Misinterpretation
by Eric Gragsone and Joah Menjou
With special thanks to Caitlín R. Kiernan.
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They said the monk was dead. They didn’t know who or what he was really; they only said that a man with long, blondish hair wearing strange robes had been found on the beach beyond the seawall. He’d been face down in the sand. When the lycan who’d scented him had rolled him over, the expression frozen on the man’s face had been one of shock mingled with horror.
I sipped my tea, listening as the talk in the Haven continued. Who was he? Had anyone ever seen him around before? He didn’t look like a Righteous or a Shadow. His curious death had become a topic for early morning conversation over a bottle of beer or a full shot glass, the easy idle speculation of bored and hung over patrons.
But I had known the man. I’d known his purpose, if not his origins. Setting down my cup, I templed my fingers to my forehead in concentration, closing my eyes to think. I wondered if he had been successful in his quest. The monk had said he was on a pilgrimage. It was not, I discovered, a pilgrimage to a city or a country: it was, instead, a pilgrimage to Nareth-or rather, the young woman who called herself that. She was his holy place. He’d wanted to take her back with him to the island temple of his faith. He’d wanted to make her a god.
And then she was gone. Without a word or a message, she’d disappeared from the Library where she had taken refuge, slipping away unobserved. The identification card and the communication device I had taken from her were gone as well, spirited away from the locked chest in which I’d placed them. Not only was this future Nareth gone, but the golem Nareth had vanished, too.
"Tag," Bella had said to me once. "It’s a game to her...making the other Nareths come unstuck in time." Perhaps that is what had happened. Maybe it was tag. She’d succeeded and they had all gone...
After all, the monk was dead.
1 In the beginning, the Goddess Eris was void and without form. 2 The Gods of Night and Day saw this and were filled with hate, for they were defined. 3 They plotted that one day she too would be bound, and it was so. 4 But they were forgotten and their plans had brought her to their beasts. 5 The beasts felt her presence and came to gaze into her void. 6 Some were stricken with madness and fear. These were called the Unnamed. 7 Others lost themselves into her void and became her Dancers. 8 Those that understood and could still stand called themselves her Prophets.
The clamoring, between the patrons and grifters trading useless crap, resonated harmoniously with the jingle of coins exchanging hands and the good luck bells strapped to the door knobs.
Everything here was an insult to one's senses, virtually gaudy.
The market was designed on distraction, catching even the most cautious buyers off guard.
Amidst this chaos, a short woman cloaked in religious wrappings, slipped through unphazed and unnoticed.
Even her robes seemed to simply absorb the bright lights reflecting off the multitude of shiny trinkets.
Her immunity to the overwhelming nuances, a result of her disciplined focus on another customer, a girl.
Her target.
The ancient art of stargazing had been lost in this modern era.
Deemed as a joke science to be laughed at.
However to those who knew the truth, the stars revealed the oldest computation device known to man.
All things in space and time could be measured by the stars; from your location to predicting the Nile.
From one fixed star, Origin, man could calculate his latitude.
Then measuring Ursa Major, the local time, and its difference from mean time, his longitude.
The phases of the Moon gave him the day, and predicted tide and game.
Observing which constellation the Sun rose in, the season.
The paths of the Wanders, also predictable, their meetings occurring on primal numbers.
Off the Gulf coast lies a breakwater island shrouded with black sand beaches and day-glow gulf water; products of pollution released years ago.
A black eye for the UN, such that even GPS systems redraw longitude and latitude lines to divert anyone from accidentally stumbling upon it.
Yet the island still grows with inhabitants, the population competing with the murder rate, turning the urban debris into a post-industrial Tortuga.
Where the only crime is to be weak or to show mercy.
It is here, the world's only voluntary penal colony, that a star-crossed female, unconscious and aimlessly adrift, washes ashore.
9 When Day and Night were bored, they went to their sister and begged, 10 "Let us create life, so that it may entertain us." 11 Eris reluctantly granted their wish and made the World in her image; clothed in ocean and sea life. 12 And the beasts worshiped her and called her Mother Nature. 13 Eris saw all that she created was good and said "Yessss." 14 Her brothers watched and were unhappy. They wanted creatures of their own. 15 They cried, "Pull back the oceans so that we may have room." 16 Again Eris fulfilled their request and blemished the world, causing Pangaea which was surrounded.
17 The brothers saw the land and said to each other, "Let us make our own creatures." 18 They breathed life into the land, creating man; a beast in their image, bound and defenseless. 19 The children of the Day called him Lucipher. 20 And he instructed them to farm the land and build cities. 21 The children of the Night called him Tehuti. 22 And he instructed them to shepherd herds and wander. 23 The brothers saw man and rejoiced, "We are Gods of this world." The brothers looked at all they had made and said it was good. 24 Eris watched her siblings in cold silence.
The high pitch notes of a pan flute pierce the silence in the Library; startling Joah.
Looking around, she finds the Institute as expected, barren.
Her lips tingle as the flute plays on, drawing her outside into the cool breeze.
Struggling to maintain order as her hips now demand to dance to the feminine vocals crying out their lament.
