Keeper of the God Stone

Keeper of the God Stone

The sun beat down on Meara’s mottled skin and she wished, not for the first time, that she looked like the other tribe members. The deep reddish-hued skin tone, unique to the Yahkanah people, must have evolved from a need to protect itself from the sun’s rays. Meara’s skin only had some of that protection. She was unsure if her skin was deep brown with bright patches, or pink with dark brown patches. Either way, it was only half-decent at protecting itself from being burned by the sun. Right now, the lighter skin patches were turning red as she sat on the beach drying from her swim.

She donned her deer-skin dress, struggling to pull it past the places on her skin that were still wet. In an attempt to hide more of her unique skin, Meara wore her dresses longer than the other women of the tribe, and took the time to sew sleeves for all of her garments. The extra material often caused Meara to overheat and she found respite by stripping off her clothes at the beach for a swim at the hottest point in the day. The battle between cool water and the hot sun on her skin would then begin. Meara found the trick was to know exactly when the breeze evaporating the moisture from her skin started to lose the fight to the sun’s rays scorching off her dermis.

Meara held her slippers in her left hand as she used her right to hold the trunks of the trees she passed while picking her way back to the outskirts of her village from the beach. The relaxing sound of the waves rolling in was slowly replaced with the sounds of civilization. With those new sounds, the feelings of anxiety Meara had shed while on the beach crept back to the surface. Meara walked the outskirts of the small village until she reached the grass hut where she lived with Mamma Jade. As Meara drew near, she heard voices from within.

Mamma Jade said, “How long have you known of this?”

A male voice replied, “At least a day. Our scouts have seen evidence of the bush being disturbed outside our hunting grounds. We thought it might be a nomadic tribe passing through the area. I’m only bringing it to your attention now because the remnants of a camp were found. The tools and detritus left behind were not tribal. They were Skalven.”  

Meara sat near the side of the hut, being as quiet as possible as she did. This was a conversation she did not want to interrupt, nor did she want to miss it.

“Skalven?” Mamma Jade sounded surprised. “How could you know the camp was of their people?”

“No tribe, at one with our land, would leave evidence of a camp at all. They especially would not leave behind broken utensils or tools.”

Mamma Jade was quiet for a moment, and then agreed. “It does sound like Skalven people from the south. The reckless treatment of the land cannot stem from a tribal people.”

Abruptly, the man exited and turned around to the side of the hut where Meara was sitting. She startled and the man nearly stepped on her. He stood eyeing her face for a moment, his lip pulled back in disgust, then stepped around Meara and continued on.

“You can stop listening to whispers now, child,” Mamma Jade called from within the hut.

Meara stood and entered the shelter, keeping her eyes lowered to show respect to Mamma Jade. As the tribal elder, Mamma Jade held a position of honor, but even more so as a female. The Yahkanah people believe females are closer to nature than males because of their ability to bear life into the world. Meara was unsure how she felt about that. She had never known a woman to usher in life without a man doing his part as well, but she was in no position to argue with tradition.

Mamma Jade was both mother and grandmother to Meara. The elder had taken Meara in twenty-five years ago when Meara’s mother did not survive childbirth. Meara never knew her father. If Mamma Jade knew who the man was, she was not sharing. Mamma Jade had never married. Dedication to a man would be unbefitting of a priestess such as herself. It was Mamma Jade’s calling to commune with nature and protect the tribe’s connection to the gods. As Mamma Jade aged, she could no longer walk to the temple and it was left to Meara to visit the temple and see to its upkeep.

“Sit, child,” said Mamma Jade. “Let us speak plainly. I know you heard the young man’s report. Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”

As wise as Mamma Jade was, she always included Meara in her ruminations. Meara’s only source of pride was the trust Mamma Jade put into Meara’s opinions. It made Meara feel as if she mattered. This was made even more meaningful to Meara because the rest of the village ignored her. Well, most ignored her. Some of the more vocal tribe members called her names and threw curses of banishment her way as Meara walked by. Mamma Jade had tried to instill the understanding that people feared those who were different. The support had helped over the years, but only a little.

