A hard wind mixed with warm and cool air surged across the surface of the immense lake. White tipped waves rolled towards the Great Dam as large schools of young trout swarmed their way through intentional gaps in the massive barrier. It was early spring and once more as promised, the mighty River flowed through the Valley on its long journey to the sea. The trout were under siege by clouds of birds overhead, crocodiles among them and all manner of animals along the riverbanks. On the other side of the Dam, Men and Women flung their nets into the white churning waters to harvest their share of the bounty.
Despite the carnage, the number of trout swimming the gauntlet would be undaunted. Years later when they returned larger and more powerful, the trout would lay their eggs in the Lake thus completing the cycle. It had been this way since that dim time after the war of the River and Mountain had been settled. High upon a pile of boulders, the Priestess sat perched overlooking the activity. During this time it was much too dangerous for the Villagers to be on this side of the Dam. Not just because of the animals. The current caused by the mighty flowing River was much too powerful.
Her toes gently clung to the rough stone while the Priestess enjoyed the presence of so much life. The cold dryness of Winter had ended and the green world she loved was regaining its foothold. In a few weeks, the gaps would be closed and not reopened until the middle of Summer. A sudden chill rolled up her back and the Priestess said, “It is time for you to move on.” The chill grew stronger for a moment then relented. A voice similar to the sound of growing ice replied, “How I do despise this time.” Unmindful the Priestess retorted, “You will get over it. You always do.”
Behind her the voice lamented, “Why is it you do not like me?” With a sigh the Priestess continued to concentrate on the group of crocodiles eating fish as birds swarmed around them. “It is not a question of my liking or disliking you. You are a necessary part of the cycle, nothing more. You had your time, move on.” “You are cruel. You do not treat Spring and Summer this way! You rejoice at their return.” The Priestess focused on an individual crocodile as it choked down a trout on the riverbank under the warming sun.
It was always the same. Each of the seasons would plead with her for more time despite the answer always being the same. Were she truly mortal, Winter’s whining would be aggravating. By keeping her back to it and focusing on the animal’s activities, Winter finally relinquished it’s grip. Behind her a voice like sprouting grass said, “Greetings Guardian. Thank you for making my sister release her hold on the land. I look forward to creating a green and colorful world once more.” The Priestess felt the warmth grow at her back and then dissipate. Knowing Spring had officially taken hold, she stood up and stretched.
With a rare use of her immense power, the Priestess closed her eyes and vanished from her perch on the riverbank. When her eyes opened, she stood upon the highest point of the wooden walkway facing out towards the Valley. Below her, were the Villagers and those who lived in the Surround above the Valley. Those of the Surround were camped in their usual place on the banks of the surging white waters.
There was always a certain amount of tension between the two groups, but they did just as the animals and suspended hostilities to concentrate on the great bounty of fish. Each night after long hours of fishing then preparing the trout for drying were done, both groups gathered at the Chief of the Aesir’s Longhouse for drinking, singing and storytelling.
The Priestess watched as the red-haired man covered in red-brown mud grunted and pulled a large net alongside the men from the Valley and Surround. Years had passed since the Chief and his men’s desperate march into the desert led them here. The youngsters who through their greed and foolishness roused the sleeping mountain were now grown men. Their diligence in upholding the terms of their punishment as the Mountain’s guardians, gave the Priestess cause to allow them short periods in the Valley or Surround during certain times of the seasons. The people grew to respect their role as guardians and others took up the pledge to protect the Mountain’s peaceful slumber.
The Chief trained the first group of Mountain Guardians and oversaw the next as the young men began to take over. He was seen by all as the ‘Guardian Elder’ and had become an integral part of life in the Valley. The Priestess knew the Chief missed his seafaring days and life among his people. Though he had fulfilled the conditions of his punishment for his young men’s awakening of the Mountain long ago, he remained with the Guardians.
The Chief could come and go from the Guardian’s Mountain Camp as he wished. He used that time to build the Longhouse which was done in the traditional style of building his people lived in. The materials were adapted to what was available locally, but all indications suggested it was a fair approximation. Ever since the night her second husband the God Qatula’s challenge to see if the villagers could tell more stories than he, the Chief’s longhouse became a gathering place.
A familiar and welcome presence stood beside the Priestess as she leaned over the wooden railing. “Greetings Husband,” said the Priestess with a wry grin crossing her face. It was always a wonder at how her husband could get so close to her before she noticed. He wrapped sinewy dark arms around the Priestess and gave her a soft slow peck on her neck. The grin grew as goosebumps rose upon her skin and she suddenly placed her hand over his arms holding him in place.
Whispering in her ear amidst the roar of surging water her husband the Valley Knight said, “Surely you don’t want me to take my pleasure here in plain view of your worshippers?” The grin changed to a bright toothy smile as the Priestess entertained the thought for a moment. Eight years passed since she took this man as husband. Through circumstance, she had waited a full three millennia for this mortal to return after losing him because of her carelessness. Eight years were mere moments compared to so long a wait. With him holding her against the wood rail, she was sorely tempted to let him raise her garment….
