The metal fights back. Perhaps a Xerphii is made of metal?"</div>
<div>
"Tell me its place, Thurgod."</div>
<div>
"Behind the dais an arm's length of mine, perhaps an arm and a hand."</div>
<div>
Endro stepped where Thurgod indicated, then sneered at the floor, and pointing his finger at it the stone gave way as though driven by an augur. As the stone chips flew he said, "How far, Thurgod?"</div>
<div>
"If I lay on my face, I would think I could reach it through a hole."</div>
<div>
Then suddenly Endro sprawled backward, and his form fell into the stone utterly. He rose again out of it in an instant. "That is no earth which I put there, nor ore that I left to be found!"</div>
<div>
But Thurgod was already standing over the hole his brother had bored. At the bottom was a curious stone, like the largest of fruits, pristine in smoothness, yet reticulated in shape. "It looks like one of Itris' drawings of the brain in a human head."</div>
<div>
Endro stood over it, "It is altogether evil, and harms me exceedingly." He held his hand in front of him, shaking it as though to make the pain release it.</div>
<div>
"The same would have happened had you tried to order the water or the sky to your will. This is not a thing in your domain. The Xerphii answer only to the authority of Meldus and of First God. To the rest of us, we must use our might, or else work the world against them. You cannot come against them with the decree of your power."</div>
<div>
"Speak no longer, Thurgod, but smash it by your might then. How should one of them have hidden so long." Endro swished his arm, and through the stone wall away from which he had swung came clattering chunks of ore, the toughest iron of the earth answering the earth god's call.</div>
<div>
Thurgod held aloft his left hand, and into it a hammer formed, leaving only the dust of the ores behind, all the iron being taken up. "No forge to soften thee, nor anvil to shape thee, but only my hand to smash thee, Xerphii," he cried, then swung down with all his might.</div>
<div>
All the gravel that Endro had made leapt from the floor, and then the shockwave cast Thurgod into the air, tossing head over heels backward through the air until he crashed into the wall of the opposite side of the hall. Endro recoiled into the Earth again.</div>
<div>
After a gasp, Thurgod collected himself, and ran back. There was no dent where he had struck it.</div>
<div>
"Were it a Xerphii that blow must have crushed its soul, or it is greater than I."</div>
<div>
Endro barely showed his face from the wall of the cave. "I loathe all of this. A cave I did not authorize, a metal you did not know. And Thurgod, your hand!"</div>
<div>
Thurgod looked at his left hand. In it he still, absentmindedly, clutched the shaft of his hammer, but the head was no where to be seen, its only trace being the sudden kink at the end of the shaft which held no weight. And Thurgod's hand was covered in blood.</div>
<div>
"No metal can shed the blood of a god, brother. This is malevolence beyond us!"</div>
<div>
Thurgod turned back to Endro, "Then it should have woken, and destroyed us both. I say it is not Xerphii, but an artefact of theirs. A thing they put here, to do some evil we do not yet know."</div>
<div>
"Then I will bury it deeper, and let the heart of my earth destroy it forever."</div>
<div>
"We will wait on the word of Meldus from First God, Endro. For it was the will of First God that we only meet the Xerphii when he sends us and tells us all we should know. It was his order in ages past."</div>
<div>
"No Xerphii have been seen since we were young, Thurgod, and First God may not return until we are old. We must do what we can."</div>
<div>
"Then I would wait on wisdom from Meldus or sight from Itris. We must leave it here, and do no more with this cave, until we know its evil rightly from one wiser or more discerning than ourselves."</div>
<div>
"You would have me leave this sore within the Earth?"</div>
<div>
"It is hard for you brother, and it is hard for me to leave a metal unshaped. But there was a time when things were always this way, when the Xerphii were frequent, before they were ousted at last. Be patient again, and we will wait until the ones who choose well have told us what to do."</div>
<div>
Endro stepped back towards the walls of stone. "I am not as foolish as you imagine, Thurgod, for the earth knows good and evil. It is as old as we, and it tells me that it wills to burn this thing."</div>
<div>
"The earth is not our master, but you are its, and another is yours. We will wait until they speak."</div>
<div>
Endro bowed, "I will not contradict those who speak down to us, but I say that they can only agree with me, and it may be that we wish I had destroyed it sooner." Then the earth god retreated to his stone, and was seen no more. The smith-god returned to the surface and turned towards the city, to return there, seeking Itris.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>"It is the story of how Korlythe was made. We have wanted this secret."</i></div>
<div>
<i>"And what of his name? Have we found his true name?"</i></div>
<div>
<i>"No. It is written here as we know it today."</i></div>
<div>
<i>"Blast! And here they come!" The Guardian appeared in the hallway down which Threader watched. It cried out as it spotted the light in the scroll-vault, lurching forward with titanic speed.</i></div>
<div>
<i>"Time for your gift to come of use, Threader."</i></div>
<div>
<i>The two boys ran for the window, Holder dropping the scroll back into the drawer from whence it came. They linked arms as they squeezed through the window, dropping outside of it just below its sill as a slender spike flew just over them.</i></div>
<div>
<i>The Guardian ran to the window, and glowered down, seeing no one.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i>"Do you still remember the words, Holder?"</i></div>
<div>
<i>"With perfection, as usual."</i></div>
<div>
<i>"Good. Then the Master will be pleased."</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-19234099084699401812015-08-03T21:43:00.002-05:002015-09-19T17:19:14.861-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 13The door of the bakery rattled on its hinges from repetitive strokes to the outside. Someone was ignoring the knocker, and also ignoring the still blue-grey skies of early morning, untainted by the sun's rise.<br />
The door swung open, and the woman outside nearly knocked on the Durnath patriarch's head before she noticed.<br />
"Lady Thyron! What in the Valley could bring a butcher's wife to my door after I've just got the first loaf in? I haven't forgot an order, have I? Not in a decade..."<br />
"Oh shut up, Durnath. It's the delivery boy..."<br />
Durnath's face fell. "Has he been getting into mischief? I told his family that I didn't want an apprentice and wouldn't take any trouble from one now that I had to..."<br />
"No, not that oaf you brought on. Your son!"<br />
"He's here?" Durnath had nearly jumped out the door when the butcher's wife caught his arm.<br />
"No no no. It's so much better than that!"<br />
Durnath's hard expression accosted her more harshly than any words could have. "Oh? Tell me how it's better than my getting my boy back." Durnath did not waste his breath on yelling. He reached behind himself, preparing to finish tying his apron and get back inside.<br />
"Thurgod, Durnath! Thurgod."<br />
"The Queen, may her reign be glorious, the Queen's golem-maker?"<br />
"Shut up and let me tell you, Durnath. Your boy's apprentice to the smith god!"<br />
Durnath took a step back. "Are you awake, woman? You'd have had to sleep walk many stairs and a street to get here."<br />
