Slumrat Rising

Chapter 86: The Eldest Son

Chapter 86: The Eldest Son

Truth fell into the sky, a tiny speck gazing in terror at the awesome beings that filled the void between stars. Even the stars were monstrous, glorious things- a chariot pulled by an unspeakable chimera, whipped on by a naked woman with an owl’s head. A being with the head of a hawk, holding a burning sword astride a wolf. A bird, larger than a city, larger than a continent, made entirely of fire and the memory of a mother’s warmth he had never known.

Some instinct pulled his eyes to one side. There was a serpent coiled on a rock and bathed in its own beam of light. Its scales were mottled, brown and black flecked with red and gold, and its eyes missed nothing. He was fascinated. Literally fascinated- he could not look away from the great being.

Relaxed but ready. Not looking, but seeing all. Armored, but not hindered. And you simply knew that any fight would be finished before it began.

No. That was his misunderstanding. It did not fight. It was at peace or killing. After which, it would be at peace again. Truth had the overwhelming urge to bow in thanks. He didn’t have that much control over his body, but he did his best. Botis saw, of course. But said nothing. Which was fair. Truth was hardly worth his attention.

Truth realized he was moving. It was hard to tell how fast or in what direction, lost in the whirling infinite of beings impossibly grander than himself. But something in him was being called. Pulled. Or was he the one pulling himself toward that unknown place?

It felt like falling, though, of course, he did no such thing. In the infinite void, there was nowhere to fall to. Still, it felt like falling, moving without control towards whatever passed for down and whatever doom awaited you at the bottom. He felt like he should be staring at everything. Memorizing as much as he could. Fixing the natures and truths of these beings in his mind. Each was a fountain of wisdom. Of arcane knowledge. If only he could see them clearly! If only he had the slightest foundation to build upon!

Truth suddenly understood why so many went mad seeking visions of Heaven. Or the heavens. It was all wisdom. It was all holy. And infernal. And everything in between. Everything was perfectly true if you could understand what you were seeing. And everything would deceive the unwise and unwary. He understood now! The wisdom of the heavens could only be revealed to the deserving, for only by personal revelation could the truth of Heaven be understood! Yes, it all made perfect sense!

A hand, rough and calloused, grabbed his head like a melon and smashed him into the dirt.

Truth looked around. The heavenly glory had vanished, though it was still night. He was not where he was before. This… smelled marshy. Hot, humid. Dry soil, but marsh nearby. A small woodfire, a man in coarse woolen clothes. Long hair, roughly covering part of a handsome face. A… somewhat familiar face.

Brutal, angular lines carved high cheekbones and a wide jaw. Deep-set eyes, shaded over by long hair. Undeniably handsome in a rough, primal way. Corded with lean muscle. This was a manual laborer. And he resembled the parts of Truth that the worms had given him. Not exactly the same, but you would be forgiven for thinking them related.

“A smart little clay doll would have stayed on its little ball of mud until it was completely fired. The weather out here will wear you into nothing.” The man spoke conversationally, poking something in the fire.

“But then, you aren’t quite right, are you? Hard for you to stay put. Come, let me take a look at you.” Truth pushed himself up off the ground and walked over. The thought of arguing simply didn’t occur. Couldn’t occur. The man, this place, took all his attention.

Strong, rough hands took his chin and tilted his face around. He was examined but not really able to examine the man back. The rough man was tan. Somewhere between rubbed bronze and faded leather. Someone who worked out in the sun all day. The rough man stank- body odor and manure.

“What happened here?” The man started chuckling. “I’m not even mad. That’s hilarious. Life’s done you dirty, huh, kid?”

Truth wanted to explain that he had no idea what the honorable senior was talking about but would absolutely love to tell him anything he wanted to know. Unfortunately, some part of him recognized a rhetorical question when it heard it. The man waved Tuth towards a patch of dirt next to the fire.

“Alright, your nous can’t tolerate being here long, so I will tell you a few things. Just for fun. You have been blessed by my followers. In a sense, a strictly spiritual and not a literal sense, mind you, you have accepted a portion of my blood and legacy. You are not unique in this- there are thousands upon thousands more like you and have been for thousands upon thousands of years. On the other hand, since there are billions upon billions of you little clay dolls, you aren’t exactly common.” The man grinned, then went back to poking at the fire.

“What makes you so fun is that my legacy is just one of the twists of fate around you. That’s hilarious. Do you know the odds of that happening? I don’t. But I haven’t seen it more than a handful of times. Each of those times, the strands sort of negated each other. The destinies conflicted, you see, and so came to nothing. You have at least three strands of destiny on you, all intertwined. One you were “born” with.” The word “born” was heavy with irony. “One you got from my followers. And one from this little thing.”

The man made a plucking motion towards Truth, who almost screamed as a little spark was pulled out of his chest. It flickered violently but was as helpless before the rough man as Truth was.

“This… is not what you think it is. It’s not what it thinks it is, either. What a nasty little world you live in.” The man let the spark go, and it slammed back into Truth’s chest like a burning coal launched from a catapult.