“I think it’s a scouting party,” said Meara. “The Skalven have probably decided to take more land.”

“Truly, you don’t believe that is the reason for their incursion? We inhabit a small island. What could the Skalven want with it?”

“The island of Innut is where we dwell, but our hunting lands stretch to the north and west. If the Skalven need food, they may desire our hunting lands for themselves.”

“True enough,” said Mamma Jade.

The two women sat in silence. Mamma Jade motioned for Meara to turn her back to her and the elderly woman began weaving braids into Meara’s drying hair. As usual, Mamma Jade separated the white lock of hair into its own braid. Once multiple braids were created from Meara’s dark hair, Mamma Jade used the white braid to tie them back, wrapping it around the others, and then tucking it back under itself. Meara turned to face Mamma Jade and the old woman smiled.

“I wish I could see your full beauty, child. These eyes have seen better days, I’m afraid. I am sure you are radiant as always, though.”

It was Meara’s turn to smile. The woman before her was the only reason she had for continuing life here among the tribe members. She was unsure what she had done to earn Mamma Jade’s love, but Meara was grateful to the gods for every ounce of it. The sound of a masculine throat clearing at the entrance to the hut startled Meara and she twisted toward the doorway.

“Mamma Jade, may I have a word?”

The man looking for Mamma Jade’s attention was Lokar. He was five years older than Meara and the grandson of Saff, the tribe’s male elder. If Saff had been born female, he would be the one getting visits from the tribal scouts and advising the village. Meara thought of them as the second most powerful family within the village, though there was no tradition recognizing them as such.

Lokar sat cross-legged facing Mamma Jade, but his eyes remained on Meara. Feeling the weight of his stare, Meara excused herself and began to get to her feet. On her way up, her foot caught something and Meara sprawled face first facing the doorway. She rolled over onto her back and saw her foot was snared by the strap of Lokar’s hunting pouch. Meara was sure the bag had not been near her moments ago. Lokar barely stifled his laugh as Meara climbed to her feet and exited the hut.

Meara wound her way through the trails to the temple of the gods. The Yahkanah people had worshiped the gods since the time they roamed among the people. The inhabitants of Innut Island respected the natural world around them above all else, and their gods could magically control all nature. No resources were taken from the environment without a thankful prayer thrown out to the gods and those resources were never squandered.

The stories passed down through the generations of all tribal people living in the northwestern territory depict the gods as living among their people on the land. Temples, much larger than the one Meara was approaching now, were not just places for people to worship the gods, but also places for the gods to live. The tale differed from tribe to tribe as to why the gods abandoned the people, but it had happened. There were no gods in any of the temples across the territory and had not been any in hundreds of years.

The temple on Innut Island resembled a cave from the outside. The space had been carved out of the rock face that made up the cliffs north of the beach where Meara liked to cool herself during the day. Pounding waves, wore the rock away over time and created an entrance to several tunnels that each lead to a chamber, hidden within the rock. The entrance to the temple was tricky to access at high tide, but at low tide one could enter the temple without even getting wet.

Meara made her way through ankle-deep water to enter the temple. Once within the walls, nothing could be heard of the world outside. Her footsteps echoed on the stone floor as she passed the first passageway. Meara knew the layout of this temple better than that of her village. She spent more time here, enjoying the solitude, than anywhere else on the island. This main cavern was plain and offered no evidence that the space was anything other than a sea cave in a cliff face, but Meara knew that almost all of the passages ended in chambers filled with precious metals and jewels. If there was any way for the Skalven people to know the contents of this temple, there would be no doubt as to why there were scouts approaching the island from the south.

The treasure was worthless to the Yahkanah. Occasionally, someone might twist some silver to adorn a beautiful shell or stone pendant, but the focus of Yahkanah jewelry was never metal. Metal was cold and brought little feeling of life. It was this sentiment that carried Meara past each entrance to the treasure chambers. Instead, she took the passage to the only chamber that mattered to her and to the people of her village.

