River God: The Horse Lords

by Diana Drakulich

  The line of men began to sway. And to move.

  Effortlessly picking up the beat, the men danced the unique Neuri version of kolo, four steps right, two forward, two back, down in a crouch, then up, kick out and repeat. A poignant voice rose to the rafters singing praises to God in a timeless celebration of life.

  “Tonight even the dead will dance!” Toxaris called out, raising her hands up toward the skulls of the dead kings hovering protectively over the roof.

  Ai da! Ai da!

  The energy was exhilarating – the women lining up parallel to the men, clapping to the beat. The men moving as one mind, one body now. Shoulders rolling, hips rocking, stepping lightly, precisely for such big men and with perfect timing.

  The swaying line of men paused. The Vukari women danced forward, arms gracefully raised overhead, fingers curved up, stepping and kicking right, then left.

  The men dropped arms and knelt as the women came dancing up. Each woman danced around a kneeling male who then arched into a deep back bend, shoulders and back undulating all the way down to touch the floor, then up.

  A tall, beautiful Neuri woman with long, flowing dark hair came dancing around Sava. He knelt into an undulating backbend.

  “This is how we please the Living God!” Toxaris called out. Head high she skipped gracefully forward, long wavy hair rippling down like black serpents from under her gold diadem.

  Hips rolling, arms weaving with serpentine grace, Queen Toxaris danced around Brata. As his friend arched into a kneeling backbend, Sava was struck by the wide smile on Brata’s face. It was the first time he had ever seen the Black Cloak smile.

  The Vukari men rising now, joining in a straight line, the women lining up opposite. The two lines merging, becoming one, joining in a circle. Hands clasped behind waists, dancing around the fire hearth singing.

  The circle separating into two serpentine lines again, the women clapping as the men danced.

  “Huh! Huh! Huh!” Grunting to the beat, the lead male stripped off a piece of clothing and twirled it in the air. The other men followed his lead. The women clapping, yipping and hooting encouragement.

  Then it was the women’s turn. Piece by sensuous piece, they all slowly stripped, twirling each piece to the beat, then tossing it aside.

  And so it went until everyone was shamelessly dancing free and nude, bodies shining with sweat. Breasts and phalluses swaying and shaking in rhythm. The heat and power of male energy merging with the female, charging the air with driving, intense magnetic energy.

  And no one wanted it to stop. The Vukari danced until the moon completed its circuit over the star-filled horizon.

  The women sang the refrain to an ancient song, clapping to the beat as the men’s line moved like a long writhing serpent. The male energy expanding, spiraling upward, merging with the female in a vibrant celebration of life.

  Coming from somewhere, Sava heard wolves howling, ululating in concert. He glanced upward, sensing the presence of those guardian kings whose skulls hovered over the Neuri royal house.

  Poignant voice trembled the rafters with song. But he did not understand its meaning. Maybe the words were so old they had lost their meaning.

  Or maybe the words never had any meaning, but were simply powerful intonations to express the Wolf People’s passionate love for life. For their unique consciousness and the joy of the dance.

  Lying on a soft warm pallet of sheepskins, Sava stared blindly at the vaulted ceiling. In that time between darkness and dawn known as the Hour of the Wolf when men died, babies were born and nightmares came unbidden, he was plagued with apprehension for Brata.

  The Neuri queen had made no secret of her interest in the Black Cloak. Given the powerful, controlling minds of the Vukari, he feared Brata might succumb to the queen’s spell. They say a man cannot escape his destiny, even on a galloping horse.

  Almost as if Brata was destined to be a sacrifice. How ironic that he had been saved once, only to fall into this trap.

  A wolf howled in the hills above the village. As if in answer a chill wind moaned, shuddering the rafters. It was cold up here at night in these highlands.

  At that moment a vast, ringing emptiness descended and it came to Sava. How hollow, how empty my life would be without Brata in it.

