Painting Siberlee (TFD #1)

[Arumbus]

Here is the first chapter in a Sage Called The First Disciple. 'cuse the Yanky spelling. Been over here too long! Mostly looking for critiques on style and flow. This story was definitely written with the purpose of inspiring fantasy artists in mind (being one) - but you will probably see more of that in furture chapters.


My art it is my world and I am the God of that world. I am the art of Siberlee and she is the God of my world. Those different worlds were never meant to convene… but when my art is of Siberlee our worlds seem to meld and being a God does not seem so important.

Onas - 4th Century Artisan and Scribe




My name is Onas and I am the first Disciple of Siberlee; the first disciple of any of The Mothers or The Fathers, if truth be known. Of course, in those early times we did not refer to them as The Mothers and The Fathers, they were simply Gods to us.

I was born just a handful of centuries after Siberlee created the Race of Man. All of the Races had not yet been created. Elsen had yet to conceive of the Dark Elves, and Siberlee herself had yet to help Dulan create the Race of Furs by coupling with a man, a wolf, and a lion all in the same night. It was early in the history of Mernac, when there was no strife, no war, and no want - but that was all soon to change… and I suppose I am partially to blame for the change, may the Mothers forgive me.


When it began I was an apprentice artist who could barely make a straight line with the charcoal from our village’s story fire. Oh yes, I thought I was going to be Mernac’s Greatest Artist, you know how adolescents are. But if truth be told, I was not very good. Stimba, the master I worked under, told me much later that he was about to return the gold my mother had paid him, thinking I was a lost cause. Mother confirmed my lack of talent at the time before she passed on to the land of shadows. I had not yet found my muse, though she was under my nose right in our very village. Love blinded me to my art.


It was my love for Siberlee that triggered many of the events that would forever shape Mernac. It was not simply the love of her as a God: yes, I always have and still do love her in that way. No, I loved her in a far deeper way than that. I loved her as a woman. This love still burns strong in my heart even though we can no longer be intimate. For I am now a Disciple, and Siberlee’s Traucha forbids us to enjoy each other’s loving touch.


Siberlee lived with the Race of Man at that time, as it was long before The One had ordered The Mothers be restricted to the Heavens save on Chandralee. She lived not a thousand paces from where my parents’ simple house stood. I remember the place well and could even take you to the exact spot in Faithmore where her Villa stood all those seasons ago. Of course, Faithmore was nothing but a village of a few hundred souls at that time. For that matter, I think there were no more than a few thousand human souls in all of Mernac at the time.


I think my love for Siberlee began the first time I saw her at night. I was but 17 or 18 seasons old and as adolescent boys often are, I was extremely curious about those things my parents told me I should avoid. Being close to Siberlee’s home at night was at the top of their list. Though Siberlee walked among us in the day, each night she would retire to her Villa, always alone. None dared to intrude on her privacy; she was a God.


Surrounding Siberlee’s Villa was a tall wall of sturdy Bluestone with but a single gate. The gate would remain open during the day allowing all of us to enter, to fetch water from the fountains, and enjoy the perfectly maintained gardens. However, with the coming of night the blue thorns of the plentiful Kooja bushes would begin to glow as they do when the sun chooses to go to sleep with Sola and the stars. This soft blue glow was the signal for all of us to leave the compound, for once the last glimmer of the sun’s light disappeared behind the distant mountain, the gates of the Villa would close and Siberlee insisted on remaining alone until the rising of the sun the next morning.


Most nights were uneventful, but every so often a soft sweet singing could be heard emanating from the darkened Villa. The voice was wondrous and naturally soothed all in the village that heard it. None could ever quite make out the words or the meaning, but all who heard the song unmistakably felt the emotion of undying love. This sweet music would continue for a time and was invariably followed by warm glowing lights that would filter over the top of the compound walls. These would start as dim yellows and oranges, much as you would expect the sky to look when watching a magnificent sunset.


The lights would then intensify into a brilliant green that streamed into the far reaches of the sky above the Villa. They would then change to a deep pulsating purple that would lighten with each throb, and with each illuminated pulse Siberlee’s song would intensify in a higher, then even higher, pitch. The purple would lighten to blue and then eventually disappear.


We probably should not have gossiped about our Goddess, but we were human and many would whispers about her around the story fire, late at night. Of all the hearsay, stories of the happening on the nights Siberlee sang were the most popular. Some said that it was on these occasions that Siberlee ascended to the Heavens, others were confident that it was how Siberlee communicated with The One, yet others thought it was her way of mourning the loss of the soul of her former lover, Barak – a soul that was needed to create the Race of Man.


