by K Schultz
“The younger sibs were too young to comprehend that I was leaving forever. Tano wished me well. We had always been close, and though he did not share my curiosity, he always showed interest in what I discovered. Tano respected me, and I miss him. He gave me that staff as a farewell gift.” Rehaak pointed to the carved wooden staff standing near the doorway. “He said, ‘To defend yourself, wherever your wild heart leads you,’ as we said goodbye.
“I have not seen them since; a shameful admission to an Abrhaani. Family ties are sacred, and we believe those ties extend into the afterlife. I broke those bonds and brought shame to my house and myself when I abandoned my family. Much later, when I lived in Narragan, I whored and drank and wasted my time and my talents, which doubles my disgrace.
“Now I will tell you what set me on the hunt for knowledge. My first and most explicit childhood memory is a dream. Our family lived in a two-story house much larger than this house, with several rooms on the first floor. The upper level contained a large storage loft, and a stairway led up to it from a doorway in my bedroom.
“Although I am asleep, I dream I am awake. A light shines from under the storage-loft door, but this late at night the attic should be unoccupied. Someone forgot to extinguish the lamps, and I fear the lamps might either set the house afire or displease Father with the waste of lamp oil. I open the door to climb the stairs.
“At the top of the staircase is a dark and malevolent creature. It looks blurry because its nature, pure evil, absorbs light, and its gaze binds me like chains bind a man to a dungeon wall. I cannot escape or look away, though it will devour my soul. I open my mouth to scream, but no sound escapes, and I wait for the touch that will destroy me while I am trapped inside my unresponsive body.
“Although my body will not respond, I am still free to think. This magnifies the terror because I understand the danger, but I am powerless to prevent my destruction. My spirit groans in desperation, ‘God, save me.’ Notice I did not say, ‘gods, save me.’ When that cry erupts from my spirit, the creature of utter blackness and pure evil dissolves like mist, and I awake, shaken, and screaming in terror.
“I had the same nightmare for many 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 decreased the fear, but the terror never lessened. I knew I could call on God to save me, but I feared He might not arrive in time, or he might ignore my plea.
“My family, like yours, believed in many gods. I questioned them about a god, who had enough power to rescue me from such a terrible and potent evil. No one knew of him. Years passed, but I never stopped my search.”
“So you based your life on a childhood nightmare? I mean no offense, Rehaak, but it sounds foolish,” the boy said.
“It sounds foolish now, but please hear the end of the tale before you judge it.
“I searched libraries in towns near home first and found references to the Creator in the most ancient texts, but newer writings contained no hint of this Creator.
“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, written near the time of Aarda’s creation.
“I also found references to beings called the Aethera and Nethera, beings of great power. The Aethera helped us, but the Nethera caused disasters. People attempted to placate the Nethera with offerings to appease their anger. Those offerings led to present-day Abrhaani and Eniila religions.”
“Ah, now I understand why you asked me about the gods,” Laakea said. “These Nethera, are they the gods we worship now?”
“Correct, but it grows late, and we should start supper. We can continue our talk later.”
Theology Lesson
After a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast of eggs and dry-cured sausages, Laakea said, “You mentioned that you eat meat, unlike all the Abrhaani I have known. Is that because of your belief in the one God?”
“Yes, that is true. My belief that there is only one God allows me to eat everything He provides without limits or scruples. Others of my species feel the need to limit themselves to vegetables or placate the spirits of the animals they would kill for food.”
Laakea asked, “Can you explain why you believe in only one god, the Creator, besides what your books tell you?”
“Your question displays your thirst for knowledge and your open mind. Learning begins when you ask questions, but remember, your queries sometimes predetermine the answer.”
Laakea, puzzled by Rehaak’s statement, bit the side of his lower lip and raised one eyebrow but kept silent and waited for Rehaak to continue.
“If you ask the wrong question or don’t dig deep enough, you will learn only part of what you must know and miss the rest. The fullness of knowledge will escape you. For example, to answer your query, we must ask, what are godhood’s essential qualities?”
Laakea slapped the tabletop with his hand and bounced in his seat. “That’s easy!”
“Then answer the question, wise youth.”
“A god must possess enough power to make everything he or she desires come to pass.”
“You discerned power has two aspects, and I agree. Strength is important, but the will controlling and directing it is just as important. Ponder this for a moment. Power and control are divine attributes, but do they make one a god?”
Laakea meditated a long while before Rehaak broke the silence.
“I cannot imagine a powerless god, but power and control are not always godlike. If that were true, then the kings of Aarda would be gods because they rule and exert their wills over their kingdoms, but their power lasts for only one lifetime. Aelfric, your father, controlled your life in the beginning. Was he a god?”
“No, he’s a man. I used to...never mind. Pa’s power had limits; even kings only exert power and control inside their own kingdoms, so their power is limited, and when they die, their power ends. So a god must retain unlimited power forever.”
