The Heretic's Song (The Song's Of Aarda Book 1)

by K Schultz

  “I had the same dream many times over the next few years, and each time I cried out to the nameless God, the dark being vanished, and I awoke. Over the years it became easier to respond when the dream took hold. I wish I could tell you knowledge caused the fear to decrease, but the terror never lessened. In spite of knowing I needed to call on God to save me, I feared He might not arrive in time to rescue me.”

  “My family, like your parents, believed in many gods. I questioned them about a God who had enough power to rescue me from such a dire and potent evil. No one knew about Him. Years passed, but I never stopped searching.”

  “So you based your life on a childhood nightmare? I mean no offense Rehaak, but that sounds foolish,” the boy said.

  “It sounds foolish, but hear the end of the tale before judging it.”

  “I went to libraries in towns near my home first, and found references to one god, The Creator, in the most ancient texts available. Newer records contained no hint of Him.”

  “I searched farther and farther from my home and found references to The Chronicles of Aarda, or The Aetheriad, and a god, called The Faithful One, or The Creator. The Aetheriad is the oldest known book, dating to Aarda’s creation.”

  “I also found references to beings called Aethera and Nethera. The stories mentioned them as beings of great power, the Aethera helped humankind but the Nethera caused disaster. People attempted to placate the Nethera by offerings that appeased their anger. Those offerings are the beginning of present Abrhaani and Eniila religion.”

  “Ah, now I understand why you asked me about the gods,” Laakea exclaimed. “You think these Nethera, are the gods we worship now?”

  “Learning has begun since you ask questions,” Rehaak smiled. “Knowledge begins with the questions we ask, but remember the question sometimes predetermines the answer.”

  Laakea looked puzzled, but said nothing.

  “If you ask the wrong question, or not enough questions, you will learn a part of what you must know and miss the rest. The fullness of knowledge will escape you. For example, to answer your enquiry we must ask a further question. It is this: What qualities demonstrate divinity?”

  “That’s easy!” Laakea answered.

  “Then answer , wise youth,” Rehaak smiled.

  “Power. A god has enough power to make everything they wish happen as they wish it.”

  “You have discerned power is composed of two parts and I agree with you. Power, or strength is important but the determination that controls and directs that power is equally important.”

  Ponder this for a moment. No doubt power and control are godlike attributes but does power and influence make one a god?

  Laakea meditated a long while before Rehaak spoke.

  “I cannot imagine a powerless god, but having power, and control is not always godlike. If that were true, then the kings of Aarda are gods, because they rule and exert their wills over their kingdoms. They are powerful for only one lifetime. Aelfric, as a father, controlled your life in the beginning. Was he a god?”

  “No, he’s a man — I used to— never mind. His power was limited. Wait, every king’s power is restricted to his own kingdom so it is also limited. So a true god must have unlimited power.”

  “Good response, but can created beings have unlimited power. Created beings live and die, their power ceases when they die, so they are not gods, because their control ends with their deaths. The perishable nature of created beings is a clue to the divine nature.”

  “Are you saying longevity is the key to godhood?”

  “In a way. Power and will, the attributes we mentioned, comprise true divinity. A true god has those qualities, but without limit, without beginning, and without end. That is the one thing that proves divinity.”

  “The one thing?” asked Laakea.

  “To be divine one must be uncreated and immortal.”

  “Uncreated? Does that mean ‘doesn’t exist’?”

  “You misunderstand, uncreated, means without precedent, without beginning or end. A true God has always existed, has no Creator, or progenitor. A true God is eternal, everlasting, without a beginning and without an end. A true God is, was, and always will be, no starting point or maker, and no ending point or destroyer. God is eternal, all-powerful; creative, and yet uncreated.”

  “That’s too much to consider. It makes my head hurt.”

  “Yes, it makes mine hurt too, and I have spent years of study. It would be wrong for me to expect anyone else to get there faster.”

  “If you’re right,” said the boy. “No created beings should be called god.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So. The Aethera and the Nethera — are they created beings or are they gods?”

  “Their numbers show they are created beings. To my mind, there can be only one uncaused cause, one Creator of creation. It makes sense because if there were many gods, they would tear creation apart by their competing wills and motives. Chaos and disorder would result from their actions, but we live in an orderly universe.”

  “I have read accounts of battles between Aethera on one side and Nethera on the other. If a greater force did not sustain Aarda through the conflict, Aarda and the universe could not continue. The only sensible conclusion is one all-powerful god creates everything by its creative power and sustains everything by its will.”

  “So if the Nethera and Aethera are created beings, they’re not gods!”

  “That is my assumption.”

  “What begins can end. Can the Nethera be destroyed then?”

  “If they are created, the logical conclusion is they can be destroyed. You may have discerned a truth I missed, my young friend. I never gave it much consideration, but you raised a good question, one that begs more research.”

  Rehaak continued, “Records say the Aethera help mankind, but the Nethera cause suffering. If man could destroy the Nethera, then it might be possible to free mankind from their attacks. If humankind, as weak as we are, by comparison to the Nethera, can destroy them, one might ask, why the Aethera do not destroy them. One might also ask why The Creator has not done so. Why did He create them in the first place, since they war with the rest of creation? Why does he allow them to continue their destructive actions?”

