Category: Stories

The Character of Gods – Part 2

Several months ago I posted an excerpt from my novel-in-progress, introducing the character Xipe Totec, an Aztec god, who decides to go into the service of Dionysus in an effort to regain some of His former strength. Another divinity decides to ally Himself with Zeus’s son as well but with motivations that are decidedly more mixed than Xipe Totec.

The God Marduk

In the Age of Dionysus, Marduk is a genuine god, not some alien from another planet as some recent rather puerile books have tried to portray Him and His fellow Annunaki. As with Xipe Totec, Marduk has fallen on hard times and yearns to regain His former status.

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Marduk hunkered down in a ruined pile once a Babylonian temple dedicated to Him. He kept it hidden from nosy archaeologists with a simple glamour giving it the appearance of a nondescript rock pile infested with scorpions, vipers and other unpleasant vermin. There He recreated a small altar dedicated to Himself, decorated with a dragon image, and brooded over lost glory. He often took the form of a flickering lightning bolt, but when He physically manifested Himself in the ordinary world as He did now, He looked like a huge squat human, with a curly black beard and glowing embers for eyes. Dressed in a royal purple fringed shawl wrapped about His body and held in place with a golden belt, He could pretend He was still the mighty Lord some called Baal and others Moloch. But a quick glance outside His ruined temple always shattered that illusion.

The Golden Age had collapsed when Zeus and the Olympians broke the power of the primeval Titans. Marduk Himself came into being during the following chaotic times humans insisted was a Silver Age. He supposed it was for them as they learned large scale agriculture and husbandry replacing the simple hunting, gardening and gathering of more idyllic times, built small towns which began growing and became more centralized. The child of a minor water goddess, He took advantage of the humans increasing desire to have a powerful divinity which would overshadow others.

His brethren Annunaki, all Children of the Silver Age like Himself, had similar ambitions so a struggle ensued. Decade by decade, century by century, He clawed His way by sheer might to eminence, defeating any god or goddess who opposed Him. Not surprisingly humans copied the behavior of their divinities by engaging in warfare. This in turn increased the need for a potent god reflecting the humans’ perceptions of themselves. It was a role Marduk was happy to fill. He smiled broadly at His memories of the rise of the Bronze Age as human towns expanded into cities and populations boomed, fed by the rich bounty their crops yielded. The raids of conquest his followers conducted under His aegis brought in great wealth. Mighty temples had been raised to Him. Hymns sung to Him, stories composed about Him. Yes, that had been a good time.

But His mistake was forgetting about Zeus. The Olympians had seemed remote and disinterested, Their sacred mountain shifting in and out of the ordinary world in an almost whimsical manner. But Zeus must have had His eye on the up and coming rival growing to power in Babylonia. As Marduk’s worship began spreading around the Mediterranean, the wily Olympian finally made His move. It had caught Marduk by surprise. A vicious strain of smallpox broke out, spreading throughout the lands decimating populations, even penetrating the royal house of Egypt coupled with a time of prolonged drought bringing the additional scourges of famine and chaos. It didn’t take long for Marduk to realize this was the meddling of Zeus but while His own powers over the rain kept the drought from completely wiping out His worshipers, the work of a minute virus was beyond His ability to touch.

Marduk’s fury at the memories made His hands dig into the altar leaving imprints. At least He hadn’t been stupid enough to invest all His divine strength on the adulation of humans but still the sudden drop in population had been sufficient to break His power, reducing Him to a shadow of His former self. Zeus quickly moved Himself into position when human cities began rising again, blocking any effort by Marduk to regain His former glory. While His worship was rebuilt among the various tribes around the Twin Rivers, it never again achieved the unrivaled might He had know before. Zeus had simply become too powerful. All the erstwhile Storm Lord could do was wait. All things change but whether they would change in His favor was debatable. Even after the Olympians had moved permanently into the Otherworld, Marduk’s attempts to renew His worship were upended by the shocking rise of monotheism.

The ruins about Him suddenly shivered. An earthquake? He extended His senses searching for an epicenter. No, it was not a motion of the ground but rather of the mystic energy patterns which spread like an invisible web through the ordinary world. Some major shift was underway. Casting His vision further, the image of the Great Bull leapt into focus. It was not an astral image but a real physical manifestation. Dionysus! The son of Zeus! But what was He doing?

And how had He become so powerful? Marduk always remembered Him as a minor god, favoring intoxicating wines and ecstatic celebrations. He had gone into the Otherworld when Zeus had pulled up stakes and withdrawn from the mortal sphere in preparation for Transcendence. Now He was back? Marduk realized He had been spending too much time lurking in His self-imposed bitter isolation. Straightening, He strode out into the brilliant sunshine and began searching for one of the minor desert spirits inhabiting the area. A wandering goat herder spotting Him, threw himself to the ground terror-stricken, praying to Allah for protection from what was clearly a demon while his charges bleated in fright. Marduk ignored the mortal wretch as He walked.

Ages of cultivation combined with warfare left the surroundings a sorry hardscrabble mess. If He had still been in the fullness of His power, He could have done something to correct that but at the moment His capabilities were still too attenuated. After a brief search, He came across an ancient stone well. Peering down into it He could see the faint glimmer of water.

“Are You still there, little water-spirit?” He bellowed down the shaft. “Marduk would have speech with you!”

