Chapter 6 – Dark Companions
Deep under Mount Mytikas was a dark chamber. The surface of the mountain of the gods was populated with the grand palaces and homesteads of the gods of Romitu. Many, however, stood newly idle. Their gods having been slain in their fight with the Ævatar. Souls who had joined their god in the divine realm mostly kept about the devotions they had enjoined for decades, but with a little less surety. Some new gods, like Atlantica, had stepped into place and taken up the mantle of their previous lieges with little fuss. In other cases, where the selection wasn't obvious, there was much subtle jockeying for position and influence. Other estates, either of loners or for those with undesirable fields, just idled, with no clear direction. All was made more complicated as no one had really stood up to take over from Sky Father to lead the pantheon.
The palaces all stood on the mountain, and in many cases were built into the mountain. Their basements and store rooms were dug deep, and there were also the connecting tunnels, escape routes, spy holes and many hidden access points for the inevitable intrigue. Unbeknown to most, there was even another layer of secret passages leading deeper and deeper into the mountain, traversed by secret spies listening to secret whispers. All of this hidden information made its way down, like water carving intricate caverns, through the center of the mountain, to a deep dark chamber.
Nocturne lounged in the deep soft pile of her velvet black settee. Soft silks draped her skin, every one of them black, but of different textures. Long black hair fell in cascades over her black skin, fading as it did so into the darkness of the chamber. It was impossible to tell where it ended and the general darkness surrounding her began.
The only light in the room came from the dim glow from the coals nestled in the bowels of an enormous hookah. It was made from wrought iron and crystal, with accents in jet and two long snaking tubes bringing the dark grey smoke to Nocturne and her guest.
“Yes, yes”, cackled Makda, inhaling deeply. “Saahabneta thinks he is most wise, sending Makda off to find the deep hidden secrets of the Lord of Tombs, now that he is buried in his own crypt. He thinks the task will keep me busy for some time.” It exhaled, and the cloud of smoke slowly diffused into the general gloom of the room.
Nocturne smiled politely and threw it a honeyed curd ball. Makda consumed it with gibbering smacks. “And how long did you tell the spymaster it would take?”
“Oh, promise nothing, did I, but that I would eventually get all for him”, said Makda. “I think it best to feed it to him and drips and drops.” It made a kind of plopping noise with its tongue. “Keep him happy and uninterested in slaughtering poor pitiful Makda.
Nocturne laughed gently. “Pitiful indeed.”
“You do have them?” asked Makda, suddenly suspicious. “You do have the notes of the dead god of the dead?”
She paused to inhale another puff from the hookah, and then let it out slowly, watching Makda fret. “Of course”, she said at last. “No sooner than the battle was over and his court was in chaos did I get a copy of everything.” She shook her head. “Now that was a busy night. So much opportunity. So little time.”
“Ha!” laughed Makda. “You are the mistress of the hidden ways. And a fine, fine friend to Makda. That is why I bring you all the most useful information. The most valuable secrets. Nothing have I held back from you!”
“You have brought me a few things I didn't already know”, admitted Nocturne. She threw it another curd ball.
“Then you will share some of these secrets with me?” asked Makda, ingratiatingly, after consuming the treat. “So I may placate Saahabneta? This will be good for both of us.”
Nocturne again paused, playing it out. “Of course”, she said finally, much to Makda's relief. “Although I do respect another collector of information, what I would really like to know is why he wants it.”
“Ha!” laughed Makda, with many cackles. “So too do I. This is of most interest to us both. But, clever Makda, I have already worked it out.”
“Oh?” said Nocturne, genuinely interested.
“Yes, yes”, chortled Makda. “I told him that I could only steal parts of it at a time. Oh! It is so hard. The crypt master’s crypt is so scary!” It covered many of its eyes with many of its limbs. “So, asked I him, what is most important? What should I steal first?”
“Clever”, said Nocturne, generously. “And what was his answer?”
“Intrigue of course!” said Makda. “But intrigue on the biggest scale.” It paused theatrically. “He is most desirous to know of The Great Betrayal!”
