Dark Imaginings

A/n: Just so you know, I use British/Australian English i.e grey, not gray; arse, not ass; centre, not center; armour, honour, colour and not armor, honor, color etc. Sorry if that confuses anyone. I can't risk developing a habit of using American spelling in case I accidently use it in a paper. If I do that, my Profs will flip out, fry my arse and mark me down. They are a little anal about it. So yeah...that my spelling hasn't been corrected is a pretty good indication of how considerate my beta is, in that he tolerates it and lets it go when it must drive him nuts! (Thanks heaps wonderboy :P)

Concept art for the story as well as a glossary of terms and a word on pronunciation are on my site, http://www.alonahallfiction.com/

Prologue

“When reciting the tale of Morfran’s deception the bard should not call the nameless one other than ‘He’ and when He is referred to, the bard must always accent the nominative. For Morfran was tricked out of his powers by Him, before He had a name.”

From the book of Calwyn the Bard; Parahngwh dynasty, 48 years after the twelve Lycean tribes were united under Evan the Black -


He passed through the world of mortals in a whisper of shadow. None saw Him but that was no surprise. The earth dwellers rarely saw past the dry, furrowed earth they had to coax wheat from or the smell of the animals they had to milk, the cottages they had to repair and other menial tasks they undertook for their very existence. Swamped by what was required for their mere survival, they lived their entire lives without seeing the higher beings around them, whose spheres overlapped with theirs.

He could see them easily though.

Occasionally, He would come across one who had wandered far from their village, a lamb separated from the herd and like the predator He was, He fed on them and cast their bones to the wind. He did not linger though, to savour their exquisite essence as usually He would. He had a mission to complete, a quest that had consumed his thoughts since word of it first crossed his path by chance or providence.

The moon and stars and sun passed through the misty sky at a speed far greater than in the mortal realm, streaking backwards across until they were dizzying, and continuous lines of light. Unlike the Creatures of Shadow from which He was born, He didn’t mind being exposed to the illuminating rays that the celestial bodies shed. Light didn’t tear at the fabric of His being and threaten to sunder his soul; thanks to the resilience He inherited from His mortal mother. He even looked forward to the many times when He was required to leave the dark, unfathomable depths of the Realm of Gloom, on some errand of mischief or other, to traverse the dimensions where, without light, there would be no life... and for him and creatures like him, nothing to feed upon. It was always a worthwhile excursion and one He always looked forward to with a swipe of his long pointed tongue over black lips.

He never returned without a catch. He wouldn’t this time either, although his prize was far more valuable to him than a sated thirst. His quarry was different this time and far more rewarding. He slithered liquidly through the shadows, passing under dark mountains, over sunlit hill, through deep, rolling valleys and lake filled dales, through squalling human villages, bustling towns and stench filled cities where the scent of the inhabitant’s essences almost drove him to abandon his quest and feed.

It wouldn’t have hurt had he stopped. He had been travelling for days and in the reckoning of time in the Realm of Reality, centuries passed and the Wheel turned in a haze of life, birth and rebirth. At last He reached the warm, sun-washed glade He had been searching for.

The grass was gold and each breeze-blown blade reflected the day’s light, illuminating the shadows beneath so that He had to resume His corporeal form to enter. A gently meandering, blue ribbon of stream wound through the glade...blue and gold...a striking, simplistic display of beauty that nature composed so effortlessly. Not that He cared for beauty, or nature. He didn’t despise them though, as long as they didn’t get in His way.

He crossed the field with a swift, liquid gait that screamed of raw power. Still, as formidable as His physical strength was, it did not compare to His esoteric abilities, which would be so much greater, once He achieved His objective. He paused for a moment to perk a graceful, pointed ear, and He tossed His head so that His long, glossy black locks wouldn’t blow in His face while He listened to the gentle wind, sifting through the sounds and tones it carried, looking for the one noise that would lead him too his prize.

...There it was...

The faint strains of heartbreaking misery carried on the light breeze. Devastated sobs filled with anguish so strong that it took form in this Realm, and swirled about him in tendrils of black mourning. His dark heart soared victoriously. A greedy smile twitched lazily at the corner of His full lips. He had found what He was searching for, what had consumed his thoughts night and day and He resumed His passage once more, crushing the tender, golden blades of grass under His black booted heel with as little thought to their passing as He gave to anything else that did not directly benefit Him, or His bleak desires.

A man with hair the same golden hue as the grass sat crying, at a small pool of blue water that had gathered where the meandering stream sprang from the fertile, sweet smelling earth. The mere sound of the man’s tortured howls could inflict death upon any mortal who heard it.

Perhaps, He thought, it was good that the feeble beings that dwelled in the Realm of Reality could not see the spheres that overlapped theirs in layers. Such wonders and mysteries as could be found in the Realm of Bliss where He now walked were too terrible and beautiful for the senses of mere humans but not for the likes of Him.

He crouched silently behind the gold haired man and rested a heavy hand on his slight shoulder. “Why do you cry, Morfran?”

The man sniffed wetly and swiped at his eyes. “How do you know my name? And who are you?”

He smiled indulgently. “I spoke with your mother, the Goddess Ceridwen and she told me your name. I am your friend.”

Morfran sobbed pitifully and his tears fell into the shimmering pool. “I have no friends. I’m hideous! No one wants to be around me because I am so nauseating.”

“I am your friend, and I am here.”

