Banner Men
MAYGEN FROST
The hum of the faithful sang a monotonous song to the arrival of the Candidates. Three there were; Rupet Fayn, just recently of age, and a nervousness burning his cheeks with blood. The next was Dannel Chism, son of Inquisitor Chism. They held the same devoted zealous nature to the worship of the Old Ones - Dannel was already on the precipice of his future; he was, upon his return, to take an Apprentice role with his Father, in the Torture business. He, like his Father at his age, showed an aptitude for cruelty. Like peas in a very religious pod. The last was a late replacement. Maygen Frost. Very rarely were the female sex allowed to participate, their roles usually obedience and cleanliness; the preparers and washers.
But Maygen was special. She had an insight that very few had. She could read a situation, read a person very easily, from the merest of clues. First she was suspected of being an evil spell caster, to be burned as all Heretics were. Instead, as was the custom, her Mother took her place on the pitch, to allow her Daughter Trial By Faith. That trial involved the Prayer.
The Prayer - a rite of passage. All men had to do it, or be branded a Heretic. Women were naturally classed as heretical in Godenheim society. Maygen Frost, even if she survived the Prayer, was not guaranteed life, profit or a place amongst the hierarchy. Yet her Mother sacrificed herself to give Maygen a chance - one chance more than she would have had without it.
The Preparers came forward, one for each candidate. They stood behind their respective one, first removing the hood, then taking the golden cape from their shoulders, wrapping it reverently and passing it to an attendant behind them. Another attendant brought the ceremonial club given to each candidate to carry upon their journey, nicknamed the God-Rod. It had a number of nails in one end, and a straight blade in the other. Then the Venerable Mayhew, as was his want, stood before the three Candidates.
"Here we have three of our young, embarking on their passage from the faithless to the faithful. Each take a vial," Mayhew held three small vials in his hand, with some yellow liquid, quite viscous, and bonded at the top by a bobble of glass. Each Candidate took an offered vial and broke the top seal with a snap. They held the vials to their lips but didn't imbibe, "Brothers - and Sister - recite after me the Prayer; Return to me, oh Creatures of Old. We art of you; we be but your fold. Though once thou did protect us from What Came Before - protect us, thou Old Ones, forever more." Once the Candidates were finished, they drank down the liquid in the vials.
Various things then happened. Rupet and Dannel fell to their knees, but Maygen remained on her feet, for which she received a raised eyebrow from Mayhew. Mayhew was then replaced by the Banner Man, Trewstone Made, covered in bandages. Time must have moved, or the Candidates were experiencing blackouts, because almost immediately, they seemed to be away from the crowds, outside Godenheim's gates and being talked to by the enormous figure of the Banner Man, his words muffled through the cloth of the bandage.
"You must follow the Path, through the Trials of Devotion to the Unchanging, Unswerving, Unwavering Home of the Old Ones. There, they will Test your Faith, with a word, or a phrase, or a vision. That you must interpret and return to Godenheim, where you will relay that interpretation to the High Inquisitor, Meth Drayne, as a Proof of your Faith." Trewstone was as serious as death as he grasped each candidate by the shoulder, gripped them hard and wished them well on their journey. Then, as if it hadn't been strange enough already, the world changed. The Prayer had begun.
#
Time distorted. First the skies merged and soaked like a rapid sea, then they seemed to slow to nothing, the merest tapping of a second moved the clouds on by one digit, steeling the grey like wispy foam upon the sky-ocean.
The spirits were everywhere, dancing in the ripples of the sky, flying about the ruins that lay before them. The Old Ones were present, it was obvious, in every little thing in every moment of time, and in between time. The air that ran past them sang as it hit stone and brick, a melody of dissonant slumber. Rage was a notion, but not explored. Although the path from where the Candidates stood to the beginning of the line of ruins was wider than perception, Maygen understood the journey must begin, so took the first faltering step into the Spirit World.
