Chapter 13:
The Strength of the Coin
"'The gods are real,'" Meira repeated what the mystic had told her to Mathew and Thomas, "'but they are not the one. Your talk of the one true god is drawing their attention. One attempted to end your words in your home city and another lied in wait for you along your path here.The more you fight back, the more you talk openly about the one true god, the more attention you're gaining from the other gods.'"
"Why you?" Thomas asked. "Why not the others of your faith? Why is it that you're the target?"
"She didn't say," Meira answered.
"Did you bother to ask?" Mathew asked with a slight chuckle. "If someone wanted me dead, I'd like to know why."
Meira kicked herself. Caught up in the mystifying reading, there were many questions that didn't occur to her in the moment. "I was more concerned with the next step," she confessed with a tinge of regret over the lost opportunity. "She told me that I would meet a teacher who would help me connect with the one and I figured that would be where the best answers would come from."
"Where is this teacher?" Thomas asked.
"I don't know," Meira answered, turning to Mathew, "but you're taking me to him."
"I am?" Mathew thought for a moment. "Marcus' orders were to take you as far as Takht-i Sangin in Bactria."
"Bactria?!?" Thomas huffed in amazement. "This is a long journey, indeed!"
"Where is that?" Meira asked.
Thomas knelt down and drew in the dirt a map to the best of his recollection. "Here is Dimasq," he poked at the dirt. "We traveled, here, to Mari, and then to here, Ctesiphon," he said as he traced a meandering line to represent the Euphrates. He then took extra care with the help of Mathew to draw the eastern continent. "Here?" he pointed at a location almost four times the distance they had already traveled.
"Close enough," Mathew nodded his approval.
"That is where we are going," Thomas said as he leaned back on his hands and taking a moment to contemplate what to expect. "This is going to be dangerous," he said, looking to Mathew.
"I know,"cMathew responded. "I tried to explain this to Marcus, but he insisted. The country is currently being supported by Greece and he has connections with the local developing kingdom."
"'Developing' is one way to say it," Thomas scoffed. "They're at war with Parthia and the Pahlavas." He stood up and dusted off his rear end. "We are going to be marching through war zones."
"How do you know so much?" Mathew asked him. The information of the region was barely spoken of among the generals, so it was strange to him that a normal soldier would be aware of the conflicts.
"I drink wine and I know things," Thomas smiled. "I have been studying Sokrates for most of my life, so I take to his methods with staying informed. I spend time with the people and I listen."
"I do that, too," Meira smiled. "I like learning of philosophy that way."
"Philosophy is fun and games," Thomas winced, "but it's very difficult to apply to life on a large scale."
"What do you mean?" Mathew asked.
"You could have all the answers," Thomas thought aloud, "you could know all the truths, and that might be helpful to you, but try sharing those truths with the people and you might find yourself drinking hemlock tea."
"That's rather cynical," Mathew laughed, "not Sokratic."
"I was thinking more of Platonic," Thomas explained. "Think of Plato's allegory of the cave of shadows and his experience of losing his teacher, Sokrates."
"Yes," Mathew nodded in the gravity and then looked seriously towards Meira, "that is most definitely a cautionary tale we should consider before speaking truths people may not be willing to hear."
"I don't understand," Meira said in frustration, "why the truth is such a dangerous thing to speak."
"Think about it," Thomas squatted back down to fiddle with the dirt while he talked. "If your power comes from a lie, like the slave owner who believes a slave is lesser than he is, the truth threatens to strip you of that power."
"Like your fight in Dimasq over the equality of women and slaves," Mathew pointed out. "If you gave women equal power and responsibility to men, men would lose the power over them that they currently hold, which is why you were resisted."
Looking back over the conflicts, Meira was only more confused by the mystic's telling. In Dimasq and along their journey, she didn't make any attempt to convert anyone to her religion. Her battles had been strictly for equality. "My head is spinning now," she confessed. "Was the mystic telling me that I SHOULD preach even though it will lead to irreversible effects?"
"Well," Mathew smiled, "you did manage to convert a whole crew over a week with your miracles and kindness. Maybe," he rubbed the back of his neck, "it's not something that you need to do more or less of?"
"That is unknowable," Thomas grunted, "and not worth the strain of reason. We should focus on what these old gods want and why they're willing to turn entire cities against you."
"Well, that's easy," Meira shook her head like it wasn't even a question. "Like you said, and it makes sense, if others stop believing in them, stop praying to them and making sacrifices to them, they lose their power, their influence over the people."
"Then why not just smite you where you stand?" Thomas asked, rubbing his temples. "Why would they risk failure with spells and people? Why not just end it quickly?"
After a moment of quiet contemplation between them, Mathew broke the silence with an epiphany. "We're missing someone important during this conversation," he said.
