The Treasure Which Cannot Be Stolen
There was a time that Honto Dos, the one they call the Ox, awoke at dusk in the sand, with the sun's heat still fading around him. The minotaur could not remember why he was out in the desert nor how he had come to survive a day lying exposed to the sun, and as he stood, his vision swam and he could not see any city in the distance.
Strange stars shone weakly in the darkening blue sky and the wind blowing across the dunes was different. Honto Dos looked down to see his armor had disintegrated in places; the leather hardening and turning to dust and the metal scoured by the wind-blown sand. He sat heavily, clasping his great hands in prayer to the Desert Star, it being the first thing his addled wits thought to do.
After several moments, Honto Dos felt a before him and when he opened his eyes, Zephrin, avatar of the Desert Star, stood by him. He bowed low.
"Are you well, oh Ox?"
"You honor me," he rumbled, "so far from any temple or shrine."
Zephrin smiled kindly and a ray of fading light gleamed off the silver circlet she wore, with a crystal in the shape of her goddess' four-pointed star sitting on her brow. "Prayers need no finery of temple, only devotion. Tell me, Honto Dos, where are you?"
Standing, he shook his head as if to clear it. "I do not know. My last memories were of the City of Artisans." Now he trembled once, for there had been much in that city to strike his memories over time, and time again.
Zephrin took a step towards him, seeing his armor in ruins and how he had been battered by the elements. She reached up and touched him lightly on the chest, restoring everything to how it had been before. Then she turned, white desert cloak flowing behind her.
"Walk with me."
He did, and they walked for a time, until full night had set over the dunes. Presently, they came to ruins, heavy stones scattered in the sand and only the foundation remaining of what must have, decades or even centuries ago, been a massive structure, now forgotten by all except the sun and wind.
"Do you know this place?"
Honto Dos shook his head. "It is only ruins."
"A great ziggurat once stood here. It scraped the very sky with its four towers, each devoted to an evil star. There," and Zephrin pointed at the base, "you rallied again it, roaring as if to bring the walls down with your passion."
He stumbled over to the place, going down on one knee to wrench an old, weathered great-axe from where it was mostly burried by sand.
"This...is mine. This is my axe."
She joined him.
"It is. You threw yourself against the stone until beaten and bloody, do you not remember?"
Hazy images fogged through his mind but nothing would stay and again, he shook his head. "Forgive me, but I do not. What could I do so such a fortress, just myself and an axe?"
"You prayed to the sky and blew a battle-horn, and your allies came with their armies and you all destroyed the ziggurat and those within," Zephrin replied, eyes on the horizon.
"Allies?" and Honto Dos stared at her as if she had gone mad, "I...had allies that came?"
"Yes. Have your forgotten so soon? Come, let us move on."
They continued to walk in the night. Now the wind picked up, punishing the dunes with its fury, until they reached a place where a great shelf of rock was exposed with a small cave just at its base. Motioning for him to enter first, Zephrin followed, holding up her hand, where a globe of light suddenly glowed.
Honto Dos had to bend low, but he crouched down and made his way into the cave. A woman sat at the back, dressed in the red and black of the Desert Guard, but all the more tragic, for it was the cut and style worn when the Lost Legionaires were killed to the man by the horde that then surrounded the ruins of Quay. Before her was a massive skeleton, turning to dust with the years.
"You...honor me," he managed.
Taeodan, avatar of the Watcher By The Wayside, only nodded once, steely eyes taking in not only him, but Zephrin behind him.
"Leave this place, it is mine," she ordered, and Zephrin bowed her head in respect and did so, leaving Honto Dos and Taeodan in the dark cave alone.
"Why do you keep vigil here?" he asked.
Her voice changed, at once kind, "I saw one lay here once, burning with fever and madness."
Honto Dos knelt, his great capped horns touching the low ceiling. "Why did you not bring them water, or take them to a city?"
Now Taeodan's voice became hard again, "What is it to me? My god may hold little following, but as least one such as you, who remember those times, knows his way. Perhaps I will help, perhaps I will hinder, and perhaps I will do nothing but watch, as is the way in all things. Do you not remember, oh Ox?"
"I know his way, I have heard."
"This one, as he lay here, he cried out and gored the stone, but it made little difference. He came here to die for he thought he carried a plague that would infect and kill others. He died alone in a cave and took no succor. There was no plague, only a sickness in him. Nothing would have spread and no others would have died. Had he accepted help, he would have lived."
Reaching out, Honto Dos touched one of the bones, feeling it crumble to dust at his fintertips.
"Do you not remember fleeing the City of Artisans? Do you not remember dying here?"
At once terrified and repulsed as more memories flooded into him, Honto Dos scrambled from the cave and out into the night. Zephrin was waiting for him there.
"Is what the Taeodan says true? Did I die in that cave or did I fall in battle at the ziggurat?"
