Tamohetye

Oft in prose are warnings written, though all know Tamohetye was a place of no return for the mourning god, Morokai, kept ever watchful to guard the broken doorway. Those who tried were lost, their fates assumed to have been in the hands of that restless numen. Little wonder there were still those who dared for the sake of fame or fortune.

Philip was such a king, hell-bent on immortal name. How better he would have faired if he had not been so craven. His fathers, conquerors by trade, had made their mark, and conqueror he also was but yearned still for greater fame. His heart crushed small with heavy pride he ensured his name was carved on every heart with pompous shows of well-written acts of greatness stolen from others and penned in his name. And though the bards sang only the songs of his name, he felt no rest or joy in his heart. Power he had and power he could use, but what power did he have that his ancestors could not also boast?

So, he set his eyes to the north and his maddened need found its path. What king had ever forced a god’s hand? The cold machine of his mind worked a plan and caught in the dark spell of greed he knew his path. He would surely be the man to wield human will over a god.

The event was planned but he said little of his quest, for he was no fool. The people gathered at the entrance of Tamohetye. A wall of grey mountain stone loomed above them. Before them was a single opening, a cavern arrow but yawning. Carved deep in the granite were tales of past venturers; warnings made black with earth and time. There was excitement, though not the kind that Philip sought, for all were sure this was his end. He would walk through the cave's black mouth and be swallowed forever.

That was until the noon sun took its seat and the crowds saw a single royal carriage clattering up the mountain path through the thick green conifers. No entourage or pageantry heralded its coming. Only two chestnut horses dressed in gold ornaments and a carriage driver in royal silks. From this small spectacle emerged a ragged child, no older than eight years, no doubt a child of the servants, Lila. Her wide and terrified eyes were met with gasps as the plan unfolded. Silence rippled through the revelry like an echo until the mountains were silent once more.

Lila put on a brave face and faced the blackness before her. Moaning wind sang its warning through the hollow, but she feared death by the king over death by the god. So, she took his first steps in with only a water canteen a loaf of bread in hand, for none knew how deep one had to go to find the other side. Before the darkness silenced the world outside, she heard cries of horror as the shock faded but none were brave enough to grab her once the mountain had swallowed her form.

The tunnel was lightless and narrow. Her hands were able to find the walls and she walked briskly through, wanting nothing more than to be in light again, but too afraid to turn back. The walls pressed closer, and she wondered if this was truly a way through, or simply a deathtrap conceived by that god to lure the asinine. The jagged walls were too threatening to run through, lest she hit her head and surely be lost.

Time was pointless, which she found ironic. It felt like days before the light broke through. The white blinded her darkened eyes and she fell to her knees in the cold snow with tears streaming down her face. Terror froze her to the ground; certain her end was gazing down at her for she could feel the icy aura of the mourning god.

Yet nothing happened and she looked up to see the silent valley of white and dark green walled by those jagged granite teeth. Tamohetye faded far into the northern horizon. As she had known, Morokai stood before her dressed in leathers of black, armored in bone. His round mane of wavy black hair swirled around his head, his skin the texture and color of alabaster. His eyes were white, as legend had said, from the tears he cried at losing his love which washed the color away. His sword was not drawn, and Lila’s fear settled at noting the puzzled look on the god’s face.

“My king has sent me in his stead to request of ye in person a favor.”

The god’s expression morphed, and her terror was alight anew for those colorless eyes became like icy fire. He drew his sword, carved from bone, and wrapped with sinew, and she curled up with cold eyes awaiting her end. His sword’s end struck the earth and a hollow beat reverberated through the crisp air. A new presence came, and she looked up once more to see among the gamble oaks a person hiding in flitting leaves. The person spoke with no voice, but she could understand:

“What quests a child to this forsaken place?”

Lila burst into pitiful tears, “I’ve been doomed by my king. It is evil to give him what he requests, and I cannot return, either by your mercy or through death. If you send me back, I will die for you cannot give what he asks or we are doomed, and if you do not then I am doomed. I am doomed.”

Morokai took gentle steps towards her and lifted her by the hand with light fingers barely present in physicality. She stood with his gentle coaxing and gazed at him in fear with frozen tears. The biting cold was more than she had felt in her life, and he saw the ice clawing at her tiny bones. With a gentle breath she felt warmth again and he, kneeling before her, embraced her and let her weep bitterly into his shoulder.