"Who?" Meira and Thomas both asked him.
"Our strange little friend," Mathew answered. "Quaden seems to have a lot more answers we may never consider."
"That's right," Meira's memory was jogged. "He spoke of the war between the gods and the titans like the entire story was different than what you know," she explained to Thomas.
"What did he say?" he asked, quite curious to learn the differences.
"That the gods didn't lock the titans away," Mathew recounted, on the verge of accepting Quaden's brief, but potent, revelation. "It was the reverse: the oceanid Pleione and the titan Atlas somehow locked away the gods with the help of his gods to end their tyrannies over man."
Thomas, in his quick intellect, thought about it for only a second before tilting his head to the side in confusion. "That doesn't make any sense," he said. "If the gods were locked away, how could they have been there in Dimasq or Mari?"
"Could that answer your question," Meira added, "as why they seem so limited in their abilities? Maybe they couldn't simply 'smite' me because there is some truth to Quaden's story."
"That would make sense," Thomas nodded, "but there's still no evidence to suggest that and how could we possibly find it? We are not gods, nor were we present during the battle between the Olympians and the Titans, so how could he possibly know one truth from the other?"
"There's only one person we should be asking those questions," Mathew looked at them, a little disappointed that they were still theorizing instead of going to the source. "He said he would share more once I calmed down over what he had already said, so I know I'm ready to hear it. What about you?" he asked Thomas.
"Me?" Thomas looked shocked. "I'm happy to hear more. It's not like I believed in the stories of the gods before. Hearing new ones is simply intriguing," he smiled, "but let's save those questions for while we're on the road. Learning them now might make our minds too heavy to carry along the path we need to be on."
It was settled, but not concealed. The next day, as they arranged to leave the city and make their ways eastward, Quaden could easily tell that they were anticipating the opportunity to talk to him about something. His assumption that it was to return to the conversation started in the ship's hold was correct. The joy it brought to see them practically dancing with excitement to learn more encouraged him to make a game out of it: making excuses and dodging them with fits of laughter as he prolonged their chances until they were nearly a week on the road.
Heading north towards the Caspian Sea, they would first find their way to the city of Ecbatana, a city that was once the capital of Media and had already seen its share of war and conquest. Founded in 678 bce by the first king and priest of Media, Deioces, the city was designed to be surrounded by seven concentric walls with a large, central palace at the center.
In 550 bce, the city of Media was captured by the Persian king Cyrus the Great and was later taken by Alexander the Great from the last Achaemenian ruler in the year 330bce. While it passed between ownership and rulers, very few throughout history ever knew of its importance, for, within the depths beneath the palace, was an artifact of such significance that it would be called upon when the fate of the world hung in the balance. This and when a particular someone needed just a shred of tangible evidence to convince others of an otherwise unbelievable tale.
Quaden had managed to avoid the questions burning in the minds of Meira, Mathew, and Thomas just long enough to make it to Ecbatana. For an entire week, their impatience grew with the frustration of his resistance until, while taking the time to rest and restock on supplies in the ancient capital, he allowed them to approach him.
In the dining room of the inn they rented for their time there, Quaden purposefully sat alone at a table large enough for the four of them. They thought they had finally cornered the little man and leaped at the chance to press him for answers, but he was still the one in complete control. As soon as they sat down, the inn keeper brought out some food for them that Quaden had already ordered.
"Quid vidisti?" a common phrase in Latin shared when people returned from journeys Mathew said sarcastically with a tinge of aggravation. "It's been so long since we've seen you."
"Yes," Meira said, leaning heavily on her elbows, "how long will you be staying for? Surely, you have some time for old friends."
"Oh, I'm only here for a couple nights," Quaden quipped. "The journey was nice enough, although there were some annoying flies that wouldn't leave me alone," he laughed.
"Leave the dung at the door," Thomas growled. "Why have you been avoiding us?" he asked leaning into stare Quaden down.
Quaden shot a sharp glance towards Mathew, reminding him of the last time someone tried to intimidate the dwarf. "I'd advise you to relax before something happens," he warned Thomas.
"Or you'll do what?" Thomas said with a malicious grin. Quaden slowly moved his eyes to lock onto Thomas' as he let the weight of his invisible presence gradually increase until Thomas' head was resting on the table under the weight.
"I don't like being talked down to," he said to Thomas who was terrified to the point of losing his voice.
"So you push around others?" Meira asked in disgust. "Are you becoming the monster that tormented you just so you can feel like it will never happen again?"
Quaden maintained the pressure on Thomas as he looked over to meet Meira's glare. "Not at all," he smiled. "Come to me with civility and I will meet you with civility. Does that not make sense?" He released his power over the man who was then lying with half his face in his food. "I get that you're frustrated," he said as he handed Thomas a cloth. "I was having a bit of fun with you until we got here."
