Post by scholar on Dec 18, 2007 15:09:26 GMT -5
I have had this story in the back of my mind for a while, but just last night I finally managed to get it down into words. This is a first draft. I would be grateful for any helpful hints or pointers y'all could give me. Tell me what you think.
Enjoy
The Curse of the Sphinx
“I wouldn’t go up there if I was you, son.”
The old man sat on the porch. He looked down on the young man who stood staring up into the mountains.
“What’s that?” Ian brought his attention back from the snowcapped peaks and the deep green of the forest.
“Forest ain’t safe, young man. And the mountains aren’t any better. If it’s the gold you seek, like them over there,” the old man pointed to a group of rough-looking men near the town well, “I’d turn back now. No one who’s gone in there after it have come back.”
“I’m not after gold, old man. I didn’t even know of it.” Ian turned his eyes back to the forested slopes. “But I must go there.”
“And why is that?”
Ian paused. His family had laughed at him when he told them. His friends had turned their backs. What would it matter if someone else thought him crazy? “Every night when I sleep, I dream of them.” He pointed to the peaks. “Of a waterfall. Of a cave. Places I have never seen before. Every night. I have to find out why.”
The old man leaned back in his chair. “The bildre.”
“What?” Ian turned his attention back to the other.
“The bildre. A calling, in the old tongue. Something one of the gods wants you to do.”
“I worship not the old gods. I follow Yalbas, the son of the Great God.”
“I don’t know about any of that. But I know the bildre. Perhaps your Yalbas is calling you.”
“I pray that he is leading me. I dare not think of the consequences if it were not so.”
The old man nodded. “I would wait until tomorrow to head into the forest. There is a spare room in back if you want it. It ain’t much but it’s warm and free.”
“Thank you…”
“Name’s Faril.”
“Ian. Why should I wait until tomorrow?”
“I know the weather.”
* * *
That night, the heavens opened up and rain poured down on the village, the forest, and the mountains. While the group of treasure-seeking men spent a miserable night in the forest, Ian was comfortable and warm in the small tavern operated by Faril. The stew was hearty and the ale was good. After supper, Ian stared into the embers in the stone fireplace.
Several men sat at small tables quietly sipping either ale or a much stronger drink that Faril brewed himself. Not many wanted to be out on such a night.
“Faril,” Ian spoke when the old man added a log to the fire. “You mentioned gold earlier. Tell me of it?”
Faril looked at him for a moment. “There is gold up there. That, I know. How much or where, I don’t. I thought you weren’t interested in the gold.”
“I can’t say that the thought doesn’t interest me, but, as Yalbas taught, there is more to life than earthly wealth. ‘If one truly wishes to be wealthy, then he must disregard the riches of man and seek after the riches of the Father, for that of man rusts away, but that of the Father endures forever.’”
“Bet the merchants didn’t like him much.”
“Not in the least.” Ian took a breath. “Why do the men who seek it never come back?”
“One did. Touched by the gods, he was. Came out of the forest, ragged, bloody, clothes in tatters. Raving about gold and a monster. Couldn’t understand the rest. Most figure that a monster of some sort protects the gold, killing all who try to take it.” Faril shrugged. “Or they just kill each other for it.”
* * *
The next day dawned bright and clear to find Ian at the forest’s edge. The track leading into the forest was muddy but passable. Uncertainty filled Ian’s mind. He prayed.
“Yalbas, Lord, I have no idea where you’re leading me. I don’t know what you want me to do. Guide my steps. Give me strength and courage, Lord, to walk in your will. Amen.”
* * *
Three days later, Ian found himself climbing higher into the mountains. He had lost the trail some time back and was now following an animal path. Twice, lone wolves had attacked him out of the darkness. One he killed with an arrow to the throat. The second had gotten too close. He had managed to get his knife into the wolf’s heart, but not before the wolf had left him with a badly scratched arm. That episode had cost him half of a day.