“Never heard of it”, said Nocturne.
Makda waved its limbs in frustration. “It is old. Older than most of the new gods. It is from when pantheons of gods went to war with each other.”
“Pantheons don't go to war with each other”, chided Nocturne. “It's not allowed. Only our worshipers are allowed to directly confront each other. It's the one law every pantheon has in common.”
Makda clicked its claws together. “And why do you think the law was made?”
Nocturne put the hookah down, folded her arms, and considered the ceiling. Small chips of mica had been set into it, and they dimly glinted like the stars far above. “You don't need to be Lawgiver to know that laws are only ever made about things people actually do, not things they don't do.” She threw Makda a curd ball idly. “So does he think that the pantheons once warred?”
“Yes, yes”, said Makda, drawing closer. “He spoke of another land. Another people. Another pantheon. Ones that are no more.” Makda hissed in excitement. “Norsland he called it. And their god Othr. If they are no more, this is what must have happened.”
“I know only of the southern godless people”, said Nocturne, “not any from the North.”
“Do Grave Keeper's notes not speak of this?” said Makda, with worry.
“I haven't read them all”, said Nocturne, defensively. “There are a lot of them. The guy was a stickler for being thorough. Mostly I concentrated on recent intrigue.”
“A good policy for making the most of now”, said Makda. “But we should read wider, and maybe find what is worth knowing.”
“I'd still like to know why he wants this information”, said Nocturne. And, before Makda could object, “You've told me what. That doesn't tell me why.”
“For that, I think we have to give it to him, and see what he does with it”, said Makda.
Nocturne considered. “Very well. Let's go consult the archives.”
She rose from the divan and cloaked herself about with more darkness. Makda glided along behind, almost wispy. They passed through tunnels and clefts. Each junction concealed with something as simple as a blind, or as complex as an intricate machine. They passed the people of her domain. Copying ledgers, creating strange apparatus, or reading. Most looked up, but none said anything.
Presently they came to a wide chamber, carved from the rock by rushing water. Only the sound of a trickle remained. Ledges had been terraced along the sides and bookshelves filled them. Most contained volumes bound in gray canvas, with silvered letters glinting on their spines. The only light came from pools set about the room reflecting moonlight, although there was no moon to be seen.
Dark robed scribes moved about. They methodically took down books, read them, and made notes in journals. When Nocturne entered they silently put down what they were doing and assembled at her nod.
“We need to pause the indexing”, she said. Makda wandered the dark corners behind her. “We're looking for specific information about an event called 'The Great Betrayal', a land called 'Norsland', and another god called 'Othr'. It's likely to be from the journals before the foundation of the first Romitu empire.” They nodded, and with a few exchanged words, returned to the shelves and began taking down books.
Nocturne gathered together some darkness into a throne and lounged in it. Makda crawled up behind her, shrunken to a smaller size, and perched in its shadows.
They did not have to wai
t long. Right away the scribes assigned to the earlier volumes came forward with references to a 'Norsland' which described it as a day's sail North across a sea strait from Zeppen. It was the domain of one of the pantheons that had coalesced as the gods first dispersed, and then joined in groups for common benefit. An interesting fact all on its own. Maps soon followed showing it as three major islands and dozens of smaller ones. Towns with names like Chapman's Haven, Agnafit, and Tunsberg.
Prominent in the tales were mentions of the god Othr. There were mentions of his wife Frijjo, and other notable gods such as Donar, Yngvi, and Loptr. Their epithets were mostly of battle and fighting, and they seemed to fight one another almost as much as anyone else. The journals recorded intrigues amongst them, and between them and the deities of the tribes that became Romitu. All very similar to most of what Nocturne had skimmed from the early recordings. Old, dead gossip.
But it quickly became apparent that there was a sharp divide. In the older journals, mentions were frequent enough, but in the more recent ones there were none at all. It was a simple matter to just skim a few books from each century to eventually find what separated the two. Then it got quite interesting.
