Chains and Scales
Warrior Wednesday
It was rare that the gods met face to face, but the recent events had brought them together in Astinmah’s forest home.
The eight Diathan were gathered around Astinmah’s table, feasting on Chantico’s beef and bean tortillas and tamales.
Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent, took a bite of his tamale and pointed at Ananke. “You asked us to come; why?”
Astinmah nibbled on a corn cob as she glanced at her sister. The goddess of chains, bonds, and contracts thoughtfully chewed her beef and bean tortilla before carefully wiping her lips. “I think an Ancient god was freed from grèim claigeann.”
When Skullcap, the prison of the gods, was mentioned, every god looked at each other. “Are you sure?”
Ananke nodded. “As one of the keepers of greim claigeann, I’m almost certain that one escaped, though I am not sure which one?”
The First Dreamer, Mixcoatl, leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “Is this what caused the disruption around? What’s the name of that place … Eola?”
From across the table, Huitzilopochtli, the guardian of the wheel, narrowed his eyes. “You felt it as well?” He directed to Mixcoatl, who nodded.
The war god folded his hands across his chest and grunted. “Does this have something to do with your Ridere?”
The goddess nodded, meeting Huitzilopochtli’s gaze. “Yes, My Balgair was there. I lost contact with him for a while.” Her lips curled in a wistful smile. “He was worried about me.”
The Feathered serpent shared a look with the Hearth Mistress, who shrugged. “Will this be a boon or a bane?” He inquired, looking to the goddess in the smoke. “Speak, Despoina, give us your wisdom.”
The Akkadian goddess inhaled slowly, her eyes drifting closed as she tried to ride to the waves of time. “I can’t tell,” she admitted, exhaling softly, the smoke wreathing her head. “Whichever one escaped is at least a minor diathan.” She shook her head. “Trying to read him is like trying to read Mac Draoidheachd.” She blinked, reaching out for one of Chantico’s delicious tamales. “I’m sorry I can’t be more specific.”
“It’s okay, sister,” Astinmah said with a tender smile. “I have faith that if the escapee were malicious, He Who Watches would have warned us.” As a nurturing goddess, she had faith in her father, even if the other diathan were not so sure. “Have you notified your Taghta to keep an eye out for visitors?”
Each of the Diathan nodded. It had been the first thing they had done.
The green-eyed goddess of the forest waved her hand across the table. “Until we learn more, let us not worry too much.” She smiled. Besides, Sister Chantico’s food is getting cold.”
After leaving Astinmah’s table, Ananke returned to her home plane and walked over to her wardrobe. With a sigh, she pulled out a green and brown patterned cloak that she threw over her shoulders. Reaching back into the wardrobe, she pulled out a thin-bladed sword and thin chains made of gold and silver.
Praying to He Who Watches, she reached up and pulled an ornate set of keys out of the ether and attached them to her belt. With one last look around her home, she walked through a pair of ornate Corinthian columns and into a desolate wasteland.
Pulling the hood of her cloak closer to her head, Ananke gazed at the fifty-foot high, twenty-foot-thick granite walls that formed the perimeter of the prison of the gods.
It had been several millennia since she had been there, and she inwardly castigated herself for having failed in her duty as a mistress of chains.
Determined to solve the mystery of which god had escaped, she approached the iron gate. “Greim Claigeann, I, Ananke, Mistress of Chains, seek entrance,” she stated as she hefted the set of keys and pointed them at the gate.
A ray of dark energy scanned her from head to foot, reflecting off the keys. “You may enter Mistress of Chains, as can your companion,” a metallic voice answered.
“What companion?” Ananke inquired as she turned to watch a figure step out of the shadows behind her. The slight form betrayed her femininity, as did the leather armor she wore. When the other woman reached up and pulled down the hood of the cloak, Ananke was shocked. “Des? What are you doing here?”
The Arcadian flashed her a grin. “The same thing you are,” she replied, indicating the set of keys on her belt. Despoina stared at the walls, “I haven’t been to Skullcap in Millenia.”
Ananke nodded, knowing how Despoina felt. “This is going to be a big job.”