The trail he was following led to the edge of a cliff. He gave a startled gasp. On the other side of the wide canyon was the waterfall from his dream. It was the waterfall. He rubbed his bandaged left arm. “Lord, what’s next?” he prayed.
Ian looked over the edge of the cliff to discover that the trail led sharply down in a series of switchbacks. After mostly sliding down on his backside, he managed to reach the bottom, although bruised and scratched up a good bit. Once again, he was in the forest, but now he could hear the waterfall. That was where he was going.
Night fell quickly in the canyon. So quickly that one moment, Ian could see clearly, and in the next, the darkness seemed to close in upon him. He set up a crude camp next to an up-rooted tree, started a small fire, and chewed on some jerked deer meet. Blanket wrapped around him, he quickly fell asleep.
In the chill of the night, Ian awoke with a start. Dew had fallen and covered his wool blanket. The air was crisp. Hand clutching his knife, he lay still and listened. The waterfall was a dull roar in the distance. The noise that woke him came again. A long anguished scream, quickly followed by others. Then silence. Then a long mournful wail that continued for several minutes.
Ian did not sleep the rest of the night. He sat back leaning against the exposed roots, knife at hand, and bow and arrow at the ready. Eyes scanning the darkness, he was afraid and admitted it to himself. He recalled how Yalbas, had given his life for the world, fearing not for his own safety, but rather giving it up freely. Yalbas had promised that those who believed in him would always live, even if their bodies died. A twinge of fear still remained, but the darkness did not seem so threatening anymore. “Yalbas, protect me,” he whispered into the night, knowing his prayer was heard even if it didn’t feel like it.
The rest of the night was uneventful. The sun rose and daylight returned as if the events of last night did not happen. But Ian could still hear the yells, the fear, the panic. He shook his head at these thoughts, gather up his things and set off towards the falls. Towards the sounds of last night. The bildre, Faril had called it. Well, he would answer.
It was late afternoon before he spotted the top of the waterfall through the trees. Then suddenly the land fell away before him, revealing a large gaping hole that the waterfall fell into. The sound was almost deafening. For years the water had fallen from the rim, eating away at the soft rock, carving its way down, filling up a dark green pool, and then pushing its way out through a narrow crevice to the west. On the east, a sand and gravel beach led back and sloped up toward another cliff.
There had to be a way down. Ian saw what seemed to be a trail leading down across the way from him. It would take him the rest of the day to make his way around to it. To try going down in the dark would be foolish. He would have to until tomorrow to venture down to the pool.
That night he slept bow and arrow at hand, back to an ancient oak tree, no fire to give away his presence. He had not dreamed since entering the forest, but now the dream was much more vivid. He was soaring above the earth, as if he were an eagle. The mountains spread out before him. A wide canyon came into view, a large waterfall on one side. He swooped toward the waterfall, watching as the hole came into view, and then the pool. Down he went, into the darkness. There was the cave, a gaping black maw, leading deep into the earth. Then something different happened. He heard a voice, weak, sad, resigned, barely a whisper. “Help.” At that, he awoke. The sky was graying in the east. Soon he would descend. How he was to help he did not know, but Yalbas would show him the way. He had so far.
It was almost noon before Ian was confident enough to follow the trail down. It took an hour to reach the bottom, placing each step carefully. Halfway down, he saw the cave from his dream. The gravel sloped up to the cave and the walls closed in on it. At the bottom, his feet crunched on the gravel. There was no approaching this place stealthily.
Arrow at the ready, he cautiously stepped toward the cave. Something moved in the darkness. Suddenly a tawny shape leaped out of the cave and Ian loosed his arrow, striking the attacker in the side. “Lord, protect me!” he yelled out, leaping to the side and landing on his cut up arm, wincing in pain.
He rolled over to see a creature he had never even dreamed of. Head and torso of a woman with hindquarters of a lion. Tangled brown hair covered her head and draped across her face, hiding her eyes from him. What once might have been clothes hung in rags from her shoulders, hiding her figure but leaving nothing to Ian’s imagination. Her forearms were covered in short fur and her fingers ended in sharp claws. Ian had only heard of this kind of creature from a traveling bard singing songs from the distant deserts. A sphinx!