"Stop questioning me and let me tell you what's gone on!"<br />
"Please do. But step inside. It is bitter cold still."<br />
The lady thrust past the baker and sat on the first chair she could find, in fact a particularly uncomfortable stool, but she took no notice. "I had a dream this night, Durnath. Not like any dream I've had. It hit me in the middle of the night, while I had been dreaming another thing. It was like I woke up, and stepped outside, just in time to see your boy come running up my stairs, you know, the shortcut I gave him, because I felt sorry..."<br />
"Because you knew no one knew the town's rumors and gossip than the baker's boy. Go on."<br />
"Would you stop interrupting! He was running up my stairs, as though he'd just carried bread out, but instead he was carrying one of those big, metal, wafer coins they use in the capital."<br />
"A boon-coin?"<br />
"Yes! That's what they are. I've been half crazy trying to remember. It's the morning, and all..."<br />
"Yes, it is, and you're in my house before my family's even awake...."<br />
The butcher's wife called out, "Lady Durnath! Mairda! Up you two!"<br />
Durnath raised his eyes to the ceiling, then quickly composed himself as his family appeared on the stairs.<br />
"What are you doing here, Thyron?" yawned Durnath's wife, then awkwardly she covered her mouth.<br />
"I'm trying to tell your fool husband what happened to Oorgo, but he won't stop interrupting me.<br />
Durnath threw up his hands, and as his wife opened her mouth to respond Mairda squeeled, "Is he alright?"<br />
"Alright? He's working for Thurgod now, the smith god. Your son is the apprentice to a god as old as the Queen herself! Her greatest servant!"<br />
"How do you know this?" asked the boy's mother.<br />
"Oh, just stop asking questions and I'll tell you. I just dreamed, not a normal dream, you know, but it felt like I was awake. I dreamed that he was coming up my stairs carrying a boon-coin, the token that grants a favor from the gods, and when I asked him what'd become of him he said, 'While in the capital with Henlick I went to see Cyllgod, but angered her.'"<br />
"He did what?" belched his mother.<br />
"Shut up you all!" bossed Lady Thyron. "'I went to see Cyllgod, but angered her. I found grace with Thurgod, who was seeking a new servant for his forge. Now I am well cared for, but do wish I could see my family again. I must not leave the city, for Cyllgod would not allow it. Take this boon-coin to my parents, that they may come to the capital, and that I may see them again. Tell them at once to bake all the flour for the week, and to transfer their orders down the hill for a week, so that they may come."<br />
Then with a flourish Lady Thyron produced from a pocket an elliptical wafer of metal, engraved on one side with the emblem of Thurgod and the seal of Her Majesty Cyllgod, and on the other, "Passage on Royal Roads and Lodging in the Royal Inns, Until the First Frost."<br />
Durnath's eyes were wide, and as he approached that week's remaining flour he said, "You said you dreamed it. How'd you get the boon-coin?"<br />
"I ran out of the house to tell you the dream, and the town golem was standing in the middle of the road. It held out its hand, and while I nearly fainted away to see it standing away from the gong, it dropped this on the ground."<br />
Durnath dropped the sack of flour on the ground, causing a great chorus of clanks and clinks. He uttered, "It's not flour, Janith. It's not flour."<br />
Durnath's wife flew down the remaining stairs and tore open the bag of flour. Silver coins spread across the floor. "We could eat for weeks on this."<br />
Durnath's eyes were wide. "It's not for eating. We have passage on the Royal Roads and lodging in the Royal Inns. The journey there and back is covered, but the first frost will come in only two weeks at most. We will need a journey-cart."<br />
Janith whispered, "Its the second day of the week. The journey-cart leaves at dawn."<br />
Durnath said, "Then we must be quick. It's at the bottom of the village."<br />
Lady Thyron offered, "You can take my stairs..." but after the boon-coin was out of her hands she could not get one more word of hers to be paid any attention.<br />
She was left with this last instruction, "No doubt you know all our orders. Tell the baker down the hill to take them until we return." Before she was done being told, she already was relishing in the joy it would be to be the only one in town who could explain the mysterious disappearance of the rest of the Durnath family. The rumors!<br />
The Durnath family had gathered what they needed, including all the silver from the flour sack, and left in only two minutes. Lady Thyron was abandoned in their house, and just before she left she had the wit to put out the fire in the fireplace, and finding a few fresh loaves there, she scooped them up and took them home, locking the door of the Durnath bakery behind her.David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-40290627101154233892015-08-03T20:59:00.000-05:002015-08-28T11:26:44.451-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 12Thurgod awoke from his nightly repose to the small cries of a little child, stifled just moments too late to keep from coming out of its mouth.The deity rolled off his bed of iron and strode to his door, leaning his head against it to listen. From without, in the common room where his apprentice slept, a slight whimpering filtered through the planks of the door.<br />
Thurgod thrust the door open quickly, and the whimpering was cut off immediately.<br />
"I am sorry, child, for startling you. I had forgotten that a sudden movement in the night can scare a child, even when he is at home."<br />
Oorgo said nothing, but huddled under his blanket, though it was summer, and quite warm in the valley.<br />
"Are you ashamed that you were heard to be crying?"<br />
The ball under the blanket curled tighter, but Thurgod could not discern this. The smith god shuffled across the room, lifted up a crate of iron ore which had yet to be smelted, and then set it near where he recalled having placed Oorgo's bed. During all of this, only a few choked sobs escaped from the child.<br />
"I cannot see you, Oorgo, so all I can learn about you is from your hearing and the sight of the gods. I could understand you better if you would speak."<br />
I tiny strained whisper came through the bedding. "I hate this place."<br />
Thurgod breathed deeply through his nose, then asked, "Do you mean this room, this forge, this city, or this valley?" He asked this, though the sight of the gods let him know the first two were false.<br />
"No."<br />
"No is an answer to a question I did not ask," said Thurgod. "Do you mean by that that you wish you were still at home? You wish to still carry bread for your father, and listen to stories from the bard?"<br />
The half-way unfettered sob which Thurgod heard next confirmed to him his suspicion.<br />
"I am not a god for healing human hearts, nor am I skilled in setting their minds at ease. That..." but Thurgod could not finish his sentence, and instead toppled from the crate with a thud. This caused Oorgo to finally peak out from his covers.<br />
"What is it, Master? Does the band pain you again?"<br />
"It is the band, Oorgo," said Thurgod, through a strained throat.<br />
"It comes when you nearly say something you have been forbidden to say, doesn't it?"<br />
"This is not a time to talk of my trouble, Oorgo. I am a god, and have seen trouble for a hundred lives of men, and then only begun to see it."<br />
"But you do not see it. You are blind." Oorgo spat,<br />
