Gods of Samrasa

Nendas woke up in his bed in his room. The light coming through the curtains of his window was orangish, that of a sunset. It was said that such a waking foretold death, and Nendas prayed it no one he knew.

His eyes struggled to open, and never before in his life had he felt so drained. His room remained furnished with little save well-read books from his Father and a bed. As he gradually got the feeling back in his limbs, he realized he was alive.

Alive and drained. His eyes were closed, but he could sense it all around him.

"Wake up, Nendas," said a voice. "We have work to do."

"I'm alive," Nendas confirmed.

"For the present, though, I expect we'll all die someday," said a very different voice. Nendas opened his eyes and saw a familiar old man. He was somewhat grandfatherly in appearance, with mottled and scarred skin.

Recognizing him, Nendas sat up. "King Samrasa I-"

"Don't stand up," said Samrasa. "You've had an eventful few days, Nendas."

"Yes, I..." Nendas paused. "What happened?"

"Perhaps a mirror would help more," said Samrasa, drawing up a mirror.

Nendas saw the symbol there, that of a hawk flying freely above the clouds. It was on the brow of his head, and he remembered it. It had burned on the brow of Uncle's wife for years. "This is...

"The symbol of Jaha." And he felt a warmth, a sort of feeling that filled him and made him feel even more alive. "She... I can feel her within me..."

"You can?" asked Samrasa, sounding somewhat surprised. Nendas wondered why; Samrasa believed in the god's power at least. A King would have to know such things.

"Yes, her presence is here within me. I... I feel strange," said Nendas, putting a note of horror into his tone. He did not think it quite safe to cite religious joy in front of Samrasa, even if he did feel like smiling.

The Goddess Jaha had chosen to reside within him.

Him.

This was an honor beyond compare, and Nendas tried to stop from smiling. He succeeded.

"It is to be expected. We have never attempted anything like this before," said Samrasa. Then he looked at Nendas very hard. "You do know what your Uncle has done to you, don't you?"

So was Samrasa trying to play Nendas against Uncle? Was it a means of gaining Nendas' approval? It was best to see where this went. "Done?

"Uncle has done nothing to me. He asked me to offer myself to Jaha, and I did so."

"Yes, but have you considered what that means?" asked Samrasa. Ah, so that was his game, worldly temptation. "You will be in no position to inherit anything. Even if a political marriage is made between you and Sarafi, you will have no real influence. Sarafi will hold all political power."

A sense of grief came to Nendas that Samrasa should be so obsessed with the world. And a desire came to him to reach out. Nendas settled for looking down at his hands and feigning conflict. "That doesn't matter to me.

"What I want is to serve Tarasif and Queen Jaha. If it means being a warrior, then that's the future I will accept. If it means being a servant of peace, I'll accept that as well."

Nendas would have said it proudly. But doing so might lose his head, and he could be of no assistance to anyone like that. At the same time, if Samrasa was trying to manipulate him, Uncle probably knew about it. Samrasa was probably trying to play both of them against one another as a means of keeping his options open.

Uncle probably thought he was in on the plan, and the whole thing was a deception fooling Nendas. Why was he thinking of things in such cynical terms? A presence in his mind told him this was not how he ought to think. Memories flashed through him of Sarafi's mother and grandmother. Both had been graceful meditators, beautiful and demure. Not calculating in so brutal a fashion.

Why the change? Perhaps because he was a man and Jaha's power affected him differently.*

"A very admirable mindset," said Samrasa, putting a hand on Nendas' shoulder. His bare shoulder. The proximity was... distressing. "Though I fear that the universe does not always reward such devotion."

"What do you mean?" asked Nendas, trying to appear innocent. He hated how Samrasa touched him and wanted to throw him off. The man was insincere and may have had a hand in whatever plan was happening here. At the very least, he was taking Nendas' apparent vulnerability. For what? An opportunity for power?

Though what kind of power? Nendas could not tell.

"It's nothing, of course," said Samrasa, drawing his hand back. "Tell me, what would you think of accompanying me to Tarasif?"

"Tarasif, me?" asked Nendas, feeling genuine enthusiasm. He'd always wanted to see the Holy City, even under a new set of rulers from the old days. The ever-changing sets of soldier kings had not changed the importance of Tarasif. If anything, it had affirmed the city with symbolic importance.

