It had been a long cruise from the depths of Hell and the narrow boat had refused to be steered in any other direction than to where it needed to go. The living world was a desolate place in the area that we were travelling. It was a land of unending deserts and baking hot hills. I could not understand what was bringing me to such a place until the mammoth dragged us around yet another hillside and I could see far in the distance the lush green of cultivated lands.
From the waterways of the Netherworld I could see through the veil that separated me from the lands of the living. Over the centuries I had seen a gradual change in the world that I had left. My kinds of people were dying out and a new sort were laying claim to the lands. The hunter-gatherer tribes had learnt the art of domesticating animals and planting crops. As they found new ways of filling their bellies and not risking their lives on hunting expeditions, they found more time to think and plan. I watched as small developments sprang up in fertile valleys and the art of building took place. To begin with they lived in huts of mud and straw inside stockades that protected the people and their animals from the wild beasts of the night.
The act of ownership seemed to trigger off spates of wickedness between this new breed of people. At the top of the lists after stealing, came murder for gain. This the Lord of Punishment would not tolerate and many an unfairly rich man found himself at the back of my narrow boat pulling the oars after his death. These small settlements grew into towns and prospered, although wickedness increased with wealth. I never judged the souls sent to me; - the boat did that for me. Those who had lived good lives by and large found themselves able to climb the nets at the front into the boat. Those who were judged to need rectification and their souls cleansed came to the back of the boat and laboured at the oars. There were times when there were so many that the woolly mammoth came aboard and stood at the front and allowed the children to climb upon his back while the damned laboured at the oars.
I had taken the last load to the Final Lock and watched them all walk into the bright light and into Gaia’s realm. From there I rode the flow downward, back into the Hell-mouth docks with my beast stood on the forward platform. As the boat approached I could see a familiar horned figure stood waiting for me. He stooped and offered his hand for me to step onto, while the boat settled into dry-dock.
“Rotan,” he said and held me level with his face, “I see another cargo of souls have been delivered into Gaia’s realm.”
“Yes, my Lord. So many laboured at the oars this time, that the mammoth was able to ride on-board a great deal of the way. It seems, as the human race multiplies, so the amount of wickedness increases with it! Yet also there shines occasionally a bright light in the darkness of their souls. I have met a great many who are kind and would feed the stranger that comes to their door.”
“It is because of these people that I need you to alter course from your usual cruising and take your boat partially into the world of the living. To do this you will require some of my power transferred to your discretion.”
The Lord of Punishment stared into my face and deep into my eyes as he said this. I could feel something added inside my mind. There was a connection that led me to HIM. From that connection I became aware of pathways and conduits that would direct power into my command. It terrified me!
He smiled at my discomfort and said, “I trust you Rotan. You have been a faithful servant for many thousands of years. I have looked into your heart many times and found it constant. Now listen to me carefully. This time the narrow boat will take you through the deserts to a place of great wickedness. Two great cities have been built of dressed stone in a valley at the edge of a mighty river. This is something that you have yet to see and will be repeated over and over again. A man has taken power over these cities and has come to dominate the people who live there. He is a seed of wickedness that must be grubbed out of the fertile soil he controls. You once put a spear into the chest of such a man and ended his life. In doing so you did not end his influence, but those who came after him, used your intervention as a lesson.