Thurgod breathed heavily as he righted himself back to the crate and pointed his face towards the bed. "Blindness is the least of my troubles, young one. Do not trouble yourself with the troubles of gods."<br />
"I don't care about the trouble of gods. I hate her."<br />
Thurgod leaned backwards slightly. "You speak that feeling to the only one in this city to which you could and live."<br />
"She can't hurt me if you don't let her. You are a god, too."<br />
"I am a god, but if Cyllgod came against me tonight, I would not live."<br />
Oorgo cowered back into his mattress, his eyes wide. His fear was great enough that Thurgod could see it.<br />
"Yes, Oorgo, you are right to be afraid, and you were right to be sad for the things she has done. But the middle of the night is not the time to be sad. It is the time for sleep."<br />
"I can't not be sad, Master. It hurts."<br />
Thurgod said nothing, knowing that the vault of Oorgo's feelings had only just opened.<br />
"My sister is still not beautiful, and my father will never give me an extra morsel of bread in the morning again. I will never hear a story from the bard, nor ever be given a gift from Henlick. I will..."<br />
Thurgod interrupted him. "Do you know these things are true?"<br />
"How could they not?"<br />
"It could be that one or another of them will hear you are the smith god's apprentice, and come to see you. It could be that," but then Thurgod keeled to his side, only just grasping the crate to prevent another tumble.<br />
Then Oorgo shouted, "And Cyllgod has cursed you to be unable to say things, or to see sunsets, or to see people, or..."<br />
Thurgod had his hand clasped over the boy's mouth before half the sentence could have been heard outside.<br />
"It is not good to speak angrily of Cyllgod. It is not good in the middle of the night; it is not good in the day."<br />
Oorgo drooped his head, now the upper half of his face covered in the palm of Thurgod's hand. He sniffled twice, but still some of his sadness drained into Thurgod's unwavering hand.<br />
After a few more silent moments, Thurgod said, "Now, it is time for you to sleep, Humans need their rest as the earth needs its time under the moon and not the sun."<br />
"I cannot sleep, Master."<br />
"Why not, child? You need it."<br />
"Because I miss them, Master."<br />
Thurgod considered this.<br />
"Can you send for one of them?" the child asked.<br />
"For your father, or your mother, or your sister?"<br />
"Yes," whined Oorgo.<br />
Thurgod kept still and silent for a moment.<br />
"I am sorry, Oorgo. I do not know children well. You teach me things. I will send for your family if I may. But it may be long before they come, and they may not come. And even if I could not, you still must sleep."<br />
"Thank you, Thurgod."<br />
"You should call me Master, child."<br />
Oorgo scrunched down into his bedding, in fact only wearing himself down to the floor through the pile of straw. Thurgod could feel the child's dismay at the rebuke. He turned around and returned closer to the boy, having begun to walk away.<br />
He whispered into Oorgo's ear, "You should call me Master, and not Thurgod, because Thurgod..." but then he bit his own lip sharply and winced, then retired quickly to bed, and Oorgo's dreams were of Cyllgod, angry at his request, and all her servants fleeing from her wrath.David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-54708328872353923072015-07-17T12:01:00.000-05:002015-07-19T16:41:34.628-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 10Thurgod punctured the mountain side with heavy strokes. In each hand he held a one-sided pick, tools of his own making. No mortal had the strength to plunge those spikes directly into the face of a mountain, into sheer rock. A dozen feet further in and he would be, doubtless, into some passage within Cyllgod's castle, carved from the mountain centuries ago. Instead, Thurgod ascended the outside of her towers, looking for some little shelf thereon to rest.<br />
His pupil followed behind him, connected to Thurgod by a chain. Twice already the chain had saved the child's life, as following in the footholds that Thurgod carved was nearly impossible for so small a body. Thurgod did not appear as large as the other deities, giants among the humans. Indeed his stature was rather shorter than grown men, though he was much thicker. In every dimension other than his height Thurgod out did all but the true giants - men whose people had lived in the mountains for centuries, and from the pinnacles of stone learned to be large. There was no tree in Cyllgod's kingdom with a trunk like his arms, though, in fairness, the tree's of Cyllgod's kingdoms tended to be slender and tall.<br />
"Child, where is the shelf you spotted?"<br />
"You are nearly there, Master. It is just over your head, and you will feel the ledge."<br />
Thurgod had taken Oorgo out to the edge of the capital that nestled adjacent to the mountain, and there had begun an ascent which he had not dared in some time. Oorgo had spotted the shelf from far below with the sight of a young human, and Thurgod managed the ascent.<br />
A few strokes more and Thurgod did feel the edge of the shelf. He tucked the pick which his right hand had held into his belt, then drew little round bits of metal, like coins but without inscription, from a pouch that hung beside the pick. Of these he gathered a fistful, then asked, "Does it grow wider to the left or to the right?"<br />
"To the right, Master."<br />
Thurgod threw the coins against the mountainside, and most of them bounced off of it, cascading or falling straight down the many fathoms of air between them and the ground. One fell near Oorgo's hand, and letting go of his handhold on the stone he caught it, and the chain saved his life for a third time.<br />
A few of the coins remained on the shelf which Oorgo had seen from below. It was in fact the mouth of a cave, from whence water, pouring and trickling for millenia, had carved a smooth surface. It was precisely at that altitude that the rock of the mountain changed, with a softer stone above, and thus the uneven erosion had produced not a tube or a sluice, but a delta of slick stone.<br />
Thurgod pointed his head towards the shelf, his smith-mind sensing where each bit of metal had gone, and guessing, from the pattern of the coins, where he could safely walk. He lumbered over to the center of the space, the chain dragging along the edge as Oorgo remained below.<br />
"If you want to get up, child, you must try to climb the chain."<br />
Oorgo did not hesitate a moment, but began tugging on the chain with all his might, only to lift himself a hand breath, which he immediately lost as his arms went limp.<br />
"Master, I can't climb the chain."<br />
"Why are you unable?"<br />
"I can't do it. I'm too heavy."<br />
Thurgod sat down, looking in the direction he remembered the sun would set, his back against the mountain face that rimmed the kingdom of Cyllgod. "Are you a fat child, more suited to roll than to walk?"<br />
Oorgo continued to strain at the task of climbing, now kicking his feet in vain against the rock. "No."<br />
"Then it is not that you are too heavy. Then you are the right weight for a boy."<br />
"I have never climbed a mountain before."<br />
"Was there not a first time that you went down the hill with your father's bread, and came back up again? There was a first time you breathed as well. We do many things for a first time."<br />
Oorgo stopped his efforts and hung there in the harness, his face held tight against the rock by the pressure of the chain. "Please, Master, let me up."<br />
"I will not do that unless you tell me why I must do it, and not yourself."<br />