“Marduk the forgotten?” came the prompt reply. “Marduk the disregarded? I thought You Transcended long ago. Are you still gnawing on that altar You built for Yourself?”

“Enough!” growled the Storm Lord. “I can tell You’re not doing so well Yourself! I see the water table has dropped again.” He lifted His hand, electricity arcing finger to finger. “I’m not so feeble I couldn’t dry up Your fly-spot realm if You annoy Me too much.”

“Ah, once and future mighty Lord, that will not be necessary.” The water-spirit formed in the pool at the bottom of the cistern, a vaguely female form with snaky legs, Its voice becoming unctuous. “Pardon My rudeness. I quite forgot My manners. It’s been so long since any humans did ceremonies or even tossed in a coin for Me.”

“The monotheist lunatics would more likely fill Your well with stones and offal if they knew You were down there.” Chuckled Marduk. “They would ruin a perfectly good drinking source just to rid themselves of any reminder of their past.”

“Truly.” sighed the water-spirit. “So what brings You here? May I hazard a guess it is the Advent of Dionysus?”

“I want to know why a third-rate Son of Zeus has returned to the ordinary world and is revealing Himself! Does He really think He can take His father’s place?”

“Ah, You need to listen to gossip more. Dionysus made His appearance posing as a mortal over a year ago. His purpose, and He has made no secret of it, is to bring an end to the Age of Iron and inaugurate a new Golden Age.”

Marduk guffawed in derision.

“He’s been drinking too much of that sacramental wine He brews if He believes He can do that!”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss Him if I were You. Our Son of Zeus is a sly one. He waited until the humans’ civilizations have begun quaking as their precious oil diminishes and the ravages they have committed on the land rebound on them to their detriment. The chaos sure to follow will be their undoing. All He needs to do is speed things up a bit. He has already acquired many followers among the humans, all madly devoted to Him. Have you bothered looking outside what’s left of Your domain to see how many humans there are now? They rival any locust swarm ever generated. Our Mother Earth groans under their combined weight! Is it any wonder the Lord Dionysus has grown so strong and will grow stronger yet?”

Marduk scowled as He listened to the water-spirit. He had noticed the extraordinary boom in population and wondered if He might make use of those numbers to rebuild His strength. But when He had tried posing as Jibra’il, an angel the local monotheists revered, His efforts had quickly and unexpectedly been slapped down by none other than Al-lat, the Desert Mother Herself. He had been stunned by the unexpected appearance of this latest aspect of Sekhmet and even more by the power She wielded. Humiliated and injured, He retreated to His ruined temple, nursing His wounds and stewing over yet another setback.

“What do the Others make of His rise?” Asked Marduk, the germ of an idea beginning to sprout in the back of His mind.

“Like You, They dismissed Him at first, though that has recently begun to change.” The water-spirit laughed. “They’ve been sitting around all this time like lazy slugs, waiting for the tidal wave of monotheism to recede. A few of Them have begun acquiring followers again but not many have made the active effort as Dionysus has done to build a power base. Now They must try and catch up! If They don’t hurry, Dionysus will become as powerful as His Father and it will take the Mother of all wars to topple Him.”

“I thank You for this, little water-spirit.”

He flicked His fingers and brought a gold coin into manifestation. He dropped it into the well and watched its inhabitant greedily snatch it up drawn by the energies of the metal. Turning He began walking back to His temple, His mind racing with possibilities. There had to be some way to turn all this to His advantage. The Others would no doubt ally Themselves, or try to, in order to oppose Dionysus. He might try offering Himself as a leader but He would likely find Himself contending with Those Who also craved power. No, He had a better idea.

………………………………….

To be continued…..

Developing Characters – Charlotte

Creating a protagonist who is sympathetic can be difficult as the goal is to create someone people can empathize with. If your character is too flat, readers will not be able to connect with her. Negative characters are a little easier but here one has to portray an individual who’s not that likeable but still has positive elements which humanize him or her. Here you have to show them as people you might meet every day. Make them too dark or evil and you run into the risk of having readers lose interest because again they are too flat. In an odd sort of way, you need to write about someone people can empathize with. Make them too evilly evil and they just won’t seem believable. The character of Charlotte Sinclair is such a person.

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A memory from her Oregon childhood kept popping up in Charlotte’s mind. Fourth grade and the teacher had asked the class to write an essay describing their house. She remembered cringing at the assignment because she lived in a trailer park. Seriously? She lived in a crummy trailer and she was supposed to write something interesting about that? The worst part about it was that the teacher usually had them stand up in front of the class and read their work. Charlotte didn’t mind being the center of attention but she knew what would happen if she read her paper. The kids that knew her would start snickering, whispering her last name; Kettle, Kettle, making up mocking variations of it. The ones who didn’t know her would look down their noses at her. Trailer trash. She couldn’t lie about where she lived because she would get outed by the other kids and probably get a failing mark for the assignment.

So there was nothing for it but to write the truth. And it all happened just as she knew it would. She had tried to gloss over the fact it was a trailer as much as she could, describing her mother’s flower garden in meticulous detail. But she could hear the faint snickers, especially from Donna Devito. The smirks. The nudging. The B minus she got was okay but nothing could make up for the humiliation.