None knew for sure but all were confident that if a mortal ever found out the truth they would turn to dust, for the affairs of the Gods are not meant to be known by Man. We lived in different worlds. Whether it was meant to be known by man or not, with each passing season I became more determined to find out.


I was a mortal in those times and the fear of being turned to dust filled me with fear, but the desire - nay the obsession - to know the truth outweighed these fears. Siberlee herself told me, many seasons later, that it was this obsession of finding the truth that defined me as a man, and was indeed what defined humans as a race… and the reason she loved both of us.


Even with my growing desire to know the truth, what transpired may not have happened if it had not been for Elsen, the God who would eventually become The Father of Ethereal Elements.


Elsen had not yet created the Race of Dark Elves and he wandered throughout Mernac visiting each of the Races the other Gods had created, trying to determine which qualities from each race he would use when he received a Race of his own from The One and The Other. The perplexed God had not yet crossed over to the path of evil at this time, but the beginnings of that process were already in motion.


Not long after the creation of the first few Races of Mernac, Elsen began taking pleasure in creating adversity for the various races he visited. When visiting our village this was the case and he decided to make it rain. I still remember those times vividly. It was during one of the rare occasions that Siberlee left her Villa and our village. More likely than not Elsen knew this, or quite possibly Barak had told him of it.


Every few seasons, Siberlee would do things without notice or rhyme or reason. Whether she traveled to the Heavens to visit the other Gods or traveled to visit other villages in other parts of Mernac, we never knew. We just knew that she would leave us for a time, but she would always return after one or two moon cycles. Those times were hard for me. I would dive into my art looking to find any beauty I could create. It was forbidden to draw Siberlee but when she was gone I would often sneak off and try and create her likeness.


I could never capture it. In those times, we had no colors. Only the black and grays that can be etched out or rubbed onto coarse cloth made from goat's fur and the pulp of river reeds. I could never capture Siberlee's likeness because she was all color. From the golden hair to the sky eyes and ruby lips. Gray scratching of charcoal could never do her justice. I began to experiment. I would crush berries, leaves, grind colored stones, mix them with water and spread the colored goo over the drawing cloth with my fingers. The likenesses were good. Far better than any of my other work, but I could show them to no one. It was taboo to try and capture her image and it was rumored that she could sense any image of her within a three days' walk. So each time she returned I would be forced to destroy my hidden art before others could see it. It was pain for my art of Siberlee that was my world! It was destroying my world to burn those images, but there was no choice. Not if I were to continue to live. So many moon's cycles would pass, all the time my wishing she would leave even though I loved her. Leave; so I could continue my art.


I think it was my 18th season when she left on one of her trips, and Elsen quickly moved into our lives. None in the village ever saw him, but we knew he was there because of the rain. Who else but Elsen could control the elements of nature? It rained for two moons, day and night. Rain so hard and so heavy that it would sting your face when it hit. Sheets of water fell from the Heavens so dense that you could not see your hand outstretched in front of your face. The skies were forever dark, Elsen’s magical clouds obscuring the life-giving light from the sun. Our crops were destroyed, nearby rivers overran their banks and our fields were flooded. The paths through the village were under water by the end of the first moon of rains. For me the worst was that we were all house bound so I could net even sneak off to make my colored art of the Goddess.




We, of course, prayed to Siberlee for her to return, but wherever she was, the golden haired Goddess must not have heard our desperate pleas. Some, not as devout to Siberlee as others, even prayed to Elsen and pledged their allegiance to him. Elsen ignored them and continued his divine urination drenching all within sight.


The rains did not stop until the lapping flood that consumed our village rose to the hill where Siberlee’s Villa was built. The moment the rising water touched the walls the rains finally stopped, and Siberlee miraculously returned. In but a day she vanquished the water, the clouds, and even Elsen himself from our village.


Elsen, however, did not go without a tantrum. As he hastily retreated from Siberlee’s wrath he let loose The Winds of Elsen, a torrential gale that uprooted even the largest Manta trees and destroyed all but the sturdiest dwellings in our small village.


Despite Siberlee’s magical efforts of warding off Elsen’s spells, the winds did not stop until that evening. As the sun set the winds were so strong that they could blow a man across the fields like a leaf. Then, as though from some invisible signal, the winds stopped abruptly and then there was a dead calm.


An exhausted Siberlee walked out of her compound and waded through the swamped paths that crisscrossed our village. With each step, the water receded into what was now a thirsty ground below her feet. By the time she reached the center of the village, the flood had completely vanished.


