After a short but perilous climb, the trio reached the top of the Dam where the Priestess stood her face ashen, hair rapidly graying and figure gaunt. Out across the land the once green fields and orchards withered and died with the last fading rays of sunset. “Odin’s beard!” exclaimed the Chief. The Knight started towards his wife but a strong hand caught his arm. It was Qatula.
Surprised, the Knight tried to pull away from the youth, but could not break his grip. It was then the Knight noticed, the youth’s body paint had neither faded from their many exertions nor washed off in the waters of the lake. With a sudden realization the Knight blurted, “You are the Traveler!”
The wind grew colder and sharper as Qatula let go of the Knight’s arm and walked towards the Priestess. The Knight’s first instinct was to drive his wife’s spear into this possible demon. But once more his wife’s warning, ‘Use your better judgment’ came to mind.
The Chief bone weary and chilled through yelled to the Knight, “You’re not just going to stand there, are you?” His pounding heart driving away the cold the Knight replied, “I am.” The Chief turned back to see the youth embrace the now emaciated Priestess and then whisper something to her. Immediately, the wind began to die down and then the youth kissed her full on the mouth.
Unsure why, but the Chief did not appreciate Qatula taking liberties with the Priestess no matter what her condition. He then noticed the Knight’s hand on his shoulder. The Chief saw the Knight stoically watch this strange person kiss his wife. It was then a sudden cold gray light caused him to look back towards the scene.
No longer was the Priestess in her mortal guise. As the youth released her, the Priestess stood up in her natural illuminated form taller and clad in armor the color of blued steel with silver wings tipped in ebon reflected the light coming from Qatula across the Dam. “Odd’s blood!” gasped the Chief.
Both men watched as the Priestess’ own amber light began to radiate from within her breast and flash out over the land. The wind was now once more the usual warm summer breeze and out in the vast fields the sounds of row after row of crops and fruit trees filling with life once more!
Now returned to her usual comely mortal form, the Priestess gestured for the two men to come forward. Placing her hands upon the still shivering Chief’s face, the Priestess had him bend down to give him a kiss upon the forehead. As she let go, he felt the warmth flow through him like he’d just downed a tankard of fine ale.
The Priestess then took the Knight in hand and standing by him said to Qatula, “I want you to meet my husband.” Suddenly, Qatula’s near black eyes turned ember red and bored into the Knight’s. The thought of looking into the eyes of a demon brought the Knight no comfort, but he was not afraid. Had the demon wanted to kill him, plenty of opportunities had been present during the course of their adventure.
With those unwavering ember-red eyes Qatula replied in powerful whisper, “I’m not surprised. You always did favor the strong and silent types.” Smiling brightly in the starlight the Priestess replied, “You of all should know my preferences husband.”
Again both men looked to the Priestess and she chuckled, “Qatula is my second husband. He has come to visit and wanted to test your mettle. Let me guess. You had to carry a dying old woman from the place you met him only to fail at the last moment?”
The looks on the men’s faces spoke volumes. Smiling, Qatula remarked, “It was an old man.... Well the hyenas were new. But you cheated. You called upon the Goddess of the Lake!”
Seemingly pleased with herself the Priestess replied, “Well, you know she favors you and wants you to visit her before you leave.” Looking to the Knight Qatula said exasperated, “Is she like this with you too?” Relieved the Knight answered, “Constantly.” The Priestess gave the Knight a gentle bump in the ribs and quipped, “You’re not supposed to agree with him!”
The Aesir Chief was stunned. Just when he had come to accept the Priestess as a living goddess, now Qatula whom he thought was a mere youth was a god as well! Seeing the Chief’s obvious discomfort Qatula said in the Chief’s language, “Aesir, you’re a long way from the Northlands. You wouldn’t know where a decent drink could be found around here?”
Not surprised for the Priestess had spoken his language to him upon their first meeting the Chief replied, “Uh, yes it happens I do... my lord?” Waving his hand as his eyes turned back to a mortal brown Qatula dismissed the Chief by saying, “Don’t start in on all of that worshiping shit. It really pisses me off! Now how about that drink?”
Giving her young husband a soft kiss on the cheek, the Priestess whispered, “Thank you my love. Your efforts have lifted my spirits. I had hoped you would never see that part of me. Know that you will not see it again. Now please give us a moment and we’ll meet you and the Chief at that ‘long house’ of his. I hope he’s ready for one long night of drinking and war-stories!”
Returning her kiss with one on her dark forehead, the Knight said, “The Chief asked why I married you. I told him many men wanted you, but I wanted you more. Nothing has changed. But if one day you tire of me, please don’t try to marry me off to the Goddess of the Lake.”
****
With the two men off to prepare the village for a night of stories and drinking, the Priestess stood in her natural form embraced by Qatula in his own godly form. A head taller than she, Qatula’s now powerful frame was enveloped by a great gray cloak which flowed animate in the slight breeze as if alive. His face now covered by the voluminous gray hood, only those ember red eyes gleamed through the black void beneath it.
Giving her a gentle kiss atop her head Qatula asked, “Feel better?” Nodding, the Priestess replied, “Yes. Thank you for coming. I missed you.” Giving a slight grunt Qatula replied, “Well, when my wife grows melancholy after having not seen me for more than three-thousand years I was honor bound. Besides, you’ve created something very nice here and it’s part of you. To let it die because we’ve been apart for so long....”
A long moment passed without them saying anything and then the Priestess whispered, “He makes me happy.” Giving her a pat Qatula replied, “I could tell when I met him. He’s a good man. Sad though. He truly loves you.” Looking up into those red eyes the Priestess asked, “You do not mind?”
“No. Not at all. He did quite well during my little test. I can see he’s good for you. Besides, he’ll only have you for a lifetime. I’ll have you for all time. Anyway, it’s been a very long time since I’ve killed one of your husbands.” Giving Qatula a punch in the gut with a report which echoed across the lake the Priestess said, “I know! That’s why I haven’t seen you in more than three thousand years.”
Reluctantly releasing their embrace, Qatula willed the flowing gray cloak to shrink to nothing and he returned to the painted youth’s form. Cheerfully rubbing his bare painted belly Qatula said, “Well then, let us celebrate our brief reunion and your recent marriage with whatever it is they drink around here! Hopefully, he who tends that which I hold most dear can at least weave an entertaining tale or two.”
Now having returned to her mortal form the Priestess retorted with a smile, “That would be interesting to see. I’ve never heard him tell a story. Oh and just so you know, that stuff the Chief drinks tastes awful.”
As the pair walked down the road away from the Dam into the night Qatula queried, “So the Goddess of the Lake truly favors me eh?” Chuckling the Priestess replied, “Yes. Her exact words were, she’d swallow you whole!”
The End
© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.
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