by Dan Davis
“You’re past time,” Zani said as she set off across the village.
“No I’m not,” Sif said. “Past time for what?”
“Your womb longs to be filled,” Zani said. “All men can see it.”
“All men are fools, you say.”
“So they are, too,” Zani replied. “They don’t have to be wise to know what a young woman needs, girl.”
She lurched with outstretched finger and thumb and Sif grabbed her mother’s wrist before she could touch her. “I’ll have none of your prodding now, mother,” she said. With surprise she realised that she had grown taller than Zani as she threw her arm aside.
Cackling to herself, Zani led on to the enormous building and then stopped outside the doorway. “You could be the spirit walker for our tribe or for any other. You could be the mother of hunters, mothers, and chiefs. And you will be those things but you must do more than that and you must go further.”
“Why will you not speak plainly?”
“It is all plain if you would but listen to what the spirits tell you. Your spirit if no other. Your path is already chosen, Sif, it always was. All you need do now is travel it.” She held out her hand to direct her through the doorway.
Taking a breath, Sif stepped inside the dim interior. It was a narrow chamber lit by oil lamps but the ceiling was high overhead. On the floor and on shelves lining the walls were stacked large baskets, sacks, and enormous pottery vessels all filled with grain, dried meat, dried fish, fresh and dried herbs, and hard fat and oil. Two initiates stood with spears in hand by another door that led into an inner room. They looked on but said nothing as she and her mother passed into the next chamber.
It was larger, with a door in the opposite wall that led to an even larger room beyond but this one was busy with a group of women around a small fire and a large pot and a slab of wood raised from the floor where they prepared an array of dried stalks, roots, seeds, and mushrooms. The smoke rose to gather in the ceiling overhead but still it made her cough as she entered and some of the women paused to glance up as they came in and one or two smiled before going back to work with their preparations.
All this she took in with a glance for her attention was taken at once by the woman who stood watching over them. She was as tall as Herkuhlos and like the acolytes dressed in a white robe but she had a dark beauty that took Sif’s breath away.
She dropped to her knees and her mother did the same beside her.
“You bring your daughter at last,” the goddess said.
“She slept long, goddess,” Zani said, her head still bowed. “But then so did your guest.”
“Their spirits are already twining about one another on their way to becoming bound,” the goddess said, her words making Sif’s heart pound in her chest. She knew the goddess was talking about her and Herkuhlos. “Rise, now, my children,” the goddess commanded.
Zani got to her feet and dragged Sif up with her. Shyly she looked up at the Goddess who stood before them while her acolytes worked.
“Welcome to my home, Sif.”
“Thank you for keeping my mother safe, goddess,” Sif managed.
“It is she who has kept me safe. To do that she had to abandon you quite suddenly but you were wise enough to find us and for that I am glad. I am glad also that you brought my kinsman safe to me. It is up to us now to see that he is healed.” She looked between them and then spoke to Zani. “She is a beauty. I see now why you have such pride for her.”
Zani grunted. “Grew from the seed of her father alone, that one.”
The Goddess took half a step toward Zani and looked down. “Your hard tongue does not fool me, child.”
Bowing her head, Zani muttered a reply. “No, mistress.”
Looking now to Sif her dark gaze penetrated deep within her. “Who do you serve?”
Surprised, Sif glanced at her mother and then at the floor. “The spirits, mistress. And you, I mean.”
“My acolytes here live in devotion to me and through their devotion they achieve their purity of the spirit and through purity their immortality. It is only through devotion to another that such purity can be achieved. Through this dedication, a woman finds the meaning of her own life, her joy, her fulfilment amongst the order of the universe.” She gestured at the initiates working in the room with them. “Through their actions in this world, each of my women strive always to become the living embodiment of the divine woman, the absolute and perfect woman. This perfect woman is the spirit that is in each of us and it is our being, our essence. Every woman is both mortal and divine but only through devotion can she ascend beyond the limitations of the body and the earth and touch the eternal with her being.” The goddess waved a hand lazily before her face. “These are mere words and I know that you understand all this.”
“Yes,” Sif said, for her mother had spoken of such things in many different ways since Sif was a child.
“This is true for all women across the span of the earth but not all women are devoted to me.” The goddess smiled at the thought. “Some devote their lives to the spirits and others will dedicate themselves to their children, pouring forth their existence in their dedication to the other. In their great wisdom, most women take this path. Others dedicate their spirits to a great man and through their union guide him toward greatness. Your mother has walked all of these paths one after another.”
Sif, confused, glanced at Zani. Who was the great man, Sif wondered. Not Sama?
“You want me to devote myself to you?” Sif asked.
The goddess tilted her head. “Is that what you wish?”
“No,” Sif replied, honestly. “You mean I get a choice”?
The goddess frowned a little at that. “None of us get to choose. You walk the right path or the wrong path.”
At a gesture, one of the acolytes poured the bubbling broth into a bowl and held it out to Sif. Hesitating for but a moment, she stepped forward and took it, the ceramic warming her hands. Green shoots floated atop the dark, steaming liquid.
“Take this through there. It is for him.”
