Gods, Goddesses, and Demi-Gods

How do you like the big guys and gals upstairs?

In place of my normal Warrior Wednesday snippet, I ask you the following:

How do you like your gods? Do you like them friendly? Do you like them stoic? Do you want them to be approachable? Or should they be standoffish?

One problem with modern fantasy is that it mentions gods, goddesses, and demigods but rarely fleshes them out. I mean, how do you make the man or woman upstairs approachable?

The first time I encountered a fantasy god that was somewhat approachable was in the Forgotten Realms series. In this series, the gods started killing each other and were replaced by humans who took over their spheres of influence. But the problem was that they were gods, but they had human failures, hatred, and selfishness.

How do you like your gods?

When I started creating the world of Crann Na Beatha, I wanted vibrant gods and seldom-used gods. However, I ran into the same problem: how do I portray the gods that I’m creating for my world?

Take, for instance, the following scene. In the re-write for Voyage of the Dawn Breaker, Ria needed to ask the goddess of chains a question but wasn’t a follower of Ananke. How does a follower of one god ask another god a question?

I was at a loss until I came up with this:

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“Lady Chantico?” Flur inquired incredulously. “Why not Our Lady of Chains?”

Ilyriatri chuckled and glanced bemusedly at Flur. “Because I’m not a follower of Ananke.”

Flur brushed her hair over her shoulder as she stared at her aunt. She opened and closed her mouth as she started to talk and then changed her mind. Finally, she leaned toward Ilyriatri and softly asked, “And you are a follower of Chantico?”

Ilyriatri nodded with a tender smile. “I am indeed. When Garion asked me to run his house, I became a follower of the Hearth Mistress. It seemed only fitting that I should run my home the way she runs hers.” She reached out and placed her hand on Flur’s. “Following her brings me peace.”

Flur was stunned enough to blurt out, “I would have guessed that with being a Banrigh.”

Ilyriatri snorted, “I never wanted to be a queen. I just fell into that.”

The golden-haired bhanna sighed. “How many other women were you thinking of adding to the cearcall?”

Ilyriatri shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought. I assume you don’t want your mother or Mayana to join.”

Flur shuddered at the thought of her mother being in the same cearcall. “I’m not sure about Aunt Mayana, but Mother is not a good candidate.”

Ilyriatri nodded, having thought that might be. “Why isn’t Allanagh a good candidate?”

Flur laughed softly, “Because Mom is already bonded.”

“That’s news to me,” Ilyriatri commented. “To whom?”

Flur giggled, “She’s bonded to Sloan.”

“Her bodyguard?” Ilyriatri was somewhat shocked. “How long …?”

“Has he been intimately guarding her body?” Flur broke out in good-natured laughter. “For almost ten years.” When she stopped laughing, she smiled fondly. “Mom loves him completely, and he loves her.”

“Good for her,” Ilyriatri emphatically stated. “She deserves to be happy. Garion’s death shattered her, and my leaving didn’t help any, I’m sure.”

Sensing her aunt’s sadness, Flur hugged her, “Oh no, Mother always said that you were the one she felt closest to, and she always wanted you to be happy.” She gazed into Ilyriatri’s eyes as she asked. “What about Vuuroena? She seems to be interested in Rhyslin.”

Ilyriatri snorted, “She’s too young for such thoughts.” She knew that if push came to shove, she’d beg Rhyslin to train her daughter, even if she had to do it on bended knee.

Flur nodded solemnly and rubbed her hand on her belly. “How do we go about talking to Chantico?”

“Most people pray,” Ilyriatri commented. “I meditate and ask her for help.” She reached up and absently stroked Flur’s cheek. “If you give me a few minutes, I’ll see what I can find out.” When Flur nodded, she closed her eyes and centered her thoughts on the Hearth Mistress.

Even before she opened her eyes, Ilyriatri could tell that she was in the Hearth Mistress’s home. The smell of freshly baked tortillas competed with that of freshly cooked beans spiced with pepper. She knew without looking that it would be cooked on a traditional clay hearth.

“Welcome back, child. It’s been seasons since you last visited me.” A woman’s voice welcomed her.

Ilyriatri smiled as she opened her eyes. At the hearth was a middle-aged Aztec woman with long black hair who was taking corn flour and making tortillas. Quickly rising to her feet, the Ciad-Ghin almost danced across the kitchen to hug the goddess.

“I’m sorry I have not visited you, Abuela,” she whispered as the goddess returned the hug and held her at arm's length.

“What troubles you, nieta?” the goddess inquired. “If that man of yours has hurt you, I will have him …,” Chantico paused as she read the pain in Ilyriatri’s eyes and tried to apologize. “I am sorry, nieta, I didn’t know he was dead.” She lovingly cupped the Ciad-Ghin’s cheek. “But you didn’t come about that, did you?”

“No, Abuela,” Ilyriatri said after wiping her tears. “I’ve come about something else.”

