On the Trail of a God (Tabarnac)

[Veldrys]

Spring 50, 511 AV Sometimes, when he was alone, Veldrys quietly wondered what his Web would say if they knew, what they would say to him if he returned. Would they approve of the fact that he sought to study the history of the world and the Denvali Viratas cult? Or would they disapprove? Would his father scream at him, punish him for neglecting his duties, for shunning the Harvest and trying to escape the inevitable, the choosing of surrogates for his sisters? And most importantly, did Viratas approve of him, of the way he prayed to him? For a moment, as he had entered the Chapel for the first time, it had certainly seemed that way, but it was hard to tell for sure. The thoughts of the gods were a mystery and the things they did seemed impossible to understand for a mere mortal at times. He stood in front of the bowl in the Chapel, a small knife in hand. He whispered a prayer, and then he quickly slid the blade across his other hand so that a few crimson drops fell into the bowl. As always, the cut was not particularly deep and would heal quickly. He just wanted to show his god that he cared, that he was even willing to sacrifice part of himself. He waited just long enough to watch the last drop mysteriously disappear, and then he whispered another prayer and walked away. There were certain duties that he had to take care of. Another day he might have walked into the city and taken care of those that were in need of healing – or studied the worship of his god – but today the Symenestra had been given a specific task. He’d been asked to wait upon the chaplain of Aquiras. He was looking forward to the meeting. His people’s patron god would always hold a special place in his heart and be the only one for him, but he couldn’t help but be curious about a god whose followers had dwindled into oblivion in the rest of the world. He recalled that the chaplain of Viratas had mentioned that the followers of Aquiras focused on the journey inward nowadays, on the soul. Maybe he too would undertake such a journey, but for now there was a man that he had to meet.

[Tabarnac]

Whenever Veldrys made these sacrifices of himself, he felt a vague sense of Presence, which Haimon had agreed was how Viratas showed his acceptance of the sacrifice. It was not the same as a face to face meeting, which it could be assumed Haimon himself had experienced. The Chapel had nooks for most of the gods, but the greatest were reserved for Aquiras and Viratas. Veldrys had been introduced to the Chaplain of Aquiras, of course, but they had not had time alone to discuss anything of import, but now that would change. For Haimon was utterly devoted to his god, but he was also Denvali and revered Aquiras. If Veldrys was to understand the particulars of the Denvali cult, he would have to understand Aquiras as well. "When he wakes up," a querulous old voice muttered, "I'm going to ask him how he expects me to be a chaplain for the god of travel with a hip so out of whack..." "Yes, Chaplain," came the nonplussed voice of an acolyte, leading him into the main room of worship. The young man's dark eyes rose immediately to meet Veldrys' and he flashed him a quiet smile. Zahari was beloved, but he was a bit crotchety, especially after a nap. "Ah," the old man said, smoothing down the front of his shirt when he saw the Symenestra. The chaplains wore utilitarian clothing for the most part, a nod to their military heritage, perhaps. Vestments were only truly worn for important rituals and feastdays. "You are Haimon's new boy," he said as if reminding himself. "Good to see you again, good to-- no, I want to sit over there," he informed his acolyte, who helped him get settled in a comfortable looking armchair in an alcove. There was another, empty seat. "Come sit, come sit... All right, but you're off the hook for now." The acolyte bowed and removed himself, leaving Veldrys with the old character.

[Veldrys]

Veldrys had never met Viratas, and he doubted that he ever would – he was simply not important enough and had never accomplished anything worth mentioning - but when he made a sacrifice, he could almost feel him. It almost seemed as if the god were watching, as if he accepted his sacrifce and actually cared. Those moments strengthened his faith and made him try even harder to please him. Sometimes he wondered whether he should dedicate his life to the god of blood entirely, if that was what Viratas wanted or whether the god wanted him to continue his work as a healer as well. There were certainly many people that were in need of a healer, although not all of them readily accepted help from somebody like him. Zahari’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He nodded to the acolyte that had accompagnied the chaplain into the main room and then he turned to face Zahari himself. „I am Haimon’s new boy“, he confirmed, even though he was hardly that young anymore and a poisonous Symenestra on top of it – although he usually tried to make the Denvali forget that. He waited until the acolyte had left before he took a seat next to the chaplain. „I was told that you had need of me“, he began, and then he hesitated because he wasn’t sure if the human would appreciate if he made a comment about that. Some people didn’t want to be reminded of such things. „I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed to have problems with your hip. I’m in no way a master of my trade, but I have some experience as a healer. I might be able to help you so that moving becomes less painful and you don’t have to rely on your acolyte quite as often.“ The words were spoken with a gentle smile that failed to reveal the Symenestra’s elongated canines. Unlike many of his kind Veldrys tried to offer his help to all those that were alive and bled, although it wasn’t always easy. Part of him still considered those that dwelled on the surface slightly inferior to his own kind.