"Why here?" Mathew asked. "Wouldn't it have been easier to talk along the road instead of where others might overhear?"
"Yes and no," Quaden answered. "I could tell you all the stories under the sun and it wouldn't have the same value as if I told you the story while showing you them at the same time."
"What do you mean?" Meira asked. "How can you show us?"
Quaden stood on his chair and leaned over the table, beckoning the others to pull in tightly as he began to whisper. "There's a chamber beneath this city," he said as the excitement of sharing the forbidden secret showed in the grin on his face and the bit of saliva at the corner of his mouth. "There, you'll see things so great that even your myths and legends will pail in comparison."
"And you're going to take us there?" Mathew asked.
"No," Quaden laughed sarcastically, "I'm just telling you for another giggle. Of course, I'm going to take you there. I've been waiting to tell you more until I had something you could see for yourself."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Meira asked. "How do we get there?"
"Aye, that's the better question," Quaden relaxed a bit. "It's beneath the palace, so we won't be able to just stroll on in. This is going to be dangerous, but, trust me, it will be worth it."
"Are we seriously going to just follow his word," Thomas asked, "and try to sneak into the heavily guarded palace?"
"Yes," Mathew answered without hesitation.
"Absolutely," Meira answered, thinking that it was a stupid question.
"Don't worry too much," Quaden smiled. "It only requires a little bit of sneaking. The entrance isn't in the throne room or any place especially precarious. It's down below. We'll need to move through the dungeons to the cavern beneath. There, we'll find a path to the forgotten chamber."
The more information Thomas received, the better he felt and started to relax, too. "How do you suggest we make it to the dungeons?" he asked.
"You leave that to me and my men," Quaden smiled. "This isn't my first time," he winked. "We still need to make an appointed visit to the person in charge of commerce. Any traveling merchant needs to pass through inspections and pay a tax, which also gives us a chance to win over the local magistrate. I've been through here a few times and, each time, I've proven my worth as a courier. Khalil will handle the negotiations and acquiring of any letters or items they want to travel with us, and, while they're busy with that, we'll slip along the way downwards."
"What about the dungeon guards?" Mathew asked.
"Again," Quaden smiled, "I'll handle them, so you three won't have to dirty your soft hands. All you lot have to do is remain calm and not draw attention to us. You think you can handle that?"
Naturally, Mathew and Thomas were skeptical, although they felt better hearing that Quaden had been successful in the past at visiting this supposed forgotten chamber. It was Thomas' rationally cautious need to know all the details that drove him to ask all the questions. "After telling us this will be dangerous, you're making this sound too easy," he glared at Quaden. "How do you plan on handling the guards?" His mind began to run through all the scenarios he could think of. "If we knock them out, other guards might find them. If you use your power over them, they will simply get up after we're gone and alert others. If you kill them and hide the bodies," he said with a suspicious look, "then the others will wonder where they are, so how do you plan on getting the four of us past them without sending the alarm through the entire palace?"
"I already said," Quaden laughed, "to leave it to me. Why do you need to know how I'm going to get it done?"
"In case something goes wrong," Mathew sided with Thomas. "The more of the plan we know, the better we can respond if something upsets that plan."
"What could possibly go wrong?" Quaden asked, sending a jolt of anxiety up everyone's spines.
Meira slapped her hand on the table. "Even I know that asking that question just guaranteed that something is going to happen."
"Why won't you just tell us?" Thomas asked.
Mathew leaned back in his chair. The little man was acting extremely confident, which meant to him that he definitely had a secret. "He's having a game with us," he said as he rubbed his chin. Meira and Thomas looked up from the table with their faces twisted in anxiety. "We're not going to be in any real danger, are we?" he asked Quaden, who winked in response.
"Then why are we worrying about being caught?" Meira asked.
"I don't think he's going to tell us," Mathew smirked and then reached into his coin pouch. He retrieved four gold coins and placed them in front of Quaden.
"For or against?" Quaden asked as he placed the coins into his own purse.
"For," Mathew's smile grew.
"A-are you," Meira was appalled, "betting on if we'll be caught? Is this really just a game to you?" She began to think it through and reasoned that Quaden must have had a connection within the guards, someone on the inside who could offer them safe passage. "What's with all the secrecy and theatrics if this is just a game?"
"You'll see," Quaden smiled, "if we get caught, which, for your purse and mine, we should all hope doesn't happen."
"Now," Thomas rested on his elbow, "I'm tempted to get caught just to see what the big secret is," he laughed, "but let's do it. Having an entertaining challenge sounds like a welcomed retreat from all the troubles we've faced. What do you say, Meiri, how does a bit of sport sound to you?"
