River God: The Horse Lords

by Diana Drakulich

  His rational mind was blasted with the stunning realization: I am – THIS.

  Aye. He was an entity as immutable, as eternal, as harmonious as a temple of white stone.

  Suspended.

  Resonating in the Light.

  I have BEEN Here all along.

  I have Always Been HERE

  Waiting.

  Waiting to Come Back.

  Chapter 40 – The Lost Temple

  There falls upon you a divine fragrance

  Which breathes on you

  A refreshing influence

  As you mount the long steps…

  It will remain forever

  In your Memory –

  Lucien of Samosata, Assyrian rhetorician 125 AD

  Adjacent to the white temple, a terrace of silver gray stone reflected waves of luminous light. Everything in perfect order. Clean and serene. As if swept by unknown hands just moments ago.

  But there was no one.

  A road of white stone led from the terrace and the nomad followed it. The road ended at a long steep flight of steps that led down into a deep pit in the mountain.

  Moving with deliberate awareness, Sava descended the steps. At the bottom he found himself gazing up at walls of sheer rock towering overhead.

  The bottom of the pit was like another world. A strange silent world. No bird calls. No insects buzzing.

  Before him lay a pool of pure, clear water. The pool was fed by a strong stream that flowed out of a submerged cave. A strange misty blue haze ran through the current as it rushed out of the cave.

  The clear scintillating blue waters overflowed the pool and ran as a swift, shallow river some hundred feet before descending into another blue pool. The water in this pool was sucked into a second cave and disappeared into the mountainside.

  But this pool was different. The mouth of its cave was only partially submerged. The current here was very strong. Sava feared that if he stepped into this pool, the powerful current could suction him right down into the cave, never to be seen again.

  And so he stared at the blue pool, wondering where this mysterious river went in the heart of Holy Mountain.

  On impulse Sava picked up a large rock and heaved it into the cave’s black mouth. He heard an echoing splash as the rock struck water and sank down into darkest depths.

  But then something strange happened. The melodious echo did not die away. Instead the echo became more resonant. The sound evolved into a timeless, majestic gong vibrating endless waves of mystic, undulating sound from deep underground.

  As if far below, The God was making sublime music by striking massive stone stalactites with his great hammer.

  The echoes reverberated, undying, enthralling. Waves of sound vibrating the atmosphere, building to a crescendo. Sava was lost in wonder. Transported.

  How can this beautiful sound be coming from under the water?!

  Searching for a logical answer, his sharp eyes scanned the sheer rock walls of the deep pit. At the top, some 50 feet up, nothing moved, neither man nor animal.

  His ears told him that this mesmerizing carillon of sound was coming from the dark cave mouth. Entranced, he crouched down by the blue pool, listening as the scintillating echoes shimmered on, spellbinding.

  The Living God plays a harp of stone deep underground.

  Gradually the echoes from the cave mouth changed to singing. Reverent. Profound. Singing voices that filled his heart with awe.

  And he knew without doubt that at long last –

  THEY are coming.

  Chapter 41 – The Doors Will Open

  The Doors will finally open and

  We will see all the places

  Where our feet have trod

  Since the Dawn of Time –

  Egyptian Book of the Dead, Papyrus of Ani 1550 BC

  The vibrant, ringing Voices rising from the river cave’s mouth conveyed a deep, ecstatic sense of reverence. Of worship.

  The nomad could almost see Them now.

  Rising up out of clear mystic blue waters. Streaming forth in solemn procession – a flowing pageant of all those who have Been Here Before.

  A never ending cortege of ancient, profound joy rising to the surface. Coming to praise The God of the Living Spirit.

  Yah-hh Vay O-oohh

  Yah-hh Vay O-oohh

  Yah-hh Vay O-oohh

  They were coming, rising up from a river of pure, scintillating water flowing through mysterious places deep under the earth.

  Sava knew those Voices. Recognized them instantly, irrevocably and without doubt. And his soul rejoiced.

  At long - last I will Understand…

  The clear ringing sonance, the sublime tones of profound reverence were coming clearer, more audible. Yet the nomad’s logical mind still sought a more mundane explanation.

