The Heretic Stronmar and the Words of the God-King
Spirits of Rock and Sky > Inked by Scholars and Scribes

Dried and faded near to uselessness, not hidden but placed amidst the most common of records, I found the Transcribed Words of Meten Ulaar. Said he, "I, Meten Ulaar of the Recorders, state here that these are the thoughts of the God-King, transcribed from fragments collected in the farthest archives. Others of the Sect laugh at my convictions and words, but they shall yet eat theirs."

Beneath the broken seal of ancient Estin's Wood were the Words of the God-King, inked in finest Midrin Expressive on leather once most carefully prepared. This I have copied as best I am able in the quiet times of observance, far from the Great Temple:

Home is so far away. It will always be hard for me to accept that everything I knew is now gone, dust in the winds of time. As time passes and I age, even the tranquillity of Tumnil's woods do little to ease my mood. I had thought to achieve so much! By the standards of my youth, I have attained all I could desire. But, sweet irony, will I ever come to escape this rock? Whatever knowledge brought me here is clearly lost. I, cursed like most of my old friends, could not even build the tools I used in every waking moment of my life.

I force myself to write in this debased script for readers I will never meet. A hundred times I stop, desiring to ink a word that is unknown here. Time, objects, places, memories, and so much else…all lost. When I started to dream in Kinis, I knew I would eventually forget everything that was once important to me.

Why am I taking brush to leather? Will anyone ever come to read the words that I hide so well, I wonder? To you, my reader, know that there is much I cannot say aloud. I am a God to the Tribes, a worker of the divine, ruler of this small world. My voice inspires awe and dread, my every imagined wish sends a hundred servants scurrying. Armies form at my command and warriors die for my name. In this way I am trapped; I must live this lie I have built about myself. Oh if you only knew! There are secrets I must tell, a world I must explain to those who live their lives on barren rock and believe in Gods.

I have come to fear that I may die here. With my passing, my lies become your truth, further damning you all.

To you, my reader, I tell you to imagine Tumnil. But imagine Tumnil ten thousand times over, trees and seedgrass stretching as far as the eye can see. A single warming Light shines from on high. The Sky itself is the same shade of blue as flames in your communities. Imagine the fields of Tumnil and great dwellings many times the size of the Halls there. Imagine them stretched about the surface of a great sphere, a hundred times the span of the World from Great Temple to World Crafter. The sphere circles with other spheres in an endless void of stars, full of life. Ah, the towering communities of my home! It is you who should weep, never having witnessed the realm from which I was rudely taken. But only I can appreciate the loss, and only I shall shed tears. I cry for an entire world.

As you read my words, recall my life. I am the God-King. I rule the World. My word is Law, but I cannot have what I ultimately desire. My descendants, your ancestors, must truly have been Gods to come here and fashion this rock. They were closer to the divine than my own ancestors, I fear. The question that tears at me for wake after wake is "why?" If they could do this, why did they do this here? Why did they do it this way? What went so tragically wrong for these Gods you now worship? So much must have taken place, so much transpired while I slept the cold sleep.

So said the God-King. There was far more, once, but like so much of history, the leather has dried, cracked and crumbled, the ink faded.

"Spheres in an endless void." The phrase haunts me as would some dark spirit. I wholly believe that these are the words of the God-King, and yet why should He write these fantasies? The God-King must have known much and His words feel more than true to me. Yet they cannot be.

The philosopher Tsen spoke much of cosmology in times before the ascendance of the God-King, but her great works say nothing of spheres. Would not everything fall from the underside? What was He trying to illustrate? From the words of Tsen, "the world is an imperfect plane under the perfect dome of the Sky. We, the imperfect, can only dwell here. The perfect Gods dwell above us." Of course, Tsen was of the Divine Susyan and accepted no Gods beyond those of the Sky. She did not believe in the Gods of the World Beyond. She held that it is our "imperfect nature" that prevents us from journeying beyond the hoarfrost and thin air at the edges of the world. The works of Tsen also make no mention of the Underworld below the World. Others have, believing it to extend beyond measure below our feet.

What lies beyond the Sky? The God-King would have us believe in many worlds, as bubbles in heated water. Fantasy! Yet it gnaws at me.

What of an entire world of trees and seedgrass? What of Tumnil a thousand kloms across, painful Lights and green Divine That Grows? It staggers my mind to think of it, so much of the divine in the World! It would be an upset of the natural order and harmony of a thousand kloms of rock, scarp and chasm. Where then would we see beauty in the Light of the One God reflected from the substance of the World? Could this have been the design of the God-King? Did He desire to bring the Order of the Provider to such ascendance in the world that all became Tumnil? What need for the Light of the One God then, I wonder? But such heresy could never come about. The Provider is a weak God, if He is a God at all. The One God is the Divine Will of the world, ascendant over all.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2005 ]