The next
couple of weeks were strange for me. I
felt unwell and I was aware of a pain along my back. When I looked to see what might be causing it my skin appeared
raised in lumps and each lump was a swollen ball of pain. It made me apathetic and tired and I left
the temple less and less often.
The temple
itself was little comfort, however. It
felt empty without Barnabas to keep me company. I missed our daily conversations and I found myself insatiable
for new information - information the Nahua were not able to provide as they
were. I began to send more scouts out
across the jungle, telling them to tell me of all that they saw so that I might
know if there was anything new to my experience and that I might study it, as
Barnabas would have. The Nahua, it
turned out, were not very good at this, but had I not sent them looking then
what happened next might have been very different and though the outcome would
almost certainly have been the same for all involved, I would be a very
different creature indeed.
It was two and
a half weeks since I had banished Barnabas.
The mists were thick across the valleys and only the jungled peaks,
almost knife-like with their precipitous slopes, stood above the cool, damp
veil. It was fitting weather for the
occasion, as it turned out.
I had been
asleep in my temple, something I was prone to more and more as the days went
by, both out of boredom and because in sleep the lumps on my back did not pain
me quite so much. I was awakened by one
of the Nahua priests who came running in most indecorously, an unusual thing
for a priest, to shout me awake with his message.
They had found
Barnabas.
"Did I
not banish him?" I asked wearily, wondering why his unwelcome return
should warrant my attention.
I would want
to see him, I was told. It was
important.
"Very
well," I said, trying to stir from the depths of my sleep to rise up,
painfully, on my coils and look every inch the deity I had claimed, so full of pride
to be, "send him in."
I didn't
recognise him at first. It had only
been two weeks since our parting, and yet the man who stumbled into my temple,
clothes in rags and covered in festering wounds bore little resemblance to the
dapper gentleman Philosopher with whom I had spent so much time.
"Barnabas?"
I asked, my pride falling away like an ashen husk, "Is that really
you?"
The man
continued to stagger forwards, barely able to lift his head to see me. I stretched my long body forward to save him
some effort, then commanded two of the Nahua to hold some of his weight.
"Barnabas,
what happened?"
He shuddered
were he stood, clinging to the two Nahua with hands clawed in pain. It seemed a long time before he looked up at
me to answer and when he did I found myself pulling back involuntarily. His face was covered in gashes, greenish
black from disease, sweat beaded across his forehead from fever, but worst of
all, oh so much worse, was the ragged, gaping hole where his right eye had once
been.
"Oh,
Barnabas..." I said, suddenly feeling so lost, so scared, so helpless and
so sad. These were not the feelings of
an almighty god. They were the thoughts
and turmoil of one being at the sight of the suffering of another, of a friend.
"You have
to hide, Kwetza," he said in a voice which was barely more than a hoarse
whisper, "they will be coming for you soon. I tried to mislead them, let them torture me so that they might
believe it was true..." he sighed, dropped his head for a moment and just
stood there, shaking and trying to breathe.
I couldn't bring myself to say anything, so I just watched him in
horrified silence and waited to see if he would speak again.
"...but they
will find you," he continued at last, without raising his head,
"Mistvale is only so large."
"Who,"
I asked, "who will find me? Who
did this to you?"
"A band
of... Stoneskin hunters," Barnabas managed through gritted teeth,
"they'll slaughter everyone here... just to take you as a prize they can
sell... to the highest bidder, they..."
He slumped further into the arms of the two Nahua. "I need to... lie down..."
I commanded the Nahua to bring
him to me and had them lay him down upon my coils. For the Nahua this was the holy of holies, the most sacred place,
but for me, at that moment, it was just a simple kindness for a dying friend.
Yes, I knew he
was dying. I was naive, but never
stupid. As I stared down at the weak,
fevered form of the man who had been my friend I knew that we would probably
only have minutes left together. He had
given his last effort to reach me, to give me his warning and now that his
message was given he was starting to fade away.
"You have
to leave here," he whispered, staring up at me with his one eye,
"don't let them take you... don't..."
"I won't,
friend," I replied softly, "I am a god, remember? They cannot have me."
Something
almost like a smile twitched across his face, then his lonely eye rolled to
stare at the ceiling and saw whatever lies beyond this life.
I was… even
now it is difficult for me to describe how I felt in that moment. Remembering makes the grief come back to me
like it had never faded, but more than just the grief, there was the guilt as
well. I sent him away, I
thought, Barnabas died because I sent him away!