  Could the singers be approaching from above?

  Once more his eyes studied the sheer rock walls towering overhead. Nothing moved. He was alone. And yet he was not. Any moment now and They would rise up out of the depths. Stepping proudly forth, bearing gifts and singing praises to the Living God.

  Soon, very soon the God would give him a vision to pierce the veil covering his soul’s eyesight.

  I will understand what we all came here for…I will see behind the Opening Door…

  And then from out of nowhere a dark shadow passed over the surface of the blue pool. Over his mind. Flapped its black wings once.

  A loud sharp caw sounded right above his ear. Sava glanced up, scanning the blue sky.

  Nothing, not a bird or a cloud in the sky.

  That dark bird of ill fortune was gone as if it had never been. But the shadow had done its work. His concentration was broken. The Singing Voices were silent as if they had never been. Now he heard only the blood pulsing in his ears.

  Frustrated, Sava threw another large stone into the cave mouth. A splash, then silence. Not even a slight echo. He threw another rock and another and another. Nothing. He cursed, furious at having been blocked. Always, no matter how hard he tried, he was blocked.

  That dark ill-omened creature deliberately thwarted me! It broke my focus. The serpents don’t want men to know the Truth!

  What secrets, what mysteries were the Singing Voices coming to reveal? Who were they? Spirits of the Sons of Man? Ancestors? Gods?

  I was close, so close. A few more moments and I would have understood it all!

  And what did that dark shadow signify? A forewarning of my end? Death and devastation in the war to come?

  Overcome with emotion and frustration, Sava sank to his knees.

  Lord Jivan, you have parted the veil covering my soul’s eyesight. For this great gift I offer you my devotion. From this moment I renounce blood sacrifice forever. I beseech you My Lord, help my people. Do not let them be swept away by the coming storm.

  It was time to go. Sava knew his comrades must be getting impatient. As he descended the stone steps down Holy Mountain he asked himself again and again:

  I REMEMBER… these steps of stone. I remember The Way to Holy Mountain. It’s been right HERE all along. I remember the White Temple. I remember it ALL…

  But If I always knew The Way was Here, if I have BEEN HERE before – How could I have forgotten?

  And he realized that his memories were not complete. Part of his Mind was missing.

  That there is more. Much more. That bottomless wells of mysteries, of inscrutable wonders, of memories and energies lay hidden away. Forgotten places which have always been. Places of wonder which his thinking mind could not even imagine.

  Still deep in thought, Sava reached the bottom of the steps. His comrades had all remounted in anticipation of his arrival. The horses were arching their necks, shifting and stamping, ready to go.

  “Well Sava, how was it? Did Lord Jivan show you a vision?” Toxaris asked in her mellifluous voice.

  Sudden heat blurred Sava’s eyes. Warm tears began to roll, unbidden, down his face. Strangely he felt no embarrassment. How
can I express IT in words?

  He could not. Instead he walked up to Toxaris, took her foot in both hands and reverently kissed the tip of her boot. He wanted to kiss everyone’s boot. To thank all the people who had helped him get this far in Life.

  And he saw his companions, as if for the first time. No longer were the Neuri a blur of strangers. Toxaris, Vuk, Borna, Spartak and Marat - warriors who sat their black horses with the easy grace of ancient nobility.

  Sava’s enhanced vision drank in the essence of each individual: the emotions hidden in their eyes, the unique way each one carried himself, the courage, the pain, the disappointments, the hopes and dreams, the inner joy.

  And then his eyes fell on Brata, who sat Pahvahn like a primeval king, larger than life. The Black Cloak warrior perused him in turn, his rich earthen eyes, glimmering with the love of brotherhood.

  “You are all great!” Sava spread his arms, embracing them all. “I will never forget you!”

  He walked up to Zlatna. The stallion arched his neck, prancing softly, inviting Sava to leap on his back and to ride as he had never ridden in his life.

  The nomad pressed his face against the horse’s warm golden neck. Putting his nose to Zlatna’s velvety muzzle he exchanged deep breaths with this unique being, Horse, essence of musky sweet grass and earth. The best smell on this good green earth.