Zephrin only shook her head and led him on. As they walked, the desert night changed until Honto Dos was aware that they had somehow walked into the alleys and slums of an old city district. Market was over and the white plaster now gray with night as the inhabitants doubtless slept. At the center of the market square, a baleful woman stood, dressed as a desert assassin, and when she saw Zephrin, she reached for the scimitar at her belt.
"Turn back, or I will destroy you."
Holding up a hand, Zephrin backed into the shadows of an alley, leaving Honto Dos with A'dus, avatar of the Laughing Wanderer.
"You honor me," he trembled, eyes low.
She barked a laugh and circled him. "You are known to me, Ox, just as you are known to my mad god. Should you not know this place? I will not decieve you, not addle your cattle-brain with riddles or fantasies. You know this place!"
At that, the square lit with a ghostly glow, and Honto Dos recognized a district of the City of Artisans, but changed, as if it reflected all the decades he had there resided. Artisans, both young and old, all of them known to him, rushed from the tight houses, holding torches and weapons, and roaring.
"You here that? They come for your blood, Ox!" A'dus screeched, "they come for you, one decade after the next, one century after the next. They come to lynch you, to behead you, to put you to death! Listen to the whispers in the streets and on the wind, can't you hear them say it? It is Honto Dos, the strange one, the Ox! We do not understand his ways and will see him driven out or destroyed!"
The shades poured over him and through him in waves and Honto Dos fell to his knees in agony. He remembered this, remembered returning to the city each generation to find things not changed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zephrin standing in the alley, eyes closed and hands clasped in prayer. Managing to bring his hands together, Honto Dos did likewise, and the shadows of the artisans became shadows of himself.
"Yes! Destroy yourself! See a reflection of evil in every kind soul! Drive them to hate you! It's easier that way!"
Honto Dos stood, pain gone. "No. It is not the way. I understand the way. I understand now the treasure which cannot be stolen."
A'dus sneered as she faded. "It is too late. None care for the explanation of debt or the half-hearted stabbings of enlightenment. This will be your fate again, for you will have it no other way."
Then, it was dawn in the desert, and Zephrin stood by him, overlooking a city just down the dune.
"Is it...the City of Artisans?"
"It is not the place that they call the City of Artisans. It is the place that you call home," Zephrin said.
Honto Dos hung his head. "Please tell me, how long have I been dead?"
She laughed. "You have never been dead, because you have never been born. Go, the sun rises and life here stirs, go, oh Ox. Take your treasure and weave it into great things!"
"I will" he bellowed happily and ran through the sand towards the city, towards his city.
Strange stars shone weakly in the darkening blue sky and the wind blowing across the dunes was different. Honto Dos looked down to see his armor had disintegrated in places; the leather hardening and turning to dust and the metal scoured by the wind-blown sand. He sat heavily, clasping his great hands in prayer to the Desert Star, it being the first thing his addled wits thought to do.
After several moments, Honto Dos felt a before him and when he opened his eyes, Zephrin, avatar of the Desert Star, stood by him. He bowed low.
"Are you well, oh Ox?"
"You honor me," he rumbled, "so far from any temple or shrine."
Zephrin smiled kindly and a ray of fading light gleamed off the silver circlet she wore, with a crystal in the shape of her goddess' four-pointed star sitting on her brow. "Prayers need no finery of temple, only devotion. Tell me, Honto Dos, where are you?"
Standing, he shook his head as if to clear it. "I do not know. My last memories were of the City of Artisans." Now he trembled once, for there had been much in that city to strike his memories over time, and time again.
Zephrin took a step towards him, seeing his armor in ruins and how he had been battered by the elements. She reached up and touched him lightly on the chest, restoring everything to how it had been before. Then she turned, white desert cloak flowing behind her.
"Walk with me."
He did, and they walked for a time, until full night had set over the dunes. Presently, they came to ruins, heavy stones scattered in the sand and only the foundation remaining of what must have, decades or even centuries ago, been a massive structure, now forgotten by all except the sun and wind.
"Do you know this place?"
Honto Dos shook his head. "It is only ruins."
"A great ziggurat once stood here. It scraped the very sky with its four towers, each devoted to an evil star. There," and Zephrin pointed at the base, "you rallied again it, roaring as if to bring the walls down with your passion."
He stumbled over to the place, going down on one knee to wrench an old, weathered great-axe from where it was mostly burried by sand.
"This...is mine. This is my axe."
She joined him.
"It is. You threw yourself against the stone until beaten and bloody, do you not remember?"
Hazy images fogged through his mind but nothing would stay and again, he shook his head. "Forgive me, but I do not. What could I do so such a fortress, just myself and an axe?"
"You prayed to the sky and blew a battle-horn, and your allies came with their armies and you all destroyed the ziggurat and those within," Zephrin replied, eyes on the horizon.
