Strange Fantasies

The Scribe and The Sun of Truth

He was running for his life.

The Sun was falling and he had to get to the Ocean before he was engulfed in Its Flames.

Just as he reached the shore...

He woke up.

Ninevas sat up on his cot and spoke to the Dream:

"Mercy! I hear your command yet know not how to comply..."

He waited for confirmation...

No voice, no evidentiary animal sound, no alteration in his humble surroundings...

"Bedevilment! I am cursed..."

Ninevas was scared to shivering.

I did not wish that Dream... I do not want that Dream...

After he rose from his cot, he took the Sacred Stone from his pack and said:

"I hear you Sun Benthos.

"I hear but do not comprehend.

"May I be led to Your Wisdom."

He returned the Stone to his pack, slipped on his robe and sandals, slung his pack to his shoulder, and splashed his face with what remained in his cup from the last evening's drinking bout.

"The wine's dream it is...

"I am not worthy to dream of Sun Benthos..."

He had the last of dawn to roam the foothills before he began his work for Stenrus.

He left his tent and walked softly past the others' dwellings.

Why should I have this Dream?

None will believe me, none will help me unravel its meaning...

The Chronicles had it that, when the Sun Benthos returned to Earth and sought Its rest in the Ocean, the World would end.

Ninevas was not of the Priests, nor the Masters.

Ninevas was extremely distressed and wishing with all his might to be rid of the Dream.

A scribe does not dream of the gods!

He wove his way through the struggling bush, retraced his steps past his tent, and headed to the magnificent adobe home of the Masters.

Removing his sandals at the entrance, he met Bilbras, the Masters' cook.

"Bilbras, have you a short time for a query?"

"I have no time, there is no time, I have an impossible task."

"You are the Masters' cook. No person of mid-rank excels you in creativity."

"It has nothing to do with my abilities. I am to prepare a Feast for a Visitor and there are no extra supplies. Do I ask the gods for grain? Do I pray for rain to water the dying crops? The Masters will thrash me when they have less to eat..."

"Dear Bilbras, I leave you to your challenge. Is Anthrase in the dwelling?"

"He is.", said Bilbras as he strode away.

Ninevas regretted his plight but Anthrase was the only possible soul who could understand...

He will not speak to me and if he does he will report me to the Masters...

Ninevas was in a well of depression—surging with frenzied feelings.

He scoffed at the idea of approaching Anthrase and went to Stenrus' rooms.