Story #209 - The Father, The Son

The Father, The Son

In the wilds outside Therala, a young man waited, those who passed him by mistakenly believing that prophecy had sent him to meet his God. Inside the walls of the biggest city in the nation, the few that knew of him mocked him for his outlandish notion, his simple clothes, and his refusal to leave, even for a moment.

Far above the city, the young man's God watched with some interest, and decided to descend.

***

Berte was the God of the Western Nations, though he wished he'd been less willing now to take what his brothers had given him. He'd always been the most mellow, the most calm in his family, and while the others had argued over what to rule and how to rule it at the beginning of this world's time, Berte had remained quiet in the corner, his mind on the puzzles of logic and emotion. The beings he and his siblings had created were much as themselves, with thoughts and desires and hopes for the future, only on a very limited scale. He had concerns about their eventual ability to stand up to those who had made them, should they choose to do so. His brothers had chosen to rule with brutal dominance in order to prevent such uprisings, but had still given Berte the untamed West in the hopes that he would be the first to fall. There was little love lost in his family.

For ten thousand years, he'd managed to hold his people together through a mix of small miracles and ignorant bliss. While his brother Rober interfered in the affairs of the Southern Steppes early and often, and Galmond had taken to bedding the women and men of his nations, Berte preferred to remain aloof, to allow those in the West to develop as they liked. Of course, rumors about him had sprung up and those below had written scroll after scroll about him, describing his attributes, his appearance, and what he would do when he finally arrived in all his glory. Almost every piece of information contained in the scrolls was wrong, thanks to a typically over-zealous priesthood, and it was the same scrolls that had led the young man to his post outside Therala, where his misplaced faith in the words of his own kind made him sure a God would come to visit.

It was his lucky day.

The young man looked up sharply from the parchment he held in his hand as Berte landed softly on the ground a few feet in front of him.

“I am your God,” Berte said simply, and waited for the man to prostate himself, as was the custom. He did not.

“Ah, Berte,” the young man said in a deep voice. He was handsome enough, now that Berte got a better look at him, and almost familiar. Of course, Berte felt that way about most of the humans he encountered, since he had been the one that designed many of their facial features. He still felt they'd made noses and ears too large, but it helped to distinguish humans from their makers at first glance. “So good of you to join me. Won't you have a seat?” The man gestured to the grass clearing in front of him, and Berte felt a laugh bubbling up.

“You cannot be serious.” Berte was more stunned than anything else at the man's tone. His brothers would have destroyed or at least injured the man on the spot, but Berte knew better – that wouldn't give him any information.

“Of course I can, Berte, and I am right now. You should probably sit down for this.” As the man spoke, Berte had taken a better look at him, and had begun to wonder at the dark, curly hair, the perfectly spaced eyes and the delicate ears on the face in front of him. It wasn't one of his brothers, but...

“Father?”

The young man smiled. “I knew you would figure it out, Berte – you always were the smartest of the bunch. That's why I came to you first.”

Berte didn't speak. Father had disappeared not long after the world was made, and without so much as a warning. The others were happy; they always said that Father meddled too much in their affairs and had too much care for the beings they had created. Berte had made a half-hearted attempt to find his Father, but the needs of the West quickly became too much and he was forced to give up the search. Father had not wanted to be found, that much was clear.

And now here he was.

“Why?” It was blunt, but Berte didn't like surprises.

“Things are changing, my son, and you and the others are in danger.” Father took a step forward, and Berte moved three back.

“No, I mean why did you leave? Where have you been all this time?”

Father spread his hands. “Out here,” he said, “with them. They're fascinating, Berte – you know that better than anyone. They have hopes and dreams just as we do, and they constantly push at the limits we've set for them.” His Father's face darkened. “They're also incredibly dangerous.”

“Oh?” Berte said, more to buy himself time to think than out of any real interest. “How?”

Father moved too quickly this time, and had him by the shoulders before he had a chance to escape. “Listen to me very carefully, Berte. One of them has found the cavern. It's taken him the better part of his life, but he's managed to descend the depths and retrieve the words.”

Berte frowned. The cavern's location was unknown to any of his brothers – it was the final act of Father before he left to seal the knowledge of unmaking away from them, in case they decided they no longer wanted one of their creatures. He would not permit such waste.

“You mean -”

“That's right, Berte,” Father spoke over him, “one of them possesses the power to destroy everything you've made here. One of them could destroy you.”

“Come along, Father,” he said, pulling the other god into a tight embrace, “we are going to see the others.”

Father began to protest, but it was too late. They were gone.

***

Those in the city wondered what had happened to the young man outside, waiting. Some said he had moved on, others that he was dead. None knew the Father of the gods had rested mere miles from their gate.

- D