Gods of the Gods
By Thomas P. Walton
Fictioncup.blogspot.com
11.20.12
A blanket of icy mist covered the rocky and barren north-lands. Towering smoke pierced the frost, giving rise above a smoldering fire. Crackling streaks broke the sky like a membrane --firing just within view of another, like great synapses of a great living mind.
It was this great sight which gave Harrick a moment of grandeur and revelation. A new god had broken the silence of his kin. No longer, Harrick though, would he and his people live on the scarce carnage of the frost barrens; while his cousins reaped a good harvest from the south-lands.
But what name is this god, if he has such a name, Harrick wondered. He was powerful, and yet she was wrathful. Was it a god or a goddess, then? Harrick mused at the idea. Why could it not be both. That would be simpler. Yet, his people would not follow a goddess into war. The male prerogative of his tribal ancestors was more lenient in times before the great reign of ice; but now harvest was something of the distant past. A goddess of fertility and harvest would do little good to a people who dwelt in the darkness of ice and rock.
Now, under this new shadow of smoke, and warmed by the fires of hell, his new god would see the reign of the north-lands; and Harrick, having thoughts of much grandeur, fancied that it would be 'he' who would herald the coming of the new god of retribution.
His new god was of great internal strength, and of such power that even the gray-white darkness gave sway to a darkness carrying at its center a flame of masculine power. A power that his people desperately needed in order to save them from a cold and uncertain future.
Such a cold future. But now it was destiny, and only destiny, for which Harrick had in mind.
--
In the vast realm of chaos, thoughts spun webs of possible truths, and shadows weaved forms upon the curtain of consciousness, wavering in the abyss, which gave forth, and consumed, and gave forth again. A great serpent chased its tail in the chasm of darkness, and spurt up its head at the calling of its name; though it had no name in any tongue known by man, and yet answered the call to the one who had a great will and reckoning.
They were the shapeless ones who dwell beyond the spheres of the nominal universe; and the ones who weaved mind stuff which made and created more mind stuff. It was they who made consciousness conscious of itself; a simple riddle for their own amusement, perhaps. But, alas, they answered the call of their creations. And yet, they were also born to do so, for they were the creations of their own creations, and existed in a way in which no man can comprehend completely, for there is no space/ time as man knows it --not in the vast realm of chaos.
Order spins the cosmos, and it is order who answers to chaos.
--
Harrick told his people of his new god, and how he was shown their triumph over their cousins in the south, all by the side of the mighty one who sleeps beneath the ice.
"But he sleeps no more. No! I tell you, He hath awaken, and is hungrier than 'we' can imagine." Harrick preached.
To this, some heads shook, particularly those of the young men who had wives and children starving in the frost covered rocks of the north-lands. Yet, it was the elders, who had survived long by the meat and blood of the young, who were wise hard to the words of the new prophet and priest. Such a god, they said, unto Harris, could be the right god for times such as these. For surely, the only blood to be had for dinner was in the south-lands, whereat their lesser deserving cousins dwelt peacefully.
"Yes, yes. Tell us more! Tell us more!" Arose and elder from the tribe.
"Heed his words, says I." Said another boney elder.
"Know of this god, I think we do." Spouted out another wise-man.
"Yea, I will tell you all--who are wise to listen--of the god who has spoken with me aloft the zenith of Erikroth, and who has spat fire in the face of the goddess of ice, Moth-Ravein," retorted Harrick.
At this, the younger stalk relaxed, knowing the ways of the wise-men to be wrathful to the boisterous and foolish. An elder gnawed on the thigh bone of one who had been such a fool. The tribes listened carefully to Harrick.
And much to Harrick's pleasure did the women flaunt themselves at his feet for the protection of the new god, and so the men gave their swords and spear for the right to carry the power of the new god with them into battle, and win them the heads of their enemies (stomachs grumbled at the thought of devouring their cousins in the south-lands).
~End part one.
