Mahreesh and the
Servant of Silence
Gosaena is in many ways an antithesis
to Mularos, God of Sorrow. She exists as an end to all things. Like
most Gosaenan tales, "Mahreesh and the Servant of Silence" discusses
this aspect of the Shadow With Wings and her worship. This account was
scribed by Syrellan Forennos, a priest-in-residence at the Temple of
Eternity in Solhaven.
Once,
it is told, there lived a great prince of the desert. He lived in the
days when men were strong and women were more fair. He lived in the
days before the living sands turned away from the lesser born and cast
them out into their halls of cold stone. He lived so long ago that
nothing remains of Mahreesh of the Sea of Fire but his name and this
tale.
Mahreesh was much beloved and much feared. He ruled from no lofty
tower, but rather bedded on the dunes and ran with the hot dry winds.
His was a herd of a hundred horses, all darker than night and with
manes of black mist, whose coats were sleek as velvet. Of women sworn
to his pleasure, he had one for each horse and one to walk beside him.
He wore neither gold nor jewels, but for his women there were these in
plenty. It is said that he could deck them all in as many treasures as
they could carry, and still have a single chest full of more for each
one of his thousand servants.
When Mahreesh had lived for a hundred years, he was still as proud and
powerful as a man of thirty. His hair was still as dark as the blood
that flows from the deep land. His eyes were still as keen as the
gyrfalcon’s. His mind was as sharp as the weaving serpent’s fangs. For
all this, he knew that time was passing, and also was his life. It came
to him that he ought to give what was left of his time to the gods,
that in them he might live on after his end.
The great prince of the desert had made enemies of the orders who
followed the gods of the desert. Instead of making peace with those he
had conquered, he sent a score of trained desert worms to bear messages
into the feeble lands of the north.
Priests from every order of the northlands came southward, each hoping
to win the might of Mahreesh for his own god or goddess. Three survived
the forge fire of the desert to find the great prince.
He declared that they should come before him, that he might ask each in
turn what reason there was to serve their wetland gods.
The first, a silver-haired youth who was of frail Mularos, looked to be
little more than a boy but was as soft as a little girl. He was clad in
velvet robes that were as snow despite his travels.
Mahreesh asked of him three questions: “Who is your god? How did you
survive the desert? Why should I serve?”
The Mularosian said, “My god is Mularos, he who is the Lord of Love. I
survived the sands, for in his service I have become as a lover to
suffering. Her bitter kiss is not strange to me. You should serve my
god because he can make you beautiful, and once touched by him you
shall be freed from all your worldly burdens for ever after.”
At this possibility, the lord Mahreesh was pleased, but also did he
hear the secret steel beneath the velvet of the Mularosian’s voice. It
is said that he sent the Mularosian away after hearing him. At this,
the priest was unconcerned, for he had come also to seek his lord in
the depths of the desert. He left to wander, and Mahreesh heard of him
no more.
The next priest said, “I am of V’Tull, who is the strongest of the
gods. It is through his power that I survived the desert, for his black
spirit rests within my breast, and the strength it lent me made me
hardier than the desert. You should serve him because his spirit will
rest in you, and make you fearless and greater than any other man. You
will have no fear of death, for you will be without any fear at all.”
Mahreesh said, “I do not fear death now, and I am already the greatest
of men.” And with these words, he sent the priest of V’Tull away.
The third priest came before the desert prince, and was silent. This
creature was wrapped heavily in robes a grey as stone. Only its eyes
were visible, and they were green as moss. Its shadowed appearance was
not so ominous as the great, hooked blade it bore on a pole of dark
wood. Neither was so queer as the priest’s silence.
Mahreesh asked the first question. It was some time before the priest
answered.
“My Goddess is Gosaena, she who waits behind the Gates.”
At the second question, the priest said, “I survived the desert because
it was not my time to go to her.”
The third question brought a peculiar response from the priest of the
Empress of All That Lived: “You speak as if it is your choice.”
The desert prince’s voice was dark as glass, and sharper. “What do you
mean?”
Quietly, the priest said, “Nothing that lives can shirk the service of
my Mistress. All men must die. Even you.”
Mahreesh considered this for a moment. Then, he nodded, his decision
made.
Said he, “Since I shall serve your Mistress whether it is my will or
not, I will make it my choice to do so in life.”
The priest nodded, simply responding with, “I know.”
And thus did the Shadow With Wings claim her first living servant in
the Sea of Fire. He would not be her last.
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