AMNESIA
He woke on the side of the road. His head throbbed and his vision was slightly blurred. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position and massaged the bump on his head. He winced as new pain seared through his skull as he surveyed his surroundings.
He was surrounded by fields, with no signs of human activities around him, save for the road. The long, green grass blew gently in the wind and he shuddered in the sudden cold. Not knowing what else to do, he rose shakily to his feet and wandered down the road.
After a few minutes, the pain subsided and the bump was no more than a minor annoyance. He found his thoughts were not yet in order, but he found comfort in the fact that they would be soon enough. He had no recollection of how he had come to be on the side of the road, or even who he was. He looked down at what he was wearing, trying to decided who he might have been.
He wore a simple green tunic with several holes in it. Brown hose was upon his legs and well wore leather boots on his feet. He smelled the material of his tunic and could detect the musty odor of the forest. With a shrug, he continued on his way.
Soon, he came to a slowly flowing river. The blue water looked clean and inviting, so the man splashed some on his face and drank deeply. For the first time, he felt hunger as his thirst was quenched. He peered into the river and saw his reflection.
He was a handsome man who appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties. He had blonde hair and blue eyes that seemed empty and distant. He was muscular and tanned with the beginning traces of a beard on his chin. He rubbed the small hairs absently as he pondered his image.
"Who am I?" he said aloud, listening to his own voice.
The voice was deep and masculine. He sat for a moment relishing the sound of his voice, the only voice he could ever recall hearing. He sighed, crossed the bridge that spanned the river, and continued to follow the road.
*****
The city was full of people. Merchants shouted to citizens, begging them to sample their wares. Farmers with grain, produce, and animals lined the narrow streets. Sages and prophets claiming to know the wisdom of the Gods shouted out their dark futures. Among all this, the man walked alone.
He was delighted to see all the sights of this city. He enjoyed peering at the goods on sale and sampling the fine delicacies from around the world. The few tidbits he managed to try helped his hunger, for a while. While rounding a corner, he bumped into a small girl who was running in the other direction.
"Sorry," the man apologized.
"Move it," the girl hissed, "or else they'll get me."
As the girl ran from the man, several armed guards yelled at her to halt. The street girl clenched her bundle tightly and weaved skillfully between the merchants and customers.
"Thief!" the guards yelled.
The man could not bare to see the girl be caught, so he deliberately moved into the way of the oncoming guards. Two of them crashed into him and fell to the ground.
"Watch it, peasant," the captain said, drawing his sword.
The nameless man picked up the sword of one of the fallen men and held it ready.
"I apologize, captain," the man said. "I didn't know catching so small a child was that important."
Several people in the crowd laughed. The captain grew red with embarrassment.
"The thief stole a melon and a canteen of water," the guard argued.
"If it's water you want," the man said, "I passed a river on my way here. It's full of water and no more than a few minutes ride with horses. The child, on the other hand, would surely die if she tried to make the journey."
The growing crowd murmured their approval. The captain put down his sword but continued to glare angrily at the stranger.
"You are right, good sir," he said between clenched teeth. "I don't wish to start a brawl. I'll send my men for water but if we ever catch that girl again, she'll spend the rest of her days in the jail."
The nameless man dipped his head in acknowledgment and returned the sword to the soldier. The guards scurried off. The crowd of people returned to their activities, satisfied that the entertainment was done. The man continued on his way through the city until he felt a hand on his. He looked down and saw the girl.
"Come with me," she said, pulling on his arm.
*****
The room was small and dirty. The girl brought him into the room and proudly displayed it. One wall had crumbled down showing the market place beyond. A small blanket and a single pillow rested on a large pile of moldy hay. Beside the hay was a melon and a canteen.
"This is my home," the girl said. "I wanted to thank you for saving me from the guards."
The man didn't say anything. He sat down on the floor and watched a pair of rats scurry by. The girl came and sat in front of him, studying him with her large brown eyes. She wore filthy rags that had been patched many times. Her brown hair was long and unkempt, falling in knots to her elbows. Her face was smeared with dirt.
"I'm Isis," she said.
The man didn't reply. Isis moved to the hay and grabbed her stash. She split the melon in half and gave half to her silent guest. He accepted it and bit into it without question. She began to eat her half as well. After a few minutes, the man licked his lips and put the empty melon husk down.
"Thank you, Isis," he said.
The street girl smiled. She was no more than eleven years old, the man guessed. So young to be alone on the streets.
"Where is your family?" the man asked.
Isis lowered her eyes and put her half eaten melon half down.
"I don't have one," she whispered. "They died of the sickness that spread a few years ago. I used to live in a real house, with clean clothes and all the food I could eat. After the sickness, the house was destroyed and I was sent to an orphanage. I ran away because I missed my family and I've lived on the streets ever since." She raised her eyes to meet his. "What about your family?"
"I wish I could tell you," he said. "I don't remember anything. I woke up on the side of a road yesterday morning. That's all I know."