"I am not strong enough."<br />
Thurgod nodded, though Oorgo could not see him. Then he began to reel in the chain effortlessly. As Oorgo's form emerged over the ledge, the smith-god said, "You are not strong enough. I am strong enough. You will learn from me to be strong. Until then, it is my strength that will have to do."<br />
Oorgo clambered over beside Thurgod. "You could have just pulled me over. Now I'm hurt." and he showed Thurgod the bruises already forming on his knees from having kicked at the stone. "I bruised my legs on the rock."<br />
"Why did you do that, Oorgo, kick at the stone?"<br />
"I was was trying to climb, Master."<br />
"Have you ever climbed by kicking, except in water?"<br />
Oorgo looked at the deity, puzzled, but Thurgod did not detect it.<br />
"How can one climb in water?"<br />
Thurgod answered, "Have you ever climbed by kicking?"<br />
"No, Master."<br />
"Then why did you kick now?"<br />
Oorgo sat still, unable to keep up with the questioning. Then Thurgod smiled, "You have learned enough. When you are not strong enough, it is best to ask for help from one who is strong enough, then later to work on becoming strong."<br />
Oorgo answered, "Yes, Master."<br />
"It is the time to be quiet, now, child. Sit back against the rock, and look out."<br />
"What am I looking for, Master?"<br />
"You are not looking for anything. Look only, and see. What do you see?"<br />
"I see the whole valley."<br />
"Do you see anything else?"<br />
"I see also the sky."<br />
"What does the sky look like?" Thurgod pointed his blind face away from the mountain face.<br />
"The sun is just above the Rim, Master."<br />
"Then we must wait."<br />
Thurgod settled his back against the mountain face, his face pointing straight up the cliff above him.<br />
"May I explore the cave, Master?"<br />
"Yes, for a short while."<br />
Oorgo bounded away, into the narrow cave. Thurgod neither moved nor spoke for half of an hour, listening to the intermittent cries and inarticulate chatter which the boy poured forth on his own little adventure.<br />
"Oorgo, it is the best time for you to come back now," called Thurgod from the place of his repose.<br />
Oorgo worked his way back through the cave.<br />
"It is time for you too look out over the valley. What do you see?"<br />
"The sun is just behind the Rim, Master."<br />
"What do you see?"<br />
"The sky is filled with colors."<br />
"Can you tell me all of their names? Can you tell me where every streak and cloud is struck?"<br />
"There is a purple stripe, and an orange stripe, and a yellow patch, and a red streak, and... Master there are too many colors to tell you."<br />
"How would you describe it, Oorgo?"<br />
Oorgo studdered. He hated to remember that Thurgod was blind, and that he could not see this sunset, a clearer sunset than Oorgo had ever seen from the valley floor, or even from the foothills in which his family lived.<br />
"It is beautiful, Master."<br />
"Yes, Oorgo. Beauty is a thing doing just as..." then Thurgod winced so hard he nearly banged his head into the rock face."<br />
"Master, what is wrong?"<br />
Thurgod pointed his face back out towards the open sky. "This is beauty, Oorgo. You would do well to remember it." Then Thurgod stood up and grabbed his picks, preparing to descend.<br />
"Master, why are you blind? Where did you get that band?"<br />
Thurgod paused, freezing his motion halfway through a step. He answered, "It was given me by Cyllgod, child."<br />
"Why?"<br />
"Is Cyllgod a kind god, child?"<br />
"No, she is not."<br />
"And how do you come to say that, little one?"<br />
"Because she would not make my sister beautiful, and because she keeps you from seeing sunsets."<br />
Thurgod nodded and swallowed. "Today's lesson is over. We must climb down and then you must sleep. The bellows are for you tomorrow."David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-17022576943167561702015-06-30T15:04:00.000-05:002015-06-30T16:00:51.243-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 9Thurgod nodded and set his jaw. He pointed his face toward the attending golem. "I have chosen. Take the stronger one back to his place, and tell Cyllgod that I have taken my servant."<br />
The golem lumbered towards Triannin, who did not move to resist, but only glowered at Thurgod. Thurgod turned towards him and said, "I have not the power to take from Cyllgod all her slaves. I hope that you grow. Your sacrifice for your people was noble; it will not go unrewarded."<br />
Triannin spat as the golem clasped his shoulder with its cold, crystalline fingers. "There is neither god nor principle that rewards the good deeds of men. We hope only for retribution."<br />
"It is good for you that I have ordered the golem to be silent about our meeting, or he may have reported your words to Cyllgod."<br />
As the golem propelled Triannin from the chamber, through the tunnel that rested under Cyllgod's throne, Triannin called back, "Someday she will hear of it from me, if I am ever to be avenged."<br />
Thurgod looked towards Oorgo again, whose thin wrists were clasped in metal bonds. The smith-god knelt down and grasped them, feeling the metal. "I never forged bonds so small, but they will hear me nonetheless. Break." Instantly the bonds rusted through, flaking away to leave a small pile of dust.<br />
"Do you feel the metal because you cannot see it?"<br />
"I am the god for things of metal. I can see it without eyes, but there is more to be learned from the metal by touching. You will learn these things from me as well as a mortal may learn them, Oorgo. Now we must leave, for you must begin to learn today." He took Oorgo lightly by the arm and led him out of the chamber, through the door opposite Cyllgod's chamber. Thurgod had seen the carving of these halls, and knew the way out the gate quickly. He passed several of the white golems, and to each he only pointed his face and they let him pass.<br />
"How do you see these halls? How do you see at all? You have a metal band across your eyes. Is it glass?"<br />
"It is not glass. My eyes do not see as yours do. Instead I only know, and must proceed without sight. I saw these halls the day after they were carved, and I do not forget, because I am a god."<br />
"You saw the halls? Have you always had the metal band?"<br />
"I am glad that you have not forgotten to be a child while in Cyllgod's prisons. How long were you made to wait?"<br />
"I never saw the sun after I asked her to make my sister beautiful, and," but Oorgo was interrupted.<br />
"You will see the sun shortly. It will be more pleasant than her luminous crystals, for it was not given me to make gems more brilliant than the sun."<br />
"You make gems? And can you make my sister beautiful, since you're a god?"<br />
"You must have been a lovely child, well liked by grown men, if you feel so comfortable in speaking so voluminously to a god."<br />
"So vol-... what?"<br />
"So much."<br />
"Do I talk too much?"<br />
"Too much for most, but not for me."<br />
"Can you make my sister beautiful?"<br />
"Your sister may not need to be made beautiful, and I cannot do that."<br />
"But you are a god?"<br />
"I am a god for smith work. I make things that are useful from metal and stone."<br />
The two passed out of the highest gate into Cyllgod's mountain castle, unquestioned by the white gate-keeping golem. There the sun struck them strongly and Oorgo blinked strongly. The brightness was intensified by the pure white stairway that stretched from that gate and spiraled down to the city below. This stair was a more direct means for lesser gods and greater humans to come to Cyllgod's council room. Oorgo had entered far below.<br />