  Despite his silence, the Black Cloak’s very presence was more profound than words. His fathomless eyes, his exceptional sense of awareness. Brata always seemed to be there, hovering at Sava’s shoulder. Listening. Understanding. Experiencing everything along with him.

  A mere glance and they understood each other. From the moment Sava had first seen Brata as a bloody, near lifeless corpse, the man still projected an aura larger than life.

  After a time Sava’s mind turned to ponder the riddle of the sphinx on Holy Mountain. He fell asleep with the words echoing in his mind:

  I never was

  I am always to be

  No one has ever seen me

  No one ever will

  Yet I am the hope of all

  Who am I?

  Chapter 38 – Riddle of the Sphinx

  I stand before the Masters

  Who witnessed the Transformation

  Of the body of a man

  Into the body in Spirit.

  Who bore witness to the Resurrection…

  When He came forth from Death

  A Shining Thing –

  Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani, 1550 BC

  That night as Sava slept in the house of the wolf queen, Toxaris, he dreamed -

  He found himself standing by a clear, shallow running stream. In his hand he held succulent pink berries, the color of Sorsha’s lips. Sweet to eat. Alas, the berries slipped through his fingers and fell into the swift stream.

  The strong current pushed the berries along smooth, sun-dappled rocks on the stream bed. He ran along the bank trying to catch them, but the berries kept rolling away, deeper into the stream.

  Then a clear Voice rang out – Sava, the Voivode is waiting for you.

  The Voivode?

  He looked up but saw no one, only a tall white wall. The sun must be setting because a brilliant light reflected off the wall, blinding him. He could not see anyone standing there. But he detected a presence. Someone or something was there.

  Who are you? Are you a God?

  The Voice came from everywhere and nowhere -

  I count the grains of sand on the beach.

  I measure the water in the sea.

  I am the numbered days of your life.

  There are no tomorrows, only today.

  Blinking repeatedly, he tried to see where the Voice was coming from, but the brilliant white light reflecting off the wall blinded his vision.

  Sava opened his eyes at dawn to find himself staring into warm brown eyes. Brata was sitting next to his bed, watching over him, patiently waiting for him to awake. A deep rush of feeling for his friend squeezed the nomad’s heart. Then the images of his dream played back through his mind and he leapt up.

  “I think I have it - the answer to the riddle of the sphinx. Where is the queen?”

  The Black Cloak pointed outside toward the river that ran behind the house.

  Toxaris stood on the river bank surrounded by her people, her children, her dogs. The sun was just rising, clothed in glory as birds flew across the pink and gold-studded horizon. Facing the burning globe as it rose over green mountains and sparkling blue-green waters, the queen chanted a hymn of gratitude for the gift of Life.

  The rising sun lit sparks in her golden-green eyes when she turned to Sava and Brata. “I praise our Lord, All-Seeing Jivan for this new day.”

  Sava and Brata bowed, right palms to heart.

  “Noble Queen Toxaris,” Sava said, “I think I have the answer to the riddle of the sphinx. It came to me last night in a dream.”

  “Oh? Let us hear it then.”

  Sava first recited the riddle:

  I never was

  I am always to be


  No one has ever seen me

  No one ever will

  And yet I am the hope of all.

  Who am I?

  “My Queen, the answer is Tomorrow. Tomorrow never was, it lies always in the future. No one will ever see Tomorrow, because it is always yet to be. We always hope that Tomorrow will be better, that Tomorrow will bring the fulfillment of our dreams. But Tomorrow is only a vision and Yesterday is but a memory. It is Today that we must look to.”

  “Well done Sava. The Lord Jivan must have sent you that dream. Now you are free to climb the steps up Holy Mountain.”

  Sava bowed his head. “Thank you. I look forward it. Have the Neuri decided whether to attend the war council?”

  Toxaris nodded. “My people and I have had a meeting of our minds on this. But first, do you need to contact any other tribes before the council?”

  “Aye, one more tribe. From here we travel on to Agathyrsia. From there we will head back to Royal Skythia for the council.”

