Shifting Aramoren - A Castre World Short Story
E.A. Shanniak
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One
578
Aramoren squinted as he looked at the bloody heavens. The sky was painted red blood. It dripped on the clouds like rain, smearing the entire heavens in death. The sun’s boiling rays bore down on his body. His armor steamed in the heat. Still his eyes could not be parted from the rumbling, clashing clouds above.
He was supposed to be at Drensent Castle, taking it back from Revender the Bad who stole it from his king, Rey Hatim Sundena of Orthilio. Revender should’ve know better than to cross paths with the Orthilioans, but greed made men foolhardy.
Aramoren had heard Revender’s lust for power knew no bounds. Fleeing Meerdorans said that through brute force and trickery, the warlord stole over half of Castre, crushing it under the grip of his mighty army. That Revender left the dead impaled on spikes, their twisted bodies looking skyward for a savior. But the gods who were supposed to help were too busy in their own battle for control.
Revender claimed he was trying to bring clans together, to establish equality and shared prosperity. The idea was ludicrous. It’s hard to bring people together into a common good after they’re dead.
Aramoren shook his head.
Revender.
The man was a plague worse than disease, for disease at least let people live disfigured. Revender just killed. He slaughtered all who opposed him. And he started with the fae.
The Willow faeries of Hernan forest never saw it coming. They believed Revender when he said he came for peace. But Revender trapped them in unescapable iron cages and forced Hernan, the fae king, to his knees. Then Revender took their magic.
Aramoren gnashed his teeth, looking skyward as the egocentric gods fought over power and ignored the mortal mad man below who was devastating Castre. He spat at the ground and headed back to his tent. Aramoren felt frustrated and helpless.
Ripping the tent flap open, he flipped over the table to the right of the entrance. How could anyone believe to rely on the gods for help? It was insane! Positively the dumbest thing he could ever think someone could do. Abyss, even family was just as horrendously unreliable and fickle.
Aramoren certainly couldn’t even rely on his own family. That bastard half-brother of his, Earh was supposed to be protecting Drensent Castle, and utterly abandoned it when Revender showed up at the gates. The rampaging Meerdoran hadn’t even shot a single arrow before his brother had fled the castle in dishonor and allowed its people trapped inside to rot. Now Aramoren needed to get the fortress back from the greatest warlord Castre had ever seen.
Aramoren ran a hand over his face as he paced the inside of his tent. Not wanting to be inside, he stormed out, taking in a darkening sky and the gods throwing blows at each other; he rolled his eyes.
Lightening flashed followed by a harsh clap of thunder. Aramoren stared up at the bloodied clouds as Joximbus, the father of the gods, struggled against his son, Qorreg, the god of war. If Qorreg were to get control, he would force his siblings and father to bow down to him and recognize him as the sole deity. Then Qorreg would consume their powers as his own.
With the god of war in control, the entire world would be plunged into chaos. Knowing this, the other gods attempted to thwart their brother. Aramoren shrugged, in a sense, the gods were protecting the mortals now, but not so much leading up to the destruction Revender had been able to cause. The gods had months to intervene and did nothing. Now, they squabbled as it seemed they did more often than not.
Joximbus hurled a spear at his son. Thunder clapped as Qorreg knocked it out of the air with his sword. The god of war threw his head back and laughed manically.
Aramoren rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Centuries before, Qorreg had tried to take the essence of his mother, Borcallia. The mother goddess knew the evil her son had in his heart, so she transformed herself into the land of Castre. Borcallia became the rivers, the trees, the land, the entirety of the nation. No human or immortal could steal her essence as it was sown deep into the land.
Upon seeing this, and knowing her brother’s dark heart, Vorumma also took her powers and spread them like a blanket all over Castre. Where her power collected, it formed the faeries and other magical creatures. With her last gasp, Vorumma fell from the heavens and turned herself into the first willow tree where her faeries resided—that is, until Revender trapped them.
The clouds above Aramoren swirled into a vortex. The gods’ shouting rained down on their ears, bringing people to their knees with the intensity. Joximbus tried his best to get his wayward son to listen, but Qorreg kept fighting, screaming at the other gods to give him their powers or else. The other gods begged Qorreg to stop. The goddess of love, Corwaithe, tried to reason him out of his vengeful wrath. But the mighty god of war only laughed at her futile attempts.
“Qorreg, cease your madness!” Corwaithe screamed. Her shrill voice brought more people to their knees.
Yeah, screaming will certainly do the trick, Aramoren thought. He touched the side of his head. Blood trickled down from his ears. Usually it’s nagging that hurts the ears. Aramoren snorted. Oh Corwaithe, do everyone a favor and shut up.
Metal weapons and bolts of lightning collided in the sky. Qorreg hurled his ax at the goddess Tellorfi. The goddess of creatures hardly had time to dodge the quick and precise attack, shouting back at her brother to stop.
Thunder roared. Lightening lit up the sky brighter than the sunlight. Aramoren blinked the black dots behind his eyes away. Rocking back on his heels, he kept a level gaze at the heavens, wondering how all this stupidity would play out.
“Aramoren,” one of his comrades said, coming beside him, “what will become of us?”
Aramoren glanced down at his feet, watching grits of sand whirl around his boots. He too questioned the outcome. All the gods fought to overpower Qorreg, but he was powerful. No god or goddess could seem to gain the upper hand. It had been like this for a while and today, it felt like everything would be coming to a head.
Lightening flashed through the long echoing screams of the gods. Aramoren closed his eyes to the piercing sound, while it brought his people to their knees again. Women cried at the pain in their heads while trying to protect their children’s ears. All throughout Castre, there was no escape from the gods and their bickering.
Once the piercing screams stopped, Aramoren turned to his friend, “Joximbus will be victorious,” Aramoren said, while his thoughts went back to his duty.
He was supposed to be taking back his Rey’s castle. He was supposed to be battling Revender, rescuing the faeries, and ending the massacre of Revender’s army was causing. But he could not tear his eyes away from the heavens.
Qorreg threw another weapon at the unsuspecting goddess Tellorfi, hitting her in the middle of her head. The beautiful goddess staggered backward, body limp. Tellorfi fell, dead. Her giant body plummeted from the sky. When the goddess hit the earth, the impact left a cavern in the ground. A dark amethyst powder billowed and blanketed the Orthilioan desert. The goddess of all living creatures was dead.
Then the powder rose out of the ground, spinning rapidly in a small cyclone. Her essence was waiting for a victor. Joximbus bellowed with grief at the loss of his daughter. Weeping and calling her name as if the goddess was powerful enough to be brought back.
In the gods’s grief, Qorreg snuck behind Hermallia and slit her throat. Hermallia’s body slammed into the same cavern as Tellorfi’s. The goddess of the sun, moon, and stars rained into shimmering silver pebbles. Hermallia’s silver essence added to her sister’s.
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