The Herald
ran into the room and then fell to his knees. The God was present! He hadn’t
expected that, although he had both hoped and feared that it might happen. He
had heard that upon times The God appeared in the Message Room. He dare not
look up now, for fear of being blinded. None were permitted to behold him
without his cloak.
So, you fear me! That is good, said a voice in his head – it was as if a part of his
mind had been stirred to speak.
‘My King’ the herald said, ‘My Lord of Light’
It is mete that you kneel before my
light – before the radiance beyond your comprehension
‘Yes, my King, my Lord of Light’
Now, you bring news. What is it?
The herald now had to extract the object from his cloak. This was difficult
in his prostrate condition. He struggled to pull out the glass sphere within
which the alarm cloud had been trapped.
Sweat formed on his brow and his breath became laboured. As he pulled at
the globe his head jerked upwards and he caught a glimpse of something above
him. It was only the briefest glance, and he could never remember exactly what
he saw, but that was enough.
You dare to behold my countenance? No –
it is not permitted
The God bent over and blinded him. It didn’t hurt – his eyes just
stopped working.
Now look at me
Tears ran down the herald’s faces from his dead eyes. He stared up into
the darkness.
Good. Now you will learn. To live is
to begin to learn and suffering is the best teacher.
The Herald staggered forward with the globe, took two uncertain steps
forward and tripped on one of the many steps that led up to the God’s platform.
The globe slipped out of his hands and crashed to the floor and shattered. The cloud, which
had assumed a vaguely spherical shape within the globe streamed out and up into
the God. There was a moment of silence.
Go!
The herald got up from the shattered remains of the globe. His hand was
cut and he held a part of his tunic against it.
Leave me now before I taint your blood.
There is great power in one so full of terror.
The Herald ran back to the entrance as best he could, dripping blood
and tears. Although he tripped and unbalanced several times he knew that he
could not dare to fall.
***
The God
absorbed the message from the cloud and then waited a moment. What had to be
done was clear – he had prepared for this moment. He morphed effortlessly into his material
shape – the folds of his white cloak formed upon him like an extravagant
blossom. He looked on his corporeal form and saw that it was good. Everything
about his ways was perfect, for he was The God.
‘Come into my material presence!’ he shouted, out into the empty space.
Into the Lord of Light’s throne room came his scuttling assistants. He
had never bothered to learn their names – they were merely his instruments
‘Assemble all my forces’ he shouted, ‘take them to Melloreis and
destroy everyone there –spare no-one’
The instruments began to back away, their human forms weak and
disgusting.
‘Wait’ said the God, ‘I have not finished’
The terrified creatures paused, trembling.
‘I will come behind you’ he explained, ‘you will weaken and I will
crush’
The assistants let out a rough, uncertain, cheer. The God was pleased.
‘And conquer Ortia – it will be
a useful front line in my new war’ he ordered
His acolytes scattered and began to do his bidding. They went to the
four corners of the city so that they might call up the maelstrom.
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