The momentary distraction caused many of Oorgo's previous topics of interest to slip from his mind. "We are coming out in a different place than I came in."<br />
"Where you came in does not matter now. I am taking you to my smithy by the road that I know. We must go down the stairs to get there." Thurgod released the boy's hand.<br />
Oorgo leaped down the first few stairs, and then fell neatly on his face in the next attempted jump. Thurgod only continued to descend the stairs, though even for him there were too many, and he descended two of them with each step. Oorgo got up without a thought of injury and said to the back of Thurgod's head, "Will I ever see my family again?"<br />
Thurgod brought both his feet to rest on the landing where had just stepped, as the stairs turned in their spiral. "I am not a god of the future; I do not know."<br />
"But will you let me see them?"<br />
"I am not like Cyllgod. I do not prevent others from seeing anything." He lifted his hand and felt the railing of the stairs, then continued to descend.<br />
"Will you take me home? Will you..."<br />
"I will not take you home. I have come to make you my servant, not to return you elsewhere."<br />
"But I want to see them again." Oorgo jumped down and got in front of Thurgod.<br />
"There are many things which I want to see again, but I..." then Thurgod crumpled over, barely avoiding the boy as he fell on his side. Oorgo did not know what to do, and only stood wide-eyed.<br />
Thurgod got on all fours, panting for breath, before he stood up. "There is a god greater than I, Oorgo, and she does not permit such things. I may not leave this city. I may not see the sun. And I may not allow my one servant, the only human she gives to help me, to leave the capital either."<br />
Oorgo frowned. Before he knew it, though, he was bounding down the glistening stairs trying to keep up with the descending stride of the red-fleshed smith god.David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-46428769708571844152015-06-16T21:40:00.002-05:002015-06-22T21:09:12.895-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 8The stolid white golem dragged Oorgo along silently, the boys' heels slipping along the smooth stone floor. The small boy uttered many half-sentences and pleas, with occasional demands. The golem did not know how to hear him, nor was he aware that the small child was struggling to keep pace. It had been instructed to take him to Cyllgod, and to Cyllgod he would go. The white golems were not used to children; many of them had never encountered one. It may have been that the escorting golem had not perceived that he was escorting a person; a child may have appeared more like an animal or package to him.<br />
Suddenly the golem stopped, but did not release the hand which Oorgo had offered to him a few minutes ago. Oorgo continued to beg him to release it, pleading that the stony grasp was crushing his fingers. At last the golem responded. "Silence!" its voice grated.<br />
Oorgo looked through the doorway where he had been stopped. He was looking into a semi-circular chamber, with a wide flat floor before tiers of seating, like an amphitheater. The seats were obstructed by a large throne which lay in the midst of them, directly in line with the tunnel that led to the room. Many of the seats were occupied by demigods, nobles under Cyllgod. They could be told by their colored appearance and greater than mortal size. Under the foot of the throne the tunnel continued, as though never interrupted by a room.<br />
Before that throne, on his knees and held down by two white golems, was a slender man. Heeding the golem's orders Oorgo stopped speaking, and listened to the words the man was saying.<br />
"Great Cyllgod, I am come to petition a boon from thee."<br />
"As do all mortals that appear before me. Indeed, I should think that to lay eyes upon the great queen in her own court would be boon enough."<br />
"And more than enough, great Cyllgod!" the mortal panted, "Yet no payment in all the world could ever earn such a sight, nor any boon beyond that. Still I must hope to make a request of thee."<br />
"Speak it now, mortal. Your words are smooth enough to warrant being heard further."<br />
"Cyllgod, tell my half-brother to divide the inheritance of my family with me. We are both sons of our father's blood, he by a better woman, yet I am wiser than he, and to see all which my ancestors have accrued wasted by his indolence and foolishness would be a waste of her majesty's resources."<br />
Cyllgod smiled. "Return to your house. The entire inheritance will be yours, mortal."<br />
"The entirety?" the wonder of receiving all his father's wealth caused the man to forget his smooth words.<br />
Cyllgod was raising her hand to dismiss them. "Yes, all your family owns."<br />
The golems hoisted the man up. "How shall it be? I should not want to have to manage them."<br />
Cyllgod shook her hand, motioning him along. "You are a selfish beast, to think you would use your position to cheat the truth of your origin. For no part of that inheritance was owed to you. You will have no family to which to return, and you may have all they leave behind."<br />
The man's body froze, even as he was carried out by the golems. Cyllgod feigned a frown. "In the future, mortal, waste your smooth words on someone else."<br />
The pair of golems disappeared under the foot of the throne, as an inarticulate cry rang out from their burden. Immediately the golem carrying Oorgo shoved him along inside.<br />
Cyllgod's confusion to see a single golem carrying a child into the court was evident. "Golem? How come you bearing a human child to this room, alone?" All those who came to Cyllgod's court were to be accompanied by two golems. It was not that she feared the child, but that she wanted to know how her golem's programming may have gone awry.<br />
The golem's mouth grated. "Human child? I brought the package that I was bidden by the gatekeeper to carry to you."<br />
Cyllgod sneered. "Take this child away, then go to the chief smith and have him fix your mind. You must be brought up to the level of understanding of the attendants, for I know that they know a human child from a package. And then see to it that the gatekeeper is upgraded as well."<br />
The golem did not move. "Great Cyllgod, Mistress of Stones, he has paid the price to speak to you."<br />
Cyllgod stared for a moment, then rolled her eyes, "How you can call it 'he' and not know it to be human I am unsure. I will have Thurgod teach me more of golemcraft someday. Tell me, child, how did you come to pay the price of audience with your god?"<br />
Oorgo answered plainly, as he had always answered adults. "Henlick gave me the gold coin," and then he recounted, with several other proper names, of how he had been brought to the capital so that he might see its glory, and of how he had escaped his guardians and run to the castle, then paid the price of gold to speak with Cyllgod.<br />
Cyllgod moved not at all throughout the tale, and responded to none of it. "You are fortunate, child. A gold coin is the cost of giving a gift to the great goddess, and not the price of speaking with her. My golems did not know you were a person, or they would have turned you away at the door. But since you are here, I will hear your request, for I show mercy as I choose."<br />
Recalling how the man had spoken to her, Oorgo said, "Great Cyllgod, I heard from the bard of your great power, and how of old you slew the green god that would have ruled us all with a fierce tyranny, and that you can work miracles with the flick of your finger." Cyllgod smiled, her hue changing to a lighter blue.<br />