She quickly reached back and pulled the arrow from her side, the wound closing immediately. She began to prowl around him.
It suddenly occurred to him who he was here to help. Sphinxes were not natural creatures. Usually they were people who had been cursed. Yalbas could set her free!
“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the falls.
She stopped, with one hand swept the hair back from her face, and turned to look at him. Her eyes were as deep a green as the pool. “I have no name. For those who enter here, I am called Death.”
Her voice was tired and unemotional.
“I am Ian.”
“Are you not afraid?” Her voice came out as something of a purr, reminding Ian of a cat toying with a mouse.
“The followers of Yalbas hold no fear of death. But I do not think I shall die here this day.”
“Why is that?” She resumed her circling of Ian.
Ian silently prayed. When she came back within his field of vision, he continued. “I am here to help you.”
With that she stopped, incredulity filling her eyes. She laughed, sadly. “How would you do so? The one who cursed me has probably long since turned to dust, and I cannot die.” Then, as if to herself, “How I wish I could.”
Ian felt compassion for her. To be trapped here alone, having to kill any visitors to this place. It was only by the grace of the Father that he was still alive. And grace was the answer.
“I cannot do this myself, but the one whom I serve can. If you are willing?”
“Why would you do so?” She turned quickly and her face came within inches of his. “Most would seek to kill me. I am abandoned to this existence, cursed by the gods. Helping me would bring a curse upon you. Why?”
Ian looked into her eyes. They were filled with a mixture of anguish and hope and hatred. “I do not serve the old gods. I serve the Living and True God. He wants to help you. He sent me here to help you.”
She remained silent, looking into his eyes. After a moment, “You believe your god wants to help me?”
“He loves you.”
“Hah!” She backed away and sat on her haunches and cocked her head to one side.
“It’s true. He sent his own son to this world to prove it. He walked among us.” Ian’s eyes took on a faraway look. “He spoke great things, performed many acts of healing. Everyone said he was a great teacher. But he angered the leaders and the put him to death.” Ian paused, tears beginning to form. “They killed him, but the Father raised him from the dead, never more to die. Yalbas offers forgiveness of wrongs to those who ask him. Healing and grace he gave to any who would turn to him. I know. I was one of the ones who killed him.” Tears flowing from his memories, Ian hung his head, remembering his role in Yalbas’ death. The events of that week were etched into his memory. “I killed him and he forgave me.” He paused again. “Now I follow him and serve him. He wants all people to do so, but not out of duty, but out of love.”
“Your Yalbas would take this curse from me?” A hint of hope was in her voice.
“Only he can. And he would.”
“How?”
Ian thought. The phrase popped in his head out of nowhere. Enter the water. He stood up. She moved back quickly, ready to pounce. He pointed to the pool. “We must enter the water.”
He walked to the pool and placed one foot in the cold water. He turned back to find her still sitting there, her eyes following him. He offered his hand to her.
“I have killed,” she said, stepping back. “I don’t deserve this.” Another step back.
“The Father is gracious. He forgives all wrongs through the sacrifice of his son, Yalbas. You have but to ask him and serve him in love. Remember my deeds.”
She took a step forward. Then another. A few more and her feet were in the water.
Now what? Ian prayed. Enter the water.
She was afraid. Ian was too. Doubt started to enter his mind. What if this didn’t work? No. He had to stop those thoughts.
“Do you believe?”
She looked into his eyes once more, seeking the answer. “Yes.”
With that, he walked further out, her following. “We must go under.” Together, they took a breath and dove.
* * *
Several days later, Faril was sitting on his porch, watching the day progress. His wife was inside cooking another stew. He looked toward the mountains and saw two people walking along the path.
When they came up to the porch, he saw that it was that young man Ian. And who was this with him? A young lass about his own age. With brown hair and deep green eyes…
He jumped up. “Little sister….”