Written by Thomas P. Walton
November 20, 2012
Fire the #Moonbeamer, Imp! Calibrate to 'Stunning e-Books'! http://bit.ly/thomaspwalton
By Thomas P. Walton
Fictioncup.blogspot.com
11.20.12
A blanket of icy mist covered the rocky and barren north-lands. Towering smoke pierced the frost, giving rise above a smoldering fire. Crackling streaks broke the sky like a membrane --firing just within view of another, like great synapses of a great living mind.
It was this great sight which gave Harrick a moment of grandeur and revelation. A new god had broken the silence of his kin. No longer, Harrick though, would he and his people live on the scarce carnage of the frost barrens; while his cousins reaped a good harvest from the south-lands.
But what name is this god, if he has such a name, Harrick wondered. He was powerful, and yet she was wrathful. Was it a god or a goddess, then? Harrick mused at the idea. Why could it not be both. That would be simpler. Yet, his people would not follow a goddess into war. The male prerogative of his tribal ancestors was more lenient in times before the great reign of ice; but now harvest was something of the distant past. A goddess of fertility and harvest would do little good to a people who dwelt in the darkness of ice and rock.
Now, under this new shadow of smoke, and warmed by the fires of hell, his new god would see the reign of the north-lands; and Harrick, having thoughts of much grandeur, fancied that it would be 'he' who would herald the coming of the new god of retribution.
His new god was of great internal strength, and of such power that even the gray-white darkness gave sway to a darkness carrying at its center a flame of masculine power. A power that his people desperately needed in order to save them from a cold and uncertain future.
Such a cold future. But now it was destiny, and only destiny, for which Harrick had in mind.
--
In the vast realm of chaos, thoughts spun webs of possible truths, and shadows weaved forms upon the curtain of consciousness, wavering in the abyss, which gave forth, and consumed, and gave forth again. A great serpent chased its tail in the chasm of darkness, and spurt up its head at the calling of its name; though it had no name in any tongue known by man, and yet answered the call to the one who had a great will and reckoning.
They were the shapeless ones who dwell beyond the spheres of the nominal universe; and the ones who weaved mind stuff which made and created more mind stuff. It was they who made consciousness conscious of itself; a simple riddle for their own amusement, perhaps. But, alas, they answered the call of their creations. And yet, they were also born to do so, for they were the creations of their own creations, and existed in a way in which no man can comprehend completely, for there is no space/ time as man knows it --not in the vast realm of chaos.
Order spins the cosmos, and it is order who answers to chaos.
--
Harrick told his people of his new god, and how he was shown their triumph over their cousins in the south, all by the side of the mighty one who sleeps beneath the ice.
"But he sleeps no more. No! I tell you, He hath awaken, and is hungrier than 'we' can imagine." Harrick preached.
To this, some heads shook, particularly those of the young men who had wives and children starving in the frost covered rocks of the north-lands. Yet, it was the elders, who had survived long by the meat and blood of the young, who were wise hard to the words of the new prophet and priest. Such a god, they said, unto Harris, could be the right god for times such as these. For surely, the only blood to be had for dinner was in the south-lands, whereat their lesser deserving cousins dwelt peacefully.
"Yes, yes. Tell us more! Tell us more!" Arose and elder from the tribe.
"Heed his words, says I." Said another boney elder.
"Know of this god, I think we do." Spouted out another wise-man.
"Yea, I will tell you all--who are wise to listen--of the god who has spoken with me aloft the zenith of Erikroth, and who has spat fire in the face of the goddess of ice, Moth-Ravein," retorted Harrick.
At this, the younger stalk relaxed, knowing the ways of the wise-men to be wrathful to the boisterous and foolish. An elder gnawed on the thigh bone of one who had been such a fool. The tribes listened carefully to Harrick.
And much to Harrick's pleasure did the women flaunt themselves at his feet for the protection of the new god, and so the men gave their swords and spear for the right to carry the power of the new god with them into battle, and win them the heads of their enemies (stomachs grumbled at the thought of devouring their cousins in the south-lands).
~End part one.
Written by Thomas P. Walton
November 20, 2012
Fire the #Moonbeamer, Imp! Calibrate to 'Stunning e-Books'! http://bit.ly/thomaspwalton
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