Meira's eyes rolled wide as a gentle grin grew across her face and she huffed, "Men." The grin grew into a smile as they all looked to her with hope that she would join them in their fun, reminding her of how their friendships had evolved. "Fine," she said, "I'll play, but I still think it's stupid that you can't just tell us."
"What kind of game would it be," Quaden shrugged his shoulders, "if there were no rules?"
It wasn't along wait for them. Quaden had already arranged the meeting with the central commerce and was expected that day. The four ate their meals and enjoyed some water sweetened by citrus fruits before they joined with Khalil and made their way through the remaining central walls toward the palace.
Just as Quaden had explained, while Khalil cooperated with the inspection, the four of them slipped away into the crowd of other awaiting merchants, and casually made their way. Some nervousness passed through their minds as they noticed just how well armed the guards were, but the act of moving along while they looked elsewhere seemed to be going just as easily as Quaden had let on.
It wasn't until they found their way to the narrow stairwell, leading down to the dungeons, that the three all began to grow in excitement to finally see just how their leader was going to get them, unperturbed,through the area. As they approached, quietly and cautiously, four armed guards sat at a small table near the large, metal gate that locked off the rest of the facility.
Their sudden appearance, without the forewarning of footfall, startled the guards from their seats as they reached for their weapons. Meira, Mathew, and Thomas all readied themselves for a fight, but held back, letting Quaden continue to take the lead.
"Who are you and what is your business here?" the head guard demanded with one hand on his sword.
"Terribly sorry to surprise you," Quaden stepped forward. "We are here to make a visit," he said extending his small hand to shake the head guard's. As the guard took his hand in respect, his facial expression changed abruptly. "You can expect another firm handshake on our way out," Quaden said with a smile.
"Very well," the guard smiled, waving to the others to relax as he moved toward the gate. "You'll need to leave all your weapons here."
"Not a problem at all," Quaden cooperated, pulling a dirk from behind his back. In his hands, the dagger appeared like a short sword. "Go ahead, you lot, drop your weapons here," he said to the others as he placed his against the wall.
Mathew and Thomas both removed their swords, eliciting questioning glances from the guards who recognized the style of blades. Fears began to arise as the four of them passed through the gate and the loud lock clanked into position behind them.
Once out of earshot of the guards, Meira was the first to voice concerns. "I don't feel comfortable with this," she announced in a whisper to the others. "What's to stop them from simply leaving the door locked?" Mathew and Thomas both agreed with her. The continued conflicts between the Roman and Parthian empires almost guaranteed direct conflict for them, should their identities as Roman centurions be discovered and their swords would surely do just that.
"Then you should have left your weapons back at the inn," Quaden sneered at them. "In any case," he continued, "that doesn't matter in this moment. We can still accomplish what we came here to do and there's nothing standing in our way."
"What about afterwards?" Thomas asked with urgency. "How are we getting out of here?"
"You can't help doubting me, can you?" Quaden grimaced. "I'm sure that guard in command will wait as long as he can to get that second handshake." He extended his tiny hand toward Thomas, who, in a confused curiosity, shook it only to find something concealed within the gesture.
Within the dwarf's hand was concealed a gold coin he pressed firmly into Thomas'. A fit of laughter burst from his mouth as he finally understood Quaden's confidence. "That's simple enough!" he laughed almost loud enough to reach the guards. "Why didn't you just say so?"
Thomas showed the coin to the others as they walked along toward the far wall of the dungeon. "Where is that coin from?" Mathew asked, reaching for it to inspect the insignia. "I don't recognize the figure here. Which country is this from?"
"Here," Quaden smiled, "but from long before you were born, I'll tell you that. No, you won't find many coins of Enlil in the world, today."
"Who is Enlil?" Meira asked as they followed Quaden down a corridor toward an empty cell.
"The king of the gods," Quaden answered with some enthusiasm. "Well, the king of the gods from around this part of the world." A look of sadness passed over him as he remembered the history. "He was a good friend of Odin, although he could be a brat at times. He helped in the war to free mankind from the tyrannical gods."
Thomas hadn't taken a real look at the coin until Mathew noticed it's peculiarity. Once he learned that it had a greater history behind it, he wanted another chance to look it over. On the face was the bust of man wearing a crown of many horns. Without knowing how long ago the coin had been made, he would have assumed it was a recent stamp by it's almost perfect condition. "This looks like the image of Ba'al Hadad," he said as he passed it back to Quaden.
The merchant captain's eyes grew wide with surprise. "And how does a Roman centurion know of Ba'al Hadad?" he asked as he stopped and stood next to a grate in the floor.
"I drink and I know things," he said with a prideful smile towards the others.
"Then I'd like to know who told you about him," Quaden responded as he squinted at Thomas, "but that can wait."