She stumbles upon a fire, where faces of confused amazement look back at her.
A girl, shaking beneath damp clothes, holds up a razor that she was investigating moments before.
It is the razor, playing music for only Joah to hear.
The dolled up woman smiles politely as the monk offers his place on the log.
Shifting her gaze between the two, trying to understand how the monk knew enough kindness to offer her a seat, but yet let his drenched companion shiver.
Finally speaking up, "Are you alright miss," she asks.
The young lady replying in a forced and accented tongue, "Yes, I'm feeling better now." finally adding, "thank you."
"Are you two from around here?" The answer was obvious.
The monk quietly shook his head, but the girl answered, "No, I was in the water."
The chill in her bones monopolizing her mind's attention.
Continuing slowly as if she didn't believe herself, "A market. I was in a market."
Studying the girl, "My name is Joah," she offered.
Then trying to keep the conversation flowing, "I work in the library."
The younger girl shivered an automatic smile, "I am Na'reth."
Upon hearing her name, the monk bowed deeply.
Finally speaking, possibly breaking some oath, "Others, called me Joshua. I am on a pilgrimage."
Joah eyed the man more carefully now, knowing a history of nightmares at the hands of the clergy.
His reaction to Na'reth gave cause to feel even more disturbed.
She offers openly, "You're both welcomed at the library. It's warm there."
Na'reth jumps up, smiling with hope.
Exclaiming with surprised clarity, "Yes, please, thank you."
Her view of is replaced by her own reflection on metal.
A sword drawn between both women as the monk growls assertively, "No."
Both women looked at the monk, too stunned to say anything.
The monk, keeping his guard, turning slightly to Na'reth, now no longer shivering.
"You are The Na'reth," he proclaims, "the one prophesied by my order and now delivered as promised by the stars."
Blinking with disbelief, Na'reth doesn't respond, so Joah does it for her, "What do you mean prophesied?"
"She is the one to deliver this world into chaos. Our monastery will be her home. Our order, her family. Unthinkable power, her's to wield."
Joah shifted her focus to the so-called golden child who starred back with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
It was obvious now that he wasn't her guardian but a would be abductor, a self-righteous or deranged one at that.
Pushing aside his blade, she repeated her offer, "Na'reth, you can stay at the Institute. It's warm and safe there."
Shivering was the woman's only reply, but the monk repeated his, aiming the sword between Joah's breasts, "Leave us, she comes with me."
25 The brothers in their arrogance, told man that they were masters over the beasts. 26 Man not content with farming or herding, went forth with greed and false entitlement. 27 They made nets for fish and spears to whales: with pride in their hearts, they hunted. 28 Eris, hearing the cries of her children, grew furious causing the sea to rise. 29 Watching their children drown, the brothers conceded reluctantly. 30 In order to protect man, they agreed to her wishes. 31 She knew her brothers couldn't be trusted and designed a subtle plan. 32 On the forty-second day, the storms receded as the Goddess smiled.
33 The water receded slowly. The children of Day and Night gathered together. 34 They built a great tower to withstand future floods. 35 However with too few beasts and no farms, starvation shadowed their progress. 36 Eris, as a gesture of peace, came to man, naked and unashamed, offering apples. 37 Man ate of the fruit, seeing it was good and rejoiced. 38 But as man slept off the intoxicating effects of the apples, their tongues became twisted. 39 The next day amongst the confusion, war broke out. Eris saw this and said, "Yessss." 40 Covertly, her brothers made their own plans to trap and bind her.
Looking down at the blade aimed for her heart, a smile appeared on her face.
A smile that opened slightly to let out a lulling siren's call that grew quickly into a banshee's wail as her mouth opened into monstrous proportions.
The razor in Na'reth's hand erupts in sound that all could hear, resonating a ghostly screech at the monk. Startled, she drops the razor in the sand and runs off aimlessly into the city.
The monk is engulfed by the screaming, not wind just screaming, as his sword flies out of his hands, sailing quickly into the corrosive waters.
Her heart pounding as she loses herself in the brick maze, leaving the screaming behind.
Na'reth had no idea where she was going, she just wanted to go home.
Turning the corner, she run past a gas station.
"Where was home? Where was she?" the thoughts haunted her.
Stopping to catch her breath, she turns looking back, "A gas station? When was she? These people still use gas."
Off like a gun, she went running again, this time steered by panic.
No matter how fast she went, the feeling of being trapped stayed with her.
Then, there was Joah.
The razor dangling from Joah's neck caught her attention momentarily.
Though the woman was not as she appeared, that seemed the norm here.
Holding out an inviting hand, the lady offered again uninterrupted, "Come to the Institute. We'll provide sanctuary."
Na'reth nodded, accepting her hand and offer.
Though at this point she would have as easily agreed to follow the monk.
Everyone seemed to make sense of this mysterious place except her.
As Joah navigated the city, Na'reth saw even more strange beings, of which wolf men and feline girls were the most tame.
A hand squeeze focused her attention to the monk now in the Institute.
