In The Service of Our Lady

Originally published in the Gloranthacon VIII program. Last I heard, Jeff still had a few copies, if anyone is interested.

We were the first, the loyal, the few. We heard her speak when even her enemies paid her no mind. We knew her for a goddess then, even garbed in mortal flesh. We heard her words, and gave her our love. And eventually she, in turn, shared all her gifts with us.

The battle was terrible. Three days of carnage, massacre, slaughter. We broke their charges on our spears, or on our bodies. Our blood churned the ground under their hooves to mud. We could not stand against them on the flat, so we retreated to the hills, the broken lands where their horses could not follow. Neither could our horses, so we suffered little advantage. Our eastern allies suffered the worst, uncertain and foul tempered now that their own legs had to take the weight of their pot bellies. It was a battle we could not win, only delay our defeat. We were already dead, we fought now only to buy her time.

She had left us. I know not why. I did not ask, did not need to know. She had decided to go. It was enough. Many had left us then, the casual, the fickle. Many more had left since. Only we remained, that last few. Dying our glorious death for the love of our lady. We stood together, a strange peace gathering us together as we faced our death and looked beyond it. Laughing, crying, smiling we turned in silence to drive back once more the swords and the arrows, the dark and the light of our foe. We called her name and chanted our magics, and the last moment of the battle came upon us. It was then our lady returned to us.

They would say later that we were driven insane. That the sight broke our minds, but that is not so. We ran, but we ran in sanity. The Bat is a fearful beast, and what could be more sane than to run from that ravening hunger? We screamed, and we wept. Thoughts of love and glory and death were swept from us. Our beloved has returned to us, mounted upon the substance of our nightmares.

As we ran, died, changed, some few of us also wondered. Why? We had loved her for her beauty, her purity, her innocence. Why had she returned to us like this? Why had our loyalty been rewarded with horror?

And then we were fleeing no longer. The noises faded, and the colour drained from the world. Those few who had thought as I, who had silently asked for a reason, were standing quietly before her. She wore a simple red dress, her hair hanging loose round her delicate, tremblingly pale face. She was small, even for a woman, yet she towered over every man there. Unshed tears pooled in her dark eyes as they flitted from face to face. When she spoke it was a soft voice, half whisper, half choke.

"You have always served me well and true. Trust me now. Please."

We stood in silence, watching her. Uncertain for the first time. A voice broke out. I fear that it was mine.

"But why?"

She glanced around us once more. Glanced at me.

"Aye, you have earned that. I have learned much while you fought for me. If you would share that with me, you may."

"We would always share every gift you provide us," a voice called out, suddenly, shockingly loud. I fear that it was not mine, but I joined the others in a rumble of ascent.

She smiled. "Very well." She never made the mistake of sharing so much ever again.

It is a terrible blessing the Goddess brings. Brutal to know the reason for all. To see every side, understand the necessity for all. She shared her blessing with us then. Showed us the beauty in horror, the terror in truth, the chaos of ultimate order, the stagnation of total disorder. She shared her knowledge and we understood it all. Understanding, we wept, we screamed, we ran. Not in terror, we were beyond terror, but perhaps in certainty. Certainty that the world we knew had ended. Those who had not shared this moment would not, could not relate to us now. We had moved beyond, and in doing so had lost the path back. It is a terrible, brutal blessing, but I would not have rejected it, even had I understood the price.

The Goddess learnt a new lesson that day. Her blessing could not be given, but must be earned. Each must find the blessing in their own time. The Goddess learned she must guide each man and woman, each nation, aye, even the whole world to seek her blessing in their own time. And we, who men call mad, we understand all, and we still serve. From time to time she has called upon us, to slay a foe, to slay a son who has lived too long. We will serve again, loyal in our way to our blessed lady.

"Glorantha" is a trademark of Issaries, Inc. "Hero Wars", "HeroQuest" and "Issaries" are registered trademarks of Issaries, Inc. Used with permission. Glorantha and its derivative works are copyright Issaries, Inc. All material on these pages copyright Graham Robinson. Mail me with comments. See the official web site for more information.