Divorce court had been like that. In place of the teacher Mrs Hudson, there had been the judge. Instead of Donna Devito, it was her soon-to-be ex-husband Peter, a faint smirk on his face, while the papers she was supposed to sign were handed out to her. She had to sign them, too. Peter had caught her red-handed, fingering the gold coins in that pouch he kept in his work safe. It did no good to explain she was only looking and didn’t intend to take any. It was either divorce or he would press theft charges. Either way the marriage was over and Charlotte had lost her stepping stone to the next level. She ground her teeth. The bastard had probably been planning to dump her anyway and the money had just been a good excuse.

It was all about status and nobody could tell her any different. Her transition into high school had seemed uneventful at first. It all looked like a dreary repeat of grade school except now she had to wear a bra. But it was her cousin Nancy who steered her in a different direction. She grabbed Charlotte one day when she came to visit.

“Did anyone tell you you’re a hot ticket?”

“Oh Jesus. I wish you wouldn’t needle me…”

“No, no! Listen to me. You need a makeover.”

“A makeover?” She looked at her cousin like she had grown two heads.

“Yes. I’m going to beauticians’ school next year. You wouldn’t believe what a difference a little makeup will have. And your hair – I definitely need to work on your hair.” Nancy was dragging her into the bathroom. Hair styling curlers and shampoo bottles were piled on the sink. Her cousin popped open what looked like a briefcase revealing more makeup than she ever saw before in her life. Charlotte stared bug-eyed for a moment but then allowed Nancy to have her way. After an hour getting her hair set and her cousin meticulously painting her face, she was finally allowed to look in the mirror.

She didn’t recognize the girl staring back. After a stunned minute, she turned to her cousin.

“Show me how to do that.”

The dramatic change in her appearance changed the way everyone treated her. At least the boys anyway. Now they followed her around. Getting dates was suddenly easy but breaking into the girl cliques proved a lot harder. She prowled through thrift shops turning up enough nice looking stuff so she finally didn’t look like she was wearing an older siblings hand-me-downs. But the red-neck tag kept haunting her. It wasn’t enough to buff up her appearance. She needed to change her surroundings as well. Go somewhere that the trailer trash label couldn’t follow.

Dates with boys quickly showed her the power of sex and she was astute enough to see how it could be used to get what she wanted. She sneered at the idea of having a ‘career’ the way the guidance counselor kept trying to push on her. That cost money and Charlotte wanted to marry money, not earn it. Why work her butt off when the right husband could do it for her? But the counselor finally managed to convey the idea that further schooling could open up doors for her which to Charlotte meant meeting a better class of people and in turn somebody with money. So finally she settled on modeling school, legally changing her last name to Sinclair.

Bettina’s Modeling School just outside of New York City was as far from Oregon as she could get. At first getting a decent apartment was a nightmare but she lucked out when she met Jillian West a fellow student who was looking for a roommate she could split rent with. Jillian was a bit of an air-head but easy to get along with. A tall lanky dish of a red-head, she often brought Charlotte with her when she got invited to parties. That was how she met Peter Mitchell. Head of a consulting firm, he was at a soiree along with a brunette mouse of a wife who looked bored stiff. He was cute after a fashion and being CEO of a consulting firm meant he brushed shoulders with plenty of important people seeking his services. Charlotte kept her eye on him while she circulated around the room checking out prospects.

Apparently she caught his eye as well because twenty minutes into the party, he introduced himself and offered her a drink. Obviously having his wife with him didn’t cramp his style. It didn’t take long to exchange cell phone numbers and arrange another meeting. Charlotte took her time with the affair, careful to remain on the pill and staying enrolled at Bettina’s just in case things fell through. But fortunately Peter was ready to dump wife number one and take on wife number two. Within a year came his divorce and then his proposal to Charlotte. Six months later they were married.

Now two years later it was over. She had met a state senator at one of the numerous parties Peter attended with her and things were definitely looking up in that direction. Her plans for the senator had been much the same as they had been with Peter. But she had made the mistake of pawing over Peter’s little private stash, unable to resist the sight of gold. It was difficult not to kick herself. She had forgotten how anal-retentive he was about his money.

Pacing back and forth in the apartment she got as part of the divorce settlement, she finally stopped herself and sat down on the sofa. She had to regroup somehow. Would it possible to pick up the modeling gig again? She had dropped out of Bettina’s when she got married, but she still had her looks. Would they let her start again? Jillian had gotten into a modeling agency and while she wasn’t a supermodel, she wasn’t doing too bad. Charlotte had seen her face in more than a few catalogs. She smirked to herself. That might be fun. Model for a few catalogs then every time number three wife left one open on the table, there would be his ex-wife staring back at him.

The ring tone on her cell phone started playing Beethoven. Now who the hell was that? Charlotte didn’t really feel like talking to anyone but she checked her caller ID. She recognized Jillian’s number. It could be a spoof but she had given Jillian her number. Sighing, she answered.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“It’s a party, that’s what!” laughed Jillian’s voice brightly. “I had a sneaking suspicion you needed cheering up, so I’d thought I’d give you a call.”

“Are you at a party or going to one?” asked Charlotte. Jillian could be a bubble head at times but she was so good hearted it was hard getting or staying mad at her.

