The Shape of Rain

by Michael B. Koep

  Endale replied, “I am afraid. I do not feel envy.”

  “Not yet, perhaps. One day you will long for power, for power will lessen your fear.”

  “I have Mellithion to protect me in my Lord’s absence,” Endale said.

  “You do. But if you are truly to become one of our Court, you must learn to rule what you make, and rule your yourself. I will not harm you, Endale. I bring warnings. Beware of power. I shall show you the pain it brings. Perhaps with the taste of this wisdom you will remain as you are, the jewel of purity we long to know—the peace we long to feel.

  “Behold the hurt my Maker, Dellithion, hath given me.” Chalshaf glowered down into Endale’s light and the wound upon his face coiled like a hissing snake. “For long ago, I alone sought power over Dellithion’s will. I have paid a heavy price. But, in the end, Dellithion’s payment has been more in wisdom than in pain. Thus, I will teach you, Endale, to challenge all before you. Even those closest to you. Receive the hurts that come so that you may find strength.

  “Look, you, Endale. See the hurricane. Harken to the tumult of thunder, the power of chaos. Behold how my face churns in storm and fury. Take from me this lesson.” Chalshaf brought his lips to hers and a tempest spread across her body. Lesions of swirling rain and snow and howling winds tore great ragged fissures into her surface. Water and stones funneled into her skies and blotted out the distant light of Dellithion now far away.

  Endale cried out in both joy and pain. Joy for the power brought forth a new strength. Pain because she could not control it.

  “Do you see, Endale? The chaos that is yours to command? Use it to defend yourself.”

  “Stop!” Endale screamed. “I am not the lord of this gift. It rages beyond me.”

  Chalshaf, now overwhelmed with desire pressed her further.

  When Mellithion rose from the sea and beheld the terror of Chalshaf brooding over his lover, he shone like Dellithion Itself in wrath. It is said Mellithion was the first to forge a sword and to wield it against the Gods, for as he tore across the horizon, a sharp streak of flame gathered in his wake. Long and gleaming, the blade rung out as a knife scraping on a stone. The moon wedged himself between Chalshaf and his beloved, and he swung the sword around from behind. The weapon dragged across the sky, sparked into flame and smote the giant’s mighty helm. Chalshaf rolled back, his face filled with storm and confusion. Mellithion stabbed the point of the sword into Chalshaf’s menacing eye, and the giant fell away, shrieking in pain.

  “Fly! Be gone, Chalshaf! Be gone!” Mellithion commanded. “I am the guardian of she that was made pure. She who is not destined to be one of you. She is Endale. She is beyond the starlight.”

  Chalshaf whirled and rose up. His bulk blotted out the light of the distant sun. Endale cowered and wept while the Moon stood firm, eclipsed in the giant’s deepening shadow. But before Chalshaf attacked, Mellithion’s fury abated. He stared at the raging giant with sudden pity and awe. How the wound upon Chalshaf glared—how the giant himself would never allow it heal—how the pain drove his anger. The moon could see how Chalshaf ruled: with the memory of storm, ire and violence.

  Mellithion felt pity for the god.

  It is said that Mellithion was the first to offer the hilt of his sword to an adversary. He did this without fear.

  Chalshaf laid hold of the weapon and struck Mellithion with vicious, deadly blows. The stabbing pits into the once smooth face of the Moon. Great fissures and deep chasms were lanced into him. Flakes of his gold skin fluttered and floated into the void. Chalshaf roared, “No servant, no guardian, no simple imitation of a god shall command me! It is I that rule this court.” The giant struck him again. More gold tore away. “Do you see, Mellithion, your disguise breaks and exposes your true self—Dellithion may have made you in his image, but beneath, you are stone and dust.”

  Endale watched the cruel giant strike again scarring the silent and still Moon. She cried, “Stop, mighty Chalshaf! Mercy, I beg!” Chalshaf heeded the melody of Endale’s weeping voice and stayed his hand.

  Gently, with a slight quaver, for his pain was great, Mellithion said, “Chalshaf, what weapon will kill the anger within you? I hath given you my sword—and it has done nothing save injure us both. My visage shall bear your violence for eternity—and you shall live on, and your wound of anger will finally consume you. Can you not see that I am not your enemy? I am a humble guardian. I was made to protect a strength beyond all powers. It is she, Endale. Fair in the empty darkness. Pure beyond measure. If only I could become as she. If only we sparks across heaven could become as she. For truly, I am mere stone and dust, arraigned in the armor my lord hath given me. And though our armor and injuries are akin, they exist only because of the love we long for, though we fail to know it. But behold, Endale. Let us allow her to show us peace. Let us allow her to bring us hope.”

