Official Account Age Of Kings

An Account from the Age of Kings
Unsigned

When I was a young girl and living in my village, there was an old woman named Meredith who told stories. The children would gather in the afternoons to hear her tales. Most stories were of our village’s founding, and how we had come to live here instead of in the larger cities. The adults did not mind the history stories, but they became nervous when she spoke of the old gods and life before the Kings. The priest would come and listen until she started telling these tales, then he would send us home and talk earnestly with her. I took to sneaking back and listening to these talks between Meredith and her nephew the priest. She usually sounded sad and would voice her regret that he did not believe. He would tell her of the dangers of such tales, but she would shrug his fears off, saying she was old and Helia would care for her. Finally, he said he must inform the Temple, and she looked long at him before replying that he must do what he thought was right. A week later the children gathered to listen and Marcus stood some distance off listening with a troubled face. These are Meredith’s words, and what they cost her.

“I am brought to mind of a story I heard as a small girl. At that time the elderly still remembered a time before the worship of Ereal became mandatory. They remembered from the stories their parents told them, and now I am old and no one remembers the old Gods. There was a time when the Gods spoke with us and the Mother guided our steps. When Iridine was a name… Ah, but you stare at me in shock, for I speak blasphemy. Yes, knowledge can be dangerous, and sharing that knowledge more dangerous still; but I am an old woman and not afraid of death. Alas, I only worry that the underworld is unwarded, for Ravan has flown and is yet wandering if the sky speaks truth.”

The old woman watched as the priest strode toward her and the children scattered. She smiled at the white robed man, her nephew.

“Ah, Marcus, will you chide me for my memories?”

“Nay, Meredith. This time you go too far. The Temple has learned of your beliefs and stories and has ordered you confined and questioned.” Sighing, the young man holds out a hand, “Chiding is past, will you come with me? A priest from the temple will arrive in a day or two in order to conduct the questioning.”

“I see,” the old woman’s face grew troubled, then cleared. “Well, I am old and death is a solace, not a threat. I hope that you do not gain trouble from an old Aunt’s ramblings.”

The priest sighed as he led her into the temple and to a secure room. “I never had ambitions above a village Priest, Aunt. Now, any positions higher than this are closed. I shall be questioned, but I doubt anything will come of it. You on the other hand... It is good you fear not death,” with a last look he turned and closed the door hiding from his Aunt the tears that began falling. I watched him for a while longer before slipping from the window and hurrying home. In two days time the promised priests arrived from the Temple. These priests were solemn faced men with soldiers following them. They were in the village temple for the better part of the day, and when they finally emerged they pulled Meredith forth in chains. She looked tired and bore marks on her face, but she seemed at peace and smiled at those villagers brave enough to leave their homes. I sickened as I saw where they were taking her. On the outskirts of the village a pyre had been built, and a grim faced soldier stood ready with some torches. When she was tied amongst the wood, the head Priest called the entire village together and instructed them to watch and by so doing cleanse their souls. I shall never forget the flames licking up her body, the whole while she smiled. She smiled! And she called out to Helia for strength, and finally succumbed to the flames. The smile is what I remember though, that smile through the flames…one of compassion and forgiveness.

The next day Marcus was found dead. It was whispered by some that the soldiers killed him; others say he could not abide that he had turned his Aunt in. Now, these incidents are fewer and people have indeed forgotten the old gods. But as the seasons turn and winter gives way to spring, so the sun must set and the moons wax strong again. For it is said that one day all the moons shall ride in their places, the underworld will be warded and the four Consorts accompany the Mother once more.