What was Nendas thinking? Samrasa had ruled since well before he was born and had a reputation as a powerful and benevolent King. He'd never known any other way. But then, Jaha had the women who were possessed by her before.

Nendas considered that if he were in the King's company, he'd have a chance to prove himself in battle. So there was the possibility of real glory in this mission. But that same voice argued that an Avatar of Jaha ought not to seek glory, and Nendas took her point.

"Well, yes," said Samrasa, leaning back. "I'm told you're quite the swordsman. I'm certain you could be of more use with me than here."

"Of course. Gladly," said Nendas before remembering his duties. "That is if Uncle is willing to approve, of course." Uncle would, of course, approve, and refusing the offer was not an option. One did not snub a King. It raised questions of loyalty, and Samrasa was known for his treatment of traitors.

The Hasafa had a narrow escape with Rantasa. They'd been necessary and had left his service earlier than the others. There were graveyards of those less fortunate, and others had fled west to Dinis. Little had been heard from them in years, save that some had married in with the locals. The Emperor had attempted to take Tarasif in their name but had been repelled.

Even so, the idea of going with Samrasa troubled him. Nendas felt a deep sense he was heading into unfamiliar ground. Not just on a personal but on a cosmic scale.

"I already discussed it with him," said Samrasa, voice very Fatherly. "To be perfectly honest, I'm concerned that Munsuf does not appreciate your loyalty. He is concerned about what you may say while here. It would probably be best if you made a name for yourself in the army."

"Well..." Nendas considered how best to respond to such obvious bait. Make a desire to betray Uncle known, which could get him killed. Deny it outright would make it so he was contradicting King Samrasa. Best not to respond at all. "I would be an honor to serve Tarasif under you."

"Excellent," laughed Samrasa. "I knew you to be of excellent make when I first saw you." He stood. "We leave tomorrow, be ready at dawn tomorrow. A warrior cannot afford to slack off."

Nendas resolved not to disappoint him as he left. But his thoughts turned to violence? Would he have to kill people? He would have to kill people; that was what a warrior ought to do. Jaha must have been aware of this when she chose him, surely. If there was some alternative to this path, Nendas would take it if she wished. But he had obligations to fulfill, just like those before him.

And an Avatar had to fulfill their duties as well.

Standing, Nendas began to get dressed.

Still, why were Uncle and Samrasa wasting time on such manipulations? He was already completely loyal to the Hasafa; hadn't he clarified that? If they'd been trying to get him killed, they could have knifed him and been done with it. No need for manipulations at all.

Nendas realized he was calculating things a great deal more than before. And he was doing so very shrewdly. Was this the power of Jaha? She was the Peacemaker Goddess and peace often required shrewd negotiation. That may be the reason. Only the Peacemaker's Goddess power had manifested in others. Usually, as a kind of all-loving compassion. Each person's perspective could be taken into account. Then a long-term solution could be found.

Jaha had steered Tarasif along the road to stability since the fall of Old Tambarian. That had been before even Safara had created her Empire of Love. The two of them had an... interesting dynamic, one a serpent, the other a dove. All those statues and pictures had focused on her as a friend to all. So why did it manifest in this cold-blooded calculation within him?

This was strange for him to experience, and it troubled him as he finished dressing and moved out. And then he heard two servants speaking.

"Haven't you heard?" asked Maka, an older woman.

"Heard what?" asked Imogen, a pink-haired servant girl of foreign descent.*

"Well, some of the others they..." began the first. "Lord Munsuf and King Samrasa have been spending much time together. Some say more than they ought to-"

"Ahem," said Nendas, nearing them.

They turned to him and stepped back at a pace. Then they bowed respectfully, as if to a divine figure. "Oh, uh...

"Avatar Nendas, how may we aid you?"

"I wouldn't spread rumors," said Nendas, not minding the extra respect. "My Uncle and King Samrasa have plenty of reason to meet. And your implications are not appropriate." What they were suggesting was unthinkable. Possible but unthinkable nonetheless.

"And please, do not refer to me by title." That last part was spoken for him, and he was surprised by it. Shifting, he looked around. "Where is Sarafi?"