She gave a long disappointed sigh and replied, “No my beautiful husband. It would not do for the people of the Valley and Surround to see me reduced to my animal self in your embrace.” Her husband gave a chuckle and remarked, “That would be a truly frightful sight my love.” A slight squeeze of her hand on his crossed arms made him grunt in pain. Though she gave him minor chastisement, the Priestess could not resist returning the kiss. In spite of her vast power, the Knight never showed fear. Though respectful, he always spoke his mind and sometimes teased her mercilessly. It was wonderful.
Besides the Chief and her Husband the Valley Knight, there was another near to her heart. “I see Little Fish is not among the young people this day. This is his favorite time of the year. Why is he not here?” With added timbre in his voice the Knight replied, “Oh he’s off brooding.” Leaning against him smiling the Priestess asked, “What is it this time? Angry because he still cannot beat you at the ‘touch game’ or is it because….” “It is a girl this time,” said the Knight matter-of-factly.
Her eyes literally lighting with excitement the Priestess’ voice became that of her godly self. “Ah, Little Fish pines for the Date Farmer’s daughter. He knows that will not come to pass. He has seen it so.” Unfazed by her true self peering from within the mortal shell the Knight responded solemnly, “He is no longer ‘Little’ anymore. ‘Fish’ is a young man now. It is not unreasonable for him to crave the company of young women.” Her power once more contained the Priestess spoke more thoughtful on the subject. “Yes, this is true. I still find it difficult to not see the boy I have come to love in the young man who now exists.”
Giving his wife another gentle squeeze, the Knight countered her thought. “Don’t feel bad. I sometimes have the same trouble. However, I am told it is more difficult for mothers than fathers to let go of their sons.” Drawing his powerful arms around her tighter the Priestess replied, “You’ve been talking to the Millet Farmer again.” Chuckling, the Knight offered his defense. “Though Fish is of my blood, the Millet Farmer is officially his father. The man is just as proud of young Fish as we are. He also recognizes Fish sees us as surrogate parents. Together, we have instructed him from boyhood to manhood in matters the Millet Farmer and his wife can not.
Nodding her head for a moment the Priestess responded with a question, “Do you think any young woman in the Valley or Surround will accept young Fish?” Cocking his head quizzically the Knight replied with his own question. “Why ask me that? Surely you already know the answer.” Shaking her head the Priestess retorted, “No I do not. Since I met you, more and more I allow the nature of things to unfold without peering through the curtain of time. I ask you his father as a concerned ‘mother’ would, nothing more.”
The Knight took a few moments to think about the question. As he mulled it over, far below Little Fish ran to join a group of young men as they dragged in the nets. He couldn’t hear over the roar of water, but the Knight could see the Chief and the other older men give the young man a good-natured chiding for being late. Leaning his head into his wife’s ear the Knight said, “No, I do not believe any young woman in the Valley or the Surround will accept Fish as husband.”
The Priestess found herself surprisingly dismayed at the answer. “Why do you believe that my husband?” Once more the Knight paused before giving his assessment. “The first reason is easy. Fish has a great power growing within him. I have seen it in use and you know it better than anyone. The women look upon me with fear and I am but a mortal. How can any young woman expect to have a normal family life with one touched by the gods?” Her curiosity piqued the Priestess asked, “You have not given the second reason for Fish to be rejected my husband.”
Not sure how his wife would take his answer, the Knight sighed and put it forth anyway. “Well my love, the second reason is… you.” Turning to face him with narrowed eyes the Priestess demanded, “Me? Why would I be a reason for my son to be rejected?” With both eyebrows raised the Knight replied, “Hmmm, you my love are more formidable than any groom’s mother born! It would be difficult enough to meet the approval of his mortal adopted mother. How does a young woman go about winning the acceptance of a goddess?”
Her ire flew from her like a cloud of migrating birds. Dropping her head onto her husband’s chest in dismay the Priestess lamented, “Uhhhhh! How well you know me Husband. I have been a mother to countless children and never has it been easy. I do so want my boy to find happiness.” Chuckling once more, the Knight lifted his wife’s chin and planted the gentlest of kisses upon her lips. “I always knew you saw him as such. We both know from experience young Fish will find his way in the course of time.” Laying her head against his chest again the Priestess confided, “You speak painful truths my love. Do indulge me these fleeting moments as a doting mother?”
Before the Knight could answer, the Priestess looked up for they had an audience. Both turned their heads and just outside of arm’s reach, stood a powerfully built man painted with gray and black stripes from head to toe. About his waist hung an ash gray ankle length skirt and from his wide black animal hide belt hung a scabbarded short sword. Neither made a move as the man stood at the railing with folded arms watching the activities below. “Looks like there will be pickled fish this fall,” said the man plainly.