As she walked, she could feel the spirits about her, eddying out from her faltering fingers, spreading like fractal spirals. It was astounding. It was beautiful. She understood it now. She understood why the Prayer was so precious. She got it. She could see why she took the vial and drank - so that she would be able to see the truth in the world. She looked back at the other two Candidates, who tested their resolve in this new world, that if she could do it, so could they. And they too looked different. Rupet and Dannel's features were missing - no, misty. Yes, they were distorted by the flow of the fractal air about them. She distinguished them by the fact that Rupet had black eyes, round and distinctive in the misty face, which seemed to be cascading over his chin like a waterfall, and Dannel had red eyes and wore a headband of burning fire. They seemed to glide uncomfortably as they followed Maygen across the chasm of perception. A look behind her again, showed Maygen Godenheim in a blaze of ascending spirits, catching a maelstrom of ever spinning souls. It was asomatous; it was divine. She turned and was nearly trampled by a creature bathed in red. It must be a demon.
"Begone demon!" she called, as the creature ran past, yet turned its head even as it did, spitting out a venomous curse.
"You stupid girl! Look where you're going!" but the demon was banished even before she could chase it down. It travelled fast. Almost like it had propulsive machines to push it through the hidden Spirit World. These were things she and the other two must obviously have to cope with upon their journey. It was called the Trials for a reason. And like that, Trial completed, the three of them safely reached the ruins.
But they would soon realise the Trials had only just begun.
#
Everything was like oil on water, with a shock of light shining like a prism into the depths of the moisture rivulets. Colours merged in ways unexpected. It was like walking on a cloud, if a cloud could have sharp edges and strutting excrescences, cutting like cotton wool stabbed at the skin. All of the nerve endings shocked at once, nearly bringing Maygen to her knees, but she sensed if she dropped now, she may not stop falling. The footing was treacherous enough as it was. The way through the ruins seemed to be tagged by a complicated series of stairways; some grey, some red. The system by which to traverse it was unclear.
Rupet spoke. His voice was oddly slow and several octaves lower than Maygen remembered, "Maybe we pick one and just walk? I say the red ones." Dannel nodded. He obviously didn't trust his voice yet in the Spirit World. Maygen wasn't entirely sure of hers either. It seemed disrespectful to speak in the world that belonged to the Old Ones. So she simply began the journey taking the red path. It seemed a logical choice.
So they picked their way through the small ruins, eventually to the tall ruins, which twisted and connected in odd ways, strange, impossible angles, framed by metal in spiky detritus, creating statuesque creatures of skeletal forms. Some moved and twisted, seemed to breathe and move as they were alive, in their own way. The Spirit World contained so many mysteries, mysteries to be explored by greater minds than Maygen's, which surely they had, over dozens of years. She had to keep reminding herself that every man had walked the Spirit World. She was the only woman she knew of, and perhaps her perception would be different. What if the Old Ones didn't respond well to her presence in their world? Surely they had benevolence? Surely they saw the faithful as a congruent entity, regardless of sex? Then, of course, the Old Ones would not have allowed her to enter their World, if they had abhorrent ideas of her. When she saw them, face to face, she knew she would know. They were Gods, after all. Better than her. Better than anyone.
The tall ruins gave way then to the lakes and ponds, except in the Spirit World, they took on another meaning. They mirrored the sky, in a way, but unlike the simple nature of the sky-sea, here there were creatures distorted by the ruins and the water they sat in. What had appeared as mouldy green algae, now was the very lichen and food of the evil monsters. It was possible to traverse the deadly waterways, as they had been bridged in places by wood, corrugated metal and fallen debris, but the vegetation, such as it was, scratched around blindly, dirty tendrils searching and seeking for the living to pull to its Styx-like home.
Unfortunately there was no other option, save returning to Godenheim without the word of the Old Ones. As this meant the purging by fire of their sins and transgressions, it was potential death going forward, or certain death going back. Maygen held to the belief that the Old Ones had a plan, and the Candidates were following it, if haphazardly in the way a lesser life-form does.
The wood bridge, it did threaten to swallow them up in its giant snapping jaws, but with careful step, all three managed it. Next was the corrugated metal. As soon as they stepped upon it, the troughs filled with the deadly water. Within that water, the algae breathed and constricted, sensing the human presence. The Candidates had to carefully walk, balanced along the peaks. It was murderously slow, but they all managed it safely to the other side. Finally, there was the vegetation. Maygen knew she had to take it at a pace barely perceptible by the eye in the Spirit World, but there was no way of knowing how the creatures with their searching tendrils would respond to the speed of the human feet. The fractal air showed the movement of the tendrils, and with a little attention, they managed to move in between the gaps of perceptible time; in the half-second. Dannel was almost caught, pulled down through the delicate path into the nothing beyond, but with the help of the other two, they all managed to emerge relatively unscathed to the other side. The journey continued, along the Divine Path.
