Svengald held tight to the rudder of his skiff and the sturdy hemp sail guide line. The combination of Aesir and Valley knowledge made for a surprisingly swift and seaworthy craft. Though thrilled to be at sea once more, there was an uncomfortable dread lying in his gut. The Chief could still taste the warm salty kiss of his Minor Goddess paramour on his lips. Okavanga with the Priestess’ supervision opened the way through the Delta Boundary Barrier with some degree of difficulty. The Aesir could not fathom the powers required to accurately open the way into the kaleidoscope of worlds swirling beyond the barrier!
There was much the Chief could not comprehend about the Goddess Okavanga. Yet, she had been a great comfort to him. That was when she wasn’t minding her strength during their lovemaking! By the Priestess, he was thankful his new paramour had been learning the healing arts. By now if he were not dead, a mutilated and broken cripple would be all that was left of him!
Now that he had his course, Svengald tied off the rudder. The Aesir noticed even in his thoughts, t’was the Priestess whom he called upon for spiritual support. If not her, then it was The Mountain God who received his praise these days. Even the Priestess’ God-Husband Qatula took the place of the trickster Loki in the Aesir’s mind. Living among gods, demons, traveling about ‘worlds’ and time itself eroded the hold the gods of the Aesir held on Svengald.
Yet, the Priestess never made any demands upon him or any mortal to pay her godly homage or make sacrifices unto her. In truth, the Chief knew for certain both the true ruler of the Valley Realm and her God-Husband disliked the whole idea.
The Priestess did have a small shrine outside the fence of her home and all who lived in the Valley, the different areas of the Surround and even those moving into the Delta all made pilgrimage to her shrine at least twice a year. It was the concession the Priestess gave those who honored her thousands of years ago. From her description, in those ancient days the ‘shrine’ was a massive temple. Much of her home, the rock wall around its perimeter and the shrine itself were as she said, ‘made from the ruins of that long ago structure.’
The Chief wondered how much of his former lands now lay in ruins? Five years was a long time for him to have been gone from his wife and people. Excited as he was to be heading home, a great worry was building in his gut. It was hard enough going back to his homeland twice and not being ‘home’. To return a third time and not be able to reconnect with all he once knew....
The wind kicked up sharply forcing the Chief to look to his sails. From the direction they unnaturally filled, Svengald knew the wind wasn’t ‘blowing’. It was drawing the skiff towards a massive bank of ominous dark clouds.
Svengald swallowed hard for just short of the horizon lay what he’d come to know as ‘The Ever Storm’. The dark clouds reaching high into the sky like great mountain peaks belonged to a storm at sea that never died. It was the same storm he and his men were drawn into which led them to the shores of the mighty desert surrounding the Valley Realm.
This same storm sent his men into the Valley Knight’s past and years of bondage in the Slave Trader King’s City of Golden Towers. In the end using one of the glowing Mountain Stones, the Chief was able to guide his men back home and to their proper time.
The Aesir Chief was prepared this time. Having lashed the cane used by the Witch-Goddess Aunt, the glowing stone mounted as its handle began to slowly pulse as the skiff turned towards the storm. The stone’s pulse would guide him to the stone he left with the Aesir Witch Mjarga many years before Svengald was born.
Svengald had a sudden chill run the length of his spine. The stone would lead him to wherever the other stone lay. But would it lead him to the right ‘when’? The possibility of returning to the past caused a string of curses to flow from the Chief’s lips!
While the winds grew and drew the skiff closer to the Everstorm, Svengald resolved to put his faith in the Priestess.
She said, ‘his people wished to accept her invitation to come to the Valley Realm and they needed his help.’
That was enough for the Aesir. The Priestess had never led him astray. So if she said he would find his people, then he would. Storm or no gigantic, ever blackening, with bolts of lighting streaking across the sky like ‘Thor’s Anvil’... storm! A sudden urge to lash everything down came over the Chief and as he approached the tempest, a short urgent prayer fell from his lips.
“Priestess... please watch over me....”
****
The setting sun painted the desert dunes of the Surround in the colors of fire and blood. Hypnotic waves of heat created a visual curtain which alerted the Valley Knight he had reached his destination, the Desert Boundary. This was the farthest point in the Valley Realm a mortal could go on their own.
Just as there were dangerous beasts, demons and minor gods in the Delta, the Desert Boundary harbored dangers of its own. Primary among those dangers was the Boundary itself. Without an open doorway or the power to create one, those who walked into the undulating desert mirage would do so without end.
The Knight gave his bronze and black striped stallion a reassuring pat. The horse too could sense the Boundary’s presence and found it disturbing. In spite of being quite familiar with his Wife’s realm, there were a few places within which raised his hackles.