“Well, going to one, of course. I haven’t seen you for a while and I know you’re probably bouncing off the walls after the divorce. Look, it’ll be a great party. It’s a recruitment drive for the Maenad Club. Lots of people will be there. There’ll be booze, sex, music, you name it. You don’t have to join if you don’t want. Just come for the fun.”

Charlotte almost wanted to say no. She had heard of the Maenad Club and thought it was a cock-eyed excuse for having a basic orgy. But maybe there was more to it than that. She had heard some odd intriguing stories. Who knows, she might actually meet someone interesting. After waffling a bit, she agreed.

“Great!” gushed Jillian. “I’ll pick you up at 7:00 tonight. You don’t need to get dressed up. It’s strictly casual. And I’ve got some exciting news to tell you too! See ya!”

“ ‘See ya’.” mimicked Charlotte after Jillian had disconnected, then laughed. Maybe it was just what she needed. Get out of the damn apartment and try having a little fun. If the party attracted a big enough crowd, there was bound to be somebody important there. Maybe even that senator she had been trying to cozy up to. She got up and headed for the shower. Might as well start getting ready now. It’s not like she had anything else to do.

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Charlotte’s reminiscing about her past gives us some insight into what drives her. While we might find her narcissism repellent, we can empathize with her shame about her poverty and the cruel treatment she received in grade school which fuels her desire to escape her past. How successful she will be and whether her life will be a triumph or a tragedy remains to be seen.

Greek Play Masks

Developing characters – Simone

Bunchberry flowers

It’s challenging building characters for a novel, who are three dimensional, have realistic motivations and most importantly someone your readers will care about.

In the Age of Dionysus, I introduce the character Simone Smith.

…………….

Simone Smith stepped out of the taxi. The bright blue sign of Kilman’s restaurant hadn’t changed though they had altered much of the original brick facade to give it a more trendy look. After paying the driver, she walked over to the entrance. She could see her reflection in the glass, a slender brunette, her hair styled in a short bob. Dressed in a light blue jacket and matching pencil skirt, she looked the picture of health, though at one time it had been very different.

At once she saw Cleo Gallagher inside the door waving at her and smiled back. She hadn’t seen her wonderfully wacky New Age friend for nearly three years but the light brown bouffant hairdo was unmistakable. Her loud taste in clothing hadn’t changed either. She wore a retro look polka dot dress with chunky jewelry dangling around her neck and wrists. She quickly slide her heavily ringed hand around Simone’s arm.

“I’m so glad you were able to come. I managed to get a table reserved for us. I don’t know about you but I’m starving!”

Escorted by a waiter, they sat down at a place near the window. Simone was pleased to see the low key atmosphere hadn’t changed. No blaring televisions, only the sound of classical music quietly playing in the background. It was a light crowd with just a few children. Bright yellow gingham tablecloths added a cheerful look. As Simone took the menu the waiter handed her, she glanced up and saw Cleo smiling at her.

“Oh, my dear. You look absolutely wonderful. So what does this make? Two or three years cancer free?”

“Nearly three years now.” replied Simone. “The last tests came back negative and the oncologist said she couldn’t be more pleased. And so am I.”

“All the better reason to celebrate.” declared Cleo, picking up her own menu. “Are you still working for that idiot Peter Mitchell?”

“Well, yes. He’s still CEO at the consulting firm. And he’s really not that much of an idiot. A jerk, yes; but not an idiot.”

“I heard he just divorced that trophy wife of his, whats her name? Charlotte?”

“Yes and apparently he’s taken up with someone else, but I don’t know who. The rumor mill says it’s a friend of Charlotte’s but I can’t believe he’d be that dumb. Anyone who’s a witch like Charlotte would have friends just as bad as her. How can anyone as smart as him have such awful taste in women?”

“Oh, my dear Simone.” Laughed Cleo. “You wouldn’t believe how dumb some of the smartest men in the world are, especially when it comes to relationships. It’s a pretty safe bet he isn’t looking for a sterling character anyway, just someone who looks great hanging onto his arm.”

Simone rolled her eyes in agreement. The waiter returned for their orders. After he took their menus and went off with their requests, Cleo leaned towards Simone.

“I hate to ask this, but have you heard from Michael at all?”

“No.” Simone’s face tightened. “I haven’t heard from him in a few years and I don’t care if I never do again.”

“Oh, Lordy, I’m so sorry. I wish I hadn’t mentioned it.” Cleo’s face was stricken. “I was really hoping you two would eventually get back together but I guess my tarot cards were right.”

“No, that’s all right. The question would have come up eventually anyway. But it does still hurt. I guess I knew what was coming when he wouldn’t drive me to any of my appointments. Once I had the surgery, he was gone. Afraid of catching my cancer cooties, I guess.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the bitter note out of her voice. “My boss turned out to be the one who helped me through the whole process. I’m glad he did but it shouldn’t have fallen on him to have to do all that.”

“You’re still young, my dear. There’ll be other men. Have you started trying to date at all?”

“Well, I have gone out with Eric Stanford a few times.” A smile flickered across her face. “He knows about the cancer surgery and he does seem to like me a lot.”

“Eric…oh yes, I remember him. He’s a sergeant in the Army…”

“Colonel now.” laughed Simone. “He’s been moving up in the ranks pretty quickly.”

“Well, now, that sounds promising.”

