Red's CD Project Story 2: Part 21 – The Litany of Life

Note: After 20 parts of teasing, we finally get to the point where the witch and Oan palaver on the meaning of everything. I could not contain everything that needs to be said in one part. I think there is one more to go with these two before they must part, but I think this answers some long lingering questions. I am sure this is a part I may need to revise, rethink and redo as the story continues. A lot hinges on this. I thought about making the entire section a dialogue. I may still when I rework some of this later.


Disc 1
Track 21: Real World – Big & Rich

“And in my real world I’m a little messed up and broke, don’t you know.”

Unbeknownst to Oan, snow flurries were starting to whip around outside the cave. Winter had been living a long time in the mountains already, but the snow had not migrated all the way down until now, but it was going to hasten its journey south with one giant leap that evening.

Inside the cave, there was not a hint of cold. The darkness serving as a wall to the cave’s opening held out the cold and the fire that the witch had sprung to life with a snap of her fingers was already warming the entire cavern. She was watching him closely, since he had sat silent since her revelation about his parents. Nestor had not nudged a single step closer. Even in Oan’s haze of confusion, he could almost smell Nestor’s fear of the witch. Fear was not an unreasonable reaction to her, but the man should not let it rule him so.

“I feel you weeping inside, my love,” the witch handed him a mug, inside was some sort of ale she had warmed over the fire. “Despair if you must, but make haste. My time grows short.”

“You will not rule me.” He could not fight back the tears any longer. Kekur was draped over his knees, and he clasped his hand tightly around the hilt.

“Rule you? I could not if I wanted to,” she folded her hands on her lap. “We palaver because you have come to me with questions. We palaver because I have answers that I can give only once. Here and now.”

“Why did they do it? Why did they jump?”

“Because you are the second. When the second comes, the world must end. So is it written, so it is spoke, so it has come to pass here and in worlds unknown.”

“I am through with your riddles,” he jumped back to his feet bringing Kekur up, but as he did, she floated up, eyes glowing and a great gust of wind arose behind her. The sword boiled in his hand till he was forced to release and it shot straight up, piercing into the cave’s ceiling. There it hung above his head. He looked back to Nestor, the man was on his back blown over by the wind.

“I am through with you grieving over the loss of what was never yours,” the witch’s voiced boomed. “We have not the time for this. The hour grows short, my time grows short.”

“You made me this, not them. You did this to me!” He leapt over the fire at her. Before he made it half the distance, a green flame shot from her hand and struck him in the chest and cast him backward. He landed with a thud on his back, a rock cut deep into his skull. The skin on his chest melted and he could smell his hair burning. He waited for the healing to start, but it was slow. Her powers were not like being struck with a dwarf’s ax; though, healing this was difficult even for his gifts. Finally, he felt the tingle of repair as new skin formed, but there were blisters from the intense heat. His eyes focused back upwards where she loomed over him.

“You have always been Oan Stoneheart, my love,” her words were crisp. “The blessings I gave you were only done so to keep you alive. Your destiny was set upon the mountain, when a girl, a beautiful girl, grew full with babe without the touch of a man. The wind of the mountain impregnated her. The wind chose you to end all things. What your mother and the man, who claimed you as a son, did not read, did not hear, have not seen come to pass is that with every end, there is a new beginning. So they jumped, and the wind of the mountain carried them to a land where they have to fear no ends or no beginnings. Rejoice! They found their peace boy.”

Propping his body up onto his elbows, the stone in the back of his head drop ped out and the wound closed up. He had never had sense knocked into him in such a manner, but never had it returned so quickly. He could not afford to dwell on his parents; the evils stalking the world were of greater concern. Oan did not understand this business of being the second, but he did not think he’d wait long to get a better explanation.

“I beg your pardon, Madra Wandering Witch. I have let despair cloud my thoughts.” He dropped his head, and she touched it lightly with her right hand. “I do not understand all of this, I need you to guide me.”

