Chapitre 25: As mundane could be

As Artam said the words, he couldn't help but feel distressed. He expected prayers to some figure or some ritual to bind himself to the cult.

But to his surprise, it was something else, something even more sinister.. a god.

Wait doesn't that sound like the title of a god????

Wait did I just pray to a bloody a god? T-that's blasphemous.

The gods were supposed to be dead. And it was heresy to pray to any god.

It was a serious offense, one even worse than practicing witchcraft and skin changing.

"You may rise " Ilda's cold voice snapped him out of his catastrophic train of thought.

As Artam rose, he expected to feel vile, sinister, evil, or maybe even a touch of divine. But there was nothing of the sort.

He felt as mundane as mundane could be.

"Huh?" He looked around bewildered. "I guess nothing happened."

Suddenly the surrounding air seemed to stop, becoming thick and mysterious.

Argh I shouldn't have said that he cursed.

Immediately after, he heard a chorus of familiar voices next to his ears that alternated between sounding real, sharp, fictitious, seductive, insane, and real all at once.

He couldn't understand the familiar murmurings that went on.

His entire body was getting tighter and tighter and it felt like he could just break apart at any time.

He felt himself sink, falling to who knows where. The shrubs seemed farther, the moon grew bleaker, the world seemed to etch away from him, and then he felt himself falling deeper and deeper.

The world turned and fell away. For a moment it was as if he were inside the crow, gazing out through beady black eyes as a boy stood underneath the hearthwood frothing and a mature featured woman with an easily forgettable face watched with disinterested eyes.

Then he was rising, melting, his spirit borne on some cold wind. He was in the coalsand, in winds and the clouds, he was a sparrow, a squirrel, an oak.

A barn owl flew silently above a cornfield, swooping down noiselessly on a grass cutter; Artam was inside the owl, inside the rodent, inside the corn.

Deep below the ground, earthworms burrowed blindly in the dark, and he was them as well. I am the world and everything that's in it, he thought, exulting.

He was everything and everything was him.

Just as his mind was going to break, the murmuring of voices faded away and his surroundings became very quiet.

Suddenly; he felt a shock of cold, as if he had been plunged into the icy waters of a frozen lake.

He tried once more to open his eyes, an extremely easy task this time.

A vast, shimmering mirror that rippled like water. As he stepped closer, the surface pulled him in, drawing him into a deep, endless abyss.

Artam found himself floating in a dark, ethereal space, where time and reality seemed suspended.

There was no "darkness"

It was just nothing

It was like trying to see the back of your head

Even If you know what's there's nothing to imagine.

You come up with nothing

Not white or black just nothing

And in this nothing there was nothingness

Two different concepts he came to realize

Nothing was the absence of something

Nothingness was the presence of nothing.

[I feel….stripped]

There were thoughts and there were no thoughts no nothing

It was like forgetting one's self in a dream.

Not even conscious technically

Gazing into the abyss of nothingness

But then he had a thought

[If I am nothing then how am I gazing?]

What was gazing?

[What….am I?]

Something about this place was strangely familiar…. He had been here before he just couldn't remember when.

Then he heard a low whisper….. and felt something connect with his soul.

"Life is a twist

Death comes like a mist

Rise from the abyss

Morn my new beast."

Then he was suddenly ejected

Then he woke up

He heard the light rustling of leaves against the winds, the chirping of crickets,

I hear water too. He thought as his eyes slowly adjusted.

The garden seemed much larger within than it had been earlier.

"You're back." Ilda's icy voice cut through the silence with a whisper. "Not many meet the Lord of All. And fewer return. Even those that return don't always come back sane."

"The Lord of All?" Artam asked.

"Yes, child. That is one of his many names and titles." Then there was a pause, She approached Artam and caught him by the Arm.

Finally, ilda said, "Tell me your names, child."

"Artam." Artam said with a pause.

"That is one, tell me the rest," she said. "Tell me all your names."

"What–,"

"All."

"I was named Artam after—"

"Your names." she sighed. "I do not want a lie. It is your names I want."

Bewildered, Artam asked, "How did you know it was a lie? Is it magic?"

Ilda shook her head. "One does not need to learn sorcery to know truth from falsehood, not if he has sight. It's enough to understand how to interpret a face. Study the eyes. the mouth. The muscles located here, where the neck connects to the shoulders, and at the corners of the jaw."

Her hand traveled up his arm and touched his chin lightly with two fingers. Artam felt his heartbeat quicken.

"Some liars blink. Some stare. Some shy away. Some lick their lips. Many more cover their mouths just before they tell a lie as if to hide their deceit. Others may be more subtle, but they are always there. A false smile and a true one may look alike, but they are as different as east and west?"

He swallowed groping for his masks. "Mummer… they call me Mummer." He was unsure of the answer she wanted.

"And now the first of your names?"

"It's Artam." He hesitated.

"You lie," she said. "Most men lie when they succumb to fear. Some tell many lies, some lie for the love of deceit, some because they can't stop , and some have only one great lie they wear so often that they come to believe it . . . though some small part of them will always know that it is still a lie, and that will show upon their faces. Now, quickly tell me your true name"

"That name doesn't matter."

"If it didn't you wouldn't try to hide it." she insisted. "A man hides his riches because they are important. Tell me."

He lowered his head, "Morn…..I am Morn."

"That you are," she said. "Named for one who would not be mourned. Your past actions have made it too shameful a name, that is why you took on the name Artam after being sold by your old masters. But do not fret because of shame. We are servants here. There is no life more shameful and prideful, honorable and deceitful. You will learn and you will serve."

"I serve. Now repeat it ."

"I serve," Artam said, suddenly remembering the anomaly she performed and the illusions she casted.

"You'll teach me spells?" Artam asked.

"Sorcery is like a flame, it could be used to do many things, but it could also harm the wielder. Then there's the cost….All sorcery has a cost. But do not fret, we do not practice sorcery. We perform.... Miracles." She replied.

Artam remembered how he bribed Eryk to train him in the sword. "I–I can pay you to teach me more."

"I am no sellsword." She replied with the same tone, but Artam could somehow sense disgust.

"What we provide cannot be purchased with gold or silver. It requires your complete dedication. People choose different journeys. Ours is the most challenging. Only a few are meant to take it. The Lord of All has chosen you to serve him, so I will instruct you. After you have proven yourself worthy of knowledge."

"But be warned The cost is steep and unreasonable by the standards of many

Other gods and lesser deities take your ears, your nose, your tongue. They take your sad grey eyes, your hands, your feet, your arms and legs, your flesh and bone. Some, even your hopes and dreams, your loves and hates. But he won't take your mind or will, that is the right of every man. His cost is different. His cost is the will to follow and serve him. He doesn't force anyone. He lives in the hearts of us. So when you need him you need just reach out. And when you reach out, you will serve him all your heart, won't you?"

She cupped his chin and gazed deep into his gray eyes, so deep it made him shiver.

"No you won't," she said, "Not now atleast..... But you will learn."

"Why did you want me to join?" Artam asked.

"My wants do not matter," said Ilda. "It may be that the Lord of All has led me to find you to be His instrument, but when I look at you all I see a child."

She bit her lip. "But you will learn and you will serve. Won't you?"

"I will."

"We shall see."

Ilda brought her blood-stained hand forward, staring Artam in the eyes.

"Kiss me, child," she whispered, in a voice silent and husky yet strangely seductive.

And Morn kissed her hand, then he licked the sticky blood on them, but it melted like a shadow in his mouth.

"No one has ever tried to drink my blood before," she said. "Are you thirsty, child?"

Yes, he thought, but not for food.