“It does, but I can’t make up my mind about getting more serious with him. He’s been on three tours of duty already. I’d never know when he would get yanked out of my life by the Army and blown up by a roadside bomb in some God forsaken part of the world.”

“Honey, life is full of risks. You of all people should know that. But Eric sounds like a good bet to me. I know you don’t put much stock in my card reading but I could do one for you, or maybe a geomantic or horary chart.”

“No thanks. When I finally make up my mind, I don’t think the cards will have any affect on that. But what about you? Are you still going to set up shop in Queens?”

“Funny you should ask that.” Cleo’s face clouded with uncertainty. “I’ve been getting some funky readings both with the cards and my charts. They’re all saying its a bad idea at this time but I can’t figure out what the reasons are for it. I’m seeing some stuff I never saw before, like something big is coming, something really chaotic. I won’t bore you with the details but I’m going to have to talk to Mrs Tremblay. At 95 she’s seen just about everything. Maybe she can make some sense out of it.”

“Maybe something to do with those power black outs around the country? Right now they’re saying computer virus, but others are saying no.”

The waiter returned with their food and conversation slowed as they both began eating. Simone relished the baked potato, indulging herself with a dollop of sour cream. It was so nice to be able to enjoy food again without worrying about the nausea of chemo.

“I’ve been looking at the Tarot cards.” said Cleo between mouthfuls. “They say a great power is behind all this.”

“What do you mean? You mean like Russia or China? But I hear they’re having trouble too.”

“Not them. Someone or something else. The readings are funky just like when I ask if I should set up business in Queens. Nuts! I wish I could make more sense about this. But something strange is going on, that’s for sure.”

“Hmmph! Watch it turn out to be some dingy juvenile doing all that just because he can.”

Cleo laughed.

“It may just turn out to be that. I hope so. My readings are starting to scare me a little.”

“Let’s focus on our food.” replied Simone. “I rather enjoy the taste of my food rather than worry about something that may or may not happen.”

……………………………………………….

While the above passage doesn’t tell us about Simone’s childhood or family, we know she has been ill with cancer and is in remission. She is optimistic but still harbors bitter feelings towards an ex-boyfriend who deserted her during her illness. Her choice of friends is eclectic as she is shown renewing an old friendship with an eccentric New Age type of character. Simone herself has a practical outlook and prefers enjoying the little things rather than engage in wild speculations about current events (which are wilder than she realizes).

One thing we see is that while she is dating again, she is reluctant about committing. After having been burnt by a faithless boyfriend and blindsided by cancer, she is understandably hesitant about resuming her life, perhaps wondering if the rug is going to get snatched out from under her again.

As the novel unfolds, I will add more detail to her life and attitudes, and develop her as a sympathetic person a reader can identify with and root for. One major event in her life not mentioned here but will be later on is a tragic event early in her life where a deranged relative murdered her parents. This traumatic incident will also color her attitudes as the story progresses.

Next month, I will introduce another character who’s quite a bit different from Simone.

Yarrow flower

The Deeds of Gods – Part 2

A few weeks ago I posted a fragment of the novel I’m working on. We saw some of the gods both opposed and in favor of the god Dionysus and His actions. Here is part two.

…..Launching Himself into the air, Coyote streaked towards the south. Once He was gone, Manannan shifted Himself to the Otherworld and entered the quiet park where Athena was busy working over Her loom.

“Coyote saw Takannaaluk give Dionysus two pieces of Ares’ Armor, the greaves.”

“I suspected as much. The yarn just took on a darker color while I was weaving.” Athena paused in Her work and scowled at the Tapestry. “I’ll have to adjust my strategy a little.”

“Takannaakuk isn’t the only one who’s sympathetic to Dionysus. I’ve spoken with a few minor divinities Who hope for a chance to ride on His coattails, as humans say.”

“And I’ve spoken to some who either prefer remaining neutral, waiting to see which way the wind blows or refraining because They have no ability to fight.” replied Athena. Manannan watched as She plucked out a few threads and adjusted a few more. She then sat back and surveyed the results. The son of Lir thought the pattern looked good but given the complexity of what Athena was weaving, He knew that might be deceptive. The sound of two ravens croaking outside the pavilion drew Their attention. A figure in a ragged cloak and drooping hat approached, His shoulders sporting two sleek ravens.

“I for one will no longer remain neutral.” Said Odin, stepping into the pavilion. “Indeed, I regret now not adding My voice to Yours when You tried to dissuade Him.”

“What made you change your mind?” asked Athena.

“I finally cast the Runes to see what your brother’s rise might portend. What I saw wasn’t good. It makes me wish I had Transcended with the others. Ragnarok was a myth created by humans but if your brother continues to rise unopposed, it will likely become reality.”

“Enough have told me They loathe my brother and intend to fight Him that I fear you are right, All-Father. Right now They are too busy arguing among Themselves as to who should lead the battle. While They squabble, my brother grows stronger. It will make the battle that much harder for Them.”

“Some of Them approached me asking if I would conduct the Wild Hunt against your brother. I refused Them of course. The Wild Hunt is not meant for warfare but is only done out of the most dire necessity, when negative energies have built up to a catastrophic level and need to be safely discharged. It hasn’t reached that point – yet.” Odin’s single eye flared in anger. “Any one of Them could have struck down Dionysus when they had the chance but didn’t bother because They held Him in so much contempt. Now They realize Their mistake and are scrambling to make battle plans.”