“Faril, it’s me. Inesca.”
Enjoy
The Curse of the Sphinx
“I wouldn’t go up there if I was you, son.”
The old man sat on the porch. He looked down on the young man who stood staring up into the mountains.
“What’s that?” Ian brought his attention back from the snowcapped peaks and the deep green of the forest.
“Forest ain’t safe, young man. And the mountains aren’t any better. If it’s the gold you seek, like them over there,” the old man pointed to a group of rough-looking men near the town well, “I’d turn back now. No one who’s gone in there after it have come back.”
“I’m not after gold, old man. I didn’t even know of it.” Ian turned his eyes back to the forested slopes. “But I must go there.”
“And why is that?”
Ian paused. His family had laughed at him when he told them. His friends had turned their backs. What would it matter if someone else thought him crazy? “Every night when I sleep, I dream of them.” He pointed to the peaks. “Of a waterfall. Of a cave. Places I have never seen before. Every night. I have to find out why.”
The old man leaned back in his chair. “The bildre.”
“What?” Ian turned his attention back to the other.
“The bildre. A calling, in the old tongue. Something one of the gods wants you to do.”
“I worship not the old gods. I follow Yalbas, the son of the Great God.”
“I don’t know about any of that. But I know the bildre. Perhaps your Yalbas is calling you.”
“I pray that he is leading me. I dare not think of the consequences if it were not so.”
The old man nodded. “I would wait until tomorrow to head into the forest. There is a spare room in back if you want it. It ain’t much but it’s warm and free.”
“Thank you…”
“Name’s Faril.”
“Ian. Why should I wait until tomorrow?”
“I know the weather.”
* * *
That night, the heavens opened up and rain poured down on the village, the forest, and the mountains. While the group of treasure-seeking men spent a miserable night in the forest, Ian was comfortable and warm in the small tavern operated by Faril. The stew was hearty and the ale was good. After supper, Ian stared into the embers in the stone fireplace.
Several men sat at small tables quietly sipping either ale or a much stronger drink that Faril brewed himself. Not many wanted to be out on such a night.
“Faril,” Ian spoke when the old man added a log to the fire. “You mentioned gold earlier. Tell me of it?”
Faril looked at him for a moment. “There is gold up there. That, I know. How much or where, I don’t. I thought you weren’t interested in the gold.”
“I can’t say that the thought doesn’t interest me, but, as Yalbas taught, there is more to life than earthly wealth. ‘If one truly wishes to be wealthy, then he must disregard the riches of man and seek after the riches of the Father, for that of man rusts away, but that of the Father endures forever.’”
“Bet the merchants didn’t like him much.”
“Not in the least.” Ian took a breath. “Why do the men who seek it never come back?”
“One did. Touched by the gods, he was. Came out of the forest, ragged, bloody, clothes in tatters. Raving about gold and a monster. Couldn’t understand the rest. Most figure that a monster of some sort protects the gold, killing all who try to take it.” Faril shrugged. “Or they just kill each other for it.”
* * *
The next day dawned bright and clear to find Ian at the forest’s edge. The track leading into the forest was muddy but passable. Uncertainty filled Ian’s mind. He prayed.
“Yalbas, Lord, I have no idea where you’re leading me. I don’t know what you want me to do. Guide my steps. Give me strength and courage, Lord, to walk in your will. Amen.”
* * *
Three days later, Ian found himself climbing higher into the mountains. He had lost the trail some time back and was now following an animal path. Twice, lone wolves had attacked him out of the darkness. One he killed with an arrow to the throat. The second had gotten too close. He had managed to get his knife into the wolf’s heart, but not before the wolf had left him with a badly scratched arm. That episode had cost him half of a day.
The trail he was following led to the edge of a cliff. He gave a startled gasp. On the other side of the wide canyon was the waterfall from his dream. It was the waterfall. He rubbed his bandaged left arm. “Lord, what’s next?” he prayed.