The three looked around the small dungeon cell expectantly. "Where to now?" Meira asked as Quaden motioned to the grate next to his feet. Mathew's face became a shade of green and Meira's stomach turned. "You expect us to climb down into shit and piss?" she asked as she stepped away.
"It would seem so, lass," Quaden chuckled. "I didn't realize you were so sensitive." He leaned over and opened the heavy metal grate with one hand as though it was as light as a feather. Turning with an exaggerated look of disgust, he winked and hopped down into darkness below.
Chapter 14:
A Father's Broken Heart
Thomas was the only to follow their guide without hesitation while Meira and Mathew both needed to brace themselves for the horrors of the sewer beneath their feet. Once they had held their breaths for as long as they could manage, they released into gasps, bracing for the foul stench of human excrement.
"I-I don't smell anything," Meira said, her nose twisting as though she believed a trick was being played on her senses. Only the cool, damp air of a long forgotten cavern wafted through the tunnel they stood in.
"You didn't notice," Thomas answered through the darkness, "that the cell hadn't been used?"
"Excellent observation!" Quaden laughed. "You're a sharp one."
"Then," Meira thought, "the guards or the government knows about what lies beneath. Why else would they knowingly keep the passage clean and clear?"
"Don't go and ruin ALL of the surprises," Quaden laughed. "We're having a bit of a game here that I'll let you in on once we're back out."
"Games aside," Mathew said as he shuffled about, searching for a wall to guide him in a direction, "a torch would be more fun right now. I can't see a thing."
Quaden took the hand of the person closest to him and instructed the rest to form a chain. "We don't have far before we'll have enough light. Keep your feet beneath you and move slowly, but don't worry. I know this cavern like the back of my hand."
Walking or shuffling around in pitch-black darkness always feels like it takes longer than it does. What Quaden described as "not far" felt like an almost endless march into the emptiness of the underworld to the rest, but, eventually, a soft light began to emerge in the distance. At first, they thought that their eyes were adjusting or playing tricks on them, but the source of the light answered those questions as Quaden abruptly stopped them all. They were about to cross a colossal and very ancient stone bridge.
"Can we stop holding hands, now?" Quaden asked as he shook free from Thomas' grip. With his hand clenching down in excitement, Thomas barely noticed the sudden jarring motion of Quaden freeing himself because his full attention was locked on what was before them.
Across the bridge, at the center of a magnificent domed cavern, stood an impossibly large castle of indiscernible design. From where they stood, they could see carvings of heptagrams along the outer wall and on each of the seven, twisting spires in place of turrets that jutted upwards from around the castle's keep.
All, but Quaden, were speechless as they approached. Fearing that they were trespassing in the home of some holy deity, they all reluctantly followed their guide as he walked towards the massive gateway to the inner sanctum, inviting them along as if it was his own home he was welcoming them into. "You're going to enjoy the view much more from the inside," he said as they approached the gate, which he opened with ease. "Especially, you, my skeptical friend," he said to Thomas. "You're about to get a lot of answers, each one coming with a dozen more questions, I'm sure."
Within the gatehouse, the impressiveness of the structure continued to strike awe and caution. To each side of them, in the large open space of the first structure, stood intricate statues, of what looked to Mathew and Thomas, with the massive hammers, as effigies of Hephaestus or Vulcan, the Greeco-Roman god of metallurgy. Behind each statue were perfectly preserved murals of stunning detail.
Behind the statue to the right of the gate was a mural of eight figures: a fox, sitting regally with dark fur and a white tail tip that seemed to glow from the painting; a man with two faces, four arms, reddish skin, an elaborate headdress, and carrying a sword and an ax, the styles of which none of the new visitors had encountered before; a small, grayish furred creature with a bald tail and jaws as wide a san alligator gently looked towards the audience with a slight bow of its head; a tall, almost giant, man, bearing a crossed helm, stood in the background with his hands on his hips and his chest extended in victory; among them stood a beautiful woman with ebony skin, painted with white dots and lines that traced along her arms as a flowing red dress poured off her shoulders and hips; two crows, one black and one white, hovered above the group with a smoldering coal held between their beaks; and the final figure, sitting proudly at the center of the image and smiling warmly at the guests, was a familiar face with a crown of many horns upon his head and a club in his hand.
"That's the same god from your coin," Meira said as she approached the image. "Who are the others?"
"Is that really Ba'al Hadad?" Thomas asked as he joined Meira in a closer inspection.
"Well," Quaden became anxious, "he didn't go by that name, then. No, that was when he was known as Enlil in these lands, but my people knew him as Loki."
"But it is the same god, right?" Thomas clarified.
"Yes," Quaden answered, "you could say that, but who is ever the same person they were in the past who is not dead and only alive in memory?"