  Zlatna my Friend.

  Two bright dark eyes mounted by expressive tan eyebrows peered out of the stallion’s saddlebag.

  “Ahhh and here is my little friend, Sinjin!”

  Sava lifted the puppy out of the saddlebag and placed him on the ground, watching as he capered about, wagging and sniffing. Investigating this wondrous world.

  “Have you ever seen a more beautiful puppy? And here is Father Silvan. What a magnificent animal you are Silvan. So dignified!” Sava scratched and stroked the big dog’s s floppy ears and neck. “His eyes so bright. So alive, ey?” He exclaimed to the world in general.

  Sava’s eyes fell on the Neuri horses, seeing them as if for the first time. How their massive yet athletic bone structure and musculature shone through shimmering black hides. The pure nobility of their carriage.

  Sitting their prancing horses with fluid ease, the Neuri shot each other knowing looks. The massive blacks stamped and pawed, impatient to move. One of the blacks standing among the spare horses caught Sava’s eye. He was struck, amazed that he had not seen this animal before.

  Now THAT is the jewel in the crown.

  This Black Being looked directly into his eyes, studying him. The unknowable awareness of a sentient entity reflected in the animal’s luminous golden brown eyes.

  “Who is this?” Sava asked.

  “That is Soma.” Borna answered. “He is mine.”

  “Why aren’t you riding him?”

  “I am saving him.”

  Of course he is. I have been way over using Zlatna. It’s a miracle Zlatna has held up this long. Sava thought as his eyes traveled over Soma’s majestic frame.

  The Neuri stallion was taller than Zlatna, bigger boned, with large boxy feet. Soma arched his swan-like neck, luxurious black mane and tail rippling in the sunlight. A long thick forelock trailed over glimmering jewel-like eyes.

  Sava’s practiced eyes surveyed the Black’s conformation. Soma was not bred to be a long distance runner like Zlatna. He would not run a thousand miles in ten days. Soma was built to carry a large man up and down mountains, to be comfortable, balanced and agile in close quarters and intimidating in battle.

  In a cavalry charge Soma would mow down anything in front of him. The massive black would knock down smaller horses with his weight and superior _maneuverability. At that moment Sava decided he desperately needed Soma as the new bloodline for his Zlatna-bred mares.

  More than that, he felt an instant kinship with this Black Being. Then and there the nomad made up his mind. I will have Soma. Borna must have a price for him. I just have to find out what it is.

  “Sava, are you done yet?” Toxaris asked breaking his intense reverie.

  Lips curving in a heartfelt grin he shook his head. “I will never be done.”

  Lifting Sinjin, he clasped the soft fuzzy body to his breast, breathing in that good puppy smell. He set the puppy back in his saddlebag with his head peering out, then mounted Zlatna and settled so easy, so comfortable into the saddle.

  The group proceeded on its circuitous route down the mountainside. As they traveled, the nomad concentrated on memorizing every landmark, every twist and turn and intersection in the trail. Because this time I will REMEMBER The Way.

  “So you think you can find The Way back to God’s Holy Mountain Sava?” Toxaris called back over her shoulder.

  “Is it so hard to find The Way back?” He asked.

  “Only a few ever find it again. The Way is sacred, protected from the eyes of strangers. There it sits but most do not see it. They just pass it by.” She answered.

  Chapter 42 –Smoldering Attraction

  It is unbelievable with what

  Ardor both sexes give themselves

  Up to passion -

  Ammanianus Marcellinus, Res Getae

  As the traveling days passed, the magnetic attraction between Toxaris and the Black Cloak warrior smoldered. Brata found his eyes drawn inexorably to the Neuri queen. Riding behind her, he enjoyed watching her curvy, graceful backside as she rode, balanced so easy on her stallion.

  His eye followed the queen’s long, thick braid as it swayed - sinuous, hypnotic. Followed that black braid as it slithered down her spine, a living thing...

  Brata’s youth had been one of hard physical conditioning interspersed with raids and battles. Women were viewed as passing pleasures.