I stared down
at his lifeless body for quite some time, quite unaware of the Nahua staring at
me in confusion, unaware of the growing gloom outside my temple, unaware that
life wanted to carry on, whether I was part of it or not.
Eventually I
came to my senses and realised that there were things which must be done. Firstly, I knew that Barnabas’ body had to
be treated with the respect it deserved.
In the Nahua culture the dead are washed then cremated, clothed only in
the flesh they wore when they entered the world. I wanted Barnabas to be honoured like one of them and so I
commanded that the preparations should begin at once. They took him from my sight and instantly I felt hollow.
A short time
later a few of the Nahua entered my temple carrying a handful of small
objects. I was told that these were the
possessions he had had with him when he died.
There was a small pocket watch, a handkerchief and a pocket-sized book
with pages so thin it was like they were made from spider-silk. Barnabas had taught me how to read, but as I
had one of the Nahua hold the book open for me and flicked through some of the
pages I found that this one was more difficult than usual. It referred to many places I had never heard
of before and spoke of a deity I did not comprehend, for it was not me.
We cremated
Barnabas that evening. I watched all
night as first flame, then spark and finally glowing ashes rose to dance with
the stars.
The next few
days were strange for me. I found that
I was even more bored and restless than I had been in the weeks before
Barnabas’ death, but I felt I had nothing to do save read his odd book and
wallow in misery made worse by the ever-growing pain along my back. I hadn’t forgotten his warning, but, despite
niggling doubts, I still believed myself to be a god and thus invincible.
Gradually the
book tried to teach me otherwise. I
remembered what Barnabas had said about how if there was any god then they must
be much greater than any of us. I read
of the deity in this book, so alien to me in my jungle domain, and I began to
wonder, could there be a power greater than I?
So, as you
have no doubt guessed, this period of grief-stricken study did not last long. The Stoneskin hunters came as Barnabas had predicted and they did
exactly what he had said they would.
Less than a week after his death, I was to be taken away from my temple
in a cage by monsters beyond my understanding and I was to know exactly how
powerless I really was.
Kept in a cage
smaller even than the one you see now, half-starved and maddened by grief and
terror, with nothing to keep me company but my memories and the thoughts which
the book had stirred, I was taken to a market somewhere beyond the jungles and
ruins of Mistvale. There my wings
finally broke through so that all could see how marvellously rare I truly was
and there I was sold.
I have been
passed from menagerie to menagerie, from collections private to public, ever
since, but I have learnt many things on the way. I have learnt how to be humble and I have learnt how to be
content, despite my circumstances, but most of all – indeed all stems from this
- I have learnt more of the deity I first read of in Barnabas’ book and I think
that, one day, I will see this ‘God of Jacob’ and Barnabas will be waiting
there for me at his side.
“It makes all
this,” Theophilus gestured at the circus around him, “all of this, quite
insignificant. I know now that there is
nothing that cannot be overcome, even death.
All the world is a cage, so why should I fear this one?”
He was silent
for a moment, then he looked up at Ellis once more with those big, almost
hypnotic eyes and added, “So that’s how I came to be here, more or less.” He produced something like a smile,
revealing his many sharp teeth, and yet Ellis could see no threat in the
expression.
“That’s quite
a story,” he replied. He felt a little
like he was waking up from a dream and all around him the sights, sounds and
smells of the circus were rushing in to replace the scenes of Mistvale in his
imagination. It was disheartening in a
way. Theophilus’ tale had been
interesting, certainly, and clearly the serpent had learned a kind of hope, but
Ellis didn’t see how that helped him out of his predicament.
Suddenly there
was the sound of a loud horn being blown and a voice called out over the
hubbub, “Come one, come all to Valter Kerring’s Circus of Delights!” The sounds of the crowd faded a little as
the voice continued, “See marvels beyond your wildest dreams, Savage Stoneskins
from Ashvault, Voluptuous Veil-Dancers from Summersea, a Sentient Sixwinged
Serpent from the deepest jungles of Mistvale and many, many more
beside. But all of this is just a build
up to our star attraction. Tonight, you
will see for the first time ever, coming from further away than any of you
could ever imagine, a sight not seen for ten thousand years: a traveller
from the other world!”
There were
gasps then and Ellis wondered just how much entertainment he could really
be. He glanced over at Theophilus and
saw that the Sixwing was staring out across the circus with a strange intensity,
his serpent’s body almost rigid.
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