"So I came to ask from you a miracle. I know you can do it."<br />
Cyllgod cocked her head, and leaned forward, interested. "What miracle do you wish to see? Would you see your own likeness carved out of stone because I told the stone to look like you?"<br />
Oorgo swallowed, trying to imagine the miracle, and why anyone might want it done. "No, Great Cyllgod. I came to ask you to make my sister beautiful."<br />
The goddess froze halfway on her return to the back of her seat, not quite managing to straighten her neck. "And why would you ask that miracle of me?"<br />
"The bard told me also that you are the goddess of beauty..."<br />
Cyllgod ejected from her throne, hovering in the air above it. "Everyone out!" The lessor deities which sat in the seats around her dropped their humanoid forms and raced out of either tunnel, flying over Oorgo's head as bolts of light stringing from curiously shaped cores. The golem which had brought Oorgo inside moved not at all, reacting to none of it.<br />
Cyllgod floated down before Oorgo, then hissed to him as he color saturated to a ashen blue. "Neither you nor any other shall ever say that of me again."<br />
Oorgo protested, "But you are beautiful..." though her current form was completely unappealing. Her left arm had become a flap of pure light fluttering as though it were blown by a great wind coming from her heart, and her hair began to do the same.<br />
"I am beautiful and I am powerful, and I shall be known for the latter! Golem! Forget your other assignments. To the dungeon with this one. You indeed were right, he was a package sent to me, and he owes me a great debt, which he shall never repay."David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-67920144697035326512015-05-08T23:44:00.002-05:002015-05-08T23:44:43.232-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 7That evening Oorgo went out into the street for the hour of relaxation that was afforded him most days. Up one terrace of the hill there lived an old man who never left the street, living on what would be given him. In the last hour of the evening he would often be found, telling a story to the children of the village. Mairda typically accompanied Oorgo, but had retired as early as she was allowed on this evening, so Oorgo went alone. He ran with the haste with which he always moved when out of doors, this time because he hoped not to miss the beginning of the old man's tale.<br />
He was not disappointed. How the elder kept from ever telling the same stories was the man's secret; most believed he made them up during the day while he sat, and told them in the evening, but they never contradicted one another, though the same character arose many times.<br />
This evening the man told the story of the struggle between two of the gods, Cyllgod, the Great Queen, and a rival. Cyllgod proved the stronger, dragging her enemy to the moon and smashing him there, and that was why the moon was not smooth any more, but full of holes. A small child interrupted the man, "What did they look like, the great gods?"<br />
"The gods can take on many appearances, or take on none at all if they prefer. In such form they fought through the space that lies betwixt us and the night's lantern, shapeless but not empty."<br />
"But when they were on the land, and when they walked among humans. What then?"<br />
"The green god whom our great Queen crushed often walked about in shape like a human, but either charcoal black or otherwise, when his power was strong, like a chunk of cloudy ice, ribboned in colors." The children comprehended little of this picture, but in each of their minds the imagination formed an appropriately grandiose image.<br />
"And Cyllgod appeared as a beautiful woman. That was her principal strength, back then, that she was beautiful."<br />
"Has that strength shrunk?" asked a child. "I saw her once, on a parade..."<br />
The old man looked in every direction and spat, "No! Not even a little. She is most beautiful. Now children, that is the story. Our great Queen, Cyllgod, smashed her enemy with little effort and no assistance, carrying him away to the night's lantern so that we need never fear him. Now run along."<br />
This had been a shorter story than ever. Oorgo knew Cyllgod to be great and powerful, but to learn that she was also beautiful, and even the goddess of beauty itself, his marveling at her only increased. As the children scattered, Oorgo asked quietly, "Sir?"<br />
"What?" the old man whipped his head in the direction of the child's voice.<br />
"The gods. Can they do anything?"<br />
"Cyllgod the Queen can do as she pleases. She works miracles with the flick of her finger," he said, loudly, looking every way.<br />
"Thank you, mister," he said, and tossed the old man the small brown coin he was told to give him each week. The old man heard the clink on the ground and blinked fiercely, then processed what had been said to him.<br />
"Ah, yes, of course. I mean you're welcome. Now run along."<br />
Oorgo bounced to his feet and scampered away as he always did. As he lurched around the turn of the terrace he heard above him a heavy clank, followed by another, like footsteps. Oorgo hastened his pace, if that were at all possible. Someone, somewhere in the village, had committed a crime, and the town golem had been awoken to track the criminal down. The golem was old, and poor at completing only its mission. It often crashed through the edges of buildings, or in zealous pursuit leapt from one terrace to another, crushing the paving stones. Still, the golem was how Cyllgod protected the village from threats.<br />
Oorgo happily pressed through his home door and went immediately for the stairs up into the family living space. He then climbed the stairs quietly and plopped onto the bed of mountain hay on which he had always slept.<br />
<br />
The next morning Oorgo awoke as the town gong was rung, the most peaceful of the golem's duties. The sound would ring twice, then echo off the mountains side and be heard again. Oorgo had grown accustom to waking at the first ring, and being downstairs ready to work by the last echo.<br />
He found on the the table already a small loaf, still warm from the oven. Father always rose earlier and had loaves on the table for each. Oorgo took a deep bite into his while the final echo rang, and he heard his mother yawn loudly upstairs. Mairda was beginning to descend, looking already weary as though she had not slept, when Oorgo's second bite encountered something hard. His father never let something pollute the dough. Oorgo looked in and saw the golden edge of a coin sticking back out. Just as he opened his mouth to say something his father looked at him sternly and said, "Finish your breakfast while you carry this loaf to the Quonin house. I heard they had unexpected company arrive, and they will need a fresh loaf for the day."<br />
Father had never returned to Oorgo a tip he had received before, nor had he ever told the boy to deliver while eating. Oorgo understood quickly what he was told to do, and only after leaving the house did he figure out why.<br />
Visions of what he might do with that golden coin began to impress themselves on the boy's mind even as he passed down the street towards the Quonin house. A single gold coin was worth more than some of the whole orders for bread his father received; only the rich and generous Henlick could have afforded to pass on such a gift to a small boy. Henlick dealt in yeti and manticore fur, alongside the usual fur of goats, bears, and lions. The capital had a rich demand for each of these, as they were the preferred drapery of Cyllgod, and, by extension, all her most loyal, and wealthy, subjects. Even for the rich, a gold coin was worth, at the least, a small favor to a child.<br />