"Lord Munsuf and your cousin have departed on business," said Maka. "He wishes to oversee the farmlands and ensure she understands things operate. They will be gone for a week."

Nendas nodded. "I see.

"I suppose I won't be able to see them before I go."

That was all very convenient for Uncle, wasn't it? He didn't want to be associated with what happened here from the sounds of things. Or perhaps he was too much of a coward to look Nendas in the eye after this. Nendas genuinely didn't understand how he could consider this a disservice.

Whatever scheme they'd had planned, it would have been better executed without Jaha. So bringing her into this was a mistake and unsuitable. Except that thought didn't seem entirely like his own.

Nendas said his goodbyes. Then walked his childhood home and finally met the entourage of King Samsara the next day. It all passed in a blur, and he found his senses heightened, seeming to see people in light and shadow.

Soon enough, in what seemed an instant, Nendas found himself walking. He was leaving the castle and walking toward the King's company, which stood at the base of the hill. The banner was held aloft, but a man barred his path as he walked.

He was a giant man, holding a sword that was as tall as a smaller man. He wore heavy armor, and a long black beard stretched down his chest. Judging from his tan skin, he was of foreign lineage. "Ah, so you're here on time. Surprised from a man who is half a woman."

"What did you say?" asked Nendas, gripping his sword. What was he doing? This was an irrational act that could get him killed.

"Don't take that tone with me, boy," said the man. "I am Ralign, head of Samrasa's guard. I hope you have everything needed for travel because we won't be stopping or going back."

Nendas calculated that confronting this man at this point would be a poor decision. A voice told him he'd already been too quick to seek a confrontation. It was obvious he'd get little respect from his company. "I have everything I need."

"Good," said the man. "Then let's go. Fall in line."

Ralign led Nendas to the convey, and Nendas got several looks he did not like. As Ralign came before Samrasa, Nendas chose to make himself scarce.

"King Samrasa, all is for our departure," said Ralign.

"Excellent, Ralign," said Samrasa. "Then let us begin."

Nendas followed at the rear of the formation. As they walked together, Nendas noticed many dark glances directed at him. Suspecting it was because of what he is, Nendas decided not to walk with them. These men were quite effective, and he doubted they much appreciated him.

As the column walked, Nendas observed and said nothing. For a few days, this continued, and Nendas ate alone, far away from the others. This was not his first journey or time sleeping outside, so he did not disgrace himself. On the fifth day, Samrasa was approached by a soldier who approached him with a spear. "My King, the executions you commanded have been carried out."

"I see," said Samrasa. "Well, that unpleasant business has been carried out."

The executions, as it turned out, turned out to be a large number of men. They were nailed to crosses and bleeding from wounds where they had been lanced. All of them were naked, and the cross was stained red.

"...Who are these men?" asked Nendas of Ralign.

"Degenerates," said Ralign. "Servants of Zigildrazia, or at least some of them. Others were seen engaging in the orgies of the Demon Queen. Homosexuals and deviants, all of them; their deaths are necessary. The depravity they represent must be weeded out so this world can flower."

"But this method is..." Nendas paused on how best to explain it. "My clan has always used swifter methods."

"It can take as much as a week," said Ralign with a grin. "They nail your hands and feet to the cross and hoist you up. Then, if you're lucky, they put a lance through you. If you're not, you lie there, bleeding slowly as you strive to breathe. Little by little, your lungs collapse, and you suffocate.

"You're not a degenerate, are you?" Was this a deliberate threat or an attempt at black comedy? Both seemed a fair answer.

Nendas carefully took a step back.

"Don't scare the boy, Ralign," said Samrasa. "Not everyone understands the necessity of our actions.

"And it's never pleasant, doing what needs to be done."

So Samrasa was trying to ingratiate himself to Nendas for some purpose. Ralign disliked Nendas for some reason. Whatever the reason, however, things changed when they moved through a pass.

"Look there!" cried the lookout.

"Assassins! To arms!" cried Ralign.

"For the King!" said another.

And just like that, Nendas found himself in his first battle. A crowd of men charged down the hill in large numbers. They wore armor and held weapons, but Nendas noticed they did not seem well-trained. As he drew his sword, he went with his fellows into battle.