A moment of silence fell over the group as Quaden's words sunk in. "That was a hit to the head!" Mathew shook himself in astonishment. "How profound!"
Quaden looked to the two men with an incredulous smirk. "I would hope you would respect that wisdom," he said, placing his hands on his hips, "MATHEW and THOMAS."
"Please, Quaden," Meira grew impatient, an urgency swept through her limbs as she looked to him, "who are these, well, characters?" Behind her eyes were doubts. She had grown up with the stories and teachings of the Yehudhi and, while she was ready to renounce the doctrine that one must be born a Yehudhi to be chosen by God, she was also approaching the acceptance that what she learned of the other gods might be wrong. The beings in the murals didn't look demonic at all and the presence of a goddess, honored and immortalized in equal reverence and importance, was encouraging to her.
"Alright, there, Meiri," he responded with concern, "I'll tell you." He walked to the mural and held his hand up, pointing from beneath each image as he moved along and explained. "Fox and Tlaquatzin," he said, standing beneath the two animals. "Fox has traveled the world over and you can find his kin on every continent. His lovely friend, though," he pointed directly at the fury creature with a bald tail, "she is from far to the west, past the great ocean. You see, Aristotle may have believed that there is only a vast ocean to the west, between Africa and Asia, but there are actually two more continents. My people have been visiting them for generations."
"Your people?" Meira was distracted from the presentation by the fact that she hadn't learned anything of Quaden's past. "Where are you from?"
The little man held himself with a combination of pride and sadness. He loved his kin, but could not forgive them for their treachery. "I am of the Celts and Vikings," he sighed. "Too far to the north for you to have known, lass."
"Then I should like to know," she smiled. "You've been oddly quiet about your origins, but I will wait. For a story so good as to explain the strong and wise person standing before me, it will be worth it."
A blush swept across his face as he coughed and turned back to the mural with a breeze of embarrassment. "And this is Pkharmat," he said, returning to the more comfortable subject for him.
"He looks like a titan," Thomas remarked.
"Indeed he was," Quaden smirked. "You would know him as Prometheus."
"The fire thief?" Mathew asked.
"Indeed," Quaden answered, "he is the titan Prometheus. Although the Greeks and the Romans stake claim to his tale, he was most closest to the Vainakh in the Caucus mountains. Something about titans and mountains," he laughed. "It oddly makes sense, but I don't understand why."
He then stepped back to direct everyone's attention above Pkharmat's head to the two crows. "Don't be mistaken," he said as he stretched his head back, straining to look so high on the mural, "that is actually one being, Waa. She, like Fox and Tlaquatzin, made sacrifices in her story. She sacrificed her white feathers for charcoal, her beautiful singing voice for a ceaseless cough, and her mortality, her chance at enlightenment, to offer mankind a chance at it."
"Where is she from?" Meira asked softly.
Quaden's emotional expressions continued to shift freely from topic to topic. When Meira asked of Waa's home, his eyes sparkled with the sense of adventure. "She is from far to the south east," he answered, "on an island as large as a continent and as dangerous as an asp's fang. The people there are friendly and free wanderers, but the beasts, snakes, and insects are of the most deadly in the world."
"What about her?" Thomas asked, looking at the black skinned goddess. "She's stunning."
"Oh, yes," Meira smiled, "I've been waiting patiently to learn about her."
"Oya," Quaden beamed at the image, "she was from the Niger river people called the Yoruba."
"Where is that?" Meira asked.
"Far west coast of Africa," Quaden answered without hesitation. "To the Yoruba, she is the goddess of fire, storms, lightning, death, beauty, and rebirth. She brought the sacred flame to her people, so that they could be free from the darkness."
Thomas rubbed his chin. "I'm seeing a connection here," he said. "Oya, Waa, and Prometheus all stole fire for man. Is that the same for the others?"
"Then what about this person?" Mathew asked, stepping towards the image of the red skinned man with two faces. "You skipped over him, why?"
"Completely unintentional," Quaden winced at his mistake. "I was a little eager to get to Pkharmat. This gentleman with the two faces is Matarisvan from Harappa."
"Why does he have two faces?" Mathew asked.
Quaden laughed. "He didn't actually have two faces," he explained. "That was a simple rendering trying to depict his mastery of both foresight and hindsight."
Mathew nodded in understanding. "What do the four arms represent?" he asked.
"Oh," Quaden chuckled, "that means that he had four arms."
Mathew looked at Quaden as though he had gone mad. "Really?!?" he gawked.
"Really," Quaden nodded.
While they continued to discuss the gods and how each of them somehow procured the seven sacred flames for humanity, Thomas' curiosity kept his feet moving. As he listened to the lecture form their guide, he wandered to the opposite side of the room to view the mural behind the adjacent statue. "Is this who they stole the fire from," he called out, drawing their attention to what had caught his.