“Dionysus knows this, which is why He searches for the Armor. He has no fighting ability but the Armor would make him nearly indestructible. If only Ares had come willingly instead of being dragged kicking and screaming by my Father into the Otherworld, I would have been able to get the Armor in my possession. Then it would have been a simple matter to give It to Pele or Sethlans to melt down once and for all. There’s no other Armor which comes close to what Hephaestus forged. Only Sethlans approaches Him in ability and He has already indicated He stands against Dionysus.”

“Hmph! I can’t picture Ares willingly Transcending.” said Manannan. “He might have given you an argument on what to do with that Armor. What finally did happen to Him?”

“Ares refused to Transcend and attacked Zeus in an effort to break His power so He could return to the ordinary world. Our Father slew Him with Artemis’s Bow and Arrow.” replied Athena, heavily. “Dionysus saw all this and never forgot it. That’s why He searches for the Armor. He fully expects me to make a strike against Him as Father did against Ares.”

Odin’s ravens suddenly began croaking loudly and Athena’s owl bristled its feathers as it spread its beak in a fierce hiss. The three gods turned to look at what approached.

At first all that could be seen was a black shadow moving along the cobblestone path. But as it drew near, the gentle light given off by the the pavilion began to illuminate it. Mannanan sensed Odin shudder and heard Him mutter in a low voice.

“…And I thought Hela was ugly….”

She Who walked the path was evidently sharp eared enough to hear Him, for a dry rattling laugh floated towards them.

“Yes, I am no beauty, All-Father. Death is often ugly especially to those never touched by it.”

She was hideous. Dressed in a blood red robe thrown back revealing Her skeletal body, She clutched a scythe in one bony hand and a sack brightly decorated with colorful skull patterns in the other. She did have some flesh, tendons and ligaments holding Her form together. Two shriveled breasts dangled from Her near fleshless chest. Scarlet orbs burned in the depths of Her eye sockets.

“Mictecacihuatl?” Even Athena seemed uncertain about the identity of their visitor now standing at the foot of the pavilion.

“Santa Muerta, they call Me now.”

“One of the Aztec gods?” Said Manannan. “I thought you all perished in the Catastrophe.”

“Not all. Most of My brethren lost coherence when Their followers died from disease and genocide but a few of Us managed to cling to existence when populations stabilized. It was a good though bitter lesson for Us, not to base all Our power on the sacrifices the mortals used to make to us. Now my power begins to grow once more.” Her dry chuckle sounded again. “Death is a constant after all. And the devotion of My new followers has become important to Me. However your half-brother threatens that. He brings the danger of chaos which could wipe out what gains I have managed to make. You should have killed and flayed Him when you had the opportunity, Athena.”

“That…is not My way.” replied Athena, a wry twist momentarily appearing on Her mouth. “I prefer strategy to brute force.”

“As You will.” replied Santa Muerta with a shrug. “However I have brought something which might help out Your strategy.”

So saying, She opened the sack She held and dumped out its contents. Two golden gauntlets fell to the ground. Mannanan stepped forward and took them up, bringing them to Athena.

“I thank you.” Said Athena gravely. “May I ask how you managed to come by them?”

“They were found by some tomb robbers who attempted to melt them down for the gold. When the gauntlets failed to melt, they became frightened and brought them to a follower of mine, an up and coming drug lord. He fancies himself the next Pablo Escobar and dabbles in the occult. He saw at once their otherworldly nature and presented them as a gift to Me after summoning Me in a ritual. The offering pleased Me, so needless to say, his affairs will be prospering in the future.”

Manannan wondered what kind of ritual would draw such a one as Santa Muerta, but decided it was better not to ask. As one who slipped regularly between the Otherworld and the ordinary realms, He often helped guide the confused spirits of those who had just died on their transition into the Afterlife, seeing His efforts as a benefit to humans. But He never ruled over any of the realms of the Dead such as Arawn, Hela and their visitor did. While many of these realms were pleasant and comforting to those who had passed, some were dark and fearsome, reflecting the nature of the souls who had fallen into them. Given the frightful appearance of Santa Muerta, She likely ruled one of these latter realms.

“So far only the outer parts of Ares’s Armor have been found.” Said Odin. “It’s the Helm and Cuirass, the main parts of the Armor that concern Me. Have no sign of them been seen?”

“Not by I.” replied Santa Muerta. “But a soul I recently collected had a memory of seeing golden armor such as you mention when he was in the Middle East. Whether it belonged to Ares or was simply mortal armor was impossible to determine. Regrettably he could not recall where exactly he had seen it. The trauma of his death was too great to retain the memory.”

“Athena, there’s so much violence and turmoil in that place, so much so that it makes Me wonder.” said Manannan. “Would the Armor cause any of that?”

“No. Human warfare is self-generated. What’s happening there is the result of ordinary human meddling. The Armor would not affect that. Its energies are passive in nature. So unfortunately We can’t use it as a barometer for locating the remaining fragments.”

“I will question some of the other souls who have arrived in My realm.” Said Santa Muerta. “Because many who come to Me have died by violence, their memories are often fragmented. But a few do arrive intact so I will see if any who visited that region have any memories which might help You.”