“Who?”
The goddess smiled and Sif felt her cheeks colouring for of course the goddess had seen through her feigned attempt at casual ignorance.
“Do you know where strength comes from?” the goddess asked.
Sif thought of her paddling and was tempted to say it came from the muscles of the back but she knew a quip was not appropriate.
“From the spirits, goddess.”
“And why is that?”
Sif frowned, unsure of how to put such obvious knowledge into words that could be spoken aloud but then she realised the goddess had already said something like it. “The spirits guide us. Guide us to the correct path and when we walk our path then everything becomes easy. That is strength.”
The goddess smiled and nodded at the doorway. “He has forgotten this truth, Sif. If we are to be saved from destruction, he must be reminded. Go on through, now.”
Sif bowed her head and carrying the broth carefully she stepped through into the hall beyond.
30. Strength
After Nehalennia left him, still bound to one of the great pillars, he was alone with his thoughts and he burned with questions for her. They had spoken of his failures before she had gone, leaving him with words that he had not liked or understood.
You cannot understand while your spirit is broken. You must be healed.
I failed to fulfil my oath and I lost my friends and followers because I was not strong enough to win victory, that is the truth, he told himself. Because of my weakness I was not worthy of victory. What else is there to understand about my failures?
And if my spirit is broken there is good reason and nothing can heal failure but victory.
Later, her acolytes returned and he was surprised to see that they were not armed. Three of them crouched behind him and unbound his wrists.
“What is happening?” he asked them as they worked. “Is she coming back?”
<
br /> An old, thin acolyte came around and stood before him. Her hair was grey and dry and bound in a short braid. “The Mother invites you to stay here until you are healed,” she said.
“I feel fine,” he said as the tight rope was unwound from his wrists and he brought his hands around and rubbed the raw skin. “I am healed.”
“Nevertheless,” the acolyte said. “The Mother invites you to remain here for now.”
Herkuhlos stood and they retreated, holding the ropes as he looked down at them.
“What if I decide to leave anyway?” he asked them.
“The Mother invites you to wait here.”
“Invites or commands?”
“You must do as you will,” the old woman said and then left with the other acolytes, taking the ropes that had bound him with them.
Rubbing his wrists and stretching his aching muscles, Herkuhlos walked around rubbing his empty belly. He stood in front of the platform with the goddess’ seat and looked at it, the place of her authority over these followers.
Where was everyone else, he wondered. How had he been brought here and where was this place? If Ghebol had followed him to that Seal Man village, would Torkos’ warband follow him here, too?
“Lord,” Z’ta said from the doorway.
The young warrior supported S’tef the chief of the Seal People by his side and though both looked grim and tired they seemed as pleased to see him as he was to see them.
“So you both live,” Herkuhlos said as they approached. “That pleases me but I am sorry about your people. The ones who died. And your village. It was all destroyed because I came to you.”
“It was my doing, lord. I was a fool to think we had deceived them but they never found us before, even though we are so close to their lands and I thought we would be hidden. No, it was not your doing, lord, and it was only thanks to you that our chief survived.”
Herkuhlos appreciated his words but he knew they were wrong. “In truth, I don’t remember what happened at the end and I don’t know how I got away and I don’t even know where we are.”
Z’ta was surprised. “You fought ten or twenty warriors to save our chief, killing a man with every blow struck and moving like a storm from one to another and your arm had the power of a thunderbolt.” Stopping himself suddenly, he looked at the old man beside him. “You carried S’tef to the last boat and threw him inside. Though you were gravely wounded you managed to climb in. Sif helped you. And then we brought you across the sea to here.”
“So you saved me in turn.”
“I suppose so, lord.”
“Where is here, Z’ta?”
“This is the Temple of the Mother on her sacred island. Night and day we travelled, carried by wind and tide and current and a little paddling. The rest of the tribe crossed to another island where we have kin who will care for them while we brought you here. But rest assured that we are safe here, lord. The Heryos do not know boats.”
Herkuhlos smiled sadly at that. “My people ride horses and wagons as yours ride boats, that is true. But we have great rivers in the east, Z’ta, and my people know boats perfectly well. Not the sea, perhaps, but we should not make again the mistake of thinking ourselves safe.”
Z’ta nodded. “No, lord.”
“Where is your sister?” Herkuhlos blurted out and then cleared his throat. “I mean to say, is Sif well?”
“She is perfectly well, lord, and she is here with us on the island. But now she sleeps. This is the place where we were coming anyway, you see, to find our mother.”
“And was she here?”
“I met her this morning,” Z’ta said, smiling. “It has been so long but she is just as I remember her. Sharp fingers and a sharper tongue.”
“I am right glad to hear that you and your sister have found her.” He thought then of his own mother and the pain of her loss rose up in him before he forced it back down. “So now that you have found your mother will you return to your people?”
Z’ta frowned, seemed about to say something else but the old man at his side spoke over him in his guttural language. “S’tef wishes to thank you.”
“Thank me?”
Z’ta translated the chief’s words. “He is thanking you for saving his son’s life and for saving so many others. He says he never doubted your divinity after you cured him of his sickness but now he has seen it with his own eyes as you slayed his enemies as only a god could.”
