Black Sea Gods: Chronicles of Fu Xi

by Braden, Brian

  The promontory stood in stark contrast against the snowcapped peak beyond. Like the wall, its blackness soaked up the sunlight and rivaled the mountain itself.

  The lines are too straight. The top is too flat. A chill ran down Aizarg’s spine.

  It wasn’t a rocky promontory, but a structure, an incomprehensibly immense black rectangle.

  Sarah pointed. “That is what you seek. Behold, the fortress of the Narim.”

  Aizarg slowly sank to one knee and ran a hand through his hair. “A mountain within a mountain!” He muttered. Now Aizarg realized the black wall didn’t protect Hur-ar’s eastern flank, it enclosed the realm of the Narim.

  Aizarg closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He suddenly felt like Levidi. He wanted to turn and run.

  Sarah knelt next to him and placed her arms around his shoulders. “What are you thinking?”

  “I cannot smell the sea.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  The words rushed out all at once, “This is all...too big. I want to pray for courage, but to what god? I want to shout, but who will listen?” Aizarg looked over his shoulder and motioned to the group below. “They are all looking to me to lead, but I am only a man. I don’t know if I can do this."

  Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder and they stared at the mountains in silence for several long moments.

  Sarah finally spoke. “I am small, too. I know what awaits us in Hur-ar, and I know I should be afraid. Setenay says I should be afraid. But I won’t be, because the last few days have been the happiest of my life. I found my family.

  “I have you. I have the others. I have a new mother and brothers I have yet to meet. I’ve only been given this breath and this moment to love. I will not corrupt it with fear.

  “So, please, Father, let us not say a prayer for tomorrow, it will only carry our fears to heaven. Those prayers are always answered with worry. Let us say a prayer for today, for those are lifted on wings of gratitude and will always be met with hope.”

  “You sound so much like my Atamoda!” Sarah’s hair reminded him of the snow on the mountains.

  “What would Atamoda say to you right now, if she were here?” Sarah put her hands on her thighs and leaned back. Her eyes twinkled.

  Aizarg looked back over his shoulder. The g’an stretched back to the west in an endless succession of rolling hills. He saw Okta, Levidi and Ood-i climbing up the hill behind them. Ghalen followed, carrying Setenay.

  The panic ebbed away. Aizarg smiled at his beloved daughter and reached out his hand.

  “She would say, ‘Take my hand and we will walk together, come what may.’”

  ***

  Ood-i dropped his packs and fell to his knees next to Sarah, panting for breath. “I...I...it is more beautiful than you described, Sarah.”

  Sarah patted his back.

  Levidi bent over against his spear. “Is this the end of the world?” he gasped.

  “No, it’s the beginning of mine.” Sarah stretched her arm out across the valley. “This is the Hur Valley and the Adyghe Mountains beyond. Aizarg and I should reach the city gates before nightfall.”

  Aizarg stood up and looked over his shoulder, where Okta gazed stoically across the valley. Behind Okta, Ghalen and Setenay were almost up the hill. If Ghalen struggled, he didn’t show it.

  Aizarg took a closer look at the well trampled grass and dirt on the hill top around them. Several stone circles filled with gray ashes lay about with piles of sticks, dried dung, and animal bones strewn near the fire circles.

  We can quickly start a fire. This is a much needed blessing.

  While the men gawked at the view, Sarah pulled Aizarg aside.

  Sarah only spoke loud enough to be heard over the wind. “We must cover our heads before we descend into the valley.”

  “Why?”

  “My people believe pure white hair among the young is a sign one has been touched by the gods. It can be taken as an omen for good or ill and will attract unwanted attention.”

  Aizarg chuckled. “I think we have been touched by the gods. But, yes, we will cover our heads. What of my beard?”

  She frowned. “A white beard is not as uncommon as white hair. Perhaps it will pass without too much scrutiny.” Sarah paused, as if thinking deeply. “We will need something to trade. The guards extract a toll for crossing the Kupar Bridge, and we have no gold...”

  An ear-splitting scream made them jump. Aizarg spun around to see Setenay thrashing in Ghalen’s arms. She screamed again, a soul-splitting sound. Setenay kicked and pushed against Ghalen like a child trying to get out of her father’s arms.