From out of the mist, before the Candidates and within the growing darkness, a part of the evil spirits that dwelt here in the pits of the netherworld broke out, emerging like a figure; a humanoid figure. Its face bled with horror, its eyes an angry red and its maw opening long to consume all before it. What looked like a beard swirled with evil intent. The evil monster grasped with its long fingers, touching the sides of the world, desperately searching for the Candidates. They hid, as much as they could, and they found somewhere the evil spirit couldn't see them. Maygen could see the fear in Rupet's eyes. She felt she could sense his thoughts. His form vibrated rapidly, almost beyond sight and he jumped up and ran screaming at the evil thing. He was sacrificing himself. Either that, or he could take no more of the caterwauling of the evil thing, "Come here, come here, come here! It's alright! I'm Bert Drop!" the thing spoke. So the demon had a name? Bertrop. Such an evil sounding moniker it was too. But its words were drowned out by the insane scream of Rupet, plunging onto the evil spirit. They tussled for an age. Whole seasons came and went, as they were caught together in an eternal struggle for goodness to prevail. But it seemed the Old Ones had a plan, because the evil spirit rose, and Rupet did not. He lay still, did Rupet. The evil spirit must have put a spell on Rupet, as it left him behind and ran toward the other two. They had no choice. Rupet's role was complete. So they ran away, until they could hear the evil spirit no more.
The Trials of Devotion were truly hard. But it was impossible to stop now. They pushed on to their divinity. Maygen only wished she had the intestinal fortitude and the courage to fulfil her role so completely as the venerated Rupet had; with grace and mortality.
#
The light that remained burned with invisible fire, but the trails of the heat searched for patches of dark yet able to be regained. It was becoming unsuccessful, but the darkness did hold another secret; the Beast with six legs and three heads. It rounded the corner even as the Candidates did. They almost collided with each other. It was the Beast that held the upper hand. It spoke with one of the heads.
"What do we have here? A young man, and if I am not mistaken a young woman? Interesting." The other two heads nodded. One of the other heads called a lustful word, but the principal one shut it up. Every time the main head talked, a thick cloud of smoke exited its beak. Its eyes were big and round, in contrast to its other heads. They seemed to have no eyes at all. But they did squawk.
"Be calm, Dannel. It's only a demon. Its role is to tempt us -"
"Begone Demon from the spawn of the most evil places! Return to your den from whence you came!" interrupted Dannel. He had heard enough, and his Father's teachings came back to him in his hour of despair. One of the heads spat loudly a searing acid-like capsule into Dannel's leg. Dannel dropped, fell into prayer, crying to the Old Ones to save him, spare his life. Only Maygen remained cognisant.
"So, you two are from Godenheim? Gotta love them drugs! Okay, turn your pockets out, darling." Maygen was worried, certainly, faced with such a creature as this, but at least its requests were amicable. She did so, "That's it? Where's the drugs?"
"We carry none, O Demon. We walk the Path within the Spirit World, where we can carry very little. That wooden thing I have was given to me by a relative. For faith, for divinity, and for luck. It holds no thing for you Demon. It comes from a place of worship -" The Beast cast it aside, where it took root within the vegetation and ruins. She could only hope it would manifest and bring light to such a dark place.
"Well then, girl. You have only one thing left to give. Your body." Then the most remarkable thing happened. The creature split into three parts, each with its own head. The principle head grabbed Maygen by the arm and dragged her a distance away. The other two parts remained with Dannel. One part went to his head, the other to his feet. She couldn't see, but she heard the distress Dannel was under. They tortured him, rhythmically. First one part, then the other. Over and over again. Dannel screamed, first for them to stop, then for the Old Ones to intervene. Then he called for his Father, until he could barely scream at all. Finally he screamed for his Mother, with a scream surely of the netherworld, enough to wake the Old Ones. It seemed to have worked, because no sooner had he completed the scream, an audible thud and crunch took first one part of the creature, then the second. Finally, Dannel screamed one last name; he called for Maygen.