“How many ancient gods are in there?” Despoina asked as they walked through the iron gate and headed toward the central building.
“Nobody knows for sure,” the mistress of chains replied, “We have been locking up our own kind for millennia upon millennia, and we wonder why our worshippers are sometimes crazy.”
Despoina shrugged, glancing across the courtyard. “Cerebri, Hecatoncheiri, Nidhogg, Sphinx, Gorgon. I had forgotten who we put in charge of this prison.” She commented as they walked into the front door and came face to face with one of the sphinxes.
“Mistresses,” The sphinx, a female, had the body of a lioness, the upper torso of a beautiful woman, and the wings of an eagle. “I am Warden Gliocas. How may I help you?” She offered Ananke and Despoina a bow of her head as she saw the keys each wore on their belts. “And you came armed as well,” she blinked, seeing the blades each carried.
Ananke returned the bow with one of her own. “We have come to check on your prisoners. It’s been far too long since we’ve visited.”
The Warden arched a brow at that explanation. “I fear that you aren’t giving me the full truth.” When Ananke’s golden chains rustled, the sphinx paled. “Forgive me, my impertinence, lady of chains.”
Ananke shared a look with Despoina, who shrugged. “We have come to check up on the prisoners, to catalog any new deaths or escapes.”
Gliocas froze, her eyes fixing on Ananke. “There are no escapes from Greim Claigeann. If any gods have been released, they’ve been released within the laws of the divine.”
Despoina arched a brow. “Have any gods been released lately?” She casually rested her hand on the hilt of her thorn blade.
The sphinx paled slightly, almost falling prostrate on the ground before the two goddesses. “To the best of my knowledge, there have been no escapes or releases.” She looked up at Ananke. Only bearers of chains and scales may have access to the records.”
“You are correct,” Ananke replied calmly. “Have any other chains or scales been here lately?”
Gliocas shook her head. “No, Mistress, you and Mistress Despoina are the first to visit in a millennium.” She drew herself to her full height. “If any have escaped, I will bear full responsibility.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Despoina said gently. “I don’t believe there has been an escape.” She glanced at her sister. “If any are gone, they’ve regained their freedom using the old ways.” Ananke nodded.
Gliocas blinked and tilted her head to one side. “That would mean that they found new worshippers and gained enough spiritual power to get out.” She paused as the enormity of that surprised her. “That rarely happens.”
The Mistress of Chains took a calming breath. “Where is the records office? If any got released, the orbs will record the time and date and which priestess woke them.”
Gliocas raised her right wing and pointed to a doorway halfway down the hall. “The Akashic records are kept there,” she said.
Despoina was already in motion, “Come along, Warden. We have many records to search and have to see who has been released.”
“Yes, Mistress,” the sphinx replied as she followed the two down the hallway.
Upon entering the records room, a voice called out, “Welcome to the Akashic records of Greim Claigeann. How may I help you, Mistress Ananke and Mistress Despoina?”
Each goddess saw something different. To Ananke, the chamber looked like a library of scrolls, each with its own cubbyhole. To Despoina, it was filled with living smoke that undulated and transformed according to her wishes.
“How many gods reside here, imprisoned?” Ananke requested.
The records said, “There are over five hundred greater powers, a thousand lesser powers, and fifty demi-powers. "
Despoina reached out and tapped her finger against the roiling smoke. “How many have passed through the veils and into the outer darkness?”
“Since the last visit by a scale, fifty greater powers have passed on, as have a hundred lesser powers and five demi-powers have ceased to exist.”
Despoina leaned back, blinking in surprise. “That is quite a lot. It means whole faiths have been expunged from existence.” She shuddered, not wanting to imagine how it felt to have every follower in every world suddenly stop believing in you or be killed for believing in you.
“Indeed,” Ananke replied, equally stunned. She turned back to the scrolls before her and hesitantly asked, “How many have met the requirements for release?”
Both goddesses were somewhat shocked to hear the Akashic records instantly answer: “Since the last visit by a chain, only one god has been released.”
“I wonder who,” Ananke whispered to herself. She didn’t expect the records to answer.
“The trickster god, Iktomi.” The record then displayed the image and history of the ancient god in question.