"Allies?" and Honto Dos stared at her as if she had gone mad, "I...had allies that came?"
"Yes. Have your forgotten so soon? Come, let us move on."
They continued to walk in the night. Now the wind picked up, punishing the dunes with its fury, until they reached a place where a great shelf of rock was exposed with a small cave just at its base. Motioning for him to enter first, Zephrin followed, holding up her hand, where a globe of light suddenly glowed.
Honto Dos had to bend low, but he crouched down and made his way into the cave. A woman sat at the back, dressed in the red and black of the Desert Guard, but all the more tragic, for it was the cut and style worn when the Lost Legionaires were killed to the man by the horde that then surrounded the ruins of Quay. Before her was a massive skeleton, turning to dust with the years.
"You...honor me," he managed.
Taeodan, avatar of the Watcher By The Wayside, only nodded once, steely eyes taking in not only him, but Zephrin behind him.
"Leave this place, it is mine," she ordered, and Zephrin bowed her head in respect and did so, leaving Honto Dos and Taeodan in the dark cave alone.
"Why do you keep vigil here?" he asked.
Her voice changed, at once kind, "I saw one lay here once, burning with fever and madness."
Honto Dos knelt, his great capped horns touching the low ceiling. "Why did you not bring them water, or take them to a city?"
Now Taeodan's voice became hard again, "What is it to me? My god may hold little following, but as least one such as you, who remember those times, knows his way. Perhaps I will help, perhaps I will hinder, and perhaps I will do nothing but watch, as is the way in all things. Do you not remember, oh Ox?"
"I know his way, I have heard."
"This one, as he lay here, he cried out and gored the stone, but it made little difference. He came here to die for he thought he carried a plague that would infect and kill others. He died alone in a cave and took no succor. There was no plague, only a sickness in him. Nothing would have spread and no others would have died. Had he accepted help, he would have lived."
Reaching out, Honto Dos touched one of the bones, feeling it crumble to dust at his fintertips.
"Do you not remember fleeing the City of Artisans? Do you not remember dying here?"
At once terrified and repulsed as more memories flooded into him, Honto Dos scrambled from the cave and out into the night. Zephrin was waiting for him there.
"Is what the Taeodan says true? Did I die in that cave or did I fall in battle at the ziggurat?"
Zephrin only shook her head and led him on. As they walked, the desert night changed until Honto Dos was aware that they had somehow walked into the alleys and slums of an old city district. Market was over and the white plaster now gray with night as the inhabitants doubtless slept. At the center of the market square, a baleful woman stood, dressed as a desert assassin, and when she saw Zephrin, she reached for the scimitar at her belt.
"Turn back, or I will destroy you."
Holding up a hand, Zephrin backed into the shadows of an alley, leaving Honto Dos with A'dus, avatar of the Laughing Wanderer.
"You honor me," he trembled, eyes low.
She barked a laugh and circled him. "You are known to me, Ox, just as you are known to my mad god. Should you not know this place? I will not decieve you, not addle your cattle-brain with riddles or fantasies. You know this place!"
At that, the square lit with a ghostly glow, and Honto Dos recognized a district of the City of Artisans, but changed, as if it reflected all the decades he had there resided. Artisans, both young and old, all of them known to him, rushed from the tight houses, holding torches and weapons, and roaring.
"You here that? They come for your blood, Ox!" A'dus screeched, "they come for you, one decade after the next, one century after the next. They come to lynch you, to behead you, to put you to death! Listen to the whispers in the streets and on the wind, can't you hear them say it? It is Honto Dos, the strange one, the Ox! We do not understand his ways and will see him driven out or destroyed!"
The shades poured over him and through him in waves and Honto Dos fell to his knees in agony. He remembered this, remembered returning to the city each generation to find things not changed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zephrin standing in the alley, eyes closed and hands clasped in prayer. Managing to bring his hands together, Honto Dos did likewise, and the shadows of the artisans became shadows of himself.
"Yes! Destroy yourself! See a reflection of evil in every kind soul! Drive them to hate you! It's easier that way!"
Honto Dos stood, pain gone. "No. It is not the way. I understand the way. I understand now the treasure which cannot be stolen."
A'dus sneered as she faded. "It is too late. None care for the explanation of debt or the half-hearted stabbings of enlightenment. This will be your fate again, for you will have it no other way."
Then, it was dawn in the desert, and Zephrin stood by him, overlooking a city just down the dune.
"Is it...the City of Artisans?"
"It is not the place that they call the City of Artisans. It is the place that you call home," Zephrin said.
Honto Dos hung his head. "Please tell me, how long have I been dead?"
She laughed. "You have never been dead, because you have never been born. Go, the sun rises and life here stirs, go, oh Ox. Take your treasure and weave it into great things!"
"I will" he bellowed happily and ran through the sand towards the city, towards his city.