When I Met You On Land

Chapter 4: The Ambassador

"You are paying a visit to the Earth gods," said Kalstrios.
   "A visit? Isn't there some rivalry between you two?" Lakhires knew of the war. Being a demigod, now god, he had some information of the war between the Elemental Factions.
   "Which," he said. "Is exactly why I'm sending you, Lakhires. You will be the Air gods' ambassador. We seek peace, so the Council of Skye Hall decided to create an alliance with them."
   "But why me, Father? There are wind spirits to send scrolls, and you're sending me? What if they decapitate me or something?" Even as an immortal, he feared death. Then again, he was still getting used to it.
   "Because this way has a higher chance of creating a diplomatic relationship. The Earth gods may trust us more if we send someone to talk to them," stated Kalstrios. "Any questions?"
   Lakhires raised his hand, as the people of Bethsemane did as manners. "Question. Where exactly am I going? And what am I to say?"
   "Find Mo, the farmer who sells his crops at fifty-two, Lotus Market. He will take you to the Terran Palace," said Kalstrios. He put his lips near Lakhires' ear, whispering, "Tell him: I smell starfruit."
   Lakhires almost laughed at the passcode. What kind of passcode is 'I smell starfruit?' To him, that is the most ridiculous passcode ever. But he did not question it.
   Another question came into Lakhires' mind. "Are there any restrictions as to what I can take with me?"
   "Anything that could be a weapon against them," said the god. "That includes poison and salt."
   Lakhires nodded, having no other questions to ask.
   "You're dismissed now, Lakhires. Take your rest. You have got a lot to get used to," the god added. With a pound of his sceptre, a Harynger came in to escort him to his chambers and rejuvenate him.

                               ~~~
  
It has only been a day as a god, and Lakhires had to be diplomatic on behalf of Skye Hall.
   He stood in front of the mirror, working his newly found abilities. His features morphed into the plain appearance of a mortal. His skin turned into that of a sun tanned farmer, his dark hair unruly. His clothes a simple cotton tunic and trousers.
   On his bed laid a bag of personal needs, along with some vegetables for his mortal disguise.
   He walked to the entrance of Skye Hall, his appearance completely out of place with the pristine white pillars topped with golden elements.
   A chariot pulled by winged horses awaited him. He got on, feeling a rush of excitement filling his being.
   As soon as he got on, the  chariot rushed into the sky. His excitement turned into fear. The feeling was sickening. Looking down made it even more sickening.
   The chariot swooped down and landed on a hill a few miles from the city, just far enough so no one would see the shining golden chariot and white winged horses.
   Lakhires got off, feeling dizzy enough to fall unconscious if he were still mortal. The chariot raced back into the sky, the horses flapping their feathery wings.
   It is a long way off to the grand city of Bethsemane, and using my godly abilities would only cause supicion, he thought.
   A milkman passed by, driving two mules with a cart containing milk to be sent to the city. Lakhires smiled of relief, and ran down the hill to catch up with the milkman.
   "Hey!" He called. His voice seemed to fade in the wind. It was probably by luck that the milkman heard him and stopped his mules.
   "What do you want, young man?" The milkman asked, squinting at him through his deterioriated sight.
   "I need to get to Lotus Market," he replied.
   "Good for you, kid. That's where I'm headed." The milkman held his hand out expectantly, and Lakhires' first thought was giving him a handshake. It took him about 20 awkward seconds to realise that he wanted a payment.
   From his pocket, he fished out a gold coin. "Here," he said, pressing the coin into the milkman's palm.
   "Get in." The milkman gestured to his cart, and Lakhires made himself comfortable among the ceramic jars of fresh milk.
   The milkman whipped the mules, and the cart rattled along to the city of Bethsemane.

                              ~~~

Bethsemane was a grand and influential city, with many of the world of Heamora's philosophers, artisans and intellects coming from this particular city.
   Its influence on other cities was great, along with its alliances, millitary power, trade partnering and architecture.
   Marble buildings rose grand and proud from Bethsemane's rich soil.  Terraces lined the cliffside, facing the waters of the Nemeian Sea. Bougainvilleas hung from each roof, bringing colour to the mostly white city.
   The cart moved into the market, rattling less than it did back in the countryside. Lakhires thanked the milkman, and went off to find this... Mo.
   Stall fifty-two was a small stall selling what appeared to be misshapen clay jars. Each were sold at cheap prices. But that wasn't what drew his attention.
   The man at the counter looked so similar to his misshapen products that he blended right in. His skin seemed to be wrinkly and smooth at the same time. His green eyes shone mischievously, which helped Lakhires distinguish him from the clay products.
   "Can I see Mo?" He asked, approaching the strange man.
   "That'd be me, young man," the potter replied. Or at least, Lakhires assumed he was a potter, with his clay-splattered apron. "My full name is Morgendas."
   Remembering what Kalstrios had told him, he tried hard not to laugh at what he was about to say. "I smell starfruit," he mumbled between contained grins.
   Morgendas' eyes grew wide, and he came out to shove him in.