“Forgive me for taking so long to return,” her voice rang out for all to hear. There was a sadness in her voice. All who heard knew that she was blaming herself for the travesty Elsen caused.


“I promise that Elsen’s rains may fall around you, but will never fall on this place again.”


To my knowledge, Siberlee kept her word, for even to this day not a drop of rain ever falls on the city of Faithmore. With her promise made, Siberlee quickly retuned to her Villa, barely getting there and closing the gate to her isolation, just as the last gleam of daylight disappeared.


I, like most of the villagers, milled about in the twilight, enjoying the first dry spell in a long time. We probably would have stayed out all night celebrating Siberlee’s return and victory over Elsen, but before any celebration started it began. Before either of the moons could rise her sweet singing came from behind the Villa’s walls. Its resonant sound traveled though the village and reverberated though my head pleasantly.


Her songs were always soothing, calming, and always brought joy, but that night there was more - at least for me. It was as if she was calling me personally. A compelling force drew me to the Villa. All the others in our village abandoned thoughts of celebration in compliance with the tradition that required them to return to their homes once the singing began.


This time I did not want to comply with the tradition. Her voice was so sweet, the words… I could almost make them out this time. If I was just a little closer, I was sure that I would be able to decipher their hidden message. Though sweet and soothing, there was a sad quality to the tune, one of remorse or loss. I had to find out what the words were. I had to find their meaning, so I may be able to help or console the Goddess who loved and protected us.


Without knowing why, I rolled a fresh drawing cloth and slipped it under my shirt. My hands absently grabbed my secret bag with pots of different colored goo. I tied it to my belt and I crept through the village, remaining in the shadows, for the moon, Afar, had now risen and it shone brightly in the darkened sky. I knew that I could let no one see me, for they would stop me from approaching Siberlee’s Villa. Not so much for concern for myself, or my being turned to dust, but fear for the village. This sharpened my senses, making me more careful than usual. They, like myself, had heard the fables around the story fire prophesizing that if any saw Siberlee singing her moonlit serenade, the Goddess would leave the village and take her favor with her.



I cared not if I would be turned into dust, I cared less about the fate of the village – or at least that is what I told myself. I only knew that I was compelled to hear the meaning of those words. Compelled to see if I may be able to offer some solace and comfort to the forlorn Goddess who had so often cared for and protected my people.


As I approached the southernmost wall of her compound the warm yellow-orange glow from the Villa had already begun. It silhouetted a large Manta tree that had been uprooted by the winds of Elsen and was now leaning haphazardly against the wall of Siberlee’s Villa. I could now hear her voice clearly – could even make out some words… or thought I could. I was so close… I almost could tell what the sweet song was about. I needed to get just a little closer. Just a little closer! I had to climb the uprooted tree to get closer. Yes, I would climb it and then I would be able to make out the words…


As I climbed the tree, the yellow-orange light turned green, just as they always did when Siberlee sang. Almost at the top of the wall, I promised myself that I would listen only. I promised myself that I would not look. If I did not look I may not turn into stone. More importantly, Siberlee may not leave the village as the story fire tales had predicted.


Yes, only listen. Listen for the meaning of the words; that would be enough. I would not peer at the Goddess and chance being turned into dust or chance Siberlee leaving our village. I vowed to myself again and again that I would not look.


On reaching the crest of the wall I screwed my eyes tightly shut, and the first clear words of the Goddess’s song reached my ears…
“For now I will never find another to love,” the melancholy soprano voice sang out.


The words touched my heart and despite my promises, despite the multiple vows to myself, my eyes opened and took in the scene below me. I never have, and probably never will again, see a more beautiful sight than I did that night.

[Culhwch]

You might want to check out http://www.chronicles-network.com/fo...ease-read.html. It's an idea to keep excerpts short, as then they are more likely to get more responses.

[Arumbus]

Ahh right. Saw that but saw a number of other long post so I thought it may be ok. Wrist is now slapped ;-) and next time I will know better.

Is it ok to inclide a link in case someone may want to read more?

[pyan]

Welcome to the forums, Arumbus!
I rather think that you'll find you can't post a link until you've made 15 posts, in the top half of the forums, that is - posts in the sections General and below don't count toward your post count, to discourage post-count chasers.
There's nothing, however to stop you writing out the URL - but it won't work.

The length thing: - there are copyright issues here - see this (post #79 onward)

[Culhwch]

And there was no wrist slapping involved, just good-intentioned advice...