Stormchild: Emeline and the Forest Mage

29 Burden of His Task

"Hope is like the sun. As we journey toward it, it casts the shadow of our burden behind us."

~ Ashttïg Ewïg's words recorded by Iksar Rinkë (Written in Ashttïg Ewïg's Time, The Season of the Lords)

The Heavens

    The Fathers watched Emeline and her posse struggling up the mountain from their Chambers. Their lavish Chamber was filled with ostentatious beauty. A milky white light, rich and saturating, soaked the Fathers' robes, the thrones, even the air. A colour so pure that no mortal could see it and live. Human minds had not been created to comprehend its vast spectrum, to grasp the deep complexities of a colour so divine. Three thrones were the dominant feature, varying in size and design, and used on the rarest of occasions. Official occasions.

    'What do you think?' Elian, the Father of time asked. 'Do we intervene?'

    Creation held its breath. 'No, let us hold back for now,' Axel, the Father of life said. 'We might divert her from her intended path.' Existence spun on. He stroked his dark beard in thought.

    'Ahem,' Mercur said, clearing his throat.

    He hadn't meant anything by the gesture, and the others knew it. If any of the Fathers could have been considered impatient, it was Elian, not Mercur. After all, Elian had created time. His inert compulsion to spare every jiffy stemmed from that fact. It might have been considered a point of difference, if indeed contention could have existed among the three. Instead it was seen as his strength. His was the voice of urgency.

    Mercur had his weakness too, or rather his strength – the fawning over, adoration of, and tender-hearted kindness for the weak, delicate, beautiful ones. Emeline being a prime example. Elian eyed Mercur, tilting his neck up a slight angle. In other circumstances, Elian would've coveted Mercur's stature, but vices like envy could not exist in the Heavens. Elian had on many occasions thought if he could've envied anyone, it would've been the great Father, Axel, who stood tall like a red oak from the east, towering over him and Mercur in majesty.

    Mercur sighed. 'Can we not send her a token or small favour? We can't risk losing her at this point.'

    Elian nodded. 'A token could work.'

    'Yes,' Axel said, surprising Elian and Mercur with his uncharacteristic quick remark, 'But we must be careful in our choosing of this favour. We have many risks to consider.'

    Mercur smiled, satisfied and eager. 'You are correct Axel. What shall it be? Truth? Knowledge? Ability? Virtue?'

    'She has enough virtue,' Elian said, 'What about knowledge?'

    'We have the wild Kat with her, who carries much knowledge,' Mercur said, 'What about truth?'

    They awaited Axel's comment. Crickets paused in their chirp, the wind held its breath, dreams froze a brief second. 'The option most fraught with risk,' Axel said. 'We must apply wisdom in choosing which truth to give.'

    'Let's hear from the second brother before we decide.' Axel welcomed the others to climb the stairs to the dais of their Chambers and take their seats, sweeping his arm in an arc, open palmed.

    They made themselves comfortable. Axel gave his customary nod, signalling that Mercur could start. Elian's moustache twitched of its own accord as he watched Mercur create.

    Their robes became brown, rough textured, plain but clean. The air became crisp, humid, oxygenated, and a light blue. The milky glow of light left the dais and a gravelly white settled in its wake. Rich colours drenched the thrones, crimson, royal-blue, gold. Each one was studded with diamonds, gems, ivory. They seemed excessive and lavish, but in truth were humbler than their former state.