Meira watched in suspicion as Quaden's demeanor suddenly shifted. He began to blush and act modestly as he walked with them over to meet Thomas. "No," he answered, "they are the reason why we are here. Their story is the only one I can prove in this moment."
"The only one you can prove?" Meira looked at him in shock. "How can you prove any of this? Who are they?"
Upon the wall, the mural showed the two who had sacrificed themselves, the titan Atlas and the oceanid Pleione. They held each other, embracing with one arm, as their free hands reached outward, pressing against a bubble that surrounded them. Within the bubble, many faces of the old gods looked upon their act with mixed expressions of happiness, contentment, indifference, and malice. Outside the barrier, they could see depictions of the ancient civilizations that came before: Egypt; Mesopotamia; Celtic and Nordic nomads; people of the jungles and forests, deserts and rivers, mountains and valleys, plains and marshes; and many more that only Quaden knew of. It was a true tapestry of the spectrum of gods and cultures that filled Meira with excitement, imagining the chance to meet them all.
After everyone took time to ponder over what they were seeing, again, it was Thomas to start asking questions. "Why did the stories change?" he asked. "I mean, if the gods were locked away for good reason, why tell it differently? According to you, Atlas and Pleione were heroes and should be honored, but Pleione isn't discussed past being the wife of Atlas and baring his children."
"Why do you think?" Meira asked him, annoyed that he had completely forgotten his own answer from the stalls in Ctesiphon. Recalling the answer came easily to her. After a bit more travel and a somewhat relaxing adventure for a change, all her hours of discussing politics and philosophy with Marcus, this one was an easy address. "Kings don't want stories going around about how uprisings succeeded. That would give the oppressed too much hope. And men don't want stories of strong women going around because they don't want them knowing that they can survive without them. It's all about power and control and you start that by feeding people stories that keep them subdued. You tell them stories about how you only receive punishment for disobedience to your king and you tell them stories where women are nothing more than wives there to bare children."
"She's partially right, lads," Quaden supported Meira after a moment to let them think over her remarks.
"Partially right?" Meira looked at him, slightly hurt by his statement.
"You're right that kings and men have change the stories to support their own power," he explained, "but the change in the story of Atlas and Pleione was started out of a childish revenge for their defeat."
"Who's defeat?" Meira asked.
Quaden began to walk towards the inner gate, directing them all to follow him in the direction of the castle's keep. "The defeat of the gods who wanted to stay and rule over mankind. It was bad enough that their prides were hurt by the throttling we gave them," he said as the three others began to look between themselves, wondering if he was actually saying that he was there, that he was one of the gods that fought against them. "The stories of their defeat were just sand in the eyes. They've been spending hundreds of years, creating their own religions, writing their own stories, just to keep humans in their service."
With a burst of laughter, Thomas interrupted any further explanation until something was cleared. "Did you just say, 'the throttling WE gave them'?" he gawked while the others waited for an answer. They were just as curious about the statement. "Are you telling us that you are a god?"
Quaden led them through the courtyard of beautiful statues, presumably gods,made of gold and marble still painted the various skin tones,depicting their worldly origins. Pools of crystal clear water acted like mirrors, showing the cavern ceiling above in its brilliance. The shimmering, dancing lights and inspiring art and architecture drew everyone's eyes around until they stopped, their breaths taken by the awareness that they were still below ground, but staring up at what looked like a canopy of the cosmos.
The mixture of dancing flames from the spires caught with the dazzling crystalline ceiling, showing a replica of the night's sky with the cluster of the Pleiades overhead and the constellation of Orion in pursuit. The group slowly shifted toward the gate to the keep, their amazement of their surroundings keeping them from rushing the experience. By the time they reached the large, heavy doors, they were simply hesitant to continue out of pure fear that the next sights would be too astonishing to withstand.
"I am not a god," Quaden said softly as he reached for the door and responding to the earlier question.
Thomas shook himself, almost forgetting that he had asked it after seeing such wondrous sights. "You're not?" he asked in a daze.
"No," Quaden answered as smile grew, "I'm a man born with the soul of a titan."
With ease, he flung open the doors, revealing the main chamber of the inner keep: a large room with seven walls, aligned with the seven spires, and murals upon murals on each wall, telling the stories of how each member from the gatehouse obtained their flames. At the center of this room was a large, billowing flame that stretched upward in an impressive spiral as the breeze from the opening doors swept through. Behind the blaze sat another statue of magnificent size and such care went into its sculpting that even Quaden, who was very familiar with it, often questioned if it was the real being.