The goddess touched the spot next to her. “Come, help me make tortillas as you tell me about this problem that has brought you to me.”

Ilyriatri nodded, gathered a handful of flour, and formed it into a mound of dough. “My niece, Flur, recently offered her bond to a man.” She slowly formed the dough into a piece of flattened bread. “Now, she is experiencing pain and doesn’t feel well.” She glanced up at the goddess. “Would you know what’s wrong with her?”

The goddess looked at Ilyriatri. “Why not go to Ananke about this? Why come to me?”

“I’m not a follower of Our Lady of Chains, and I thought you’d know how to help Flur,” Ilyriatri admitted.

Chantico mumbled something under her breath as she closed her eyes. “Ananke, me Hermana, I need your help for a moment. I’ve got hot, spicy beef and bean tortillas for you.”

Before she could finish, a starry portal formed in the nearest doorway, and a beautiful dark-haired woman stepped into the kitchen. Her Grecian Toga whispered as she skipped across the room and grabbed one of the tortillas. As she took the first bite, she shivered ecstatically. “Mmmmmm!” she vocalized and unabashedly wolfed down the treat. “You always know how to get my attention, sister.” She giggled. “If people knew this was how to get my attention, I’d never get …,” she paused, seeing Ilyriatri for the first time. “Hello there.”

Chantico accepted the praise for her food and gestured for the newcomer to sit down. “This is my nieta, Ilyriatri. She has a bond question.”

Ananke snagged another tortilla and bit into it. “Do tell,” she invited. When Ilyriatri explained the problem, Ananke gazed at her. “You said your niece offered her bond, and it was accepted.” When Ria nodded, the goddess of chains inquired, “Did he offer his bond as well?”

“No,” Ilyriatri said, after a moment. “I don’t recall him saying anything at all.”

“Gia ónoma tou theoú,” Ananke muttered in the language of her people. “There’s your problem. That man hasn’t reciprocated the bond.” She rolled her eyes. “Who is this man?”

Not expecting to be asked that, Ilyriatri bit her lower lip. “Rhyslin Darkblade,” she admitted in a small voice.

There was absolute silence as both goddesses absorbed that information, and then Ananke blinked. “Mac Draoidheacd? She offered her bond to Mac Draoidheacd, and he accepted?”

Ilyriatri nodded and witnessed Ananke throwing her head back and laughing. “Des’s going to be so upset,” she said.

“Yes, she will,” Chantico agreed. “She’s been trying to read his destiny for years.”

“Oh,” Ilyriatri said, shocked by the revelation.

The hearth mistress chuckled softly to herself. “Typical man.” She closed her eyes and searched the ether, frowning as she discovered something. “Nieta, we might have another problem.”

“What is that, Abuela?” the Ciad-ghin asked, wondering what could be worse.

“My Taghta mentioned something about him falling unconscious after a battle. Do you know anything about it?” The goddess listened as Ilyriatri told her Flur’s story about what had happened after the interrogation.

“If what I think happened did, it may be more than an unoffered bond that’s distressing your niece.” Chantico absently stirred the pot as she inquired. “Is it only your niece that’s feeling this way?”

“To the best of my knowledge, yes. Why?

“Because, if I’m not wrong, Mother Astinmah has inadvertently disrupted Mac Draoidheacd’s prana.”

Ananke blinked, looking nervous. “If the disruption of his prana is what’s causing this, how can it be repaired?”

Ilyriatri wanted to know the same thing but wasn’t about to ask what the cost would be.

The hearth mistress turned her attention to Ilyriatri, who groaned, already dreading the next question. “Nieta, do you like Mac Draoidheacd as well?”

Ilyriatri wanted to crawl under the adobe bricks and hide instead of answering that question, but when her goddess gave her that look, she had to answer. “Yes, I think I do.”

“Was that so hard?” Chantico groused. “Just because your man died doesn’t mean you need to live alone.”

Ilyriatri coughed, trying to cover her embarrassment. “I’m hardly alone. I’ve got my daughter.”

“You do,” Ananke agreed, “But will she keep you warm at night?” When the Ciad-Ghin’s blush deepened, the goddess chuckled. “Nobody is meant to be alone.”

Ilyriatri’s eyes danced from goddess to goddess, seeing Chantico’s nod of agreement.

“If Mad Draoidheacd offered a bond to you, would you return it?” The Hearth Mistress inquired with a knowing look in her eyes. At Ilyriatri’s gasp, Chantico waved her spoon at her. “It doesn’t require much thought. Just answer from the heart.”

Ilyriatri couldn’t meet her goddess's eyes. “I would,” she whispered.

“Good. Keep that in mind.” Chantico sighed. “It’s going to take some work to fix what Astinmah accidentally broke. Be ready, Nieta.” She said, sending Ilyriatri back on her way.

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So, what do you think? Would you believe in a god who is this personal and interacts with the world around her? Does it make the story more interesting?