Ian looked over the edge of the cliff to discover that the trail led sharply down in a series of switchbacks. After mostly sliding down on his backside, he managed to reach the bottom, although bruised and scratched up a good bit. Once again, he was in the forest, but now he could hear the waterfall. That was where he was going.
Night fell quickly in the canyon. So quickly that one moment, Ian could see clearly, and in the next, the darkness seemed to close in upon him. He set up a crude camp next to an up-rooted tree, started a small fire, and chewed on some jerked deer meet. Blanket wrapped around him, he quickly fell asleep.
In the chill of the night, Ian awoke with a start. Dew had fallen and covered his wool blanket. The air was crisp. Hand clutching his knife, he lay still and listened. The waterfall was a dull roar in the distance. The noise that woke him came again. A long anguished scream, quickly followed by others. Then silence. Then a long mournful wail that continued for several minutes.
Ian did not sleep the rest of the night. He sat back leaning against the exposed roots, knife at hand, and bow and arrow at the ready. Eyes scanning the darkness, he was afraid and admitted it to himself. He recalled how Yalbas, had given his life for the world, fearing not for his own safety, but rather giving it up freely. Yalbas had promised that those who believed in him would always live, even if their bodies died. A twinge of fear still remained, but the darkness did not seem so threatening anymore. “Yalbas, protect me,” he whispered into the night, knowing his prayer was heard even if it didn’t feel like it.
The rest of the night was uneventful. The sun rose and daylight returned as if the events of last night did not happen. But Ian could still hear the yells, the fear, the panic. He shook his head at these thoughts, gather up his things and set off towards the falls. Towards the sounds of last night. The bildre, Faril had called it. Well, he would answer.
It was late afternoon before he spotted the top of the waterfall through the trees. Then suddenly the land fell away before him, revealing a large gaping hole that the waterfall fell into. The sound was almost deafening. For years the water had fallen from the rim, eating away at the soft rock, carving its way down, filling up a dark green pool, and then pushing its way out through a narrow crevice to the west. On the east, a sand and gravel beach led back and sloped up toward another cliff.
There had to be a way down. Ian saw what seemed to be a trail leading down across the way from him. It would take him the rest of the day to make his way around to it. To try going down in the dark would be foolish. He would have to until tomorrow to venture down to the pool.
That night he slept bow and arrow at hand, back to an ancient oak tree, no fire to give away his presence. He had not dreamed since entering the forest, but now the dream was much more vivid. He was soaring above the earth, as if he were an eagle. The mountains spread out before him. A wide canyon came into view, a large waterfall on one side. He swooped toward the waterfall, watching as the hole came into view, and then the pool. Down he went, into the darkness. There was the cave, a gaping black maw, leading deep into the earth. Then something different happened. He heard a voice, weak, sad, resigned, barely a whisper. “Help.” At that, he awoke. The sky was graying in the east. Soon he would descend. How he was to help he did not know, but Yalbas would show him the way. He had so far.
It was almost noon before Ian was confident enough to follow the trail down. It took an hour to reach the bottom, placing each step carefully. Halfway down, he saw the cave from his dream. The gravel sloped up to the cave and the walls closed in on it. At the bottom, his feet crunched on the gravel. There was no approaching this place stealthily.
Arrow at the ready, he cautiously stepped toward the cave. Something moved in the darkness. Suddenly a tawny shape leaped out of the cave and Ian loosed his arrow, striking the attacker in the side. “Lord, protect me!” he yelled out, leaping to the side and landing on his cut up arm, wincing in pain.
He rolled over to see a creature he had never even dreamed of. Head and torso of a woman with hindquarters of a lion. Tangled brown hair covered her head and draped across her face, hiding her eyes from him. What once might have been clothes hung in rags from her shoulders, hiding her figure but leaving nothing to Ian’s imagination. Her forearms were covered in short fur and her fingers ended in sharp claws. Ian had only heard of this kind of creature from a traveling bard singing songs from the distant deserts. A sphinx!