Santa Muerta turned and left the same way She came. Athena’s owl finally smoothed its feathers and Odins’ ravens who had quietly grumbled the whole time She was present, fell silent.

“An unorthodox ally.” remarked Manannan.

“She helps us for Her own reasons.” answered Athena. “In Her own grim way, She promotes harmony as She knows it in the realm that is Her proper domain. She shepherds the souls who enter her realm rather than torment or devour them as demons would. She doesn’t try to remake worlds to suit Her taste.”

“But She might try to extend Her rule to other Underworlds.” said Odin. “More than a few are empty of any ruler. I know Hades has Transcended and so have a few Others. If no one assumes command of these places other than a few pitiful demons trying to raise Themselves up, She will likely expel Them and take on rulership Herself. She bears watching, I think.”

“Perhaps.” replied Athena. “But that’s a concern for the future. My brother is the great worry now.”

“True enough.” replied Odin, straightening. He lifted the two ravens off His shoulders and sent them flying in opposite directions. “I will return to Asgard and watch for further developments. Some of the Others may see an opportunity for advancing Their own agendas so We will need to beware of that. I don’t know about You but I don’t really want any more surprises.” So saying He exited the pavilion and vanished.

“I’ll go to New York City and do a little spying for You.” Said Manannan. “That seems to be where Dionysus is centering His activities.”

“I agree.” nodded Athena. Then Her lips curved in amusement. “By the way, did You make good use of those porcupine quills I gave You?”

“I did, Great Avatar of Wisdom.” Grinned Manannan happily. “I most certainly did.”

The God Manannan

The above text is not carved in stone by any means and I may rewrite parts of it. The process of writing is for the most part inspiration rather than anything planned. As new ideas bubble up, the preceding words will be edited or deleted. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m going to write until I actually sit down and start typing. Stay tuned.

The Deeds of Gods – Part one

Divinities both great and small populate the pages of the novel I am working on. They are not portrayed as all powerful but they are definitely Beings to be reckoned with. Dionysus drives the action of the story which shows the effects of what He does both on mortals and on other gods. His goal is to usher out the Age of Iron and bring in the new Age of Gold, completing a primeval cycle and starting a new one. His ambition is to be head of the Gods of that new age just as His father Zeus commanded the ages previous to that. As you might imagine, some of the current gods take exception to this but others welcome His actions. Below is some sample text. I’ll post the second half in a few weeks.

The god Dionysus

Dionysus stood on a stony shore of Baffin Bay waiting. It was a bleak isolated spot, unspoiled by human habitation. Grey hills sprinkled with snow loomed around Him. While the air was chilly, the ice that normally filled the bay was gone, sea birds skimming the waters. Low hanging dark clouds spitting sleet and fat raindrops came and went. A pale gray arctic fox paused and stared at Him, then seemed to shrug its furry shoulders and went along its business. The carcass of a polar bear lay yards away from Him, a flock of skuas, ravens and other scavengers feeding on it. A few seals popped up in the waters and dove back under, their faces momentarily having a human look. But the face He was watching for was neither a seal’s nor human.

He saw Her finally, surfacing and swimming in His direction. She slowly heaved Her massive body up onto the stony beach, a sack clutched in Her teeth. Black wet braids trailed along the ground. Her face had sacred markings tattooed on her dark skin . Short stubby fingers on Her front flippers gripped at the stones as She pulled Herself close to Dionysus and dropped the sack before Him.

“I only found the greaves.” Spoke Takannaaluk in a thick echoing voice. “I had the fish search for other parts but if there are other surviving pieces of Your Brother’s armor, they have not fallen into My domain.”

“This is actually more than I hoped for. Ares journeyed through all the mortal realms, avoiding our Father who insisted it was time to fully transition to the Otherworld. I’m not sure why He broke the Armor up and scattered it, unless it was to spite Zeus.”

“You best hope He didn’t drop any in Pele’s domain. She would have made short work of them in Her fire-pits.”

“If She finds them, She certainly will. But breaking the Armor up as He did makes it impossible to detect the pieces unless you are right on top of them.”

“True enough.” replied Takannaaluk. “I only chanced on the greaves after I had sunk a fishing trawler for violating sacred waters. Their nets had accidentally snagged them from the sea bed.”

“I thank you for contacting me.” said Dionysus, removing the greaves from the coarse woven sack. They gleamed a brilliant gold but the metal was Otherworldly in Its hardness. Hephaestus never did second rate work if He could help it. “What reward do you wish for your assistance?”

“Only that you put an end to the vile creations of humans that devastate My ocean. Their disgusting plastics, the nets which will not break down catching the innocent in their mindless grip. The huge boats with their stinking oils, poisonous radiation and endless streams of waste of every sort. I will be many centuries cleaning up after them.” Her voice grew mournful. “The many animals whose like will not be seen again; the Sea Cows, the Great Auks, the mighty whales who dwindle every year. Fah! If all the humans died, I would gladly celebrate their extinction. But you’ll want worshipers, I suppose.”

“Most gods do. But the number of humans will be greatly reduced. And I will teach them to honor our Mother Earth. You’ll be glad to hear I’ve already decontaminated many radioactive sites including a few underwater. It will take some time to eliminate them all but Gaia will be cleaner for it.”