  “Setenay, what is wrong?” a shaken Ghalen asked as he gently put her down

  “Let go of me!” She pushed away with a bizarre mix of impatience and panic.

  Setenay ran to the edge of the eastern slope, jaw agape and hands clutching her wild, gray hair. She paced back and forth, transfixed on the mountains in disbelief.

  “No, no, no, no...” she chanted as tears welled and flooded the deep canyons in her cheeks.

  Sarah rushed to her side. “Setenay, what is it?” She placed a calming hand on the old woman’s shoulder, but Setenay flung it away and ran to Aizarg. She clutched his tunic and pulled his face down to hers.

  Even when he consoled fathers who had lost sons and mothers who had lost babies, Aizarg never witnessed such utter dejection, such abject horror. Setenay teetered on the edge of madness, if not already past the tipping point. She shot an arm toward the mountains as if accusing them of murder.

  “Do you see them? Do you see them? No, it cannot be!” she hissed into his face. “It cannot be!” Primal terror gushed from Setenay like blood from an gaping wound.

  Her terror infected the men. They looked at one another with grave uncertainty.

  Aizarg would have been less afraid if the mountains suddenly crumbled. “Calm down, old mother. It’s all right, but you have to tell us what’s wrong,” he said softly.

  “No!” she shrieked and ran back to the edge of the hill. She jabbed her finger at the mountains. “No! It isn’t all right!”

  Setenay doubled over, fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around her waist. She shrieked at the top of her lungs as if trying to vomit the fear from her soul. She pounded the earth with her frail, gnarled fists until they bled. Sarah fell down next to her and tried to console her, but Setenay would have none of it.

  “Help her, Uros!” Ghalen begged.

  “I...I do not know how,” Aizarg said helplessly.

  Setenay leaned back and raised her arms to the sky. “Blind me! Strike me deaf and dumb so that I may not see, so that I may not hear, so that I may not speak!” She released a long, terrible moan as if all those who ever died, who ever suffered, who ever knew pain and suffering, rose together in a chorus of hopelessness and despair from the pit of hell.

  Levidi covered his ears and closed his eyes.

  Then there was only the wind. Setenay hunched over, face down to the ground. Sarah sobbed next to her, slowly rubbing Setenay’s back. Aizarg knelt down next to her. The rest of the group bent on one knee behind them. They faced the mountains as if worshipping them. The dry wind whistled around them. No one spoke. Aizarg didn’t know what to say.

  “The mountains...” Setenay whispered into the earth.

  “What about the mountains?” Aizarg said.

  “You see them as they are. I see them as they will be. The tears of the dead are almost upon us.”

  Aizarg picked up his pack with one hand and lifted Sarah with the other.

  “You know my orders,” he shouted to the men. “Find Ba-lok! We will return as soon as we can.”

  Hand in hand, Aizarg and Sarah ran down the steep trail into the Hur Valley.

  ***

  “Wake up, Mother!” A small hand nudged her arm.

  Atamoda swatted the voice away and mumbled, “Bat-or, the sun isn’t up. Tell your father I’ll make breakfast in a moment.”

  “It
’s Kol-ok, Mother,” the voice came again. “The sun is up and Bat-or is on the dock.”

  Atmoda stirred. Kol-ok stood over her, grasping the crudely sharpened stick he called a spear.

  Within hours of Aizarg’s departure, the spear appeared in Kol-ok’s hands and never left. He even slept with it.

  He’s trying so hard to fill his father’s sandals, to be the son of the Uros.

  Unfortunately, that included being extra bossy to his little brother, resulting in the expected pushing, shoving and yelling. It never happened during Aizarg’s extended fishing trips, then Kol-ok never tried to be a man. Things were different now.

  Aizarg had been gone for much longer stretches of time, but always to places she knew about, like the western shoals or the deep marshes. Atamoda could visualize where he was, what he was doing and could go about her daily routines with a reasonable expectation he would return. Now, he was ‘someplace else.’ Uncertainty and fear plagued her every waking thought.