  “Good.Then here is our plan. I and a few of my closest nobles will accompany you. My sister will rule until my return. This plan will benefit us both, as we can give each other added protection and direction.”

  “Good. Though to be honest I am not sure of the way to Agathyrsia.”

  “Voivode Spartak can help with that. He will be coming with us.”

  The thought crossed Sava’s mind that Toxaris’ offer might have something to do with Brata. At least she is letting Brata leave Neuria. If the attraction between them grows and he decides to return with her to Neuria after the war council, then so be it.

  After Toxaris turned away, Sava pulled the Black Cloak aside.

  “What do you think Brata? The queen is coming with us. Do you aah…like her?”

  Pointing with his chin at the four skulls on posts over the Neuri royal house, Brata’s lips curved in a wry smile. He shook his head - Nay.

  “Come on Brata I know you like her. I see that glint in your eye, eh my friend? Tell the truth now.”

  Brata dropped his eyes and shook his head but a slight smile creased his lips.

  “Just be careful my friend. Don’t let Toxaris get into your mind. Or maybe she already has eh? Watch yourself - She could be a black widow. You might wake up one morning to find your head on a chopping block as your queen sings her praises to the `God of Life’, ey?” Sava batted his friend’s shoulder.

  But they both knew there was more than a grain of truth to his teasing. When Sava glanced over at the royal house, one of the skulls was staring at him and grinning.

  The next day a procession wound its way through the narrow mountain passes of Neuria. Toxaris had selected four men to accompany her; the Neuri sorcerer Vuk, Voivode Spartak, his brother Marat and Toxaris’ younger brother, Borna.

  Mounted on their massive black chargers, the Neuri led the way. Behind them Sava rode Zlatna. Brata was mounted on a spectacular black stallion called Pavahn - Wind. Toxaris had gifted the horse to Brata, saying that since the Fates had taken everything from him, the winds of his destiny must return it.

  Privately, Sava teased his friend – “Watch out, the wind djinn may be hiding in the details of the queen’s gift to you eh Brata?”

  But the Black Cloak only smiled and shook his head. Sava had also received a gift from Toxaris. In his saddle bag was a black and tan puppy, a Drakon dog sired by Silvan. Sava had secretly desired one of these dogs after observing Silvan, who emanated a uniquely majestic presence.

  The Neuri all had a spare horse tethered to their saddles. Brata had his bay horse to alternate with, so each horse had a day of rest from being ridden. That is except for Zlatna. Ranging to the side and then ahead and sometimes disappearing altogether then reappearing further down the trail ran Toxaris’ fleet black drakon dog, Silvan.

  It feels good to be on your back again my friend. Sava patted Zlatna’s shoulder and let his hips roll with the easy motion of the stallion’s supple back as they traveled.

  In time they came to the guardian sphinx at the base of the ancient steps up Holy Mountain. This was the moment Sava had been waiting for. Vaulting off Zlatna’s back he handed the reins off to Brata and approached the mysterious stone beings.

  The sphinx’ blind eyes stared through him. Silent. Questioning.

  Pressing palm over heart, Sava saluted the sphinx, then recited the ancient riddle. When he gave the answer - `Tomorrow’, the blind stone eyes seemed to close once in silent acquiescence.

  Standing at the base, the nomad’s eyes followed the steps spiraling up Holy Mountain until they disappeared into towering, hidden heights. He turned to Toxaris –

  “What hands cut and laid these steps into the side of this towering mountain? Who carved these marble statues?”

  When the queen shook her head, the ruby diadem in her headband flashed a beam of golden red sunlight. “Those steps were here when the Vukari came, long generations ago.” Her long black braid writhed down her back. Sinuous. Alive.

  Vuk waved his arm toward the mountaintop. “Everything was already here. The last Guardian said the Sons of Man built these steps before The Fall. But in the end it is all part of the Great Mystery.”