“But I am the cause of his people’s deaths.”
S’tef scowled and chopped his hand in the air, first at Z’ta and then at Herkuhlos. “He will not accept either of us taking the blame upon ourselves. He says the spirits have sent the Heryos against his people and we are all caught in their power. When the spirits are appeased, then we will have peace and not before.”
“Tell him that the only way to stop Torkos is to kill him.”
“He says that when the spirits are appeased, then Torkos will die.”
“I don’t understand. How will the spirits be appeased?”
“He says only you can know that, lord.”
Herkuhlos was in no mood for the ramblings of an old Seal Man. “Well, I don’t know it. No, no, don’t say that to him, Z’ta.”
“If it’s help with the spirits you need, lord,” Z’ta said carefully. “You should speak to Sif. She understands their nature better than anyone, even our mother.”
“Then I will,” Herkuhlos replied, thinking of Sif and suddenly longing to see her face again.
The old chief said more. “He asks what you want from him now, lord.”
“Want from him? I don’t want anything from him. He can return to his people. In fact, he must do so for they will need him now and they will need you, too, Z’ta and so you must take this man away.” He looked at the doorway to where an acolyte in her long robe had appeared. “Yes?”
She spoke to Z’ta and S’tef.
“We will speak again, lord, but now we must go.” They both bowed and left as quickly as they could, the acolyte escorting them out.
“What is happening now, by Kolnos?” Herkuhlos said inwardly as he strode back toward the goddess’ seat. “What do they want me to do? Defeat Torkos by appeasing the spirits? But how do I do that? What spirits do they even mean?” He thought again of Sif and felt something stir in him. Not lust, although there was that, too, but some other yearning for her. An intense curiosity for her that aroused a desire to be in her company.
A padding sound turned him around and he found the great dog walking in, its heavy paws thudding softly as it walked, its tail up and glancing at Herkuhlos as it approached. Surely it weighed as much as a great warrior of the Heryos and its jaws could certainly kill a man with a single bite. Warily, Herkuhlos put out his hand and the great hound sniffed his hand intensely and then gave it a single lick.
Herkuhlos smiled and scratched the mighty beast behind the ear and its tail wagged. “You’re not such a terror, are you Aurochs.”
“He is named Kerdheros.” The goddess stood in the doorway watching them with a smile on her strange, dark, lovely face.
“That means a guardian,” he said, recognising the ancient sounds. “Guardian of the people?”
She nodded and came closer, standing beside Kerdheros. “He is my guardian and has been for a very long time. But I am the guardian of my people, as all gods and chiefs should be.”
Herkuhlos looked from the dog to his mistress. “Nehalennia, will you help me?”
He saw that his question had pleased her immensely but he did not quite understand why.
“I will help you in every way that I can.” She walked by him and sat upon her seat, Kerdheros following to sit at her feet with his chin on his forepaws. “What help do you require?”
Herkuhlos stood before her and searched for what to say. “I have so many questions that I don’t know where to begin.”
She spread her long arms. “Ask one of your questions.”
“Will you tell me about Torkos? You kne
w him and you knew Kolnos and my father and so surely you know what is happening here.”
Nehalennia tilted her head to one side as if a little disappointed that he had asked that question first of all. “Torkos is one of the enemies of our people. Long ago when the world was yet young, he and the others like him fought us and he lost that great war along with all his kin. Now he has come here to cause more strife and so this suffering will go on and on until he is defeated. I had despaired at his coming and I had prayed to the gods for help and now I find they have sent you.”
Herkuhlos was surprised to hear her say that she had prayed to the gods. Was she not a god herself? How can a god pray to the gods? But she said that the gods had sent him in response to her prayers. “Kolnos sent me.”
“Yes and for that I am glad. Kolnos was always wise and always keen to act and to risk much. Many of us are not so courageous and are content to merely be. Our great span of years seems to do that to all of us. Kolnos was wise to send you, who are so young.”
“But I have failed. I am not strong enough. Kolnos warned me that I would not be strong enough and said that I should have patience but I did not heed his warning. I see that now. I should have waited until I was stronger.”
“You would wait while Torkos extends his rule over the land and the people? You would wait while Torkos finds me and takes me as his prize? Once he has me then he will not let me go and I fear all my children will be destroyed soon after.”
He was stunned to hear her speak of being taken as if she were a woman snatched from her tents by warriors on a raid. “But you are a goddess and he is nothing but a yotunan.”
She was touched by his naivety. “Sadly, their strength in battle is equal to ours and of course I am no warrior.” Again she spread her arms to show her slender body before folding her hands in her lap. “Nor are my acolytes or indeed any of my children.”
“You mean the Seal People? But they do fight. I have seen them. They have courage.”
“My children are the best of mortals and my love for them is greater than you can know and yes they fight and even war amongst themselves but never like your people. My children live in a different world out here upon the seas and upon the shores. They have no defence against your people and I am saddened to admit that I can protect them no longer. Not against Torkos now that he has your people under his power.”