Death, And Therefore Rebirth

Answers, And Therefore Irony

“It’s perfectly fine for deities to act human,
as the humans were modeled after the divine.”

              Croth, who could make a man age by fifty years in a matter of seconds and wipe his mind clean, had the might of the Ìuræ on his side. Stell could reduce thriving cities to huge piles of cinders and, out of her extreme nymphomania, inadvertently distort men’s souls forever. Lythe’s finger alone could crush a human being. Ferune could provide a quick getaway for them, steal souls and replicate anything. From Juræa, Jurine used powerful magic to help them. He had Vitar and Anise, the healers; Frat, the lethal but gentle bèrlìn, Intelle, an astute strategist; and Bètina, the ultimate flukìrn†.

               Devel was solitary in his crusade, but he never needed anybody's help. His mind was as sharp as that of Intelle Irea, the deity of intellect, midlife and culture, and his brute strength alone could turn a diamond to dust. However, his magical strength was far superior to his brute strength. Armed with a trident, his spells could make an army of over 742 000 of the sturdiest men fall backward to the ground--dead. With such an arsenal, how was it that neither Croth nor Devel had taken the entire realm of Ernalda in five minutes, let alone in five centuries?

               The answer lay in Muran, an alloy composed of iron, lead and a metal called turmìn that was mined in Nurea, the territory governed by the Maren family. Smiths and metallurgists from Nurea and neighbouring Dervi invented the alloy very shortly after the Ìuræ began to fight Iremu. As the Ìuræ gained serious ground, they were desperate to protect Nurea and her Irene, Tera Maren, from them. They believed that metals all had a certain attribute, and that those attributes were important to keep in mind when fabricating an alloy.

            For example, turmìn, whose name roughly translated to “divine metal,” represented divinity due to how valuable it was. Demand for turmìn was high throughout Ernalda, because aside from looking a lot like gold and being very durable, it was the only metal that phœnix blood could not eat through. It was like gold, only far better and more practical. Lead could silence other attributes, while iron could strengthen them. As a result, lead silenced divinity, while iron strengthened the effect that the lead had on the turmìn. One piece of Muran that was a centimetre wide and twenty centimetres long could turn off the powers of all gods that were within 200 000 km² of its range. The area of Ernalda was over three times that, but the Peri made much more than was needed--enough so that one could say that the eight royal families all had 250 pounds’ worth of Muran in their storage. To add to the woes of the gods, the alloy was virtually indestructible.

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             Muran wasn’t their only problem, however. Even though they were now powerless, the humans’ desires to snuff out the Turi weren’t assuaged. Instead, they were intensified by the fact that the Turi lost their supernatural abilities. They were hardened by the war, caring only for their own kin. Paranoia and egoism were rife in the hearts of the eight realms: Lantene, Meran, Arene, Aralyn, Dervi, Irta, Nurea and Sarene. It was every man for himself, and no one trusted anyone that didn’t have the same surname as them. They saw extreme prejudice as a way to get ahead of your enemy, and though they all hated each other, they hated the deities even more, and teamed up to destroy them. Many a time, the Turi were captured by the humans and charged with witchcraft, and even though many attempts on their lives were made, not a single attempt was successful, usually due to a combination of luck and grit.

           Because of what the Peri had become, a few of the Turi could’ve found it in their hearts to pity them if they didn’t insist on hiding their humanity behind a cold mask of arrogance. Croth was not one of those Turi. In fact, he was just as bad as the Peri were. Not only was he not one to care about or pity those who were outside his immediate family, he was bad-tempered, ruthless, stubborn and a frequent liar. In short, he was a tyrant and a gilderoy. His numerous defeats did humble him to a certain extent, but his pride never fully waned. He kept telling himself he would never surrender to the likes of them.

           Yet, in 825, Croth himself was cornered in Aralyn, the part of Ernalda that was governed by Terenu Arall II (683-967.) Instead of trying to execute Croth, his captors instead brought him to Terenu for interrogation. They wanted an answer to why his lot kept fighting, and thought it was best if Terenu, their Iren, did the honours. Though Terenu had killed over twenty thousand men over the course of eighty years, he believed it would be better to coax the information out of Croth instead of torturing him. Gentle from the start, Terenu’s first question was:

          “What’s your name?”

          After minutes of biting his tongue and giving Terenu dirty looks, the powerless god replied, “Croth Medeu.”

          “A tyrannical age indeed. Is Medeu the surname?”

          “No. My ancestors never felt the need for one,” Croth said, playing with a lock of dirty hair. Since it had never been cut, it trailed behind him like a dark auburn train whenever he walked. “Nor do I.”

         “Why?”

        Croth barked in laughter.

        “Idiotic human. We are Turi. We make up all life in the ara and rule it. Everyone knows who we are, so there is no point in having a surname.” His expression was mocking at first, but switched to a combination of earnest and haughty as he talked about the former grandeur of his kind. His dark blue eyes, which he had inherited from his mother, became illuminated with a soft glow of pride. Because of this, Terenu felt a stab of pity for him, the god that lost his power, but didn’t seem to realise it yet, judging from the way he spoke. What was it like to lose your purpose, but not your pride? Awful, he decided.

       “You used to,” Terenu said. “Now that your powers are gone, no one knows who you are. Here, we distribute trust based on surnames alone. I can trust an Arall, an Irlyn, a Maren and a Feren, but I can’t trust Prihirs, Hernals, Serals, Derls or Irtas. There’s a lot riding on a name. If you don’t have one, society will not think much of you. If you somehow win this war, what term will people use to refer to your lot?”

        “Gods. Divine victors. Vìnturi.”

        “‘Vìntus’ sounds like a nice one. So, Croth Vìntus, you’re outnumbered, powerless and too damn stubborn to abandon your ways. It’s apparent that it hasn’t been getting anywhere. Why keep trying to break a stone wall with your head?”

          To this, Croth had no answer. It seemed that at that point, he realised it was useless to fight the Peri. The interrogation quickly turned into casual conversation as Terenu learned a bit more about his heritage (Terenu’s paternal grandmother was a half-sister of Croth’s) and both men had a change of heart.

         The next day, Terenu issued a proclamation, stating that “the blood of gods is in my veins. I loathe hypocrisy, and I hate chasing after a race of ten or so subdued people. Those people are my uncles, my aunts, my cousins. You are not to harm them while your feet are in my land.” He also banned the use of Muran in Aralyn, thought this was a futile gesture due to Muran’s far-reaching effects. Terenu even gave a portion of forest that he had just outside his castle in the Aral capital to the Vìntus, who lived on his estate for several hundred years. All this was in exchange for the gods’ surrender. Croth accepted, and though he never stopped being hostile to humans, he kept the last name that Terenu gave him. His siblings, nieces and nephews all adopted the surname in the hopes that they would eventually be divine victors. Iremu was all over for the gods...or was it?

     †Erneldan term for a succubus or a sexually attractive woman.