"You don't have a name?"
The man shook his head. Isis thought long and hard.
"Cole. It was the name of my father," Isis said.
The man smiled and nodded, approving of the choice.
"What city are we in?" Cole asked.
"Molf, but if we went to Amrat and talked to the Oracle of Amaar, I'd bet he could tell us who you really are," Isis said.
"Amaar?"
"The God of Wisdom. I'm sure the Way of the Wise will help. They're very kind. We'll leave tomorrow," Isis decided.
She spread out the hay so they could both sleep on it and Cole moved next to the small girl. He yawned and was soon asleep. Some time during the night, Isis curled up next to the man, muttering something from a life long ago.
*****
The Palace of the Gods high atop Mt. Sky was alive with the sounds and voices of the night coming to life. The last traces of Salama's pegasus could be seen in the far west as she guided the sun to sleep, while the magical carpet of Pcior drew the full moon into the sky. The Council of the Gods was coming into order. Lor sat with Randol at the head of the room. They were the Creators and the Lords of the Gods. Lor's sparrow sat at his right shoulder and looked thoughtfully at the immortals entering the room. The meeting commenced soon after Pcior and Salama returned. Lor looked around the room. Someone was missing. A second look showed that Aran, the mischievous God of Thieves was not present.
"Where is Aran?" Lor demanded.
The room quieted. They all looked at the empty seat between Waie, the Goddess of Water, and Ramada, the Goddess of Ill-Fortune.
"Perhaps he is out making mischief, my Lord," Ramada suggested.
"That I do not doubt, but he should never miss the Council," Lor replied.
He stamped his foot on the marble floor impatiently. One of the demi-Gods used as servants, Violet of the Rainbow, appeared.
"Did my Lord summon a servant?" she asked politely.
Lor looked at Salama's daughter. She was a demi-God, and an important part of the cycles of life below. She was in charge of the rainbow after he had made a storm. Her hair was the colours of the rainbow, her eyes violet. She wore a simple tunic of red and blue and green sandals. Her father had been a mortal Salama had favoured, but he had died a century ago. His only daughter lived and served in the Palace in the Sky with her mother. She aged slowly and appeared to be only seventeen after three hundred years of life.
"Has Lord Aran been in the Palace today?" he asked.
Violet thought about it for a moment and shook her head.
"No, my Lord. I have not seen Lord Aran at all," she answered.
Lor nodded thoughtfully. A small gesture he had picked up after a few years of posing as a mortal some time ago.
"Thank you. You may leave," he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
Violet curtsied and smiled at Pcior as she left the room. Pcior appeared not to have noticed as he sat staring at the deity beside him. Taya, the young Goddess of Nature, blushed girlishly as he kissed her hand.
"Pcior, I trust your voyage was successful," Taya said.
"Of course, was there ever a doubt?" Pcior asked.
She smiled and returned her eyes to Lor, who was tapping his hand impatiently on the arm of his chair; another gesture learned among the mortals.
"We seem to be missing one of our brothers. Pcior, during your travels did you see Aran?" Lor asked.
Pcior shook his head slowly. "I did not, although there were a lot of thieves gathered around one of the smaller towns," he said.
Inyato, the God of Merchants, banged the arm of his chair angrily.
"I was not told of this!" he shouted.
Another servant appeared, thinking he had been summoned. It was another demi-God, the son of Waie, Goddess of Water. He was Daniel of the Streams.
"Did my Lord summon a servant?" he asked.
Inyato turned to the boy. He resembled an eighteen year old, tall and gangly. Waie loved him dearly, as he was her only son.
"Send my swiftest donkey to the town. You may accompany him and report back to me who the ass deems worthy of my protection. Hurry, before Aran takes too much," he ordered.
Daniel bowed and hurried off. Waie watched him go. The Council ended on that note and the immortals went about their business. Belgar, God of the Forge, retreated to his smithy to work on the latest of Destor's requests and Lor went to work on a terrific storm for the south. Nyen and Nyah, Goddesses of Life and Death, went to check which mortals are to die in the storm and Taya made sure her animals were aware of it. Daniel reported back to Inyato that the town was dishonest and Inyato asked Lor to place the brutal part of the storm there. Daniel returned the donkey to his pen and headed off to the servants quarters.
He entered to see Violet sitting at her bed. She was looking down at her knees and crying softly. Daniel sat beside her.
"What is the matter?" he asked.
"My voice is fading," she whispered, raising her tear-filled eyes to see him.
Daniel immediately understood Violet's problem. Without her voice, she couldn't produce the sounds to make the rainbow after the storm. He smiled sympathetically and picked up an empty glass beside her. Pointing at it, he filled it with cold, clean water.
"Perhaps a drink will help," he suggested.
Violet drank and tried to sing. She produced a few reds and yellows, but they quickly turned brown.
"It's no use. Lor will be so disappointed," she began to sob again.