Then from nowhere, a truly spurious idea struck Oorgo's mind. He knew the chance might never come, but if it did, it would be worth the saving. Tucking the coin into his little pocket, Oorgo rushed ahead to deliver the surprise loaf to the Quonin house. He knocked on the door lightly, knowing himself to be unexpected. The door was flung open by a flustered looking man, who upon seeing a fresh loaf in Oorgo's arms opened his eyes wide. Oorgo recited, "The compliments of my father, in case you were in need."<br />
The man smiled, "Can always trust your father to pull through for a man in a pinch! Tell him his thanks will come on the next order."<br />
Oorgo skipped away, thoughts distracted by a wonderful chance.David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-57441759542311032212015-05-08T21:14:00.001-05:002015-05-18T22:38:14.765-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 6<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Oorgo, child, you must deliver these loaves to Mister Henlik. He wanted them by this afternoon for the party for his daughter, and the sun will reach zenith soon."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes, mother." Oorgo ceased from stirring the embers under the round loaf in the oven. He stood and collected the sack of bread in his two arms, a bundle of nearly his own size. He skipped around the hearth and bolted for the door, eager to be in wind without smoke. Just as he reached the door he hopped back onto his heels as his elder sister burst through the door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oorgo's mother snapped, "Mairda, you were too long on that errand. By what were you distracted this time?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mairda immediately looked down to the ground and stepped sideways to clear Oorgo's path. She said nothing, but the blush of embarrassment told all. Oorgo pushed the door open with his back as struggled cheerily under the load, and as his head filled with street noises he last heard his mother say, "You know he will never pay any attention to you, Mairda. If you're to have any hope of a husband you must..." but Oorgo did not care to hear that conversation again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The little boy ran along the gutter of the street, barely keeping his feet out of the mess that slid down the edges of the road. He bustled past the doors of many other tradesmen, most too busy to notice that the baker's son was on another errand. He would pass their doors many times some days, and only the butcher ever took notice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oorgo could barely see over the sack he carried in his arms, the ends of the long loaves protruding towards the shop side. With that little vision he tried to pick out any new threats to his route; he already knew every loose paving stone and deep spot in the gutter where the grime might collect into puddles. He had only to get to the butcher's shop and then he could skip down a level.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mister Henlick lived two terraces below the Durnath bakery, but the butcher's house spanned a whole terrace. Oorgo had got special permission to use the exterior stairway by the side of the unusually tall home to shorten his routes, mostly out of pity from the butcher's wife, who always gave a little cry to see with what speed and under what loads Oorgo's bare feet would traipse the streets. Oorgo took the sharp corner, catching the little gate latch with the fingers of his right hand without so much as glancing down. He listened closely and stepped more lightly as he took the stairs, as over his load he could not see if anyone was coming up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He heard a door on the stairway yanked open and slowed his gait, only to hear the butcher's wife, "Oorgo! Not so fast on stairs little one. You could have taken me all the way down with you!" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oorgo slowed to about a stair a second, carefully avoiding the weak plank he knew was about a dozen steps above the ground level. "Sorry, ma'am," he said. "The order is late getting to Mister Henlik."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Ooh, Henlik has all that bread coming has he?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oorgo knew that it was impolite to run away from adults asking him questions, and knew better than to be impolite to the lady who secured him a much shorter journey up and down the hillside. "Yes, ma'am. Mother said it was for a party."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"No doubt. His daughter's just been betrothed, and he must thank the young man's family appropriately. No wonder he ordered bread from all the way up the hill. Any prospects on your sister?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oorgo had never been asked this so directly before, nor had he been taught how to answer it. He merely stood still until he realized that she actually wanted an answer. "None but perhaps in her mind, I'd guess, but perhaps I am just not told..." he said, though he knew there were none.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The butcher's wife sighed. "The homely girl..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oorgo heard the dismissal in her voice, and plunged on down the hill. It was only a minute more to reach Mister Henlick's place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Upon arrival, Oorgo rapped on the door. The sign was not out, indicating that Henlick was not open for his usual furrier business. Oorgo knew the place by memory.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The door was hastily opened and Oorgo looked up into the flushed face of Henlick's wife. "Oh, it's the bakers' boy. Bring them in, and take them where he says." The lady pointed to her husband.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oorgo stepped inside and immediately felt the soft of fur on his feet. He looked down for how to avoid the rug, knowing his feet were dirty. "Never mind the rug, my boy, it's a gift after today," called Henlick, winking at his daughter. "Just drop the whole sack on the table over there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Congratulations to this house," said Oorgo as he dropped the sack in the indicated place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"And thanks to yours," Henlick responded. As Oorgo turned for the door the man of the house handed him a small pouch, "A gift for the friendship of your father," said the man, and then, glancing over to see that his wife paid no attention, he pressed a golden coin into Oorgo's hand, "And take care that you tell no one I gave you this. It's for you to enjoy something that'll put meat on your bones," and with that he slapped Oorgo in the back, pushing his light frame out of the house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oorgo had been tipped for his work before, and occasionally given the same admonishment to actually spend the coin on himself, but he had never heeded it. Every time he would go and bring it back to his father, receive hearty thanks, and hear his mother wish that he would stay a small child forever so that the hearts of families might continue to bestow on him their extras. His father had once verbally resented the implication that his son was a beggar, but after the respondent tongue-lashing had never done so again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oorgo came again to the butcher's house and ascended the stairs rapidly, hoping for no delay from the lady. As he reached the top stair he heard the same door as last time open and the lady call up to him, "Oorgo, you'll tell me if a man ever comes for your sister?