“Good answer. Unlimited power is beyond the reach of created beings who live and die. Their influence ceases when they expire, so they are not gods because their control ends with their deaths.”
“So is long life the key to godhood?”
“In a way. A true god has limitless power but without a beginning or an end. Eternal existence is the only proof of divinity.”
“The only proof?” asked Laakea.
“To be divine, one must be uncreated and immortal. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
“I understand the word immortal. It means living forever and never dying, but doesn’t uncreated mean they don’t exist?”
“You misunderstand my meaning. Uncreated means a being who has always existed. A being without a creator, no starting point or maker, and no ending point or destroyer. God must be eternal, all-powerful, creative, and uncreated.”
“It’s too much to consider, and it makes my head hurt.”
“Yes, it makes mine hurt too, and I spent years of study to arrive at my conclusions. It would be wrong for me to expect anyone else to get there faster.”
“If you’re right, we should never call created beings gods, nor should we worship them.”
“True.”
“I have another question. The Aethera and the Nethera...are they created beings, or are they gods?”
“There can be only one uncaused cause, one creator of creation. It makes sense because if there were many gods, they would tear the cosmos apart by their competing wills and motives. Chaos and disorder would result from their actions, but we live in a well-ordered universe. Life has laws, and everything from the smallest insect to the stars in the sky follows those rules.
“Life’s interdependent complexity and diversity makes me believe in one all-powerful God who created everything by His power and sustains everything by His will. For example,
bees cannot exist without flowers, and flowers cannot exist without bees to pollinate them. An oversimplification, but they could not develop alone since one must have the other to exist.”
Laakea shook his head sharply, raised his eyebrows, and turned his palms upward. “I understood part of what you said, but if someone created both the Nethera and Aethera, they’re not gods! The one who created them is God.”
“That is my claim.”
“If their lives began, their lives might end, just like ours. Can we destroy the Nethera?”
“You discerned a truth I missed, my young friend. I never considered it, but you raised a good question, one which needs more research.
“Records say the Aethera help mankind, but the Nethera cause suffering. If men destroyed the Nethera, it would free humanity from their attacks. If humankind, as weak as we are, by comparison, could terminate the Nethera, one might ask why the Aethera do not blot them out of existence. One might also ask why the Creator has not done so or why He created them in the first place since the Nethera make war on creation. Why does the Creator allow them to continue their destructive actions?”
“If you ask so many questions, don’t you risk going mad if you can’t find the answers?”
“People in Narragan will tell you I am mad, and they also say I am a heretic. Neither the Aethera nor the Nethera appear active in recent records. Your queries make me wonder, are they gone, or do they no longer interfere, or do they just conceal their involvement?” Rehaak paused and palmed his forehead.
“Perhaps we no longer perceive spiritual activity because we have grown too dull or we lost too much knowledge in the wars. We lost an entire race, the Sokai. I have no answers yet, and your questions gave me more of my own. Madness or enlightenment awaits both of us, a frightening thought.”
“Where can we find the answers you seek, Rehaak?”
“In Narragan’s Scriptorium, but I am forbidden to return on pain of death. I hope the Creator shows us another way.” Rehaak reflected for a moment. “Since you said ‘we’ must find answers, I assume you wish to take part in this quest?”
“I do. My father often told me a man needs a purpose and must dedicate his life to something larger than himself. It may be my purpose to help you. I can’t read, but I can work hard, and my father trained me as a warrior. Those skills may be useful in your quest. Why else has fate brought us together?”
“Not fate, young sir. I now understand why my friend Isil told me the Creator is at work, but his purposes remain mysterious.”
“So what next, Rehaak?”
“We continue as we are until the Creator reveals the next step. Isil can discern the Creator’s intentions far better than I can, but she won’t return for many days.”
Laakea changed the subject. “Do you have a bow?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“I’d be happier if I could contribute more food, and with a bow, I could hunt to supply meat. I can make a bow with the proper wood. Besides, a bow is a great weapon to take on our quest.”
“Wood we have aplenty, but do you need special wood?”
“Sedar is ideal. It has thin, flat needles. It must be free of knots, and I’d need a bowstring, iron arrowheads, and feathers for fletching.”
Rehaak interrupted. “I know the tree you mean, but we call it by another name. We can find the rest of the supplies you need here or nearby, except for the iron arrowheads.”
“I’ll start at once,” the boy said. “A flat bow is easiest to make if we locate seasoned wood.”
“Wonderful. You provide me with good company and evaluate my ideas and insights, and you have useful skills. Trust has its own unique rewards.”
Laakea busied himself with his project, and though he had still not shared why he left home, he was far happier. Rehaak had given him a place to belong, exciting plans, and fresh ideas and concepts to ponder. But the Blood Debt he owed his father cast a shadow over his future, staining his new happiness with dread.