“So be it.” She walked around the fire and sat back down on the other side. He sat up, noticing that burn scars still lined his chest. Attacking her had been a mistake and that was lesson he would not soon forget. Lifting her eyes to his, he was transfixed by how they pulsed, one beat followed by the next. Behind those eyes, a thousand lifetimes passed in worlds gone by.

“Do you recall the Litany of Life, my love?”

“Yes. In all worlds between the heavens and the underworld, there are the waters that flow, the plants that grow, the air that blows, the stone that holds, the fire that burns, the man that leads, the beast that bleeds, the light that shines and the dark that dooms. So is it true here as in all worlds.”

She smiled, pleased with his recitation.

“I am not of this world. I have told you this. I am divined of the plant that grows in a world that allowed such a thing like that happen only once. The plant that grows does so only in the light. Thus, for my life to continue, the light must prevail. If not here, then in other worlds and when the last battle comes above the lake of fire in the underworld, it must prevail then. I have felt the dark, my love. I have bore a child in another world from its seed. The dark cannot succeed. There is no end to it and no new beginning, just an endless, impassable ocean of dark. Thus, the nurturing of the beings of the light falls upon me and my brethren.”

“Your brethren?”

“There are others divined of the other basic elements of the litany that work against the spawn of the dark such as the demon that now plagues this world. You have met one that moves often from one world to another. I know not how he does it, but he does.”

“Who?”

“The bearer of yon sword. He was born of the stone and dreams like a stone that never moves, but sees all that moves past. He sees much that I do not.”

“What do you see?”

“I see two futures for this world. If men prevail, the world shall be born again and a new age of man shall begin. If men fail, the demon will suck all the light from this world and it shall never return.”

“If I fail?”

“You cannot fail. This is merely a battle in a much greater war. If the demon cannot be overcome, then you must leave this world before darkness overcomes it. If you do not, you will be lost forever in it.”

“Why me?”

“You are the second.”

“I do not understand.”

“Every world can bare only one divined purely of the elements and man. You are the second. It cannot exist with such a crime against the Litany of the Worlds.”

“Who was the first?”

“Tarek Grandar, of course. Born, like you, of the wind of the mountain that blows cold and strong. He was divined to cast away the dark and unleash the waters of the heavens. He succeeded and the world moved on and so did he. You are even more. You are married to the waters of the Belnor and the stone of the mountain. The light allows it for you are one chosen to lead the armies of the light in the final battle. The dark gathers here, if you cannot repel it, you must leave.”

“How?”

The witch stood then. The flames below her were a bright green. She turned toward the wooden door in the back of the cave.

“The Door to Nowhere awaits those that must leave here and never return. It is way that I came to this world long ago. It is how I will leave here soon. If this world fails, you will have to take it.”

He stood next to her and, for the first time ever, he saw tears standing in her eyes and she looked so very old and tired.

“Why do you leave mother? Why do you leave when we need you the most?”

She raised her hands and they were wrinkled and knotted with the tightening disease. The illusion of her powers was fading before him. Her hair fell off in great clumps, the remaining was thin and gray. The sturdy beauty of her face was replaced with a lined, blistered, hideous mug. The glorious dress was no more than an old sack crudely tied together with twigs. Her eyes did not glow green, but were lifeless black orbs.

“Mother. …”

“The magic in this world is dying. That is why the swords of power have resurfaced. They wish to leave before their flames are quelled. My lifeforce is drawn out through my roots as the dark grows stronger. I have been touched by the dark before and it takes all my strength to not be overrun by it. Someday, somewhere, it will overtake me and the life of the plant will leave me forever. The plants will lose their champion and they will fade to gray and then vanish into memory. I pray that day will not come before all my work is complete. I have so very much to do yet.”

He touched her shoulder. It was no more than soft bone on a thin layer of skin. She put her hand over top his accepting the momentary comfort.

“Where does yonder door lead?”

“To where one must go. If one’s road has no destination than it leads to nowhere, a terribly bleak place.”

“Where does your road lead?”

The ghastly old woman disappeared as he asked the question replaced with the bearded man with bleeding hands he had seen when they entered the cave. Then it was the witch returned to all her glory.

“To a world in need of magic, a magic only I can provide.”