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oorgo hardly stopped but called behind him, "Of course, ma'am," with no intent of putting any extra effort into doing so. He always answered her questions, whether they be of his family or of another. He saw it as a sort of fare for passing the stairs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He returned to his home, passing under the baker's sign and rushing through the door, only to find that he wished he had for once been slow on his errand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mairda was holding back what looked like the last few tears of many that had preceded them, and his mother was kneading dough far too energetically, facing away from Mairda who had taken Oorgo's place tending the fire. His father sat idly sharpening a bread knife, staring into the familiar wood work of the work table.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Ooh, there's the precious child back! Did they give you extra?" his mother inquired.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"A gift for the friendship of my father," he said as he passed the pouch, made from a scrap of the furrier business.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"And anything else."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"A coin to me, as well, mother," he said, and handed the coin to his father.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His mother gasped, "Henlick is in a generous mood!" Oorgo turned, and for the first time recognized that the coin was gold. For a small moment he wished he had kept it, but not long.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Henlick is a generous man," said his father, setting down the knife. He counted the money quickly, seeing that the pouch contained the expected value of a gift to someone contributing to an engagement party, and then a bonus coin. He then swept the coins into his own money pouch, but stuffed the golden coin into his apron pocket while his wife had returned to the dough.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Well, if Mairda does not learn to be a more excellent baker, we may never need to save for her party. That skill is the only quality that might recommend her, and the only one she can hope to obtain."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mairda choked back a sob that had already been ready. Then at last Oorgo spotted the spark that had ignited the cruel words. The ashes of a loaf, unfortunately tipped into the fire, were still visible in the back of the hearth.</span>David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8820541781055558345.post-29124616661154436132015-05-07T22:02:00.003-05:002015-05-08T11:57:29.963-05:00Beyond the Rim Installment 5"Thurgod, great among smiths, what brings you again to this hall?"<br />
<div>
"I require a new servant."</div>
<div>
"What became of your last? Humans are a limited resource, Thurgod."</div>
<div>
"Rarer still are my creations. The spikes and golems that secure your halls exist because I work, and I cannot work unassisted."</div>
<div>
Cyllgod sat alone in her hall, the seats left for an assembly empty. She made a bright smile and said, "Tell me, Thurgod, how it was you smithed before you came to work for me."</div>
<div>
Thurgod turned his face towards where Cyllgod sat. "As I have always, at a bellows and anvil, with the assistance of a human."</div>
<div>
"So even the great smith god cannot work alone? Were you made feebly?"</div>
<div>
Thurgod crashed to the ground, and Cyllgod laughed. "Ahah, you cannot tell me, but I hear it. And I would be offended at your thoughts, were I not so amused. Fine. You shall have your new servant. I shall choose one for you from among those who owe me a great debt."</div>
<div>
Thurgod stood, sweat pouring from below the metal band that encased his head, and raised his hand. "My lady, if I may, may I not select him?"</div>
<div>
Cyllgod turned to the white golem next to her and whispered to her. It left, and she asked, "I think I can measure the size of a man's arms, Thurgod. Do you doubt that I will choose well for you?"</div>
<div>
Thurgod winced as he held back a forbidden thought. "It is more than the man's arms that I would measure. I must speak with him, and learn his heart. For he must join in the work of a god, and among us, it is our spirits that do more work than our forms. The nearest a human has that I can find is a heart, and I would know that mine and his would work well together. Otherwise I might find him an unsuitable servant, and be forced to come before you again, lest my work be made inferior."</div>
<div>
Cyllgod smiled. "Choose as you will then. I must have your best, Thurgod."</div>
<div>
"I always do my best," and then Thurgod tripped on his next word, collapsing again.</div>
<div>
Cyllgod chimed merrily as she exited the chamber, "I can see that speaking to me is a pain to you, Thurgod. Learn to rule your own mind and be your own master." She turned to her golem, which was returning with a dozen humans in train. "Let him talk to them, and then choose one to take away."</div>
<div>
The moment Cyllgod was out of sight, Thurgod pointed his face at the golem, "You will tell her none of what is said here." The golem remained motionless as Thurgod stood in the middle of the stone circle at the base of the chamber, turning his head to consider each human in turn. They only stood, petrified. He pointed at two of them. "You two might do. The rest will not do. Escort them out." The golem attended at once, and the rest did not dare to disobey its prodding outside, where they were met by another, which herded them down another hallway.</div>
<div>
Thurgod turned to the two that remained. "You would each be more comfortable if you sat."</div>
<div>
Both of the humans sat down at once, but their bodies remained tense. Thurgod asked, "You, strong-bodied one, what is your name?"</div>
<div>
"I am Triannin."</div>
<div>
"To know you better, I must know how you came to be within Cyllgod's halls."</div>
<div>
"I was destined to become the leader of our tribe, the eastern hunters. We live by slaying manticore and yeti, and sold their bodies to the valley. When it came time for me to be made chief, my lessor half-brother was advanced before me. When Cyllgod's army came demanding tribute we fought them and were overrun, for my half-brother is no commander of war and has little for wits. She would have had all my people destroyed, but instead I named myself the chief's eldest son, and offered to be her slave if it would spare my life and the life of my people. Now I am brought below, and have served Cyllgod since."</div>
<div>
"The eastern hunters were the last to ever fall to her. Your people are strong, as are you."</div>
<div>
"How do you know I am strong? You can see nothing, blind god."</div>
<div>
Thurgod grinned, "Blind, yes. God, yes. And the second answers the first. The smith god knows what he must for smith work." Thurgod turned his head to face the other human. "And you, little one. I would like to know your name."</div>
<div>
"My name is Oorgo, master."</div>
<div>
"I would like to know how you come to be in Cyllgod's halls. It is odd to see a frail child in Cyllgod's debt."</div>
<div>
Oorgo sniffled childishly, then began to tell his tale.</div>
David J Hartunghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10027709208881295551noreply@blogger.com0