  Chalshaf’s anger lessened, and the words of the tiny moon brought a rush of admiration. He beheld the now broken and injured guard as a giant among the Oläthion. Slowly, Chalshaf bowed. His great bleeding eye closed as if in prayer.

  Chalshaf said, “Never shall I come to Endale in this way again. But I cannot look away. The story within her is beyond my strength to resist. She will lure all light to her cheek as the ages pass. You know this. A time will come when a door will open to her favors—a door you will have no power to close. And though your intentions are to save her, as are mine, we will both fail. Therefore, take from me your sword.” Chalshaf turned the hilt of the moon’s sword to him. Mellithion took it. “I will make this covenant with you—where you find me seeking the light of Endale, smite me and send me hither. Know that I will obey, know also that I will return again and again, for there is no peace outside Endale’s light. She is the very light in the eye of Thi. Protect her, Mellithion, for the love of Thi. Protect her from me. From the sky.”

  With that, Chalshaf backed away into the darkness, his eye ever trained on the churning blue green face of Endale.

  ii

  OF ASHTO, TEACHER OF TIME

  The early scholars of Keptiris were said to worship Ashto (Saturn, later the Greek’s Kronos), though by the time of the last Wyn Avuquain monarchs, Ashto had become less of a god and more of a curse word. The precise reason for this is unknown. However, because the archetype was representative of the passage of time and the cyclical patterns that govern the universe, it would not be too far beyond the pale to assume that the younger Itonalya (just over two centuries old) would have a profound sense of frustration at the beguiling monotony of the Ashtonian message. The message is rooted in the circular seasons as well as the birth, youth, age and death cycles that dictate the nature of life as we know it. Apart from this stands the Itonalya curse of an ageless body without the divine capacity to fully transcend human empathy, or in the words of William Greenhame, “The burden of lifetimes of thought without rest.” Thus, like the Itonalya phrase ithic veli agtig uttered as a kind of lamentation, the words gal Ashto might be akin to our expletive, goddamn it.

  However, Ashtonian philosophy was held in high reverence to most due to the god’s central purpose: teaching. The Itonalya believed the passing of wisdom and the pursuit of knowledge was among the highest aims. Ashto as teacher was paramount in early agriculture, the healing arts for mortals, along with the study of history and time. Structure, guidelines and the firm nature of reality, like a good teacher, make up Ashto’s thematic elements. Sources also place the god of Ashto into the love story of Endale and Mellithion which I have included here. Of the myriad tales and proverbs where this influential character is core, this story is one found in the Toele and is often quoted by Elliquists throughout the canon. I find it also relevant for readers interested in the Itonalya’s devotion and duty of protecting the children of Endale.

  OF ASHTO THE TEACHER

  “What is forever?” Endale asked.

  Mellithion did not reply.

  “Will you not speak? Will you not see me.”

  The moon s
aw her. He could not look away save only to protect her. But his thoughts remained silent. He drifted along the horizon and hungered for her. She swirled and turned in drifting blues and glowing whites. He was shade and grey. A mere stone at her feet.

  “Please, what is forever?” she asked again. “I long to know the secrets to the sky, to the shining eyes, the chambers of light beyond. How distant? Show me. Please show me. Take me hither.”

  Mellithion wondered about the mysteries that lay hidden behind the curtain of night, and he, too, wanted to know. But just as the desire came to lead her out to the marvels that Thi had forbidden, he fell deep into the mystery of her beauty, and he was content.

  “Please, Mellithion. What is forever? Do you not want to see the where the lights come from?”

  Mellithion spoke, and she was surprised by his sudden presence in her thoughts. “Forever is you and me,” he whispered.

  Endale looked upon the moon and she knew that he loved her.

  It was then another voice entered their thoughts.

  “There is no forever,” the voice said. “All will pass away. But time is long, so be content.”

  There, rising above Endale’s deep blue oceans was a great sphere of gold and white. It wore wide, thin rings of ice and dust. Mellithion drew his sword and pressed himself between Endale and the intruder.