  “You ask so many questions Rehaak. Don’t you risk going mad?”

  “People in Narragansett will tell you I am already mad and a heretic, but I must continue searching.”

  “Neither the Aethera nor the Nethera are active in recent records, but your queries cause me to ask why. Are they gone from Aarda or just from our knowledge of them? Are they no longer working in the affairs of men, or are they hiding their involvement?” he paused for a second.

  “A third possibility exists. We may have grown too dull to perceive their actions. The wars caused the loss of much knowledge. We even lost an entire race, the Sokai. It is possible we no longer perceive spiritual activity. You ask, but I have no answers yet. Your questions have given me more of my own. Madness and learning have perhaps begun for both of us.”

  “Where can we find answers to these questions Rehaak?”

  “I found clues in the Scriptorium, in Narragansett, but I am forbidden to return on pain of death,” he said. “I hope we can find other ways, as yet unknown, which The Creator might show us.”

  Rehaak reflected for a moment. “Since you said ‘we’ must find answers, I assume you wish to participate in this quest?”

  “I suppose I do,” said the boy. My father often said, ‘A man needs a purpose. A man must dedicate his life to something larger than his own desires.’ It may be my purpose to help you. I can’t read, but I can work hard and my father trained me as a fighting man. Those skills may be of use to you. Why else has fate brought us together?”

  “Not fate young sir, I now understand what my friend Isil has said. The hand of The Creator is working, but his purposes remain a mystery.”

  “So what next Rehaak?”

  “We continue as
we are until The Creator reveals more. Isil is better at discerning The Creator’s intentions, but it will be many days until she returns.”

  “Do you have a bow to hunt with?” said Laakea, changing the subject.

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “I’d be happier if I could contribute more to my upkeep. If you had a bow, I could hunt to supply us with meat. With the right wood I can make one.”

  “Wood we have aplenty young sir, but what kind do you need?”

  “Odom wood’s ideal, it must be free of knots and I’d need strong fibers for a bow string, steel arrowheads, and feathers for fletching.”

  “I think we can find most of what you need here or nearby, except for the steel arrowheads,” Rehaak interrupted.

  “I’ll start immediately,” the boy said. “A flat bow is the fastest to make, if the wood is seasoned.”

  It was good to see Laakea brighten, taking a vigorous interest in something. Rehaak found that he liked the industrious lad. Unless things changed, he was certain they would get along well. Laakea was good company and someone to share his ideas and insights. Rehaak felt lighter since confessing his shame to the boy. Trust had its own unique rewards.

  They spent the day collecting materials for the bow and the arrow shafts. Laakea was busy with his project, though he had still not shared why he left home, he was far happier. Rehaak had given him a place to belong, plans that excited him, new ideas and concepts to ponder. Those things made Laakea’s problems, appear less daunting.

  Chapter 14

  The days sped by, as Laakea shaped and sanded the bow. He split and sanded wood from a straight grained block for arrows, split raven feathers for the vanes, carved bone into nocks and mounted the nocks to the shafts with hide glue. Fibers for the bowstring came from the tall grass at the edge of the forest.

  Over several tendays, a deeper level of trust grew between Rehaak and Laakea as they worked, laughed and bantered together. With the bow completed, Laakea brooded and grew quiet while he practiced archery with sharpened bone arrowheads on the arrows. Laakea was quick and accurate with the weapon. Even with bone tips, the bow was a formidable armament in his skilled hands.

  Rehaak assumed they needed to trade for steel arrowheads in Dun Dale, since there were no arrowheads available in New Hope. Rehaak delayed as long as possible. He sensed Laakea found going to Dun Dale difficult, but supplies ran low and Rehaak could no longer delay the trip.

  “We have more work to do before we leave for Dun Dale today. If you stack the wood, I will gather my medicines and bundle my herbs so we can leave after lunch.”

  Laakea nodded and headed for the woodpile without speaking, but he looked morose. Laakea spoke only when necessary in the last two days.

  “Is there something wrong young man?” Rehaak asked.

  Laakea looked at Rehaak, his discomfort written large in his face and posture. He did not answer and Rehaak sensed Laakea wanted to unburden himself.

  “Keep silent if you must,” Rehaak said with compassion.

  “No, I want to tell — I — I don’t — I don’t want you to drive me away.”

  “Laakea, you think you did something horrible, is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think if I know your secret, whatever that is, I will ask you to leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever wondered why I live here alone?”

  “No, what’s that got to do with —?”

  “Because my boy, everyone has a history. Everyone has secrets, they would rather hide. My past keeps me here alone. If I reject you, I must reject myself, or be a hypocrite. I will not add that sin to my debts.”

  Rehaak sat on a block of wood and waited. Laakea pulled up another block and sat looking serious.

  “I can’t go to Dun Dale,” Laakea said. “There are no arrowheads in New Hope or Dun Dale unless father is there.”

  “Forgive my thick skull but how is that traumatic? We’ll trade with your father. I don’t understand,” Rehaak said.

  Rehaak waited, remembering his own history. Laakea’s struggle with his past mirrored Rehaak’s own.