The principal had taken his time with her. Surely he intended to eat her soul, but first would come the torture. He suddenly grew eight, twelve, fifteen arms, all grabbing for her. Each new arm seemed to bifurcate, presenting a new one. Then the head came toward her, while she was thrust to the floor. It hurt, as pieces of the world stuck into her flesh. But the Demon didn't care. The odour of pure evil dripped from the slathering tongue that grew from the mouth like an electric eel. It searched for her mouth, missing often, depositing its glue-like liquid over her. She feared it would get down her throat and choke her. Then another type of snake thrust from the Demons groin. It too searched, but Maygen had the presence of mind to grab that snake and strike it with a sharp stone, until it separated from the host. Some gushing liquid, the Demon's life energy presumably, came flowing from the Demon. It screamed, so high pitched, Maygen presumed it to be the true words of a Demon. Soon the Demon was spent. It hissed its last and remained still. Maygen took the chance to get to her feet and go help Dannel, now that she could. But he was gone, like Rupet had gone. Was this all he had been made for? To face a Demon and lose? But hadn't his calls given her the chance to defeat the principal head of the Demon? And she could see the other two parts were also defeated. Could it be that Dannel was meant to defeat this Demon so that she could go on, to finally meet with the Old Ones? Oh, Dannel! You were so sweet! You were truly the best of us! For you, I shall wish your soul the ultimate rest, that you can be one with the Old Ones, as you certainly deserve! And I will sing your praises to the Old Ones, even as I do to your Father and the rest of Godenheim; that Dannel was the best of us and only wanted the best for me! How she had underestimated the boy. Now, all she felt was love. And that love was what pushed her on, to the Home of the Old Ones. In the names of Rupet Fayn and Dannel Chism, she would build her own Faith Temple!
#
Even though the path remained dark, the light of the spirits of Dannel and Rupet shone like beacons to guide her on her way. Never had she felt more devout. Never had the words of Mayhew and others of his veneration meant more. Godenheim, she now could see, was the only shining light for the Old Ones to see. It was Godenheim that kept them and their memory alive. Return to me, oh Creatures of Old. We art of you; we be but your fold. Though once thou did protect us from What Came Before - protect us, thou Old Ones, forever more. The words, the syllables, the tone, the measure - everything about the Prayer spoke of a greatness untold. That the other Houses remained heretical in their ways, that it would anger the Old Ones; there must be a remedy. Maybe the words they gave her here, in the Spirit World, would destine her remaining life, short as it was in relation to Gods, to the utter devotion of them and the bringing of the Faith to all of the Droke. And perhaps beyond.
Then her eyes caught a sight too beautiful for a mere mortal to see. At first she covered her eyes, then realised it was there to call to her; to guide her to the Old Ones. For in the distance, she could see a place crowned with fiery gold. And it moved, as it should by the breath of the world and the will of the Old Ones. Every step now seemed to lift Maygen an extra inch into the air. She was almost there. She was almost before Them. O Glorious Day! That someone so humble should gaze upon a deity and be enlivened by it!
The outskirts of the Home of the Old Ones was more treacherous than Maygen was expecting. But upon reflection, she realised; this was a divine place. It shouldn't be easily traversed by a mere mortal. That was absurd. Yet the grounding shone like holy armour, marking the way to the home They resided. In places, the ground tried to blind her, and bind her. She took much punishment, many cuts and abrasions, but how could one not, in the presence of the Most Holy? They demanded she hurt, so that she remain humble enough to face them. Just as it should be. And ahead was a clearing.
That would be it.
That would be where the Old Ones were.
How unworthy she was?
#
Before she knew it, Maygen Frost, the Girl, the one Saved From The Pitch, the One Who Should Not Have Made It, stood before the Old Ones. They were giants. Each appeared to her as brightly armoured angels, in humanoid form just for her. The sounds of the Old Ones was brittle, clunky and grinding. Maygen knew, they were lessening themselves to be with her. They were obviously in pain, to speak to their devoted follower. It was why they were deities, why they were Gods. They humbled themselves to converse in the tongue of the human. Maygen felt blessed. Each movement of the giant Gods moved and rippled the fractal air in ever decreasing spirals, dancing from the tips and creating miniature spirits that blessed their existence before dispersing into the ever of the Spirit World.
"Who approaches?" demanded one of the Three, moving slowly, as only a God should.
Even full of devout fear and mercy, Maygen found her voice, so small it was in Their presence, it was bolstered by the grace of the spirits that yet remained of Rupet and Dannel, beside her for ever more, "Maygen Frost." she said, with courtly nod.
"You are human, and humans must die." stated the second of the Three.