  “Be gone!” Mellithion commanded. “We seek no audience with thee.”

  The voice replied, “I dare say, you do not.”

  Mellithion sensed no malice, but instead, a calm, fatherly demeanor. “I mean no harm, valiant guardian, guard to the jewel of the Oläthion.”

  “Who are you?” Mellithion asked.

  “I am Ashto. Ashto the Keeper of Time. I am the Teacher.”

  Mellithion stared.

  Endale also marveled at the rings of gold and the bright bans of light turning in his eye. “My dear,” Ashto said to her, “Forever is where we begin and end. The arcing circles by which we travel—the rings that connect us—the wheeling paths that teach order.” The mighty sphere paused as he beheld her. “When I look upon you, I am struck with a feeling wholly new and impossible to escape. I understand now the whisperings of the Oläthion. Your beauty is beyond understanding.”

  Ashto looked upon the piteous moon and sighed. “You too, I expect, sense the same feeling? For you are wise beyond your light, Mellithion. You are correct, there is no forever, though I wonder now if love is not the answer to your question, Endale.”

  “Why have you come?” Endale asked.

  “Perhaps, I myself have come to learn,” Ashto said, “for I sense a deep wisdom in your guardian. One day, he may be a teacher. But I have come to teach you the ways of the Dellithion Court—the path that will lead you closer to forever.”

  Mellithion rose up, “The Lord Dellithion forbids all audience with Endale—”

  Ashto interrupted, “The Lord Dellithion is far away, and I am certain It would agree with my counsel. Endale must learn control, must study the nature of the Oläthion sky, the boundaries separating her from certain oblivion—her meaning and how to share it in story, in light.

  Ashto’s crowning rings sparkled against the night as he began to sing an ancient melody.6 The song enchanted both the earth and moon and they fell into a deep sleep.

  When they woke, the starlight was whirling and streaking in long lines. They could see Dellithion beaming far out in the void as they vaulted out and around It—winding in a speeding circle.

  Ashto’s song continued, “Look how she breeds. Her oceans teem—her trees bear fruit. Walkers have appeared on her shores. What lessons we learn from our children. What horrors come from their doings if we do not guide them.”

  “Children?” Endale asked.

  “Yes. Do you not know them?”

  And behold, the children of Endale gazed up into the night’s sky, crawlers and swimmers, beast and bird, and Endale felt them upon her breast and she wept. She made her tears into the shape of Thi, into the image of all seeing Thi, countless eyes so she could see her children whether under the soil, beneath the seas or upon the wide lands.

  She could feel her children tremble as she hurtled through the inky void. And when she beheld them, she could see that they too were trapped within Ashto’s teachings and the ring of his questions.

  Time broke upon the face of Endale. Time. Springs and summers burst forth new life. Autumns brought decay and age-worn fear. Harsh winters buried the dead. And it was not only upon her body, but it was also within her children. Seasons passed. Her children suckled, and they gained from her body nourishment to sustain them. They were born. They grew and they died and folded back into her flesh. She felt the joy of their joy, the gratitude that is life, and the fleeting brevity of their existence. She felt the pain of their need and want, and when they bit into her, she gave freely, for they only ate that which would sustain them.

  Mellithion marveled at this new wisdom, but he strained against it for it was his burden to do the will of Thi. He cried out for her to take care and slow her pace. He pushed against her, held her, and was then forced to let go for her speed was too great. His grasp broke and his body was cast away to the dark.

  Grief overcame him and he wept.

  Ashto watched as Endale rushed again, rounding the starlit path he had shown her. When he saw that Mellithion was abandoned and alone he came to him and said, “What now, Guardian? Is not your charge to protect Endale? Why do you tarry here?”

  Mellithion lamented, “I cannot match her speed. Do you see the life that she makes, the life that she is. I am barren and without the favor of the gods.”

  “But you are a part of her,” Ashto consoled, “and she will remember ere the end.”

  Endale had traveled the entire ring of the Ashto’s teaching, and she was now approaching Mellithion. She cried out for him, and he for her.

  “Come with me, Mellithion, for there are stories beyond dreams on the rounding path of the Sun, and from the depths of nighttime forever has joined me. It is here, in this ring, ever beginning, ever ending. Come with me, Tifli.”7

  For a moment, it seemed to Ashto, that Mellithion’s armor glinted as if was gold once again. “I will come. I will come with you. But tell me, what have you seen, what have you learned.”