  She wanted to sleep more, to hide under her furs and pray time would pass quickly. Only her children and her duties as patesi-le gave her reasons to get up every morning. Atta had been there, too.

  Aizarg placed Atta in charge in his absence. The venerable old fisherman took to the role with gusto and seemed to grow younger with his new responsibilities. Every day he consulted with Atamoda, keeping her focused on her role as the village’s spiritual guide. He pestered her to make daily visits to each hut, especially those of Alaya and Ula, the wives of Levidi and Ood-i. Atta felt it important Atamoda keep a close eye on the village women and squash any corrosive, idle talk.

  “Keep them busy!” he said. Atamoda appreciated his wisdom. Atta also kept the men busy searching for the vanished fish in defiance of Setenay’s prophesy.

  “Fish or no fish, the men are better off on the water than in their huts,” Atta insisted. “We only have a few weeks of food left. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Atta’s wisdom and calm demeanor not only strengthened the villagers’ courage, but was a blessing to her family.

  Atta took Kol-ok with him as he scouted for fish with the other men.

  “He’s at that difficult age between boyhood and manhood, Atamoda,” Atta had told her in slow, confident tones. “He needs to be with the men, not fretting with the women. You tend to little Bat-or and the women. I will keep Kol-ok’s mind off his father.”

  Atamoda stretched again and sat up. She rubbed her eyes and focused on pale Kol-ok. His eyes darted nervously toward the hut’s curtained door. She heard Bat-or giggling outside. Every few seconds something slapped the water and his laughter resumed.

  The brazier still smoldered, but a chill seeping up from the floor overpowered it.

  “What is the matter?” she asked.

  He pointed outside. “The water is wrong.”

  Wrong?

  She looked back at the door where blue sky peeked around the curtain. She slept late again. Atamoda stood, threw the curtain aside and stepped onto the outer platform. She could barely contain her scream.

  The black water came up almost level with the dock, a full four feet higher than normal.

  Kol-ok held her hand. “The water was like this when we woke. Atta was supposed to come get me. We were going to look for shellfish, but he didn’t show up.” Kol-ok looked up at her. “The water is so cold! I was going to swim to Atta’s hut to look for him, but I can’t stand to get in.”

  Bat-or ran up and down the dock, giggling and slapping the water with a short stick. “Mommy, look! Funny fish!”

  Atamoda released Kol-ok’s hand and climbed down to the dock.

  “Has the water ever done this before, Mother?” Kol-ok followed her down.

  The water looked still at first, but as she looked closer, Atamoda saw the surface tug and crease around the dock’s pilings.

  She snatched Bat-or away from the edge. “Stay back! The water is swift.”

  Atamoda transfixed on the water. She knew of no lore of the Great Sea rising like this, even under a strong south wind when the waves were high. The flat and mirrored water moved with deep power. Atamoda lifted her head and looked out across the arun-ki.

  Everything looked disjointed and out of place, as if the world had shifted downward. Some docks were even partially underwater. People stood on their platforms. A few paddled to and fro in their boats, faces slack with disbelief. Across the water, she heard muted cries and sobs.

  Kol-ok sought out her hand once again.

  A branch with green leaves floated by with great speed and instantly gave her a sense of the current.

  The current comes from the shore. Atamoda’s stomach tightened and she slowly turned north. Her knees suddenly gave way and she slumped to the dock.

  The shore was gone. Trees and the highest marsh grasses poked above the surface, bent in the current.

  “The black tide comes from the land!” Atamoda could not believe her eyes.

  Shore camp! How many people were in shore camp last night?

  A loud bang startled her. A large chunk of dirty ice slid across the dock in front of her. Atamoda turned around as Xva’s boat slid alongside the dock with Atta standing up front.

  “Yes, it comes from the shore,” Atta grimly said as he stepped out of the boat dressed in his winter clothes, not his usual loincloth. “And it’s cold as winter’s breath.”

  “Atta!” Kol-ok shouted and rushed to hug the old man. “Where were you?”

  Bat-or pulled away from Atamoda and returned to the edge, happily pacing back and forth, slapping the water and giggling.

