1.2 Under the stars, The Keeper of Gods

This is the ongoing tale of “The Keeper of Gods”. A fantasy novel. There is a link to the Prologue and other parts of the story at the end of this chapter if you would like to go back, as the story builds upon itself. Hope you enjoy!

The Keeper of Gods

by Ryan Delege

1. The Old Man’s Quest

1.2 Under the stars

“A palace, would you like to go see a palace?” The old woman asked airily. “I sell tickets, only three silver talons.”

Tannos was no older than thirty and two when the question was put to him, having only freshly moved to the northern countryside with Mirrannah, his new bride in tow.

“Palace? There’s a nobleman who likes to parade patrons about his halls is there?” Tannos had asked with a snicker. He would never forget the look the woman bore him at that; it had been sour, and the edge of her lip curled in disdain, yet Tannos believed the woman was unaffected by the note of impudence in his reply. Tannos hadn’t meant to snicker; he’d meant to simply sound droll, perhaps even witty, it was never his intention to offend the shopkeep. He’d remembered liking her from the instant they’d met. Her eyes, shadowed and wise, seemed to see right through him. As she spoke, her nearly toothless mouth worked over the words, her voice soft and sounding like ripe peaches being squished. For some unknown reason, he’d found that an oddly comical and endearing quality of the old crone.

“No, no Lord’s palace kind sir, it’s a Grallshtoomb, that’s the old tongue for a God’s palace if you don’t know, most southerners don’t I’d say.”

Tannos actually had heard the term before. He found it interesting that every region seemed to have its own name for the various temples and palaces that were scattered about the world, wholly abandoned by the Gods, and he often scribbled the different names down in his journals as he came across them, and sketch pictures of their likenesses if he could.

“It’s not a safe thing to be wandering around those types of places,” Tannos had pointed out. “There’s powerful magics still at play in those structures.”

“The sickness you speak of?” The shopkeep asked, she blew away a long, twisty gray straggle of hair from her face just then. “No, the tour don’t get close enough for the sickness to catch. You go by ferry and usually you stay on the ferry, you can see the palace from the water well enough, then they turn for home. Too dangerous to go to land, I mean, they’ll set ya there if you’re wishing, but for a hefty price, and they don’t go to land themselves ever, no. The sickness can set in after a few days if you go ashore, close as it is to the palace, but It seems you already know. Ah — And they say it’s haunted too, that palace, by a creature, or some creatures, I’m not sure on that bit.”

“Have you ever taken the tour yourself?” Tannos asked.

The shopkeeper nodded slowly, her stare never wavering from Tannos. “Yes, of course I have. Wouldn’t be much of a seller of tickets if I’d never taken the tour,” she said curtly. She paused so long that Tannos thought she had no more to say, then finally she continued, “It’s worth it, and I don’t say that just to make a sale. Even from afar, and even though the castle is old and unkempt, you’ve never seen anything like it, I swear to you. Its walls, its structures, its spires, it’s so intricate and the craftsmanship so unlike anything out there you almost don’t understand what it is you’re looking at. And as twilight falls, oh yes, as darkness gathers, all the windows light up by candlelight. Whoosh. Could only be magic, that part, and who doesn’t want to see a bit of magic, eh?”

Tannos gave her a smile. “How could I say no to that?” he asked with a chuckle, impressed by the woman’s description. “But, alas, it will have to be on my next visit to your town. I’m pressed to deliver goods to another village just now.” He paid the woman for two rolls of silk and left her shop promptly.

Tannos had never taken that tour. Had he ever planned to? He couldn’t remember. After all the years of not giving it a thought, it was strange that now, going there was almost all he could think about. It was beginning to occupy his mind like a rabid obsession, gnawing and festering. Yet, when Tannos left Mort’s homestead that early morning, after the breakfast they’d shared, he did not head to the small coastal village of Protto, where the old crone had kept her shop and sold tickets for the tour. Surely, she’d passed after so many years, but he hoped someone there could still boat him to that legendary palace to the north. Instead, he took the wide, well-worn trail southward, as it was never his plan to confront the monster Bozear unprepared.