Parrying a sword, Nendas swiftly disarmed the man with a flick of his curved blade. Once done, he threw the man down. From there, he parried a stroke meant for his head and sent the blade spinning away with a move. Another blow rapped his enemy on the head before he kicked him down.

A third came at Nendas with a huge axe, and Nendas stepped aside before putting a blade to the man's throat. The man dropped his axe and fell to one knee.

"Yield," said Nendas to the other two.

A glance around revealed that the attackers had been repulsed. Most of them were dead, and the rest were being killed. But those he'd spared had their hands raised.

"Excellent work, men! We've run the rest of them off! Kill the prisoners!" said Ralign before seeing that Nendas had the three alive. "What are you doing? Why are they alive?"

"Would not King Samrasa wish for there to be captives," said Nendas.

"What's the matter, boy? Don't have the guts to kill your man?" said Ralign.

Several of the other ones laughed.

Nendas felt a surge of fury in him, but it felt insignificant. He stayed calm. "If King Samrasa orders them killed, I shall do so myself."

"What's all this then," said Samrasa, coming forward.

"I thought it best to have some captives to tell us where they had come from," said Nendas, not wanting to kill them. "They may have information for us."

"We don't need to hear him speak for that," said Samrasa. "Their armor is made in Kulat, and they have much reason to hate us. No doubt it was planned to kill me and send the realm back into anarchy."

Nendas looked at the men and saw they had a heavy tan and long beards like that of Ralign, only twisted and wild. "But King Samrasa, this man is not from Kulat. His skin is like the merchants I have seen from the far east. They are Babarassian."*

"Mercenaries, then," said Ralign.

"What manner of mercenary needs to be dressed in the army of the nation that hires them?" asked Nendas. "Especially when such an assassination would be disguised. Kulat would not be foolish enough to enrage us in such a way. And these men... well, they were incompetent. I'm a green recruit, and these men are... it's like they're common highwaymen.

"If they were trained mercenaries, I would have expected to be crushed."

"Just what are you trying to say, Avatar of Jaha?" asked Ralign. "Do you question the King?"

Nendas realized he'd made a major misstep. "...Nothing, I was merely making an observation.

"Perhaps one of our enemies is seeking to frame Kulat, so we will march to war with them. Then they might fight a weakened opponent."

Samrasa nodded. "It is worthy of investigation, certainly.

"Now, execute the assassins."

Nendas nodded and turned to where the assassins had several men around them. However, as he drew back his blade, he started seeing things. He thought he was this man, having come far from home on behalf of his masters. He was surrounded and about to die, perhaps even set up for it to happen. What was such a person thinking?

What would his family think about losing him? What friends would he leave behind? What dreams are unfulfilled? And the more Nendas tried to drive the blade home, the more the thoughts filled him. "...With respect, King Samrasa, I am not... while his crime warrants death, Jaha is a Goddess of Peace. It would be against her nature to perform such an act."

"But not against your nature," said Samrasa in a patient tone. "You are a warrior as well as an Avatar. How can you be expected to perform your duties if you cannot kill?"

"Yet surely I should avoid it when possible," said Nendas, trying to will himself to strike.

"Are you too good to kill, boy?" said Ralign. "The King has given you an order, coward! Obey it or-"

"Enough, Ralign," said Samrasa. "His position is understandable. Being the host of a god is a serious burden. Especially when it disagrees with one's own nature. It is true, Nendas, that your Goddess abhors death. But it was part of the agreement that you should perform such acts. And does it truly matter whose hands they die at?

"If you do not kill this man now, one of my men will do it. And you will have failed in your duty as a warrior of the King. Can you do it?"

Nendas paused. "...Yes, yes, my King, I can."

"Do it, boy," said Ralign, hefting his sword. "You won't get another chance."

Nendas turned, mustered himself, and struck the first captive with his sword. The blow cut into the neck but not deeply enough.

The man screamed, and blood spewed from it. Drawing back, he struck again, and the head came off. The others he wasted no time with, stabbing each through the neck quickly before they could beg.

It was before they could see anymore.

And just like that, Nendas had killed three men. He'd taken their lives, ended them and everything they could have been. He'd tried to avoid doing it, but he'd had to. It was his duty, and they'd attacked him. What else could he have done?