Meara ran her hands over the carvings in the walls of the passage. Torches, kept lit by Meara as part of her duties to care for the temple, illuminated the story of the gods. Meara stopped before one of her favorite scenes. Smok, God of smoke and flame, rained fire on men in boats. The carving was detailed enough to show the metal helmets on the heads of the terrified men as they tried to paddle away from the giant sky-serpent god. Smok was merciless. It was he who had been responsible for nearly wiping out the entire human population when the gods had been angered. His rampage across the territory had left only ash and embers, cleansing the land of men.

There was no depiction on the walls of the temple describing what humans had done to enrage the gods. Meara had spent hours analyzing the carvings in her quest to uncover the truth. Mamma Jade felt the gods had simply grown bored with humans and wanted to start over with clean territory, free from human disregard for the land’s majesty. It was just as likely a reason for the gods’ wrath as any other. They were gods, after all. They could pretty much do whatever they wanted.

Further down the passage, Meara leaned against the wall as if to embrace it. The carving beneath her skin was of the Goddess Tala. She controlled the very breath of life. Meara liked to think Tala had created her with a great purpose in mind. She thought of the goddess as the mother she never had. Meara let a little laugh escape her lungs. The story had been a comfort when Meara was a child, but the young woman she was now believed her life had been a mistake more than a grand creation of an absent goddess.

Winding her way to the end of the passage, Meara came to the nest. It was not like any nest created by nature’s creatures, but a simple stone pillar measuring two square feet. Upon the pillar was the reason this was called the nest in the first place. The pillar held a dragon egg. It held a rock in the shape of a dragon egg, anyway. The stone was about a foot tall and half as wide, with patterned carvings decorating the whole thing. The slightest flat area on the bottom of the egg allowed it to sit on its end, but it was impossible to see. To any observer, it looked as if the stone was magically balanced in its place on the pillar.

The symbolism was obvious to Meara. The carved dragon egg represented life for the gods. The gods may have left the lands of the humans, but there were new gods waiting to be born. Meara ran her hand over the surface of the rock, letting her fingers fall into the crevices of the carvings. The edges were smooth, worn down by so many people doing as she had just done. Since there were no gods in the temples anymore, people came to pray and ask guidance from the gods’ children who sat waiting to hatch and take their place as the center of life.

Meara could see why the temple received fewer and fewer visitors. It was damp and dark here. The stone was cold and didn’t make one feel hopeful that prayers would be answered and real change might be enacted by a pilgrimage to visit a rounded and beautifully carved rock. Meara wanted to believe, but it was hard when she knew she spent more time praying in this temple than anyone and she was still not even accepted by her own tribe.

Meara reached out to touch the stone, as she had many times before when praying in the temple. The rock warmed at her touch and there was a bright flash of green light. When Meara’s vision cleared, she was no longer standing in a cave. The lush fields surrounding her were not mentioned in any stories shared by Mamma Jade. Though the wildflowers dotted throughout the grassy plane were beautiful and the sun was warm, Meara was unable to ignore the cold sweat that seemed to start at her core and shoot to her skin. The hair on her arms and neck stood on end.

There was a low grumble behind Meara and the back of her neck was bathed in warm air. Meara spun and stared into violet, serpentine eyes. Meara couldn’t form words, but she had no need. The dragon before her answered Meara’s question without it ever being expelled from Meara’s lips.

“Welcome, child. It has been far too many years since we parted. I trust Jade has provided you with sufficient care?”

Meara was sure the dragon was speaking directly into her mind. She felt no heat or moisture from the goddess’s mouth. Meara felt the truth flood her mind and Meara knew exactly who she really was. The isolation she had felt among the tribal people made sense and the scorn she had experienced from the lesser among them became less painful.

“Why have you come for me now, mother?” Meara asked.

“It is time for you to be born anew. A new goddess will walk among the humans. It is time for Jade to come back home.”

A warm breath washed over Meara and bathed her in the final truth. Meara was not the human she had believed she was for her entire life. She had endured the trials of life among the tribe and proved herself ready for rebirth as the creature she was always intended to become. Meara sent warmth down the bond with her mother as her physical body began to pull back toward the world of me. Meara could only hope she would be half the goddess Mamma Jade had been.