“You are running out of time. Accept my legacy as much or as little as you like. It won’t hurt you. Ah, you may be feeling some irrational feelings towards one group of people or another. You seem to have inherited some of my frustration and resentment. Don’t worry about it. Because you can’t do anything about it. At least until you are much more than you are now. Killing is going to be part of your life forever. Just part of my legacy. There is no escaping it for either of us. You will not know peace until you are strong enough to impose your own. Do not hate the slaughter. One clay doll smashing other clay dolls counts for nothing. How much less will it matter when an actual man does it? I will answer one question. Don’t worry about asking the right question; you won't. Just ask the question you most want to be answered.”

Truth’s mind was a whirl. He had so many questions. He couldn’t even think of a question. He blurted, “Are you God?”

The man looked at him in shock through his long hair. Then he started laughing. Big, honest belly laughs. “Am I God? Well, people worship me. Pray to me. Offer me sacrifices. Make art in my honor. I am ancient, terrible, and possessed of power far beyond what you think the word “power” means. Am I God?” The man swept back his hair, revealing a circle on his forehead. Truth saw with a horrified thrill- it was nine worms chasing each other. “No.”

The man let his hair fall down again.

“I am God’s eldest grandson. Though, of course, people just think of me as the eldest son. I think I got his good looks. How do I compare?” The main pointed upwards. Truth looked up into the sky and saw…

He saw…

It was…

Something broke, and Merkovah was lightly slapping his face, looking worried. “Young man! Young man, are you alright?”

“I saw… I saw…” Truth gasped for words, unable to even comprehend what he had seen, let alone how to tell another about it. He felt the memory… not fading but becoming cordoned off, as though his mind couldn’t tolerate the weight of the memory but was unable to forget it.

“It’s alright. Don’t try to tell me. It’s alright.” The old monster with a young man’s face patted him on the shoulder. “You aren’t trained for it. You got far more out of this than I hoped. Well done! Very well done! But don’t try to talk about it. Just hold on to what you can.”

Truth lay on the ground, staring up. The sky was… just the sky. Distant and heavenly. But to have seen what existed (it seemed blasphemous to attribute something as mortal as “living” to those excellencies and supremacies) on the other side of the lights! He knew he would never see the sky the same way again. More- his very relationship with the world had changed. He had changed.

But what had he just seen? What was that? Was that… really God?

Hey, System. Did you see what I just saw?

No. Nor can I understand your memories of it. What I just experienced… I don’t know what I just experienced. I need to think.

I guess we can let the Worms drive the magic resistance cultivation.

Can we? Super. Shut up. Leave me alone. This is. Not right. I… shut up. Leave me alone.

He looked over at Etenesh and Jember. Of the three of them, Jember was doing the best. He looked rocked but not lost. There was a definite glimmer to him, fading, but there. He had brought something back on from his journey. Etenesh was weeping.

Etenesh kneeled in the dirt, palms pressed to her eyes, and wept. She sobbed, the sound despairing. She had lost something, Truth knew. Something precious. She was no longer the same woman who came up the mountain. His heart hurt.

He knew he should embrace her. He didn’t dare. Then Jember gave him a look and nodded toward his cousin.

Truth crawled over to her. He couldn’t stand. Not just yet. “Etenesh. May I hug you?” He asked. Awkward, hesitating. Not sure where to look or put his hands. Etenesh didn’t respond. Her palms were still pressed to her eyes. Eventually, she nodded. Gently, as though she were made of spun glass, Truth wrapped his arms around her.

She was very warm. She was shaking with pain. He didn’t know how to comfort her. He didn’t know what to say. He just held her silently. Kneeling with her in the dirt. Until she came back to herself.

He… had the horrible feeling he didn’t give good hugs. He just didn’t know how to. He had hugged the sibs before, but not often.

“I am ruined.” She murmured. “But I am not alone in that. We are all ruined. The whole world. Ruined.” Her hands were still pressed over her eyes. “There is no hope. No salvation.”

Truth let go of her shoulders and gently grasped her wrists. For a moment, he thought he smelled tobacco. “Maybe we are. Maybe everything is pointless. Maybe nothing really matters. But so what?” He tried to put a smile in his voice and didn’t really succeed. “If we are all screwed, shouldn’t we make the best of what we’ve got? Eat good food. Pet good dogs. Maybe find someone willing to touch you. That last one might be a stretch, for me at least.”

That got her snorting. Then she broke down crying again. Truth felt awful. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at comforting people. Once upon a time, my brother asked me why I kept pushing. Kept trying. When everything was hopeless and everyone was against us. He threatened to kick my ass if I said, “Keep the faith.” That got another wracking sob from Etenesh.

“I didn’t have an answer for him, but I think I do for you. I can’t stand the thought that I’m helpless and things are hopeless. So I’m going to act like they aren’t. I’m going to take every sensible chance. I will do my very best. And I won’t be a good sport about it if I fail.”