  Chapter 39 – Holy Mountain

  Climb the stone stairway

  More ancient than the Mind

  Can imagine –

  Epic of Gilgamesh 1500 BC

  A giant footprint, twice the size of Sava’s foot was deeply impressed into the base of the steps up Holy Mountain. The footprint was so deep, so distinct, so unique, it appeared to have been made by a real foot.

  Impossible. How many times would a foot have to step on that exact spot on the stone to make an impression that deep?

  And the answer came to him – Many have come this way and long before.

  “Who made this footprint?” Sava asked aloud.

  “Some say it was made by a Son of Man. But who knows?” Toxaris answered.

  “Put your foot in the print. Maybe it will awaken the sleeping giant in you.” Vuk smiled.

  Sava removed his boots so that his bare feet made contact with the stone. Touching three fingers of his right hand to forehead, then heart, he reverently bent and touched his fingers to the foundation slab at the base of steps.

  Hail Jivan All Seeing, God of Life - I invoke your aid. Open the door. Help me to understand the Great Mystery.

  Then, in a state of sincere mindfulness he placed his bare foot in the giant footprint.

  An overwhelming sensation of déjà vu shot through his consciousness. Suddenly everything looked utterly familiar. This place. These people. This moment. Stunned, he gazed around.

  I have… BEEN HERE before.

  And then Sava began to climb. Lifting one foot, then the next. For a time he had no thoughts. All he knew was the simple act of lifting his foot and placing it on the next step...

  But his senses were highly aware. His eyes hungrily absorbed the surface of each step. Each block of stone had a story to tell. Each step was uniquely granulated, cracked, pitted and lined. Each step was slightly hollowed in the center from ages of water, wind and unknown feet.

  The feet of those who had come this way and long before. Then a thunderbolt struck –

  I…KNOW these steps.

  I have been This Way before.

  I have found THE WAY again!

  Fireworks of sheer, brilliant energy surged through his body. A rushing river of unlimited vitality.

  He had connected with something, but he had no idea what. All he knew was that being allowed to climb these steps was a great privilege. And he wanted it never to end.

  At long last, without even knowing that he had been looking for it, he had found The Way again. As if his whole life, he had been stuck in a gigantic illusionary maze. Trapped in a prison with invisible bars. And he had never realized the bars were there. Until this moment.

  Now every movement - of lifting, of placing his foot on the next step - was an act of inspiration beyond words.

  I always
KNEW there was a Way!

  But if I always knew there was a WAY – Then how could I have forgotten about it all this time?

  Frustrated, his logical mind plumbed to its known depths, desperately seeking some fragment of memory about these steps, about The Way. But there was Nothing.

  Without doubt he had never been here before, in the mountains of far away Neuria. Yet he was just as sure that he had been here before. And this realization shook his world, his understanding of reality to its foundations.

  It makes no sense. How could I forget something so wonderful? All this time…I just - forgot. I forgot that there even IS a Way at all.

  As he climbed the ancient steps his vision absorbed the vivid green of trees and valleys, the dark golden brown of rocks, gorges and cliffs, the blueness of over-arching sky. And he swore to himself – This time I will remember the Way and I WILL come back.

  Then his logical mind abruptly stopped its wondering and questioning. For he had reached the top of Holy Mountain.

  Before his eyes stood a small, square temple of white stone. The lines of this temple were classic. Harmonious. Ageless.

  It had no markings or carvings of any kind to tell who had built it or when.

  As if it has always been.

  Standing there, drinking in the sight, Sava sensed something extraordinary. The temple seemed to be vibrating. The stone resonating, emanating some kind of imperceptible presence. As if suspended in light.

  Approaching on cats’ feet he entered the temple. Gazed around with bated breath. But it was empty. With nothing to worship. Not even an altar. Only beams of sunlight and shadow played across the bare stone floor.

  Then from out of nowhere, he was struck by a tremendous shock wave of recognition. A recognition so deep, so intense, so overpowering that the earth itself moved under his feet and he staggered.

  I have SEEN this temple before.

  More than seen. Much more. This phenomenal sense of recognition grew deeper, stronger until his known world cracked wide open.