Here at the Boundary’s edge, no wind blew and there were no signs of living things save the Knight and his mount. The sun continued its descent beneath the dunes and once more the warrior gave his kit a final check. All were secure and in good condition. Even his quiver of arrows made from the bones and wing feathers of the Witch-Goddess Aunt was once more full as the sun’s fading light cast the world into twilight.
A sudden rumble caused the dunes to vibrate. The unsettlingly serene silence was disrupted by the haunting ‘singing’ of the desert dunes. The Knight did his best to calm his mount which was ready to turn and flee at best speed from the unnatural sound!
As the singing grew deafening, a seam of red light split the now invisible Boundary. Regaining control of his mount, the Valley Knight watched in awe as the seam opened to form a chaotic framed doorway. The warrior marveled as scenes of worlds just beyond the doorway flashed by. It was then he remembered his Wife’s warning.
Resolute, he pictured his son’s visage as boy, youth and man then said, “Send me to where Little Fish is now!”
The rapid passing of worlds came to an abrupt halt and a scene familiar to the Knight lay before him.
Smiling he remarked, “I thought so.”
Looking up at the fading twilight, the Knight saw the doorway was also starting to fade! Heeling his mount hard, the pair dashed towards the rapidly closing door. With an all or nothing leap, both man and horse disappeared into the doorway as it collapsed sending the desert into the cool blues of night.
The Priestess watched as her young husband vanished from their home into the unknown. She stood silent well beyond the senses of the mortal she’d come to adore. This was his journey to make and make it he must.
The Priestess suddenly realized tears rolled down her cheeks. Delicately wiping them away, the Woman/Goddess looked at the salty droplets in amazement. It would be nothing for her to recall every time she’d shed tears in her multitude of mortal lives including her original.
But it was unnecessary for she knew the last time being when it seemed her mortal lover had been killed by her mere moments after giving their oath of marriage thousands of years ago.
“No need for tears Wife. He is performing his duty.”
The Priestess at the moment could not decide if the words of her God-Husband Qatula were meant as chide or comfort.
“That I shed tears for my young husband is my affair. I am certain you are the engineer behind his sudden departure just as you were my Mortal-Son’s. Tread carefully Husband, for I am not in the mood for your intrigues.”
With no sign of emotion the God Qatula stood beside his Goddess-Wife with powerful arms folded behind his back.
“All I do as you well know my love, is keep the wheels turning properly. For the ‘Caretaker’ to fulfill his oath to you, he must undertake this labor. I am curious though. Should he be successful, can this mortal you put so much of your love into handle the consequences and knowledge therein?”
Amber fires lit the Priestess’ eyes and the Goddess within spoke sharply, “I would have spared them these labors!”
Calmly Qatula turned towards his wife of uncounted ages, his eyes lit with ember-red flames.
“You above all know that was not possible. All must be as it must. All must play their parts and perform their roles.”
Irritated the Priestess countered, “Do not lecture me upon ‘what must be or not’! Keep in mind Husband, you are a ‘guest’ here and your counsel is not always welcome.”
Qatula’s calm made the Priestess grit her mortal teeth. She quickly reigned in her irritation lest she shatter them!
The God looked to his Wife and saw her fists were balled in frustration.
“Well, looks like I have worn out my welcome. Just as the mortals must play their parts, so must I. Fortunately, I know it won’t be another three thousand years before we meet again Wife. Do take care.”
As the God stepped backwards to depart, the Priestess swiftly grabbed his mortal looking wrist. The fires now gone from her eyes, only dark soulful mortal ones looked upon him reflecting the curtain of stars.
“Watch over them.”
That smile filled with razor-sharp teeth crossed Qatula’s dark striped face as he replied, “I will as you shall...Wife.”
In a sudden burst of red light and black clouds, the God was gone.
Looking out over the dunes, the Priestess became aware of the great silence here at the Desert Boundary. For the first time since she’d settled the dispute between the Mountain and River, the Priestess felt ‘alone’.
Things were as Qatula had said and they must play out. The Priestess realized once more tears rolled down her cheeks. The one comfort was for as much of what she knew to come, she did not know it all. Having suppressed both the urge and ability to see through the curtain of time, all that was to come to pass was a great mystery to both the Priestess and her mortal charges.
A smile crept over her lips as the Priestess recalled the Chief’s departure. He was unaware that she had heard his ‘prayer’. Her God-Husband had the annoying habit of being consistently right and his working through her mortal charges allowed the Priestess the ‘freedom’ to be unaware of things at times.
She would do as Qatula suggested and watch over her Husband the Valley Knight, her Mortal-Son Little Fish and yes, even Svengald Chief of the Aesir. She would just have to be confident they would perform their roles and not suffer any more than they had to....
The End
© 2014 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.
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