                              ~~~
  
The back of the stall was really a tunnel. Not the kind that went underground, but above ground, like a cave with an opening on both its north and east side.
   It started with a potter's workshop, with moulds of clay lined on the counter and a potter's wheel in the corner. Behind a curtain, the room expanded into another layer of reality that no mortal could see. Where one would see the back of a workshop, Lakhires saw a tunnel leading to a bright valley.
   The tunnel ended, and Lakhires stepped out into a lush green valley, with mountains lining it like a wall.
   A wall, he thought. That means that the Earth gods might live there, behind those mountains.
   "A little more about myself," Mo said. "I'm the god of pottery." When he had exited the tunnel, his features had been slowly morphing into something more godly, divine. Now his wet-clay appearance had morphed into that of a well-shaved man, his hands still wrinkled like prunes from his pottery work. His green eyes still sparkled like the misshapen potter Lakhires had seen earlier. He looked elfish, like he was an elf who had decided to work in the human world."Wait here, the rolling hills are coming."
   Just as Morgendas said that, Lakhires realised the reverberating sensation of the ground below him, and that the valley below was moving. "When I say 'jump', you jump," instructed Mo.
   Lakhires replied with a nod. A roll of ground moved towards them. "Jump!"
   He leaped, the pottery god beside him.
   The ground moved below them, transporting them towards the mountains. "So... who are you, kid? And what is your business here? I can tell that you're definitely not mortal," said Morgendas.
   "Lakhires of Skye Hall. Here to create peace between the Air and Earth. I don't exactly know what I'm ruling over yet, but I hope to find out soon." He smiled. Fortunately, Morgendas did not tackle or tried to kill him when he mentioned that he was of the Air gods.
   The ground moved onto the mountain like a carpet being rolled out. Behind the mountains laid a city of gold and trees. Each building was a tree too large and too tall to be normal. Golden verandas hugged each tree, and silvery bridges connected each veranda.
   The rolling ground stopped at the mouth of a river. Little boats with humongous leaves as sails sailed down the river.
   A man in green looked at Morgendas, and stopped rowing. "'Ello there, Mo! I see you've come with a friend, eh?"
   "An ambassador of Skye Hall," Morgendas replied. "We'd like transport to Terran Palace."
   The man nodded, and rowed closer to the shore, letting Lakhires and Morgendas into the boat.
   Lakhires stepped into the little wooden boat, floral motifs carved into the boat's hull and filled with molten silver.
   Along the little river the boat swayed, passing the enormous trees that served as dwellings for the Earth gods, along with some wood nymphs, goblins, and other "mythical" woodland creatures. The boat continued moving until the stream opened up into a lake, and in the middle of the lake were trees, growing and intertwining with each other to form a palace. This is Terran Palace.
   His mouth dropped open in awe, as the woodland palace loomed above him. The boat passed into a small gated tunnel, and stopped at a platform. The tunnel smelled of wet earth, like ground after a light rain.
   Two guards, tall tree-like beings with glowing green slits for eyes, waited at the entrance. They were as majestic as they were intimidating.
   When Lakhires got off the boat, Morgendas stayed and rowed off with the man dressed in green. He waved back, but the boat had already floated down the tunnel into who-knows-where.
   The guards blocked his entry into the palace, until he told them that he was an ambassador who seeked the alliance of Terran palace on behalf of Skye Hall. One insisted on escorting him, while the other stayed behind to guard the entry.
   The interior of the palace was just as grand as the exterior. Tree roots intertwined into solid walls, with some roots creeping onto the gold-inlaid ceiling. Torches bathed the corridors in a warm and inviting light, but that did not convince Lakhires of the Earth gods' friendliness.
   After a few flights of stairs, the guard pushed open a pair of heavy wooden carved doors. Inside, the Earth gods sat on cushioned tree root thrones.