|Black and White: Restored Trinity
Author: Emmanovi PM
After a long sleep, the God Meris is summoned to Eden for the final time, to face a new foe with a very old leader...Rated: Fiction K - English - Chapters: 2 - Words: 3,470 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 2 - Updated: 08-22-10 - Published: 08-16-10 - id: 6244457
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
In the murky hours before dawn, little stirred in the calm hills and gorges. The light breeze of the previous day had stilled to nothingness, and all that caressed the leaves of trees and the blades of grass were moths seeking out nourishment and shelter, or the occasional owl that flew over to snap one up in its beak. Morning dew had collected on every exposed surface, covering the world with countless droplets of beady moisture like a million scattered pearls.
In the village of Runscilly, newly given hope by the arrival of a long-departed God, not a sound was heard other than the snoring of men and the gentle whistling breaths of women and children. The world was expectant, and hushed. Dawn would bring with it a new day and a significant change to this little village, this little plot of innocence.
And as the first ray of sunlight fell upon the dais, the pure white symbol glowed with a brilliance no eye could look upon – had any eye been there to see it. Meris materialised once again into human form, a look of contentment and relaxation on His kindly face.
He wandered through the morning air, glancing around at the dappled streaks of light filtering through the thin cloud above. Though the land was fair and the people hardy, He didn't feel quite right here. The unsettled nature of the clans, the warfare that tainted the atmosphere with rigidity and unease... it was enough to trouble Him, enough to place doubt in His mind.
He brushed aside the thoughts. Now was a time for action, not reflection. He raised his left hand to rub his head, and sent a faint mental impulse throughout the village, calling the populace to awaken and prepare themselves for the day. Whilst the groaning humans got themselves up, Meris shuddered into symbol form and pushed himself a short way into the sky to acquire some first-hand views of the area.
He spied his intentions fairly quickly. Three of the closest villages to Runscilly were small and isolated, the townsfolk sharing the feeling of despair he had sensed when he first arrived. If given sufficient inspiration, they could easily see their way to joining onto his current band of followers, easily quadrupling their current numbers.
He nodded to himself, then let himself float back to earth again, reshaping into his human form and looking around at the crowd of expectant villagers, who seemed to have a breath of new life within them. This was a good vibe, and he fed off it, just as he fed it too them.
"My people," he spoke, his words carrying to all present, "it is time for us to make a mark upon this land. Surrounding this area are any number of villages and towns, filled with people like you, marked with the signs of worry and fear. If we can mark out our place as a united people, a people who will band together as a coherent force to rival any other civilisation, then others will flock to our cause."
He paused for a moment, allowing this to sink in to his followers' heads. "Accordingly," he resumed, "I have a few little tasks that we can commence right away. Firstly, we need to improve our stocks so that we have resources available to expand our current settlement into something greater." He smiled.
"I'd like three of you to get to work on the storehouse, expanding the room you've currently got. Make a fair amount of space for wood and stone, we're going to need building materials. Lachlan, I'd like you to supervise. Make sure there's further room to expand if needs be. At the same time, I'd like at least five of you to go tree-felling, and another five to head down to the quarry and gather some good stone for building."
He turned to a middle-aged man with worn hands and a calculating stare, with two nervous-looking boys standing behind him. "James, I believe you're the best mason we have? I'd like you to take a look at these plans..." He held out a roll of parchment which seemed to have come from nowhere. "If you think they're feasible, I'd like it built over yonder along the pass to the village." He gestured behind him. "Take your apprentices, make a start on the foundations if you can. Merith...?"
A well-built, sturdy man stepped forward, inclining his head slightly. "My Lord?"
"Select up to five helpers of your choosing. Our newest additions-" He gestured to the armed awkward-looking men to the side – "could do with a more structured sleeping area, where we can house our military. I'd like something of a barracks built between the storehouse and the path out. I've drawn you a plan..." He passed over another, suddenly noticeable scroll – "I'm expecting the required capacity to increase, so I'd like both floors for now, even if the upper one is a bit rough."
"And you, m'lday..." he said, turning to a young girl half-hidden behind her father, who flushed scarlet and drew herself further into hiding. "Hush now, there's no need to be afraid. What's your favourite flower, my dear?"
She exposed herself slightly, stuttering. "A, a rose, y-your Lordship."
Meris smiled to himself. "How... how wonderfully apt. Well, Miss Rachel, I'd like you to design a banner to represent this new unified force. And I think you should incorporate the rose. After all, you're a dab hand with the needle, even if nobody knows it." His eyes glittered. This is what he revelled in, bringing out the bits of people only he could see. A God who took his degree of interest in his people was rare, he knew this.
After assigning a few more tasks, including sending one of his five soldiers to accompany each outgoing group and keep watch in case of more incursions, he bid them begin and walked out the the edge of the cliff, looking over at a small copse of trees well within view. He spied what he was looking for: a long, fairly thick and straightish branch, still hardy and showing no signs of rot. He closed His eyes and curled his fingers as if grasping something invisible, then wrenched.
The branch tore cleanly off the bough, moving apart from the tree it had moments before been attached to. With a flick of His other wrist, the supplementary twigs and leaves stripped themselves from his pole, which hovered up towards him. He reached out his hand and grasped it firmly, the piece of wood standing a little taller than himself. Turning, he strode to the point furthest from the walkway and thrust the pole firmly in the ground.
And closed His eyes once more, and His mind rushed back.
Standing atop a battlement, clasping a standard in the very same hand. Gazing out at an oncoming horde of Aztec warriors, screaming and hollering up at the wizened Tibetans who lined the walls. Eyes glinting in the light of hundreds of torches. A bolt of lightning striking from the heavens, smashing apart the stone in front of him.
Giving the faintest smile, before bowing his head. Silence sweeping across the battlefield. Then that soft, soothing call, that tempting, rhythmic song, pulling at the hearts and minds of men.
The Siren towering over the force, her arms spreading wide, tendrils of pale blue light extending to each member of the attacking force.
The stillness extending, the calm pouring out over the battlefield.
Victory being had. Rejoicing.
And bitter, bitter waves of anger flinging themselves like arrows through Meris' soul, being fired from the worn bow of hate.
And opened His eyes. He could still feel it now, the hate, the anger and the loathing that had coursed across the battlefield at the unexpected defeat, the unexpected end to an attack that should have caused great destruction. He shuddered.
The scene before him was peaceful. He looked up. His reminiscence seemed to have taken far longer than he anticipated; it seemed reliving a past experience now took a great deal of time. Gone were the days of instant reflection, another trait of youth lost to the winds of time. So be it.
Meris turned around to see Rachel, her hands grasping a beautiful piece of woven cloth. Made of a clear sky blue, it featured a delicately woven white rose, encircled by two laurels. The attention to detail was exquisite, the care taken evident. Meris beamed at her.
"My dear, I once walked among the tribes of the Tibetans, the Indians and the Japanese. I have seen the finest silks and embroidery from those magnificent peoples. But never have I seen an object of so much crafted beauty as this." He reached down, and took the banner, revelling in the texture. She had put much into this, and it would serve its purpose well. He turned again, and threw up his hand. The cloth rose over the pole, which warped to the eye until it featured a cross-shaft upon which to hang a pennant. The cloth affixed itself seamlessly, loops and ringlets forming and holding it in place.
There it flew, somehow fluttering slightly in the residual calm. The new banner of Meris' forces, the white rose. A sign to all in the vicinity that this was a place of refuge, a place to band together. Meris hoped it would have the impact that was necessary. For he knew that it would take a unified force to survive in this new world.