One of the other demi-Gods walked in. It was Aran's young son, barely half a century old. He came in, dragging his blanket and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"I can't sleep," he said, tugging at Violet's skirt.
She picked the toddler up and put him on her lap. He immediatly stuck his thumb in his mouth. Blue eyes looked at her and she ran her fingers through his blonde curls.
"Sing me a picture," he pleaded
"Not tonight, Tomas," she said quietly.
Tomas looked at her with his head cocked to one side.
"What's wrong with your voice?" he asked.
Violet smiled and bounced him on her knee.
"Nothing, little one. It's just a bit sore."
"You should go see Amaar. He knows everything!"
Violet laughed at the little boy's suggestion. He smiled at her, revealing his two teeth.
"Tommy, why don't you help Violet?" Daniel suggested.
Tomas nodded and smiled.
"Yeah! Amaar's been teaching me! Watch!"
Tomas put both hands on Violet's neck, one on each side. His small face crumpled in concentration as his healing skills went to work. Although the small boy didn't have his full power yet, he was still useful when one of the demi-Gods was ill. The small portion of them that was mortal allowed them to be sick and die. Their godly powers allowed them to work miracles for the mortals below. They served their parents, who trained them in return.
"All done!" Tomas said after a few moments.
Violet cleared her throat and sang. The colours appeared as beautiful as ever. She formed a small rainbow, then a field of colourful butterflies. Tomas squealed with joy at the pictures she formed. Finally, they died away. Violet hugged the small boy and he slid off her lap.
"Thank you Tomas," she said.
"Tank you Violey!" the boy answered.
Daniel and Violet watched him leave. Smiling, he turned to the young lady.
"You're going to make a perfect mother one day," he commented.
Before she could answer, he took her hands and leaned forwards for a deep and passionate kiss.
*****
Before sunrise, two figures crept out of the still slumbering city of Molf. By the time Salama the Sun Goddess had guided the sun into the sky, they were almost to the town of Pleesa. As they walked, Isis tried to explain the workings of the world to her companion.
"Listen," she began. "The entire known world is ruled at Damcyan by the King. He has governors in every province who report to him, asking for more soldiers or more money. In every province, there is also at least on main temple for one of the Gods. Are you with me so far?"
Cole nodded and motioned for her to continue.
"Right, onto the Gods. There are eighteen Gods and Goddesses. Almost all of them have their own religious order except Aran, Ramada, Areanna, Inyato, and Alisha."
"Who are they?"
Isis gave a deep sigh. "Aran is the God of Thieves, Ramada is the Goddess of Ill-Fortune, Areanna is the Goddess of the Hearth and Home, Inyato is the God of Merchants and Alisha is the Goddess of the Chase."
"Why are there so many Gods?"
"I don't know. All I can tell you is that there are and if you're not careful, you may stumble into a priestess of the Clan of the Dead and end up on a sacrificial stone. We're going to talk to the High Priest of Amaar, who is the God of Wisdom. All the deities live on top of Mount Sky, which we have to pass in order to get to Amrat."
"Okay," Cole said. "Enough about religion. Tell me more about the provinces."
"There are seven provinces. Right now, we're in Nyenot, about to cross over into Pcioria. The other provinces are," Isis paused a moment to think. "Salamur, Destork, Nyahzra, Randolin, and Wailar."
Isis continued to instruct her friend until the gates of Pleesa loomed in front of them. The sun was now low in the sky, preparing to illuminate the after world as the moon headed to the living world. Isis marched up to the gates and was stopped by two armed guards.
"State your business in Pleesa," one of the guards said.
"We're passing through on our way to Amrat," Isis replied.
The guard looked at her questioningly.
"Do you have gold to spend?" he demanded.
Isis shook her head.
"Then take the poor man's road around Pleesa and you'll join up with the main road on the other side," the guard ordered.
"But there is no place to sleep out here in the cold," Isis argued.
"That's not my problem, is it," the guard laughed.
Isis made an angry face and was about to shout out a retort when Cole pulled her away. They left the laughing guards and headed into the shadow of the city.
"Don't worry. We have the Moon God to watch over us," Cole said.
Isis looked at him quizzically.
"Maybe you were a priest of the Moon Mages before," she wondered.
"Maybe, but for now I'm here and I'm tired from walking all day," Cole threw some grass at his young friend. "Go to sleep."
*******
Isis woke up when a cold hand clamped around her mouth. She tried to bite the hand of her kidnapper, but found he was wearing a thick glove. She screamed into the thick leather, but her sound was muffled. Her attacker answered her cry by hitting her hard.
"Silent, whelp," he whispered.
Isis looked around and saw Cole, tied and gagged nearby. He was unconscious and bleeding from several wounds. It appeared that he had put up quite a fight. Isis felt her own hands being tied and a sudden pain exploded in the back of her skull. With a final whimper, she slid into darkness.