The trail south led to Noabaan, a popular village that would be lively with trade and festivals this time of year, and surely it would have everything he needed; weapons, rope, horse and cart if he so chose to buy them, and of course, information. Yes, information was the most crucial part of any quest. Poison, they won’t have the poison you need, thought Tannos. The main ingredient to the concoction he’d have to brew wasn’t something shops and carters stocked regularly, if ever. Somewhat serendipitously, Tannos knew where to get the ingredient, and it was only slightly out of the way.

All day Tannos walked the familiar trail. The weather was fair and the world was green and lush. Tall pines ran the path and loomed over everything with their outstretched branches, their fresh pine scent rich upon the wind.

Tannos found himself enjoying the trek, always looking skyward, trying to spy which birds were out that day. And he was more than happy to stop and greet the other wayfarers he encountered from time to time. Mostly, they were families rolling up from their return trips from Noabaan, with their bulky, horse-drawn carts, plump with wooden crates, strapped down with crisscrossing bands of heavy, twisted rope. Most were all smiles and willing to give their accounts of Bozear when Tannos felt inclined to ask. Not many actually knew its name but all knew what it was when he described the menace that killed farm animals. As Tannos had suspected, almost all had been touched by its murdering hand at one point or another, or at least knew someone who had. And their stories were very much the same as his own tale; catching glimpses of the creature by night, finding their animals dead by morning, and never intercepting — fearing they themselves would be torn apart. It was good to hear that no farmfolk were ever harmed, just livestock. But, like Tannos, many had been attached to the dogs and sheep, horses and cattle that thrived on their farms, and the anger at having their companions and stock so indiscriminately butchered shone clear across their faces. Tannos never told his plan to slay the beast, but he thanked them kindly for taking the time to share, then went on his way.

That first night of his journey, Tannos rolled out a blanket and lit a fire atop a hill under the cloudless summer sky. The sister moons were out, Deema and Neema, two pale blue orbs with white and swirling twists of cloud that changed with the seasons. They were set amidst the innumerable stars, twinkling in fervor. Deema hovered in the east and Neema to the west. The two were known never to align, or even come close for that matter. The folklore was that Deema and Neema were but two children spatting. Most tales claimed it was a quarrel over a doll, but still, many held to the version where they fought over a shared lover.

Strangely, Tannos found himself smiling that night as he stared up at the two moons, all stowed up amongst the starry sky, as he ate a cooked rabbit he’d arrowed down earlier that morning. It was all so breathtakingly beautiful, and it still felt so good and right to be alive. But, like a storm raging through him, he had that tremendous amount of hurt and anger from the loss of his recently slain pup, and of course, Marranah too. And although he felt joy in that moment, the glory of the heavens was not enough to give him full reprieve from all his grief, and tears welled up in his eyes and a weight like an anvil pressed down upon his chest. Gods, he missed her. He sucked in a large breath and let it out with a long and slow and soothing exhale, and he suddenly wondered if the vengeance he sought was more about Marranah than Shenn in some way. He often worried that he’d never grieved for her as a man should after losing his love. He had just sort of bottled up that pain and left it unchecked in his heart somewhere, irresponsible of him he knew but done all the same.

As Tannos stared skywards, bits of an old poem his mother used to recite came to mind, one that seemed to have been destined for this moment:

“Oh heavens so precious to behold. So beyond fantastical with your myriad arrays of bursting stars, and ribbon clouds of rainbow coloured cosmos. Is your majesty so great? Perchance to stitch this lonely soul’s leaking heart as I gaze upon thee? If only for this one night?”

He truly was alone now. How could he be smiling? His own heart was such a riddle at times. Perhaps it was because he knew, despite the grief and the pain, that he’d be reunited with his departed friends and family one day, sometime soon perhaps. Wouldn’t that be perfect? He, his dog and his wife, friends and family departed along the way, all back together as they once were. Perhaps there would be a welcoming party for him up there, somewhere, amidst that starry mystery where most supposed the afterlife was.

When he finished his meal, he laid his head to his haversack, which served as his pillow. Beyond the low fire, a mix of luminous pixies zigged and zagged as they played a game of catch and chase amidst the brambles. Tannos watched, smiling, until his eyes became too heavy, then he fell asleep and slipped into a dream.

“Tannos, your breakfast,” says a woman.

“Oh, lovely,” replies Tannos. He walks over to the round table in the kitchen of his house, slides out a chair, and has a seat. A plate is placed before him. It’s a mountain of eggs..just eggs. They have no smell but they look to be cooked and seasoned perfectly.