Morfran looked suspicious. “Why?”

“I want to help you.” He purred.

Morfran’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because I am your friend, and friends help each other.”

Morfran blinked, considering the words his ‘friend’ spoke in between his eternal howls.

“So tell me, Morfran, why do you cry?”

Morfran’s sobs rose to murderous volume once more. “Because I am helpless...”

“Oh, come now. That can’t be true. You are the son of a Goddess. You have the power of irresistibility. It is repugnant for anyone to resist anything you may ask.” He chided.

Morfran shook his head helplessly. “I dare not ask for any boon. I have no wisdom, no knowledge of the future to help me decide if what I request be for good, or ill.”

He pulled Morfran’s distraught, shuddering body against His strong chest and stoked his golden hair to sooth him. “There, there, Morfran. Why do you not have wisdom or foresight?”

Morfran wailed miserably, remembering why he had missed out on the gifts of discernment. “Muh-my mother, Ceridwen, blessed a sacred salmon with the gifts of knowledge and prophetic wisdom but it leapt from my hands and swam away before I could eat it. I chased it down the winding stream and just as I had it within my grasp, the cunning, sneaky Wolf spirit sprang from the forest shadows and stole it.”

“Poor Morfran...”

The man sobbed harder and wrung his hands in hem of his white, billowing shirt. “Wuh-Wolf took the salmon away before I had a chance to eat it, and receive the gifts of my mother. Tuh-to make matters worse, he released the salmon in a stream near a mortal. The cursed, cunning spirit’s favourite, a child with pointed ears like yours, and a rod of Hazel, who then ate the fish and stole my pre-presentsssss.”

“Poor, poor Morfran...so sad...”

“The stup-stupid child duh – doesn’t even know it has the gifts! And even now, lives its life unaware of the boons it has been guh – given...which were supposed to be muh – mine!” Morfran wailed his despair and he cried so many tears into the gently meandering stream that it swelled into a river.

He gently rocked the wretched man and tenderly kissed his heated forehead. “Hush Morfran, my friend, my love...my sweet, clever, beautiful Morfran...”

Morfran stiffened and looked at Him with wide, desperate eyes. “You – you said I’m beautiful...?”

“Aye,” He murmured. “Among my people, you are the image of loveliness...perfection incarnate...”

Morfran was so enamoured with his new friend and His honeyed words that his eternal sobbing slowed. “Ruh – really?”

He caressed Morfran’s tear swollen cheeks. “Yes, really. Among my people, you would be worshipped like the God you are. Would you like that, my friend?”

Morfran began to cry hopelessly again. “I don’t know! I can’t decide if it would be for good or ill! I have no foresight or wisdom...”

He whispered seductively in the man’s round ear. “I have enough for us both, Morfran. I will decide for you.”

Once more, Morfran’s sobs quieted. “Would you do that for me?”

“Yes, it would be my pleasure.”

Morfran narrowed his eyes suspiciously again. “Why?”

“Because, I am your friend, and I love you.” He said.

Morfran gave Him a watery smile. “Then you decide what’s best.”

“I cannot get Ceridwen’s gifts back for you, but there are other ways to achieve power. And I can help you with that.”

“How?”

“Give me your irresistible power. I will keep it safe, so no one can trick it from you. And then, I will use it to become your Voice among my people, so they may know of your beauty and power and worship you.” He crooned.

Morfran’s head filled with visions where he was loved and beautiful, images created by His smooth words and he smiled though his drying tears. “Come closer, friend. Kiss me and take my power for yourself.”

He closed his lips over Morfran’s mouth and with a lingering kiss, He drew to Himself the irresistible powers from Morfran’s breath and when He had absorbed it into His soul, He pulled away abruptly. “It is done. I must go now and spread the word of your divinity.”

Morfran clutched desperately to the hem of His black clothing. “No! Please! Stay with me! For good or ill...”

He smiled gently. “Why, Morfran. Do you know what you just did?”
Morfran shook his head, confused.

“You just made your first decision!”

A slow smile dawned on Morfran’s beaming face. “I did!”

“Yes, you did. You made a decision and asked something of me...”
Morfran looked at his friend in sheer adoration. “I did, because of you, because of your wisdom and foresight...Please, I want you to stay with me friend, for good or ill...”

He smiled down at the beaming man. “I’m very proud of you, Morfran. Such a shame, that your very first decision and your very first request were made after you gave your irresistible powers away. Since I can now refuse what you ask, I’d rather die than stay with you.”

He stood up and laughed cruelly.

Morfran burst into tears of howling misery again. “You aren’t my friend?”

“No. I tricked you and now your powers irresistible are mine. Still, the unspoken laws require I uphold my end of the bargain. Though, you are so hideously ugly and atrociously stupid that I doubt many will follow you unless I request it directly. Even then they will only do so because it is now repugnant for all and any to refuse whatever I may ask.” He threw back His head, laughing unkindly as he left the glade.

...And Morfran could hear Him laughing, even as He melded with the shadows and flowed along them to return to His own realm...

...Morfran could still hear Him, even, over the pitiful howls of his miserable sobs...

...And...

No matter how far He went, returning through the lower Spheres until He reached the Realm of Gloom, He could always hear Morfran’s heartbroken wails. It seemed that Morfran had another gift he had never used other than his powers irresistible, a conscience. And now, along with the golden haired man’s powers, Morfran’s conscience was His.