Story #10 - Day's End

Day's End

Thurn quickened his pace. He'd been too long on that last assignment and Chant would be starting in under five microns. His status as Sun-Wing was too new for him to be disregarding any of the more traditional duties; many of the older generation did whatever they felt best, regardless of the wishes of the Lightmaster, but he had a fierce respect for tradition combined with something to prove – he was the first Outer Pantheon member to ever reach the rank.

A knot of human females approached as he mounted the last staircase. Here in the Center, humans could mingle with their gods as easily as they walked, something he was still having trouble getting used to. In the Reaches, he and his brethren only made themselves visible once a specific set of rituals had been performed.

He could easily have flitted past the group, made himself invisible or indistinct, but the Lightmaster had made it very clear that he was to treat these humans as equals, though in literal terms they were not. Nervousness surged as the group came close and Thurn fought it down – he was a Sun-Wing, by Lightmaster's beard!

His intention had been to pass by, head high and back straight, giving them a true taste of what a God in full Sun-Wing regalia could be made to look like. He had no doubts about his own splendor; any number of young maidens in the Reaches had sought him out for less than truly religious purposes. But as he moved to avoid them one of the their number – a thin, dark-haired thing – separated herself from the pack and came to stand in his path.

“Sun-Wing,” her voice was low and smooth, matching her swift curtsey, “would you bear my jewel to the Chant? My luck has been poor of late.” Her hand dipped into her bodice to produce a small sapphire on a chain; the humans in Olaria believed that if a God kept such a jewel on their person during Chant it would imbue the object with good fortune, and though he knew such a belief was unfounded, he had been commanded to serve. He nodded.

“I will, lady.” The three to his left shivered visibly; had his voice been any louder uncontrollable excitement might have been the result, but the woman in front of him merely nodded.

“Find me after it is over,” her voice held a command and he bristled. Cordial relations was one thing, but he would not take such insolence from one so close to the seat of the true faith. He opened his mouth to dress her down but she was gone, swiftly borne away by her pack of chattering friends. Sighing, he pocketed the jewel and headed for Tomach Rise.

***

The Rise was full of deities both lesser and great; from the slight Water-nymphs of Cessus to the massive Rockmen of Syodr, all had come at the Lightmaster's call. Chant was a daily obligation, one that few of his kind actually attended, at least in the Reaches. Today, the entire Pantheon had been commanded to demonstrate their allegiance – no exceptions would be made, no excuses tolerated.

Finding a bare patch of grass Thurn knelt in supplication and waited. He knew the words well enough that he had no need to ask and so long as he appeared to be in meditation no one would question him. He had grown weary of the jibes of the Inner Circle, of their constant attempts to cast doubt on his loyalty, his character. His presence here would solidify the presence of a new Sun-Wing in their midst, and his devotion would go unquestioned.

The first low whispers began and he dropped his head to his knees, allowing the words to spill out of him. Not something the humans could ever understand, the Pantheon drew strength from their praise of the Originator, builder of the world and father of All. Without him, the Devourer would have risen up, allowing the None to swallow the world whole. In his wisdom, the Originator left the world with only the Pantheon to guard it, knowing full well what a confrontation with the Devourer would bring – the destruction of the very world he had created.

Unseen chimes began to trill, unknown bells to peal out the Father's greatness.

Each Chant was an affirmation, a renewing of the compact between god and Father, construct and Originator.

An odd bell struck, a sour note Thurn had never heard but he ignored it, refocusing his thoughts on the task at hand.

Another, this time more glaring than the first.

Glancing up, he scanned the rise of a sign that anyone else had heard it but not another body had moved. In his pocket, the jewel the human had given him began to pulse in a slow, steady rhythm, an odd counterpoint to the increasingly bizarre bells.

A crash sounded, foul and metallic, and Thurn covered his ears and struggled to his feet. Still, no others moved, no other faces gave the indication anything was out of the ordinary.

Between one blink and the next the sun-touched rows of Tomach Rise were gone, replaced with a black and inky darkness. All around him members of the Pantheon surged up, their forms twisted by the night which consumed them, that poured into each crack and pore to shift their very forms.

“Valrian!” He bellowed, but no golden steed arrived,“Losha!” No sword appeared.

The nearest god turned to face him, handsome features marred by a creeping and foul dark that pulsed across his skin and heavily lidded his eyes. Snarling, the once-god opened his mouth to show a double row of sharp fangs, each slick bone white in darkness.

Sprinting off of the rise Thurn knew he had only one choice, one way to understand just what had happened here. If the human lived, he had to find her.

- D