There were a series of reports logged in the journals of the raids from Norsland on the lands of the Romitu pantheon, as well as those protected by the Sindhu and the Kemet. Great effort was shown to show that the raids were increasing over time. Nocturne consulted with Makda and, being experts themselves, they were quite sure the books were cooked.
Proposals and treaties were recorded between the three pantheons, all proposing unification against a common enemy. Implicit in the language was the possibility that there could be other 'enemies' in the future and that, so united, none could stand against them.
Then there were detailed logistical tallies of who was ready where, and with how many weapons and the difficulty of getting serviceable ships. The tedious detail of the Grave Keeper's scribes nearly sent Nocturne to sleep, so she had others skim them and asked them to bring more of the unfolding events.
She missed the exact pretext, but the war, long planned for, broke out. There were detailed accounts of each major battle. There were a few early victories for the Norslanders. Mostly sea battles where they were the undisputed masters. But the gods of Romitu, Sindhu and Kemet joined battle and used their magic increasingly to augment their troops. When they started marching over the sea floor, across the water, or through the air it became a slaughter. The Norslanders were outnumbered, but facing the obliteration of their race, with all parleys and negotiation refused, they had no choice but to fight on.
And fight they did. Their gods joining and often falling with each major town. The land itself joined in with erupting volcanos and tidal waves. It sounded quite messy. The journals recorded it all, clinically and without passion. As the defenders dwindled, their gods became more pre-eminent. Eventually it ended up in a titanic struggle as gods hurled vast energies that overturned the landscape, drowned whole armies, and generally killed all non-divine participants.
“And I thought the god-war we just had was bad”, said Nocturne, after reading one account to Makda.
“But what of the law?” asked Makda. “The Great Betrayal? Does it get worse?”
More books were brought. Events unrolled before them. After a crescendo of violence Othr and the surviving Norsland gods had most of their reserves spent. The league against them was also depleted, but collectively they were still strong enough to defend themselves, but probably not enough to pursue an attack against a new foe. It was at this time that the other pantheons decided that an intervention was necessary.
The other pantheons saw quite clearly the threat these three unified pantheons could be. Inaction now would only spell their doom later. They did not have the years needed to form a more subtle or lasting unity, but the need was obvious enough that they jointly called on the three to halt their attack or face the combined ire of the rest of the world. Having won their aim, they did so.
What they had not counted on was the shock their actions had caused. A whole people had been devastated. Gods left without worshipers. And a barren sunken seascape where once a land had been. There was genuine outrage and a determination that this was not to happen again.
What to do about it took a while to sort out. Reading it from the perspective of the modern age, where they had lived for a millennia with these rules, it seemed obvious. But it took them a while to establish such basics as pantheons being limited to expending mana only in regions they had gathered it from. So territorial expansion could only be pursued by their moral followers. No attacks between deities were tolerated. And all actions were to be commensurate with the scale of worship being conducted where they were.
Once consensus started to be approached, the discussion came to what to tell their mortal followers. Although everyone felt a great wrong had been committed, Romitu, Sindhu and the Kemet were still too strong to realistically think of punishing them in any way they didn't consent to. It is hard for a god to change their mind in front of their worshipers without losing credibility. Royalty is never wrong; they are just badly advised. In that spirit the gods of the three pantheons decided to re-interpret events and blame the followers who had run off to war. They had done so without their god's blessing, and so god's wrath had destroyed them. There were days of mourning declared, but the lesson of the day, ironically, was how hubris brings about downfall.
And that was fine for the mortal realm. But in the divine realm, there were all these newly arrived souls who had been there, and were personal witnesses to the events. It just wouldn't do to have them around for eternity voicing a different take on what had happened. Neither could they be traded en masse to the demons. You never gave the demons something you wanted to keep secret, only something you wanted made an example of.
Welcome neither in heaven or hell, each of the three nations parceled off a portion of their land where they met. Into this was herded all of those from any of the four countries who had participated. They were not alive. But they were also not allowed to pass on into death. They damned to eternity in what was now called The Black Hole. They were The Betrayed. The Forsaken.