  “I have seen forever,” she cried, as she laid hold of the moon and puller him into her embrace. “I will not see it again without you.”

  iii.

  OF AGYAR THE PURIFIER

  The tale of Agyar the Purifier is an extraordinarily complex and long tale concerning the relationships and intimate connections between love and war, and violence and sex. The Itonalya god Agyar and his lust for conflict and strife eventually evolved into the Greek god of war, Ares, or later the Roman’s Mars. According to Dr. Astrid Finnley, Agyar’s footprints trek through the Egyptian tales of Set and Anhur, the ancient Chinese deity, Chiyou, the Mesopotamian’s Belus, and the Norse god Odin, among many others.

  Agyar first appears in the Lay of Melea as a great warship crossing the sea of night to the shores of Endale. Like Endale’s other Siblings, Agyar is captivated by her beauty and pledges his undying loyalty. In token of his affection, Agyar gifts the earth with three kinds of fire: one to be used as a weapon to burn, one to purify, one for love. Agyar shows her the power of fire by burning her. Great swathes of desert appear upon her body. Next, in places where Endale’s forests were too thick and pestilence bred, Agyar set them on fire. After the fires died, the land burst with green shoots and new trees from out of the ashes. Lastly, Agyar set himself on fire. Endale entranced by the sight of him, longed to mingle her third gift, her flames of love, with his. It was then that Mellithion discovered Agyar’s presence.

  Mellithion becomes flame himself through some hidden gift of Thi and parts the lovers with awesome violence and sadness. He eventually stabs his sword of fire through the Agyar’s war ship and sinks the god’s fire down into the deep ocean of night. Endale, waking as if from a dream, returns to
Mellithion and wraps him with her flames.8 The battle is long, and it is told through twenty-seven Itonalya parables. But the battle is not just fought between Mellithion and Agyar. Endale uses Agyar’s gifts against herself to learn the nature of desire, love, hatred and war. Mellithion fights against his desire to kill and to love simultaneously. In the end, the tale of Agyar examines the nature of war and its intimate connection to our most gentle intentions.

  iv.

  OF UNLIFSO THE MESSENGER

  Unlifso’s place in the Lay of Melea is another long, complex and tortuous tale. A favorite character of immortal poets and painters, Unlifso was said to be the seed to the immortal race as well as the inspiration to the deific drama that brought on the events culminating in Loche Newirth’s prophetic writing.

  Unlifso was the nearest and dearest to the sun god, Dellithion. He served as Dellithion’s primary herald and was responsible for the of passing of messages. Most importantly, Unlifso was the first to bridge between the realms of mortals and the divine. He was known as a trickster as well as the god that peeled back the veil of truth. The tale of Unlifso in the Lay of Melea deals closely with Unlifso as the first to trespass into the world of mortals against the Old Law of mighty Thi.

  By the time Unlifso came to educate Endale, Endale had borne children: beasts and birds, crawlers and swimmers, and those she loved more than all the others—those she called Ithea (humans or mortals). Unlifso appeared on Endale as a man wearing a circlet with two silver wings upon his brow. As a man he did not remember that he was Unlifso the god, nor did he have any memory of his place among the Court of Dellithion or the greater Oläthion. Instead, he only felt the delicate brevity of life and an overwhelming sense of wanting to experience everything he could without a care for the consequences. Endale, knowing a god had crossed over into her consciousness, became mortal, too. Unlike Unlifso, Endale knew that she was herself a god. She also knew that Unlifso was breaking the Old Law. The two met beside a great river and became friends. Like Agyar’s tale, the journey of Endale and Unlifso’s story unfolds into series of parables dealing with innocence and experience, boundaries, transgression, greed and ambition while the two traveled together to the nearest city, and, in a very short time, Unlifso became a leader of men. At first his aims were good for the city folk. His enthusiasm, his ability to communicate and his big ideas brought him wealth, fame and loyal subjects. But as time passed his desire for more blinded him and his greed led to rampant corruption and unrest. Perhaps the greatest of Unlifso’s sins was his unchecked influence. His actions and words inspired others to behave in similar ways so they might benefit as he did. Even Endale fell prey to his persuasive character, and each time she acted with her corrupt heart to fill her greed, her mortal body paid the price. Unlifso’s voice became the inner voice of illness and Endale, without knowing it, suffered great injury.9