  When a warrior achieved enough wealth he was entitled to court a woman from a good family to marry and beget children. Brata had been at that point when before the priests sacrificed him in the Dark House and destroyed his life.

  But his attraction to Toxaris went far deeper than physical lust. Her mind, her presence, her very essence pierced deep into his dark, tortured psyche. The wolf queen’s repudiation of blood sacrifice had freed him from his intense guilt. The guilt of his refusal to do his duty and accompany Prince Kanxa into the Other World.

  Toxaris’ logic had slammed shut the door of his guilt. Brata realized that a shocking injustice had been inflicted on him. And this realization opened other doors - the primal need for justice and the demand for revenge.

  As a Black Cloak warrior Brata had been trained to plan cunning strategies and carry them out. Ruthlessly. That was thinking in his world. Now he was questioning the very foundations of Melanchaeni society.

  His mind kept playing back his last moments. His vision of a giant black viper with eyes of red hot coals as he lay bleeding to death on the altar.

  Gifted with boundless resilience, his body had nearly regained its former strength but with that came conflicting thoughts and turbulent emotions. A dark rage, a call for justice, for vengeance was steadily building in Brata’s heart.

  Toxaris’ condemnation of the ennerei as agents of vampir demons had struck his mind with the impact of a hammer blow on a molten sword. The Sword of Truth. A great wrong was done to me. Soon, I will wield the Sword of Atonement.

  At night as he lay gazing up at the stars, he had visions of killing Koldun, the priest who had cut his throat in the Dark House. Koldun thinks he has the god-given right to butcher men like animals, then walk away without a backward look?!

  Brata knew he could not single handedly destroy the Black Cloak ennerei with their entrenched blood sacrifice rituals, but a serious reckoning was due these arrogant `messengers of god’. Aye, blood sacrifice was part of the Black Cloak creed, but so was revenge.

  Toxaris had not only justified the value of Brata’s life, in his eyes she was the alluring oasis of peace, harmony and warm sensuality that he craved. But though he craved her embrace, he also feared it. He could not forget how severe the penalty when he had been
lured into a few brief spasms of lust with the priestess Ruzanna in the Dark House.

  And there was that Neuri custom of `King for a Year and a Day’ to consider.

  First and foremost Brata reminded himself, he was devoted to Sava, who had risked everything to save his life. My life was saved for a reason…I will help Sava. Back to Back. Always.

  And so passed the long days of riding under the sun on their way to Agathyrsia. Brata would feel golden-green eyes on him and glance over at Toxaris, only to have his groin speared by a heated, sensual hook. To which he responded with a sizzling stare of dark male regard. Brata was treading the sharp blade of desire for Toxaris while struggling with a deadly fear of intimacy.

  The Black Cloak’s aloof reticence made him even more enticing to the queen. Toxaris knew that he had suffered. Greatly. But he bore his inner pain with stoic nobility. There was a mystery about him which tantalized her curious Vukari mind.

  Toxaris’ intuition told her that Sava withheld vital information as to the conditions as to how he found the wounded Black Cloak. At the same time she valued Brata’s restraint. He was not a man to be used for a moment’s passion, nor was he so unduly impressed as to be seduced by her rank.

  And so the attraction between them surged like a massive mounting wave. When Toxaris flashed him that look - I want you – his beast instinctively responded. Blood running hot. Loins swelling. Earthborn eyes glowing, darkening, hungry with lust.

  Mutual desire began to melt the icy aloofness and distrust that imprisoned Brata’s heart. Still he held back.

  Thus Queen Toxaris’ calculated seduction progressed. An accidental brush of warm silky skin swept the Black Cloak’s veins with fire. Sparkling golden-green eyes flared an irresistible promise of pleasure. Wave after wave of pulsating pleasure.

  His walls, his defenses were crumbling, though Brata was not fully aware of it yet. He rationalized his intentions toward her by promising himself they would go their separate ways after the war council. She would return to Neuria. He owed a blood debt of honor to Sava and would stay by his side in Sauromatia.