[Tabarnac]

Zahari looked the Symenestra over with bright, amused eyes. The offer brought a chuckle out of him, but he nodded with good cheer despite the apparent pain that life gave him. "You're certainly welcome to try, my boy," he said, and certainly Veldrys was like a boy compared to a man of his years. "But I'm too old to waste too much time on some things. I could get relief, but it would require regular time and effort from a priestess of Rak'keli, for even the goddess' chosen cannot turn back the tide of time. Enjoy your youth," he said, elbowing Veldrys sharply in the arm. "Eventually Tanroa taxes you for her gifts, and then Dira asks the dearest, though..." His eyes went thoughtful. "When Dira comes to me at last, it will be like the touch of a lover. We have a date, she and I." He grinned, hardly lustful, but certainly mischievous. "Jarret gives me tonics and something for the pain when it is terrible, but it's only through such things that I'm still alive at all, I imagine."

[Veldrys]

The Symenestra noticed that his offer of help seemed to amuse the human, but he didn’t know why. Was there anything wrong with it? Did the human not believe that he would be able to help him? He’d treated similar ailments in his native Kalinor and had often been able to ease his patient’s pain at least a little. „I could come to you regularly“, the Symenestra said to him. „There’s always a little time between my duties to Viratas. But I have to admit, I‘m not a priest of Rak’keli. No god or goddess has deemed me worthy of their blessing so far. Still ...“ He looked at the human, wondering if he should insist. In the end he gave up reluctantly, because Zahari seemed to be in a good mood and not in an excruciating amount of pain. „Nobody can turn back time“, the Symenestra agreed and sighed a little. „And yet sometimes one cannot help but wish it were possible. There are many things that could have been done differently.“ He wasn’t talking about old age now, about the usual mistakes people made, but about the plight of his own race that had been forced underground during the Valterrian, that could only exist through the death of others. Was it really not possible to return to the way things had been before? As Zahari grinned, the Symenestra couldn’t help but grin a little as well, a light grin that failed to reveal his fangs. „How old are you, if you don’t mind the question, Master Zahari?“ he wanted to know. „Have you served Aquiras for long?“ The Symenestra often hard a hard time judging the age of humans. Where he came from, even the small children had white or grey hair, so he didn’t see that as a sign of old age.

[Tabarnac]

"Oh, positively ancient," he scoffed, though he was amused at Veldrys' talk, even if it only sounded like he was a curmudgeon himself. "Seventy at least... but I don't reckon time as much as others. Not like Haimon. Not like the clockmaker. I stopped paying attention when I realized I would get where I was going whether I liked it or not. And so will you... Anyway, it doesn't matter if I grow old and die. Haimon will keep my memories and whatever else is eternal will pass under Lhex's hammer to be crafted into something new." His eyes sparkled with vim and vigor despite his advanced years, and the humor of what he was sharing. Yes, Haimon carried the knowledge and memories of many lives in his blood. Many an important person in Denval's history had spent their lifeblood into the mouth of the current Chaplain of Viratas, passing their wisdom on for the benefit of the settlement. "Anyway, I've served Aquiras all my life... all seventy-something years. I'm holding out as long as I can to see if He'll wake before I die. Then perhaps I will go directly to him."

[Veldrys]

„Seventy“, Veldrys repeated. It was hard for the Symenestra to imagine being that old. Of course it was nothing compared to all the time that had passed since the Valterrian, but it was still impressive. As somebody who had been a child only a few years ago, the Symenestra was unable to picture himself at Zahari’s age. „I’m only twenty-one myself“, he replied. „Twenty-two in a few months, if the gods don’t take my life before that.“ He smiled a little. „It must be comforting to know that your memories at least will live on in somebody else. I wish I were blessed with an ability such as the one that Haimon possesses, but unfortunately this is not the case.“ Here a small sigh escaped the Symenestra’s pale lips. „Why did you choose Aquiras?“ he wanted to know. „For me, Viratas was the obvious choice – he is the patron god of my people – but why did you choose to serve the god that you do?“ As Zahari told him that he would hold out as long as he could to see if he’d wake before Zahari himself died, Veldrys nodded, although he wasn’t sure if Aquiras would ever wake from his coma. „Do you think that will ever happen?“ he wanted to know. „Didn’t Sagallius rip his heart out of his chest? Wouldn’t it take nothing less than the death of Sagallius himself? How can anybody hope to defeat a man who was powerful enough to make himself a god?“ From what he knew Sagallius‘ magical skill had already been legendary when he had been a mortal man. Godhood had probably increased his power considerably.