Not designed to depict a ruler, nor created to inspire worship or obedience, this statue sat humbly upon a simply stool carved from the same marble.Resting his left elbow upon his knee as that hand held his chin in a look of deep contemplation, his eyes lost in the fire before him. His right hand reached up to rest on the butt of a long handle that reached straight down to the floor to connect to a large hammer head. It was the same god shown in the statues from the gatehouse.
Quaden's first action, upon entering the chamber, was to walk directly over to the statue and retrieve an ornate scarf that was draped over its exposed knee. The act was so direct and deliberate that the others were abruptly drawn from their moment of awe and wonderment to a state of curiosity. "What was that?" Thomas asked before the others could open their mouths.
Quaden wrapped the garment around his neck with a look of pride and victory. "Oh, nothing," he smiled. "You'll find out when we get back. It's all part of the game."
They all looked at each other with suspicious smiles. "Okay," Meira replied with a playful huff, "but you know that you're only building the anticipation with the growing secret."
"Then let's focus on the secrets of this room?" Quaden redirected. "What questions do you have that would be best answered here?"
They scanned the surrounding murals, learning of the exploits of the seven figures. They saw the images of Waa, once an ivory white, as she followed the directions of Orion who followed and spied on the witches. She was later scorched by the flames as she stole a giant, burning ember from a hooded witch. Fox was seen stealing the flame from three lumbering giants, who guarded it for another hooded witch,by lighting the end of its tail and running away. Tlaquatzin, the strange looking creature, was seen following Fox's lead by stealing the fire with her tail, escaped the clutches of the witch by playing dead so well that the witch ran to the underworld to try and intercept her. She held this act while the fire burned her tail which, instead of being left with a white tip like Fox, left her with all the hair of her tail singed off by the end.
As the group inspected the picturesque story telling, they found that two elements were prevalent: the fire was obvious, but the other recurring figure that came to the foreground was the hooded witches. Pkharmat was seen stealing it from another before being punished by a god Mathew and Thomas identified as Zeus or Iupitor. Matarisvan was seen receiving from the sun itself, Surya, the plans of how to steal the fire while still in the womb. His mother was another witch. He was born, fully developed with the mastery of foresight and knew every step of the theft and escape before breathing his first breath. Ba'al Hadad or Loki was seen bargaining with an eagle to learn of the whereabouts of one of the sacred flames. After finding the location and the witch that used it to torment the people, he used trickery, illusions, and his massive club to hit the smoldering ember that held the flame faraway to a safe location where he built a fortress around it with the help of Nuska, the Sumerian name for Hephaestus as Quaden explained. It was the vary fortress they were standing in at that moment.
The story that caused the most questions was that of Oya's journey. It started with the witch, but it did not show anyone stealing the fire from her. She watched from behind her hood as the others used their flames to wreak havoc on both mankind and the gods. Seeing the efforts of those seeking the flames, not to keep for themselves or to pass along to the other supernatural being as grasps for power, each of them fought for the sacred flames to hand over to humans. This witch was moved by their efforts to free the humans from the darkness by giving them a weapon against the gods that subjugated them. She was so touched by the compassion and care that she removed her hood, revealing that she was Oya, and turned to her people to share the warmth and help facilitate their growth.
After explaining the mural of Oya in better detail, Quaden sighed deeply as a tear rolled down. "I'm very proud of her," he said as he wiped at his cheek. "She was a great inspiration for what came next. She drew us together, she united us, in our effort to lock the gods away."
"'Us'?" Thomas stopped him. "You're proud of her?" he asked, trying his hardest not to just simply accept the stories he was hearing.
"I told you there would be a dozen questions gained from one answer given," Quaden laughed.
"WHO ARE YOU?" Thomas blurted out. Meira and Mathew just stood back. They knew that their friend would ask all and more questions than they could rattle off. "Who are the other witches? Where did the fire come from? How do you know these things? Where are the other flames?"
"One at a time," Quaden tried to slow him down. "One at a time." He led them back out of the doors and pointed to the cluster of stars above the castle keep. "You know these stars, yes?" he asked.
"Yes," Mathew answered quickly, "those are the Pleiades."
"Seven daughters," Quaden added solemnly as he turned back to the doors. He raised his hand and pointed at all of the witches with sadness, except the one, Oya. "They are the Pleiades," he said sadly. "Orion wasn't the lustful brute who chased them, as you've heard.He was an ally of the humans, a demigod who decided the best way he could help was to know each of the witches locations."
Meira reached down and placed her hand on Quaden's shoulder. "Why is this so upsetting for you?" she asked with softness and kindness.
Tears began to run freely as Quaden mustered the courage to speak. "I called them the seven daughters because they are MY daughters."
"What does that mean?" Meira asked. "You're saying you're the father of those witches? How is that possible?"
"What he's saying," Thomas answered for him, struggling to make sense of everything they had learned, "is that he is the titan, Atlas."