Laakea Shares
The days sped by while Laakea shaped and sanded the bow. He split and sanded wood from a straight-grained block for arrows, cut raven feathers for the vanes, and carved bone into nocks. Once Laakea finished carving the nocks, he mounted them to the shafts with hide glue. Fibers for the bowstring came from the tall grass at the forest’s edge.
Trust deepened between Rehaak and Laakea while they worked, laughed, and bantered together. With the bow finished, Laakea sent arrow after arrow thumping and quivering a hand’s breadth apart into a straw-stuffed target. In his skilled hands, despite only bone arrowheads on the shafts, Laakea brought down a deer, which added venison to their diet.
There were no arrowheads in New Hope, so Rehaak suggested they travel to Dun Dale. Laakea brooded and grew quiet whenever Rehaak mentioned Dun Dale, so Rehaak delayed the journey. Although Rehaak found a trip to Dun Dale tiresome because of the extra distance, supplies ran low, and he could no longer delay it.
“We have more work to do before we leave for Dun Dale today. If you help me stack the wood, I will gather my medicines and bundle my herbs after that’s done. We can leave after lunch.”
Laakea, shoulders slumped and head down, nodded and shuffled toward the woodpile.
Rehaak followed him, grabbed him by the shoulder, and turned him around. “Is there something wrong, young man?”
Laakea, eyes fixed on the dirt path, scuffed rocks loose from the soil with the toe of his boot. He looked up and opened his mouth a few times but remained silent.
“Keep silent if you must.” Rehaak turned to leave.
“No, I want to tell...but I...I don’t want you to drive me away.”
“Laakea, you think you did something horrible, is that it?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And you think if I know your secret, whatever it is, I will ask you to leave?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever wondered why I live here alone?”
“No, why is that an issue?”
“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. Since I have just begun to make things right with the Creator, I will not add another sin to my debts.” Rehaak sat on a block of wood, folded his arms across his chest, and waited for Laakea’s explanation.
Laakea put his head down, his lips tight, pulled up another block and said, “I can’t go to Dun Dale because the Elders have banned me from the village. And there are no arrowheads in New Hope or Dun Dale unless Pa is there.”
“Forgive my thick skull, but how is that traumatic? We can skip going to Dun Dale. We’ll trade with your father in New Hope instead if he is there. I don’t see the problem.” Rehaak, waited for Laakea to resume his story.
Laakea drew a deep breath and began again. “I’ve cursed and dishonored my father,” he blurted. “It’s a serious offense, a Blood Debt. Pa can collect the debt whenever he chooses, and anyone who interferes risks death.”
“Forgive my interruption, but by ‘collect the debt,’ do you mean your father would kill you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s barbaric!”
“It’s an Eniila law. The Eniila value honor above all, and if one man dishonors another, the injured party must exact vengeance for the slight or else lose face. The Eniila administer justice through trial by combat, because the gods judge the case through battle.” Laakea paused for a moment before he added, “I did far more than dishonor my father. I cursed him to his face. To fulfill the requirements of justice, I believe we must battle to the death.”
“Now I understand why the Eniila always fight,” 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, or New Hope, so his chances of seeing you are remote.”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, what exactly is the problem?”
“Abrhaani people don’t use b
ows or edged weapons, so Father won’t have brought arrowheads. We must trade with him at home.”
“I could go alone. Aelfric need not know you are alive. It has been many tendays since you left home, so he may think you have perished.”
“If I don’t go with you, I am a coward, but if I am with you, we might risk your life too.”
“I can trade with him at home. When I meet your father—”
“Even if you reach the forge, you’ll find Father very...” Laakea struggled for a diplomatic word, “dour since my mother’s death. He will want to know why an Abrhaani wants arrowheads. How will you explain your need for them without him suspecting I am with you?”
“I will risk it, and if no arrowheads are in Dun Dale, as you suspect, 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 send them to the Laughing Lark Inn. I can trust the innkeeper at the Laughing Lark in New Hope to keep my identity secret. Does that quell your fears?”
“If you are certain you can trust the innkeeper, I suppose we can try,” Laakea said.
Rehaak packed his potions in his rucksack and left after the midday meal. When he neared Beren’s Ford, the halfway point between his cabin and New Hope, screams from the flour mill at the ford made him cringe, and his heart leaped into his throat.
At the Mill
The miller’s family and four children were more familiar with Rehaak than his other neighbors. They sought his aid often because of childhood illnesses and accidents, and he usually stopped as he passed by, but Rehaak had planned to skip his usual routine today. The water-driven gears and pulleys inside the mill made it a hazardous playground for rambunctious youngsters. The children should have been outside, but he heard nothing but an ominous stillness.
Before he reached the edge of the clearing, children’s voices shredded the silence. Not the usual sounds of children at play but screams of genuine terror. Rehaak sprinted down the trail, but by the time he reached the mill yard, it stood empty and quiet once more. The ominous silence intensified his apprehension.