  Laakea drew a deep breath and began again, “I’ve cursed and dishonored my father,” he blurted. That’s a serious offense, a Blood Debt. Father can collect it and anyone who interferes risks death.”

  “Forgive my interruption but by collecting, you mean your father would kill you?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s barbaric!”

  “It’s an Eniila custom. The Eniila value honor. If a man dishonors another man, the injured party must exact vengeance for the slight. The Eniila administer justice through trial by combat, because the god’s judge the case through battle.” Laakea paused for a moment before adding, “I did far more than impugn my father’s honor. I cursed him to his face. To fulfill the requirements of justice, we must battle to the death.”

  “Now I understand why the Eniila fight constantly,” Rehaak said. “So you don’t want to go because your father might kill you? From what you told me he seldom goes to the village, so his chances of seeing you are remote.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well what — exactly, is the problem?”

  “Abrhaani don’t use bows or edged weapons, so Father won’t have brought arrowheads. We must trade with him at home.”

  “I could go alone. He need not know you are alive. It has been many tendays, so he may think you have perished.”

  “I must go along, but if I’m with you, we risk your life.”

  “I can trade with him at home. Draw pictures of what you need, and when I meet your father —”

  “You’ll never find the forge Rehaak, and, the villagers can’t help you. Father is very,” Laakea struggled for the diplomatic word, “secretive.”

  “Then I will go alone. If no arrowheads are present, as you suspect, and your father is absent, I will return through New Hope and get supplies.”

  While I am in Dun Dale, I will leave instructions for your father to make arrowheads. He can deliver them on his next trip and I can collect them later. If he is present I will place the order and collect them on my next trip to Dun Dale.”

  “Alright, I suppose I can wait that long.”

  Rehaak gathered his supplies and left after the midday meal. Until he reached Beren’s Ford, the walk was uneventful.

  Chapter 15

  Rehaak’s route to Dun Dale passed by the mill. The Miller’s family with four children were more familiar to Rehaak than his other neighbors, often seeking his aid because of childhood illnesses, and accidents. The mill was a good rest stop but today Rehaak planned to skip his usual routine. As he approached the mill there was no one in sight. The children usually played outside the mill. Rehaak always heard the boisterous brood long before he saw them.

  The water driven gears and pulleys of the mill, made it far too dangerous inside for rambunctious youngsters. It was too early for supper, so the children should be outside playing.

  Everything looked too peaceful. Rehaak noticed the lack of birdsong and the wrenching stench of evil. As he grew closer to the mill, his sense of alarm intensified. As Rehaak called out hoping for a response, the Miller’s wife burst from the millhouse with three of her four children in tow.

  “God’s save us!” she shrieked. “Come and elp, my Gillam’s bin ‘tackd by summat.” She raced across the grass and the children followed close behind. “Ee’s in t’house. Come quick.”

  Rehaak sprinted into the stone millhouse that served as both a business and a dwelling. He never understood how they slept with the millwheel creaking and groaning day and night.

  Ee’s on t’bed sir,” she struggled to catch her breath. “Is t’ere ought yuh can do fer ‘im?”

  Rehaak walked to the bed where Gillam, her oldest lay. Once his eyes adjusted to the gloom inside the building he saw something human shaped lying on a cot.

  He ran his hands over the gray parchment of the boy’s skin to check for injuri
es, but flesh flaked away like ash, under his touch. Gillam’s condition was far beyond Rehaak’s ability to heal or even understand.

  The child was dead and the sense of evil, so intense Rehaak’s stomach revolted. He ran outside and vomited.

  After he cleaned up, he faced the sobbing woman as she stood staring at the bed, a look of absolute desolation in her eyes. Her three remaining children hugged her legs, seeking protection and comfort. A moment of terror had transformed their safe home and friendly world into a frightening and dangerous place.

  “It was too late madam,” he said. “Even if I came earlier, I doubt I could have helped him. This contagion is unknown and beyond my skills to cure.”

  At that answer, she and the younger children joined in a chorus of wailing. Rehaak fished Elam root sedative from his pack, and called them back into the millhouse, where he started making the infusion. While it was boiling, he wrapped the boy’s body in the bedclothes and carried it into the yard.

  The lightness of his burden surprised him. He had played a game of tag with the boy on his last trip to New Hope. Gillam was a stocky lad, built like his father, but now his bones had no mass, as light and hollow as a bird’s skeleton.

  He dug a shallow grave, no need to go deep, no scavengers would disturb this body. The burned out husk offered no more nourishment than a cinder and it crumbled into dust as Rehaak tucked it into the hole, covered it with sod and stones.

  When Rehaak returned to the house, Riata, the Miller’s wife, was preparing the evening meal as though nothing had changed. She was trying to make her world normal again, but nothing would be normal for her after seeing boisterous, exuberant Gillam turned to ash.

  By evening, Gael, the Miller returned home. Gael’s world collapsed, when his sobbing wife told the story of Gillam’s death. After a short bout of hysteria Rehaak managed to calm them enough to share their stories. Rehaak hoped Laakea was fine, but he needed to hear their story before returning home and inform Laakea of the incident.