He looks up and it’s Marannah who’d handed the plate of eggs to him, but she’s facing away from him, looking out the window, and he can’t see her face. She’s dressed in a white gown, nearly transparent; it’s her morning gown, and its hems are swaying and playing about her ankles as she stands, as if set to music. She could have added some toast, maybe some ham. Tannos thinks, feeling guilty for being ungrateful. That’s okay. Maybe eggs were all we had today.

“It’s beautiful outside Tan’. Should we go up the hill and have a picnic?”

Tannos is chewing on his eggs now, shoveling into his mouth bite after bite. Oh Gods, these are good, I haven’t eaten eggs like this in forever. But then he pauses, he thinks upon the question and slowly realizes its absurdity. We can’t have a picnic there, your grave is there. He’s about to explain this to Marannah but then he feels something brushing against his leg, it’s pillowy soft and furry, and then the fur barks at him. What is that?..Oh, It’s a dog! He looks down. “Oh Shenn, you want some eggs?” He asks, forgetting all about what he was about to explain to his wife.

He sees Shenn bark but there’s no sound to be heard. The eggs on his plate are mostly finished now but a few morsels do remain. He sets the plate to the ground and Shenn, with enthusiasm, goes at what’s left, lashing at the plate with his long tongue, trying to scrounge up every last bit.

A few large wooden bowls are out on the counter in front of Mirannah. Lots of ingredients too; eggs, milk, sugar, and flour, some others she keeps in little glass jars. She’s making a cake, I’ll bet anything she’s making a cake. Tannos gets up and walks over to his wife. He wraps his arms around her from behind and nestles his nose into the tangles of her flowing brown hair. She smells like lavender he knows without actually smelling lavender.

Mirannah stops what she’s doing, she puts down the wooden spoon she’s holding and grabs at Tannos’s folding embrace in a welcoming sort of way.

“This is nice,” she says warmly. “We haven’t hugged in a while, have we?”

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?”

“Yes, it has,” she says.

They are content to stand there for a moment. Tannos looks upwards and the dark ceiling of their house is full of stars, and the moons; Deema and Neema are up there too, and Tannos can’t help but feel that for some reason he and Mirannah have become like those two moons, separated by a vast distance despite their intertwinement just now.

He lets go of his embrace, and suddenly a picnic basket is in Tannos’s hand and a blanket is slung over his shoulder, and he is leading his wife to the front door. They leave the house.

“The hill, Tannos, let’s go up the hill.”

Tannos looks in the hill’s direction. He sees the piles of stones up there and understands that Marannah does not, or at least, does not know what they are. Also, a lonely storm cloud is looming high above the hill, dark and ominous, looking ready to let go a deluge of rain.

“Not today, my love, here is fine.” And he shakes the blanket out for them and lays it flatly on the short, wild grasses that reach around the front of their house.

Mirannah does not argue but comes to sit upon the blanket. Tannos has set down the picnic basket and Mirannah starts to remove what’s inside; grapes, cheeses, biscuits, and wine in a slender glass bottle. She pours a sharp red for the both of them.

Tannos is happy, Mirannah seems happy. Tannos wants to look upon his wife’s face but she’s always looking away or bands of her hair keep flowing across her visage, masking her eyes and her smile. He’s about to ask her to clear them away when he feels Shenn nuzzling at him with a wet nose. “Not now, Shenn.” He says. But Shenn is whimpering. He bites and tugs at Tannos’s sleeve. “What is it, boy, what’s wrong?”

A Shadow moves over them, over their quaint picnic there on the grass. Tannos is not sure from which direction but all at once it’s everywhere; over the house, over the fields and forests, and of course over the hill where Mirannah and Shenn were laid to rest. And with it comes a chill, pervasive and unwanted.

The ground begins to vibrate. The wine in the glass Tannos is holding ripples around concentrically. A rumble in Tannos’s hands and chest is felt.

“What’s happening?” asks Mirannah. Tannos goes pale, and a fear and an uncertainty seize him. From a tree line far off, dark and foreboding, appear lines of soldiers, clad in leather and steel armor, their steely shoulders gleaming dully. They’re clankering along gripping long spears, morning stars, or bows. Many have great shields, but most carry the small shield, all of them walk with a searching purpose.

