Tribute

This is a prolouge to my first original story. As it is, some warnings may be added, just fyi.
I hope you enjoy it. Please review if you wish me to continue! Just one review will do it but I'd like more. Thanks!

Here we go!

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Prologue:

It was raining, the heaviest rains of the year. In the dead of the night, the thunder sounded throughout the village and lightning cracked the sky. The water droplets splashed in deep puddles and ran off of the straw-roofed houses that made up the village. Inside these tiny huts, whole families slept together and waited for the water to finish cascading down so they may resume life in the morning.

As the dirt roads turned to mud and the flashes of bright light appeared above the people, there was movement in the corner of one small hut.

Two figures in cloaks were huddled against the rain and harsh wind. One held a bundle in their hands keeping it close to their chest. The wind blew hard against them, their bodies hindered by the cold blasts of rain that came with it.

As they were finally able to escape the walls of the village, huddling in the darkness of corners and the shadows of houses, they began to travel the worn path from the village border to the temple high upon the hill. Normally the white building was a comforting sight to the dwellers below, but tonight as lightning lit up the sky, it was a foreboding silhouette against the dark clouds.

A weathered hand lifted and knocked on the door, sending heavy bangs through the building. None of the priests were there this night. Gone away on a pilgrimage to a much mightier temple in the heart of the country.

There was only the living God, a young man who looked to be the age of 18 winters or so, his white hair falling to his shoulders and his skin bronzed like those who worked in the fields. It was known that theirs was a great temple, once upon a time… They were the only temple to house a living God, a supreme being that watched over and cared for them. But he had been asleep for many years. His body encased in glass so that he may be viewed and worshipped in his slumber.

The heavy bangs of the cloaked figures went unanswered in the temple and the God slept on.

Finally, a meager servant girl, vying for Priestess some day, opened the door. Her large, unusually bright brown eyes looked at the hooded figures. She frowned. “Tributes are not allowed while the priests are away.” She said softly.

The figures pushed past her, despite her protests for them to leave. They walked right up the altar and kneeled before the living God.

They hoods fell away revealing a middle-aged man with a weathered face and graying hair and a woman with black hair that reached her shoulders. It had also started to gray but not very noticeable, in fact it only added to her beauty.

They lifted the bundle the woman had been carrying. The woman began to speak, her voice was rough with sadness and guilt tinged her voice as she held up her child who began to cry and whimper. “Oh Living God, I ask that you watch over and keep my child safe… We are poor and we want him to live a different life than that of our humble and unworthy paths.”

The man began to speak, his voice was deep and rich, age and wisdom tinting his words. “Oh Living God, Please accept my son, let him live as a priest in your temple, let him grow and prosper and learn your teachings… Please let him live.”

The two people stared up at the glass coffin of their God and waited for a sign.

For a few moments, nothing happened. The only sound that filled the temple was the crash of thunder outside and the rain hitting the stone roof.

Then, there was the sound of shuffling feet. The girl who had opened the door walked up. “I’ll take the baby. I’ll raise him here.” She said softly.

The mother lowered her squirming child and held him to her breast. “You will? You’ll protect him?” The servant girl nodded, her eyes straying from the child to the God’s tomb. “If it is the will of Him, I will. I’ll protect him and care for him as if he were my own.”

The woman’s eyes began to leak the tears that she had been hiding since they had left the village. She stood, her cloak swirling around her. “Thank you…” She said, her voice gruff. “Thank you.”

She walked closer to the girl and handed her the child who had fallen back asleep, wrapped in a thick blanket. His skin was pale and cold with the rain and wind, but still held a healthy pink tinge. His under-wrappings were wet with rainwater and urine but the girl paid no mind, she held the child lovingly, looking down at him.

It was only at the moment they heard the door slam that she looked up, seeing the two people were now gone and they had even stolen some food offerings. She hadn’t even known their names.

A quiet gurgle turned her attention to the babe in her arms. His eyes were open, staring back at her with a bright blue vibrancy. It was known that most children in the village born with blue eyes usually darkened and became brown or green. But the girl could just tell that this babe’s eyes would forever remain the colour of a clear sky.

She smiled softly and took the child back to her cot, a small room where the other servants slept. Most were away with the Priests on the pilgrimage. Only her and a deaf elderly servant had been left behind to tend the temple.

As she brought the child over to the cot she slept on, she noticed how cold he was. Servants weren’t allowed to use the warm water that came from the natural hot springs beneath the temple, so she instead grabbed her blankets, tearing one in half for a new wrap. She discarded the old one and set it aside to be washed before wrapping the boy up in the warm, dry cloth and rubbing his skin gently but fast, so that it became warm with friction.

The child grew more alert as she did this and finally began to wail with hunger. She quickly picked the child up and held him, rocking him back and forth while she came back to the main hall, taking the milk offered that day to the living God and feeding it to the child who gurgled happily at tasting food.

The girl smiled at him. Her name was Mirana, she was born in the village. All her life things had been hard. Even when she entered the Priesthood. Her family had been offered shelter and great treasures for her just to live in the temple and she knew that one day when she became a Priestess, they would be set for life. No more tolling in hot fields for little to no edible food and no more trudging to the river miles away to catch almost nothing.

Mirana would give them a good life by serving their living God, even if he never moved nor woke. Sometimes Mirana had ideas and visions of removing the glass case and seeing if he was even real. It would be all too easy to replace a dead corpse with a fake stone body. She had seen it done with the statues. But Mirana knew that the God was testing her thoughts, her loyalty. So she stayed her hands and did her work.

And now, this was another test for her. This babe that she had agreed to take care of, to nurture inside of the temple. She was responsible now. She knew if she did this, that the God would give her favor. Would complete her dream of being a High Priestess one day.

The babe smiled with it’s full belly and his eyes slowly fell shut. He was warm, content and full. It was time for him to sleep. Mirana couldn’t help but giggle. He was cute.

She carried him back to her bed and lay down upon it, using her blanket to curl around him and keep him warm while she went cold. The wind didn’t penetrate the temple much, but it did get drafty sometimes.

As the baby lay there, Mirana began to hum, just a small lullaby and the baby fell asleep soon. She continued to hum, stroking the soft, chubby cheeks of the boy and smiling. She prayed the Priests didn’t take the child away from her when they returned soon. Already she was falling in love with him.

Suddenly Mirana realized, she hadn’t been given a name to call him. Had these parents had no name for their own child? She frowned, recalling nothing being called in their prayer… So it was up to her to name this boy?

She tried out names in her head and just couldn’t find one that suited her tastes. Then with a smile she remembered her old friend, who had died of sickness many winters ago. When she was young and new. He and her had promised to live together when they grew up and become married. Sadly her dream and his death changed all of that.

“Well, my child, You’re to be named after a great boy, who would have become a great man.” She said in a soft whisper to the sleeping babe.

“Isylan.”

The lightning struck and the thunder rumbled throughout the rest of the night and in the morning. A baby gave his first laugh…