[Tabarnac]

"Seventy-something," he reiterated with an amused smile. He didn't sweat the small stuff -- what was a couple of years? -- but sometimes he liked to pretend he did. "You are young yet, Veldrys, and already taken under Haimon's wing. I hear the god has already accepted your sacrifices." He glanced at the bronze bowl that drank blood, the Mouth of Viratas it was called. "You might just yet. You might just yet. Is there no priest of Viratas in Kalinor?" After Veldrys answered, he continued. "Aquiras is the natural choice for all Denvali. Even Haimon, who is Viratas' priest, holds our patron deity in high regard. Aquiras was our protector and our strength before the Valterrian. He was always there for us. Sagallius," and here he spat upon the floor, "tore His holy heart out. Laid him low. But Priskil remains. She comes sometimes to speak to Captain Astrid. They are friends. She has given us hope that He will return, whether with the destruction of Sagallius or through some other means. "But you ask why...? If He was there for us when we needed Him most, what sort of people would we be if we abandoned Him when he needs us most? It's called faith. We do not have the comfort of His gnosis, nor visitations, nor any of the other luxuries the followers of other gods receive. We have faith and we have hope, and they make us strong. Oh, we are not numerous, and our lifestyle may not impress foreigners from bigger cities, but the Valterrian closed us in, we the people whose mantra was movement. And so we internalize the journey. We have the labyrinth. We have meditation and prayer. We have each other. It is enough."

[Veldrys]

As Zahari remarked that Viratas had already accepted his sacrifices, Veldrys glanced at the bowl as well. A smile flickered across the Symenestra’s ashen face, and then he nodded. It was true, the god had accepted his blood. That had to count for something. Maybe he wound indeed be where Haimon was one day. „There is a priest of Viratas in Kalinor“, he answered. „In fact there are several, and there is a great temple that is dedicated to him as well, but I wanted to find out how my god was worshipped on the surface. I wanted to learn of other ways of worship. Some followers of Viratas in Kalinor have recently become more radical. They engage in violent rituals and consider all other races inferior. It is something I cannot really agree with. I found that sometimes living in an underground city can render you blind to the world above you.“ He nodded at Zahari’s statement that Aquiras had always been there for them. „Faith is important“, he agreed. „It is what makes me go on as well, despite the fact that the situation of my own people is desperate. If I didn’t have hope, I wouldn’t be here, trying to learn as much as possible, but rather try to maintain the status quo as long as possible, just like the rest of the people in Kalinor. As for your lifestyle, I may be the only one of my kind to think so, but it impresses me. It is different from what I am used to, a welcome change.“ „But tell me, what does internalizing the journey mean? I’ve heard about it a couple of times now, but I still cannot imagine what it really means. Does it merely mean taking a closer look at yourself – or is there more to it? And what happens in the labyrinth?“ He stopped here and murmurred, „Forgive me, chaplain, I am talking too much. It is good that your people have each other. In most cases it is indeed enough.“

[Tabarnac]

"I do not wish to pass undue judgment upon your radical sects," he said carefully after some time considering, "but I do recall being instructed as a boy that Viratas abhors the shedding of blood without cause. A quote from the Viratassa: Spilt blood cries out to me. It speaks of life and death. It sings of sins and blessings. Every drop is precious, but not all cries are holy." He made a mystical sign with his hand, blessing the sacred words even if his vocation came from the slumbering god rather than Veldrys' own. "Remember," he said, "always remember, that Viratas respects death, but supports life, and so should his followers. Life. Connection. Family. Clan. City. Creation. Interconnectedness. "Internalizing the journey can take many forms," he said, "some normal, others esoteric. We were stuck here for centuries, our people, who had worshiped the god of travel... Some of us dream, imagine, meditate. Perhaps it is linked to the connections of Viratas... Through our blood, an essential part of us goes away from us when we have children, donate blood, and do other such things. Look at your life and look where you are going. The Labyrinth is an externalization of internal processes. You walk paths, take new turns, and while you do so, your mind can do the same." He paused and, apropos of the previous question of the Symenestra dilemma, he said: "I never understood why the Symenestra women didn't begin to worship Siku and seek Her blessing. I am told those marked by Her become immune to poison, which would neatly solve the problem and forge a link between Kalinor and Zinrah. There must be a great deal that the two races could share."