Short Stories, Tale Africa

A Son’s Betrayal (1)

By Samuel S. Bunnya, Uganda

Sedralours. It was the most beautiful thing any of them could behold. It was a creation full of love and wonder; something created by the Great Father.

Looking out over the great gift of his mighty father was not something that he would ever get used to. The vast expanse that his father had wished into being was one he had never fully understood. There had been nothing covering the earth before his father played the Lute of Creation. They had all been there watching as the earth had formed into the vast continents separated by oceans, seas and rivers. Great deserts filled with grains of coarse sand; lush green forests that covered one end of an island to another; and the vast cliffs that stared at the seas and oceans. Everything below the clouds of the Great Realm was wished into being by the Mighty Father.

Orhóvihir had sat by his father’s right hand as the waves from the lute filled the emptiness of the earth. Where darkness had been, light had appeared with every stroke and sound of the lute. One discordant wave in the lute of the father led to the creation of the sun. Orhóvihir had been blinded by the great golden disc that shone its majesty over the darkness. He had touched his father’s shoulder and another discordant tune filled the emptiness. The silver moon had been created then.

“Do not disturb this creation, my child, when the time comes, I will let you have this lute.”

Orhóvihir remembered his father’s words better than any of his other siblings. He had watched as his father gracefully played the lute. With every wave and tune that left the beautiful instrument, something new filled the darkness. There was a point that his father looked so strained that Orhóvihir worried the lute was taking a toll on the Mighty Father. But his father had waved him and his brothers off.

The Great Father had stopped playing and looked down from the highest peak of the Great Realm. Orhóvihir had looked down at his father’s creation and been awed. His eyes had never imagined that the darkness could give way to something so beautiful. Orhóvihir had never believed the darkness, which had swallowed his mother, would become something more beautiful than the Great Queen.

And as the oldest son of the Highest being in the realms, both seen and unseen, Orhóvihir was considered by many as the greatest creation of the Great Father; even greater than the world the Great Father had wished into being out of the darkness. Both high and low, saw the golden son of the Great Father as the one to take the creation to the next stage of evolution.

“We must guide this evolution,” he whispered to the cold winds of the heavens.

“No, my son.”

Orhóvihir was surprised by his father’s voice. He turned around swiftly and bent his knee to the Great Father. “Welcome home father.” Orhóvihir got to his feet. “We thought you would still be among the men down in the Sedralours.”

“I enjoy visiting the Realms of our Creation, but I miss my children.”

Sedralours has always been your creation…not ours. “Is that all, father?”

“Indeed.” The smile on the older man’s graceful face did not touch his eyes. “I miss my home every moment that I am down in Sedralours.”

Orhóvihir saw through his father’s words. He had always known that the Great Father was afraid of him. He understood that the Great Father expected Orhóvihir to betray him. It angered Orhóvihir to think about it. But it was not his fault that his father was not willing to let him reduce the load on his great back.

“I look after your throne well, father. There is no need to worry about it.”

“As the creator of everything, I always worry what will become of my creation when the time comes for me to rest.”

Orhóvihir saw the exhaustion written all over his father’s face. Something inside of him hoped that the moment was not far off when the Great Father finally passed the Shinning Throne to him. He only had to exert a little more patience. He had waited for hundreds of years after all. He could wait a few more and he would be the master of all creation.

“Do you know what it means to be master of all creation Orhóvihir?”

His father’s question shocked him. “You know that I do. Since the very day you held me in your arms, I have watched you be the master of darkness and then the master of all creation.”

“Watching is one thing, knowing is another.” His father walked past him and reached the very edge of the cliffs of the Ancient Vale. He peered through at the creation he had wished into existence. The Great Father pointed down towards Sedralours. “I played the Lute of Creation while I thought of all the things I often discussed with your mother. With every note I thought of the beautiful things she had imagined in the darkness. I thought of the creatures she wished existed. I thought of the little animals in the ground. I thought of the magnificent beasts that swell the waters below. I also thought of the men.

“I thought of those who some call Ice Men, the Elder Race, who I saw as a pure vision of your mother. I also thought of men who were just ordinary men who would always find a way to make use of the land I created out of the darkness. All that I created was in honour of your mother and the world she envisioned.”

“Don’t you think mother would want us to grant these men some of our gifts?” Orhóvihir dared to ask.

His father turned to him. His eyes blazed with a fiery fury that Orhóvihir was accustomed to. “It is not our place to give them everything. Did they not discover fire? Did they not discover hunting? Did they not discover leadership amongst themselves?”

“But they do not know about us?” Orhóvihir snapped.

“They do not have to know about us,” his father growled.

Orhóvihir took a deep breath knowing there was nothing he could say that would make his father change his mind about the creation. He had a number of ideas on what he would do for the creation of his father. Orhóvihir had discussed a number of them with his father. Each time his father had sent him away saying that the creation would evolve naturally. Orhóvihir knew there was no point repeating the conversations with the Great Father. He would have to wait for his chance when he was finally the Great Father.

Orhóvihir already knew there were those among creation who had an inkling of them. The very first men to walk the earth always sought them out. That much was obvious. Orhóvihir had visited them without his father’s knowledge. He had gone against his father’s ardent wish that none of those who dwelled in the Great Realm mingled with creation. Only the Great Father was allowed that privilege. Orhóvihir did not agree with that law. He had argued countless times for the need of the inhabitants of the great Realm to reach out to the inhabitants of Sedralours. The Great Father had forbidden it.

But Orhóvihir had never been deterred. Many times, he had ventured through the Shivering Priateria when his brother Anil, Protector of the Veil Between Men and the Greater Realm, rested his eyes. Orhóvihir had walked by his youngest brother and laughed as he walked through the passes of Ealiorart. He had made friends among the Elder Race those times he had gone into Sedralours.

Orhóvihir had seen them look towards the skies in wonder in those times. They had asked quite a number of interesting questions. A few of them believed there was a supreme being who protected them from a powerful darkness. Orhóvihir had been impressed by their train of thought. He had joined them in their musing of what was happening in the skies one night. He had told them about the possibility of another Realm of Beings. Each time he visited them, Orhóvihir realised that the beings in Sedralours needed the guidance of the Great Realm.

“If you will excuse me father, I must go and inform the rest that you have returned,” Orhóvihir said calmly.

Orhóvihir left his father upon the edge of their realm. He did not wish to argue with his father anymore. There was no chance of trying to enlighten the realm of Sedralours as long as Orhóvihir was not the great Father. The more he thought about it, the angrier Orhóvihir got. No one in the Great Realm truly understood the depth of the creation like he did. He needed to enlighten the men in Sedralours.

There is only one thing that is stopping this, he thought.

Orhóvihir had seen the hearts of men. He understood their need to know of the Great Realm. He understood the need for the Great Realm to reveal itself. Men seek something or someone to serve, why not us who were there when they were created?

Orhóvihir walked along the golden path towards the city of Ear-el. Whenever his foot touched the path, a halo of bright white surrounded it. As he observed the phenomenon, his desires made more sense. Just like his foot, the inhabitants of the Great Realm were the light of the path. They had to guide those in Sedralours. The only way to guide them was to reveal their existence. The more he walked, the more convinced Orhóvihir became.

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