The Knight’s heart beat more strongly for they stood in the presence of the Priestess’ second husband, the God Qatula. Despite his wife’s presence, the Knight was on guard. Though he had stood within the God’s good graces, it was Qatula who tricked him and the Chief into a life threatening test. The Knight also vividly remembered his fatal attempt to protect the Priestess from Qatula as she took on her current form thousands of years ago. Qatula was unpredictable and worse, equal in power to his wife.
The Priestess moved to stand in front of her young husband. Confidently she said, “Do not worry. Qatula bears no ill will… this time.” Turning with eyes burning bright red the god smiled exposing razor sharp teeth. “Can you be sure my wife?” Giving him swat on the arm that shook the walkway the Priestess replied, “Absolutely husband.” The Knight stood waiting as the pair seemed motionless facing each other down. He knew that was not the case. The two had been married for countless ages and could commune on levels unfathomable to him. For all the Knight knew, at this very moment they could be worlds away fighting a cosmos-shattering battle. Instead of unearthly powers being unleashed between them, a simple hug was exchanged.
The God still smiling stilled his power as he looked to the Knight and said, “I see you continue to fulfill your role of ‘caretaker’ with all seriousness. Our wife has flourished under your protection these past years.” Qatula extended his hand towards the Knight in greeting. Looking cautiously at the powerful painted hand with claw-like fingernails the Knight replied, “I continue to stand as guardian against all mortal threats to our wife mighty one.” The hand hung between them waiting to be grasped and the Knight looked to his wife standing beside the god. Her eyes flashed with amber fire for an instant and then she gave a slight nod. Taking the hand by the wrist, the Knight bore up under a god’s grip!
Qatula gave a grunting laugh and said, “Ha! You act like I killed you once….” “You did,” said the Knight with a flat tone. Those white razor-sharp teeth flashed as Qatula retorted, “Well you obviously got better. You still owe me a drink by the way.” The Knight doing his best to make no sign of discomfort from the god’s brutal grip quipped, “I did not want to encourage your return….” Breaking out into laughter that caused the walkway to shake again, Qatula released the Knight’s wrist. Looking to the Priestess the god remarked, “Is he like this with you?” Smiling she replied, “Worse. Now that you’ve teased my husband, what is it you want?”
The god’s eyes did not waiver as he started to speak but was interrupted by the Priestess. “Don’t say it.” Qatula smiled once more and stepped backwards to lean against the wooden railing. With a sigh he said, “There’s someone at the Delta Boundary who wishes an audience.” The Priestess’ brows knitted as she asked, “Who seeks an audience with me at the Boundary?” Casually pointing a clawed thumb over the railing Qatula replied, “An acquaintance of the Aesir Chief’s. I only passed on the request. It’s up to you to grant it or not.” Over the railing the Priestess’ eyes fell upon the Chief and Little Fish as they tossed landed trout from the nets into wicker baskets. Whispering near her ear Qatula then asked, “You know the Kid has become a regular traveler on the Dark Road right?”
With eyes alight with red fire Qatula stood away from the rail and said to the Knight, “I expect that drink in the near future Caretaker.” Before the Knight could reply, Qatula was gone. Looking back towards the Priestess the Knight remarked, “I will never get used to that.” Facing outward over the railing the Priestess replied, “It would be wise if you did not.”
Concerned, the Knight stood beside his wife. “What did he last say to you Wife?” The Priestess mulled over her response. She never kept secrets from her young husband, but on occasion there were things best left unsaid. “Husband, bring the Chief to the Delta Boundary. I will meet you there.” “What shall I tell the Chief?” The Priestess paused as she carefully thought on her answer. “Tell him, I may have found that ‘Water Spirit’ he asked for.”
Her husband dashed off to comply with her command and the Priestess looked out over the powerful flow of water spewing forth through the gaps in the Dam. Once more significant events were stirring for those she loved here in the Valley. It would be a simple task for her to peer through the Curtain of Time and see what will come to pass. Unfortunately, the Priestess did not need to use her godly senses to know consequences from events past were coming to bear. If she wanted to, it would be simple to change the course of coming events by altering the paths of her mortal charges ever so slightly.
Yet, she learned a harsh lesson early in her godhood that the flow of time is best not overtly interfered with. The remembrance of her folly made the Priestess resolute. Her eyes flashed with amber fire and she whispered, “Little Fish.” Despite the roar of water and the shouts of the many people at the water’s edge, the young man suddenly looked up to the walkway high upon the Dam’s face and saw the Priestess. Though a considerable distance away, Little Fish could see her amber eyes burning through the swirling mists churned up by the surging waters. The only words which escaped his mouth were, “Uh, oh....”
To be continued....
© 2012 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.
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