“No man has been so craven as to send a child,” he turned his head to the entity among the trees, “what can be done of this?”

“What does the king seek?”

Morokai delicately pulled her from him and timidly lifted her chin, so she met his gaze. This time, though he looked made of ice and night his eyes reflected warmth, “I meant no anger towards you. In my isolation I have forgotten civil ways. Tell us so we can seek a plausible solution.”

After a few choked sobs, she mumbled, “The king wishes all the time of the universe for himself.”

The oaks rustled and the entity said, “This he shall have and you shall be safe.”

Morokai winked, tapped her nose once, and went to the trees. She waited, feeling numb but still taking in the scene which began to take a more wonderland sort of air after his reassurance. Frozen snow alighted from the trees like thousands of tiny dancing fairies glistening in the light. Flowers wore comely hats of snow and swayed in delight.

He returned with a single egg in hand the size of a goose egg. He held it out to her and said, “Take this to your king and tell him that his wish is inside, he need only break the egg. He may have his victory at forcing my hand to return a human, for I would never dream to hurt an innocent. That being said, should any innocent walk the path again they will find themselves home on the other side.”

Lila took the egg and from the trees heard a violin. It sang the purest notes she had ever heard and found herself entranced. As she walked towards the sound against her conscious volition, she found herself again before the crowds as thought she had stepped back through.

There was a clamor as all rushed her at once, for to them she had only just disappeared. But she told of Tamohetye and the mourning god. She told of the voiceless voice in the trees and what it had given her to offer the king. So, she was placed back in the carriage and sent to Philip.

Philip was unsure. The tales that made it back to him indicated she must not have gone through, but he reserved his impulsive nature knowing Tamohetye was rumored to be magic and oft tales of fey realms had an element of timeless mystery.

Lila found herself in his presence and recounted the whole story, holding up the egg. He waved to her to approach and took the egg eyeing her carefully. His greed blackened heart unsure of her validity. “I shall break this egg but let all in court hear this: if this proves to be a mere egg, I shall fling your corpse over the mountains to Morokai.”

Lila began to tremble, unsure what would happen. How would they know he had been given all the time of the universe? Morokai’s words gave her comfort for she remembered he promised her safety and with a shaking breath she calmed her nerves. The king, with high and glorious crown, cracked the egg on the golden armrest of his mighty seat and a mist poured out. It puzzled him at first but in short time all were gazing in wide-eyed wonder at the creeping mist. His eyes glinted with malicious glee.

“I have done it! I have forced a god’s hand! I have sent a human to Tamohetye and back and now I have been given all the time of the universe! My name shall be among the gods!”

That same voiceless voice whispered out of the egg and all who were present received the message, “Your name shall be thrust into the void.”

It was then that all beheld the mist envelop him completely and through its etheric threads they saw the mighty king begin to age. Philip felt it before he noticed the silk threads of his robes begin to fade and fray. He gasped and babbled for words, froze in abject horror as the force of unnumbered eons fell upon him at once. Gaunt and aged he tried to stand but his eyes fell in his skull and his gnarled fingers reached out to all in his assembly, but none came to his aid, recoiling at the ghastly visage of the cursed king.

His body collapsed and rotted in moments before them, the stench gagging those present, yet still, they remained. He bloated and his flesh sloughed off before them, liquifying into a pool of black ichor before fading. His clothes molded and hardened around his desiccated corpse before turning to dust with what remained of his flesh. His bones dried, brittled, and fractured before turning to dust. Then even the dust turned to earth and scattered to nothing visible, broken down to its most basic elements. Even the metal and jewels on his body warped and turned to dust, except the gold which was left in abstract form which none dared touch.

When the horror came to an end the people stood in awe and confusion, for as they began to speak of what transpired they found they could not recall the name of the king, for it was never Philip and tales ever after of the craven king all gave a different name.

As for Lila, her name endured, and she was given her family’s weight in gold. She lived her days in a cottage hidden near the entrance to Tamohetye, for she had a deep love of Morokai and took him has her patron god. Though it is known she lived many years longer than most, none ever saw her grave. Still, centuries later and even now there are those who tell tales of adventurers seeking the mountain passage of Tamohetye only to be led astray into the wilds by trails of gold coins. But her cottage was never found.