She quickly reached back and pulled the arrow from her side, the wound closing immediately. She began to prowl around him.
It suddenly occurred to him who he was here to help. Sphinxes were not natural creatures. Usually they were people who had been cursed. Yalbas could set her free!
“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice barely loud enough to be heard over the falls.
She stopped, with one hand swept the hair back from her face, and turned to look at him. Her eyes were as deep a green as the pool. “I have no name. For those who enter here, I am called Death.”
Her voice was tired and unemotional.
“I am Ian.”
“Are you not afraid?” Her voice came out as something of a purr, reminding Ian of a cat toying with a mouse.
“The followers of Yalbas hold no fear of death. But I do not think I shall die here this day.”
“Why is that?” She resumed her circling of Ian.
Ian silently prayed. When she came back within his field of vision, he continued. “I am here to help you.”
With that she stopped, incredulity filling her eyes. She laughed, sadly. “How would you do so? The one who cursed me has probably long since turned to dust, and I cannot die.” Then, as if to herself, “How I wish I could.”
Ian felt compassion for her. To be trapped here alone, having to kill any visitors to this place. It was only by the grace of the Father that he was still alive. And grace was the answer.
“I cannot do this myself, but the one whom I serve can. If you are willing?”
“Why would you do so?” She turned quickly and her face came within inches of his. “Most would seek to kill me. I am abandoned to this existence, cursed by the gods. Helping me would bring a curse upon you. Why?”
Ian looked into her eyes. They were filled with a mixture of anguish and hope and hatred. “I do not serve the old gods. I serve the Living and True God. He wants to help you. He sent me here to help you.”
She remained silent, looking into his eyes. After a moment, “You believe your god wants to help me?”
“He loves you.”
“Hah!” She backed away and sat on her haunches and cocked her head to one side.
“It’s true. He sent his own son to this world to prove it. He walked among us.” Ian’s eyes took on a faraway look. “He spoke great things, performed many acts of healing. Everyone said he was a great teacher. But he angered the leaders and the put him to death.” Ian paused, tears beginning to form. “They killed him, but the Father raised him from the dead, never more to die. Yalbas offers forgiveness of wrongs to those who ask him. Healing and grace he gave to any who would turn to him. I know. I was one of the ones who killed him.” Tears flowing from his memories, Ian hung his head, remembering his role in Yalbas’ death. The events of that week were etched into his memory. “I killed him and he forgave me.” He paused again. “Now I follow him and serve him. He wants all people to do so, but not out of duty, but out of love.”
“Your Yalbas would take this curse from me?” A hint of hope was in her voice.
“Only he can. And he would.”
“How?”
Ian thought. The phrase popped in his head out of nowhere. Enter the water. He stood up. She moved back quickly, ready to pounce. He pointed to the pool. “We must enter the water.”
He walked to the pool and placed one foot in the cold water. He turned back to find her still sitting there, her eyes following him. He offered his hand to her.
“I have killed,” she said, stepping back. “I don’t deserve this.” Another step back.
“The Father is gracious. He forgives all wrongs through the sacrifice of his son, Yalbas. You have but to ask him and serve him in love. Remember my deeds.”
She took a step forward. Then another. A few more and her feet were in the water.
Now what? Ian prayed. Enter the water.
She was afraid. Ian was too. Doubt started to enter his mind. What if this didn’t work? No. He had to stop those thoughts.
“Do you believe?”
She looked into his eyes once more, seeking the answer. “Yes.”
With that, he walked further out, her following. “We must go under.” Together, they took a breath and dove.
* * *
Several days later, Faril was sitting on his porch, watching the day progress. His wife was inside cooking another stew. He looked toward the mountains and saw two people walking along the path.
When they came up to the porch, he saw that it was that young man Ian. And who was this with him? A young lass about his own age. With brown hair and deep green eyes…
He jumped up. “Little sister….”
“Faril, it’s me. Inesca.”