“That sounds like a good start. Manannan mac Lir showed up recently at the borders of my domain warning me of the hazards of aiding you. I thought He had His nerve, telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. He’s not the god His father was, but Lir moved into the Otherworld long ago. Now there was a sea god! His son can’t hold a candle to Him. I threatened to eat Him if He kept bothering me. So He left.” Takannaaluk smiled grimly, Her razor sharp teeth gleaming. “If He thinks the humans are so wonderful, let Him be the one to clean up their messes.”

“There are many Who cling to the old order of things, my Sister among them. But times have changed. It’s clear the Age of Iron has reached its end point. If the Golden Age is to have a clean start, it’s necessary to wipe out the artifacts of the Iron Age. But I expect a good deal of resistance to that and not just from the Lesser Ones. Humans will fight tooth and nail to keep things the way they are, even if it does reduce Mother Earth to a waste land. They will certainly pray to their gods for assistance.”

“I wish them good luck with that!” snorted Takannaaluk. “Many of Them have either gone to the Otherworld or stopped listening to Their followers because the humans think they themselves own the world and can do whatever they want. If they pray at all, it’s only when it’s an emergency and they want something. They’ve forgotten that it’s a partnership, that they must give if they wish to receive. Teach them that if you teach them anything.”

“I will.” replied Dionysus, placing the greaves back in the pouch and slinging it over His shoulder. “Keep your ears open and let me know if you hear rumors of where the other Armor parts may be.”

“I shall.” said Takannaaluk. She heaved Her bulk around and crawled back into the ocean. Dionysus Himself vanished in a spray of golden light.

A raven, swallowing gobbets of meat from the dead polar bear, watched with a beady eye until He was sure the two gods had disappeared. Then leaving the carcass to the other scavengers, He flew into the air and headed towards Ireland with a speed far greater than any ordinary bird could achieve.

On the northwest coast of Ireland, Manannan sat on the grassy hillside above the Arranmore Lighthouse, whittling a large chunk of driftwood, the sound of crashing surf off in the distance. His reddish brown beard and mustache were neat in appearance. His dark hair, held in place with a headband, flowed over his shoulders. He wore a homespun shirt delicately embroidered with interlaced birds, their legs and wings woven in a complex design, His dark rugged breeches also homespun. The sea breeze teased a few stray locks of His beard. Hearing the sea gulls squawk in alarm, He glanced up. He watched as a raven dove out of the heavens at break neck speed. Just as it seemed the bird would shatter itself on the hardscrabble shore, it came up short, changed into a coyote and approached Manannan.

“Hail Brother.” It cried. “Greetings, He-Who-Wears-The-Drab-Coat.”

“Well, now.” laughed Manannan. “It’s been a while since anyone has called me that! So, Brother Coyote. What news do you bring?”

“Nothing good, I fear.” As He spoke, Coyote took on the form of a human with dusky skin, His face generously coated with bear grease some of which He wiped away and sucked off His finger. He wore buckskin richly decorated with beads and embroidery. “Takannaaluk found the greaves of Ares’ Armor and has given them to Dionysus.”

“I was afraid of that.” Glowered Manannan. “I suppose it was too much to hope She would heed my warning.”

“Is it true She threatened to eat you?”

“She did hint I was a tasty looking morsel.” Laughed Manannan. “She’s like the other giants; the Jotnar, Gigantes, Nephelim – all with vast appetites and all very old. She remembers how it was before humans. If She thinks Dionysus will bring any of that back with His new Golden Age, then yes, she’s going to help Him no matter what I tell Her.”

He set down the little wooden carving He had been working on, a child’s toy rocking horse. Coyote eyed it with interest.

“Nice. Is a blessed event in the offing for You and Your Wife?”

“Not that She’s told me. This is for some humans who live down the way and still put out offerings for the Good Folk. They’ve been childless a long time but the husband has been pestering my Wife and Me with prayers so I did an unbinding charm to open up his wife’s womb. She’ll be giving him the good news tonight, I think. I’ll leave this on their doorstep. They’ve done enough good work for the land, they deserve a reward for it.”

“I’ll head down south and visit my cousin Spider. See if He’s heard any interesting rumors.”

“I’ll go tell Athena about this latest news. She won’t be happy.”

“Is She ever happy? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Her crack a smile.”

“Of course She smiles and laughs.” Manannan leaned forward and lowered His voice. “Of course it helps if a certain Someone would refrain from taking rabbit form and leaving droppings in that kibble stuff She gives Her owl.”

“Why does everybody look at Me when stuff like that happens?” Coyote exclaimed, His tone injured. “Let’s face it, when She has a lot of tricksters around, She has to expect that sort of thing. Not that I would do anything like that!”

“Of course not, an honorable fellow like you?” replied Manannan facetiously. “Just remember She knows how to get Her own back.”

“Oh? …. Oh!” Coyote’s eyes widened. “Well, that might explain the porcupine quills in my sleeping mat last night! Man, I was hours picking those things out. Ha! That was a good one! Didn’t know the old girl had it in Her. Well, I’m off!” He shifted back to raven form. “I’ll get a message to you if I hear anything.”

Launching Himself into the air, Coyote streaked towards the south. Once He was gone, Manannan shifted Himself to the Otherworld and entered the quiet park where Athena was busy working over Her loom.

Trickster Coyote

To be continued ….