"It is true," she agreed, "That I should die, because I am less than you."
The third of the Three turned to face her. Maygen could barely raise her eyes to see the Old One, "Why is it that you agree to destruction, human?"
Maygen knew this was all part of the ritual. This was the true words of the Gods, and whatever they were, they were meant to be, "I am merely a human, soft and of rapidly deteriorating flesh. I am humbled to be in the presence of Gods."
The second of the Three spoke up again, "Are you here to repair us of our troubles?"
This was it! This was what she had been working towards! This was the last, great Trial she must pass. So she spoke the words, "What is it you wish of me?"
The first of the Three spoke, "You must repair that which has become lost. Without that part, we cannot function."
So that was it, "I will do as you desire." said Maygen, softly and with reverence. The Words of the Gods. That was the knowledge they had to impart. So what part is it they have lost? How was she to repair it? Perhaps it was the loss of faith, or the loss of worship in Godenheim? She had seen many disregard their worship, it was true. Even she was guilty of it once in a while. Why had they lost so much? Why did the people of Godenheim disregard their duty to the Old Ones? Had they not too been in her place? Had they not spoken to the Gods and heard their words, as she was now? Then how could they so blatantly disregard their faith, knowing they looked upon the faces of Gods? Perhaps it was more the apathy of the other three Houses, their reluctance to enter the faith? If they stood where she stood now, they could never deny the Old Ones. She would make them see. Maybe that was how she would repair that which was lost? By devotion and the conversion of others, to the true faith; that of the Old Ones.
But Maygen Frost could think no more. Even beyond the Old Ones, something stirred. What was it? Was it evil? Did it threaten the Old Ones? Because what she saw was a sudden, burning light, cutting through the fractal wind. She was forced to shield her eyes, but she could just make out the shape of an enormous billowing cloud, hundreds of storeys high, sucking up into itself, like the lungs of the world taking an in-breath. It was akin to a world turning itself inside out. Then the scream came, like the cacophonous sound of a Devil in pain, quickly followed by about one hundred other intakes, each followed by their own scream. As the screams rumbled the earth, the billowing clouds merged organically to form an infinite column out there in the world. All of a sudden, metal, rock and rubble fell from the sky, hard, penetrating, digging itself into the impacted ground, fizzing and cracking, groaning and burning - the death of metal beasts, longing for salvation. The world was renewing, Maygen Frost knew it. This was the work of the Old Ones. They sent the cleansing worldwide to destroy sin at its base. She knew but couldn't see, the Houses burning to pieces. It was a rapture. The faithful, she knew, would live. It was why it held no fear for her, even as the sky rained fire, catching her clothes alight, burning them to ashes and singeing her naked body. But those items were impure, she knew. They had to go.
Even as her flesh began to smoulder, the rains came. Like angry globules of saliva, dripping from on high to the scorched earth below, washing sin from its surface. Suddenly, with the seemingly sweeping hand of the Gods, the permanent cloud parted, dispersing in places as though a God-like hand had thrust its fingers into the clay-like mounds that constituted the thick black, textured sky. The light above, a burning, singeing eye so bright it couldn't be looked upon, caught Maygen's body, searching and seeking her nakedness with benevolence. With rapid reply, a choking breath came from the dying evil, running over the land like a poured venomous cloud. With it came a gust of such heat, and strongly flowing in its intensity, that Maygen had to steady herself against its thrust, lest she be carried away in the breath of a God. But she remained steadfast, as the last attempt of an evil entity to cloak the Spirit World, and hence the mortal realm, ran its course. All that remained was a thin collection of tiny dead spirits dropping like a pebble in oil, slow and deliberate to the ground, which was now bereft of sin.
But that wasn't all. A thundering roar rattled the ground so sternly, it brought Maygen to the floor. The ground shook like an echo to the footstep of a God, walking upon a new world.
And then it was over. So was the Prayer. Maygen Frost found herself no longer in the Spirit World - the habitat of the Old Ones; the ancient Gods from a time of What Came Before. But she wasn't sad. She was, in fact, elated. She had witnessed the rebirth of a world, by the very Gods that created it in the first place. It was an honour beyond reckoning. What if she was broken, cut, bruised and bloody? It was enough that she was alive.
And from it all did she walk - the survivor. Maygen Frost. To tell her tale to those who would listen. But also to those who would not.
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