“Tannos, we’ve been found, after all these years we’ve been found,” exclaims Mirannah using a hushed voice.

“I..I don’t think they see us. Don’t move, and for your life, keep quiet.”

Shenn also understands, and he pushes his nose into Tannos’s lap and holds deadly still.

The line of soldiers approach. They get so very close to their house but they do not stop, satisfied to file on by. None turn their heads to discover Tannos and Mirannah, and the ones that are already staring vaguely in their direction look right over them huddled below on their blanket. The soldier’s eyes stay scanning only the horizon for whatever it is they seek.

“We’re safe, Mirannah, by the Gods, I think we’ll be alright.”

Despite the faceplates of their helms, which shadows most of their faces, Tannos recognizes some of the soldiers. Men he used to work with, even commanded at times, many, many years ago. A lifetime ago. Men he ate and quartered with, men he now feared.

“Tannos, look,” Mirannah whispers, she points to soldiers amidst the flock which are transporting large, skewered dead things, the poles going through the carcasses are shouldered by muscled, armorless men at either end.

Tannos recognizes the dead creatures they are parading along. Various beasts from his past, unnatural things that Tannos has had to exterminate in his younger years. First are a series of grimps, foul creatures, man-size with claws like shearing knives for fingers, their heads big puffballs of shaggy fur, their eyes and mouths indiscernible. A wonder to any person who’s ever encountered a live one as to how the things saw at all. These dead ones the soldiers carry along are blackened, as if charred for a time over an open fire.

The next pair of monsters are mud trolls. Not wet and dripping as is their nature but dried up and crusty, as if sunbaked for days upon days. Their eyes bulge from their sockets like boiled eggs, their pupils a stark and putrid yellow. Tannos feels his gut clench from a memory of nearly losing his life to such devils.

Many more killed things go by, all exceptionally lethal when alive; fire wolves, moppers, quiggy ants, loap-crawlers, fanged norsaws, even a small dragon. Tannos recalls feeling heavy regret after he’d killed the majestic lizard, but he had no choice, it had come down to the dragon’s life or his if memory served.

“I know those things, Marannah, they’re things I’ve killed,” he says. He turns to look at her but she is gone..everything is gone.

The world is snow and stark gray now. It’s no longer cold but freezing. Tannos is wearing a fur-lined cloak; he yanks its hood over and sinches the belt up tighter but it’s little help against the blistering freeze, and the wind whipping like sharpened blades across his cheeks.

“Marannah! Shenn!” He cries out. But there is no reply. Just an empty world of white and gray and snow coming down at a hard angle.

He tries to walk but the drifts are up to his knees and each step is an effort, the formidable wind keeps pressing upon him, trying to knock him over. Finally, he submits and falls to one side. I’m done. He thinks, This is the end of it.

He remains still, a statue that is slowly being buried by layers of fresh falling snow. He sees something through the blizzard that causes him to feel like a trepid rabbit; two red dots, glowing..no..two red eyes. “Bozear.” He says with a weak and shaky voice. His entire body shakes and shivers now, and he attempts to curl himself up into a ball and he clutches at his sleeves at the elbows. A large frame materializes around the eyes, and it is undoubtedly Bozear, the fiend that killed his dog. “Come for me then.” He utters. “Get on with it.” And as If the monstrosity hears him it pounces, the snow does not hinder its bulky frame and it is upon Tannos as quick as a crack of lightning.

Tannos jolted awake. A gasp escaped him, and he wiped at a cold sweat lingering across his brow. He sat upright and looked around, reminding himself of where he was. The once crackling fire was now just a smoldering bed of embers. The fairies had gone too, likely preparing for sleep as dawn approached.

The sky above was still a black curtain punched through by stars shimmering down upon him, but the horizon had progressed to that first and darkest shade of blue, and Tannos squinted and discerned the silhouettes of far-off mountains. The world was calm and peaceful, and in that waking moment, so became Tannos, his pounding heart lessening with every beat, relieved that he was not in peril. After all, it was just a dream, and dreams couldn’t hurt you.

Previous writings of this story..

Prologue. https://medium.com/@rydelege/this-is-the-prologue-of-a-fantasy-novel-abd9914485ca

Ch. 1.1 Judgment. https://medium.com/@rydelege/1-1-judgment-the-keeper-of-gods-7148af719d7a