  “I’m sorry. Xva saw the water rising late last night and fetched me. We went to investigate.” He motioned to Xva, who sat in the boat and strained to hold onto the dock against the current.

  Atta continued. “The streams that spill into the marshes are swallowing the shore and invading the sea. Xva and I barely warned those in shore camp before it was overwhelmed. They are all safe in their huts now.”

  Atmoda exhaled with relief.

  “I would have woken you earlier, patesi-le, but we were very busy. Do you have any idea why this is happening? Is it Setenay’s prophesy?”

  Atamoda shook her head. “Perhaps.”

  Atta ran his tongue around his missing teeth and pointed to the chunk of ice. “These are floating everywhere. Farther east and west they are much bigger, like islands.”

  “If one of those should drift through the arun-ki, it would crush any hut in its path,” Xva said.

  Kol-ok looked up at Atta and then pointed to the shore. “Atta, Father is out there. Is he okay?”

  Atamoda’s stomach tightened.

  Atta looked sternly down his nose at Kol-ok and stroked his beard, as though the boy should have known better for asking such a foolish question.

  “Young man, we are Lo. We are born of water and will die upon the water.” He flicked the back of his hand over the flooded shore and pursed his face dismissively. “If this is the nature of the doom Setenay spoke of, then it is not our doom. And for that I am much relieved.” Suddenly, Atta released a jolly laugh. “If there is water where Aizarg is, he has probably built a boat and is sailing to the Narim and wondering what all the fuss is about. Perhaps it’s our job to save the Narim!” Atta laughed again. “Maybe the Great Mother is finally washing away those damn Scythians. This all might be a blessing.”

  Atta watched Bat-or happily slap the water. “Now, there are the makings of a great Lo man!” He bellowed.

  “Bat-or, I told you to get away from the water!” Atamoda shouted.

  Atta laughed. “He is fine, Atamoda. Little Bat-or knows he has nothing to fear from the water. We should be more like him.”

  We are Lo. We are of the water. Please, Great Mother, let Atta be right!

  “Patesi-le,” Atta continued. “It is still wise to be prepared. Everyone must be ready to take to their boats and rafts should the waters continue to rise.”

  “Yes.” Atamoda stood, feeling better about doing
something. “Kol-ok and I will load our raft. Atta, will you warn the rest of the village?”

  “Of course. I’m sure the water will recede as quickly as it rose. Kol-ok, take care of your mother and brother and use your paddles, not your poles.” He looked down into the water. “It might get too deep for poles.” Atta looked back at Atamoda. “If it gets too deep, tie your raft to the dock. This way you will not get swept to sea.”

  “Atta,” Bat-or grabbed his big, calloused hand. “Come see the funny fish!”

  “Why, certainly!” Atta opened his mouth in mock wonder and surprise. “I think I would be happy to see any fish right now, funny or sad.” Bat-or led him to the edge of the dock.

  “My, those are amazing fish!” Atta remarked as he considered the water with convincing seriousness. “I wish I could catch some of those.”

  Irritation flashed across Ba-tor’s little face. He frowned up at Atta. “No, over there!” He pointed to a different spot on the water from where Atta looked.

  Kol-ok rolled his eyes and whispered up to Atamoda. “He’s been doing that since dawn. He got mad at me when I wouldn’t play along.”

  Atamoda didn’t need to deal with another bout of petty arguments between her boys. “If you want to carry the spear of a man, act like a man. Bat-or is the child. Do you see Atta getting angry at Ba-tor?”

  “No, Mother.” Kol-ok sighed mechanically.

  “Oh, I see!” Atta stifled a laugh. “Yes, fine fish. Why don’t you try to catch one for supper?”

  “No, no!” Bat-or said with all seriousness and shook his head. “They aren’t for eating. They want to play. They asked me to go swimming.” He turned back and shouted to Atamoda.

  “Mommy, can I go swimming with the funny fishies? PLEASE?”

  “No! The water is too swift right now.”

  “Oww! No fair!” Bat-or stomped his foot and hurled his stick into the water.

  Atamoda absently watched the stick while she thought about what they needed to load onto the raft. It landed lightly with a small ripple, and then snapped underwater like a crumb snatched by a carp.