Forcing himself to stand, Nendas refused to show emotions or cry. Samrasa nodded, and even Ralign seemed somewhat impressed.

"Well done," said Samrasa, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You've killed three men in your first battle. Now, all of you, prepare to move on."

Nendas must remain an Avatar of Jaha and a warrior at once.

But he felt violated.

It was as if a temple had become the fortress of a host of brigands. His actions came before him over and over. He noted that the other warriors treated him with more respect now. He supposed that not many of them had killed three men in their first battle.

So that was the progress of a sort.

And then, one night, while he was resting, a hawk descended to block the light of the moon. It landed before him and delivered a scroll, a letter marked with Father's seal. Opening it, Nendas read it.

Son,

I knew nothing of any such arrangements by your uncle. Take no action in haste if you have not already. I do not think this offer was what it appears. My brother may be seeking to decrease your authority in the clan.

I have taught you to trust your family.

However, I believe you have been manipulated. If you read this, I will see you when you arrive in Tarasif. We will discuss what must be done then.

For now, know that negotiations are proceeding well. I look forward to seeing you, though I wish it were under happier circumstances.

-Your Father.

If Father believed it, then it must be so.

The inheritance meant nothing to Nendas. But something had to be done about something.*

*No relation to the Goddess Imogen, I think. There are plenty of people named Im Though the name may have been foreshadowing within the text.

*No relation to the Goddess Imogen, I think. There are plenty of people named Imogen in the world. However, the name may have been foreshadowing within the text.

Mother tells me that Imogen rose to power some decades before this point. However, I doubt a Goddess of Thieves would have much interest in the Husafa Clan. Law-abiding citizens do not seem her champion of choice.

*I believe Nendas had fallen into a consensual form of mind control. I experienced similar feelings under the spell of Arraxia. Most mind control is based on focusing a person's perceptions wholly on a given target. Then you press impulses toward that target. Once there, it is a matter of pressing their will until they break or you are driven out.

Jaha's own spell is unique in that the target also seems to be the recipient.

It merges their will with hers to utilize them as a vessel to achieve their goals. It seems to have been done only to those who willingly choose it. However, it is also possible that the connection works in two ways. Nendas' own nature may have been influencing how she made her plans.

*Babarrassians have not come much into any of my writings so far, and I feel some context will be helpful. They were, at one time, the terror of the seas, as Escor will attest. They long-ranging ships situated on a continent south of Themious. Often they would raid Tarasif and the lands around and even struck as far west as Escor. This was, happily, before the Viokinar wars. However, the Babarrasians were even worse.

Virtually no writings portray the Babarassians in a favorable light. They are a byword for irredeemable brutality in the places they walked. Some records in Escor portray Viokinar warriors as noble or strong. Not a single one I have seen has anything good to say about the Babarassians.

Ironically, I do not think these men were Babarassians because of this. For one thing, Nendas could hardly have met one. Mountains had been raised long ago along the southern shore by Barden. And the only land route they'd have into Tarasif would be through Dinis or Spirta. Both of them were powerful forces in their own right.

In addition, if my reckoning of time is correct, the Babarrasians were in the middle of a long period of decay. Dinisian naval bases in the Islands of Power had hemmed them in. McShore and Chaminus proved an ideal place to knock out their fleets. And Sorn's superior naval organization had routed them several times. As such, I find it unlikely such a company of convenient ne-do-wells could be found. Even if they could be, they should be the last person I would assassinate a King. They'd be the talk of every village that walked through.

As such, I believe that they were some other, less remarkable ethnic group that was despised. One that would not have been well-known enough to get the desired effect. You could have just as easily had Viokinar minotaurs or satyrs serve the same purpose.

As such, the Babarassians are likely a mere poetic flourish. Thus symbolizing moral decay in the nation.

*This odd conclusion to the chapter seems to have resulted from translation. The original phrasing had certain implications and plays on words.

Many of them foreshadow future events. However, they have yet to come across at all here, and Tanith made no effort to replicate the effect. Unfortunately, my divine understanding of languages gives me no appreciation for language itself. Only the base meaning was translated through my own interpretation.

Having not studied Tarasifian, I cannot appreciate the subtleties.