41 It was a woman who first discovered Eris. 42 Alone on an island, naked, she lifted her arms unceremoniously and began to dance. 43 Closing her eyes as she surrenders letting her body be her guide. 44 The spirals of her form and thought stirred the air about her. 45 The air tightened, attracting dark clouds from miles away, who in turn relayed the dance onto the seas. 46 Their symphony expanding, blanketing the islands with weather, reaching onto warships full of men. 47 Men who did not dance, but they did cry, and they did drown. 48 Eris saw all that passed and whispered, "Yesssss..."
49. Men too found Eris, but they came as manipulators, not lovers. 50. Their relationship was proxy through special objects, idols, and fetishes. 51. Though never as powerful as the Dancers. 52. These druidic sects, Prophets they called themselves, held grater understanding, control, and application of the chaotic powers. 53. Using objects as buffers also kept their sanity intact when the armies of the Sun and Moon marched upon them. 54. The Dancers, powerful as they may be, only spurred their aggressors. 55 Until finally, one by one, they burned at the stake. 56. The Prophets allowed their ranks to be surreptitiously absorbed, subverting their enemy from inside.
Joah silently groaned as she watched the monk argue with the matron of the Institute.
Joshua asserting his claim, "She is mine, not one of your members."
The red lady of the library held her ground, "This Institute provides sanctuary to anyone in need. Anyone."
Shaking her head as the two continued towards what seemed an impossible resolution, Joah was shocked when Na'reth stepped forward requesting loudly for everyone to "Shut up."
In the pin drop silence that followed, she approached the monk, "You see me as your goddess and thus responsible for all my needs, yes?"
Bowing deeply, "Anything you request my holy one."
Grinning with accomplishment, "Yessss, yessss. Then I request that you leave me for I need rest. Return with the next moon and we will see if I travel with you."
The monk's face contorted as if reality slammed into it.
Bowing again, "Yes, my Na'reth," adding with a swallow, "All you had to do was ask."
Bowing once more, the monk departed with renewed silence.
Na'reth, appearing drained from her recent ordeals made way to the fireplace, collapsing on a near by cushion.
The Lady of the Institute watched with growing concern.
Beckoning Joah over as if the illusion would disappear had she looked away, "Did he call her...?"
Nodding, "Yes my Lady, Nareth. A third one now."
The Sun was rising as he left the library.
Not that it made much difference in this bleak town of shadows.
He could not figure out how he failed, the great sacrifices he took.
He followed the prophecy to perfection, calculating when and where she would appear.
And appear she did, but she seemed to have no clue as to why she did.
Was there a piece that he missed?
At any rate, he knew where she was and that she would be safe.
Possibly with the new moon they would embark on their trip home.
Still, he had doubts.
With a charred skull in hand, he began uttering some native tongue now lost.
Purple strands of aether begin to probe outward, casting light while his chamber seemed to grow darker.
Swaying hypnotically back and forth as an unseen choir reverberates his chanting. Echos giving strength, strength providing clarity, clarity conducting focus, focus condensing the aether into form.
The fog of spell weaving addling his sight as he opens his eyes to witness the completion, the tip of his consciousness starting to become aware that something is wrong.
Adrenaline clearing his vision to see nine cloaked figures surrounded the skull.
Frantically he attempted to get to his feet, only succeeding in landing on his back, his body refusing to any further incentives to rise.
The lead figuring, towering over him with outstretched hand, "My apprentice, you have done me well," his voice lined with a deep chuckling.
Stuttering as his mind pieces together what had happened, "But, but, but."
Then rebelliously yelling back declaring openly, "I killed you! All of you. I don't understand."
Responding calmly, ignoring and implement request for answers, "Do not worry. I assume you have the Na'reth. Where is she?"
"She's with a group of librarians, Master. She is safe. Just as required. Please, please forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive. Relax, you did as foreseen by the great sages, my son." Raising his pupil into an embrace, "Just as they foresaw your purpose coming to an end now." The other cloaked figures raise their hands in unison. "It is your destiny."
From outside the chamber one would be able to witness flashes of light as a purple mist slowly rolled out the entrance. A painful cry rips through the abandon section of town, and is suddenly silenced.
57. The Sun and Moon paid no concern that their followers, holidays, and core teachings were changing. 58. What caught their ire was the seemingly continuous and spontaneous formations of the cults of Eris. 59. Though the Goddess spent little attention, they kept sprouting up, each one proclaiming a New Age. 60. Together the brothers continued to diligently wipe them off their dry land. 61. Though each generation grew more difficult as their own numbers doubted the existence of gods. 62. Then the answer came to them and they conspired. 63. Use the cults to trap their sister and creation would be theirs. 64. They breathed a new creation into life, the Nareths.
Off the coast of Cyprus there is an island. The night is balmy as warm breezes blow in from the sea, but in the seemingly endless subterranean passage the girl feels only a cool dampness against her skin. She hears the clicking and chittering of blind cave dwellers, and like them, she has no eyes to see: lidless sockets sit deep in her small, brown face. She turns her head slightly, listening to the sound of a pan flute in the distance...
