The Origin of Synn -- Prologue



Blood flowed down the scythe's pitted edge like rivers on an explorer's map, carving out the borders and trade routes of an era not yet come.  She sagged against its handle, barely upright.  Every breath she took reminded of the dagger in her side, unremoved, its ruby-topped pommel an eye of plaintive stares.

	She spit crimson and stifled the urge to cry out from the pain.  Suddenly the ground rushed up to meet her knees, the impact that was felt in every bone causing the hilt of the dagger to vibrate and tear away at what she surmised was one of her kidneys.

	But she had won.  Her life was no price at all, considering her victory would put her name in every history book from now till Time's End.

	She tried to stand, using the scythe to steady herself, and scanned the carnage for the remains of her foe.  Bodies were as autumn leaves scattered across the landscape, and the once-dry soil looked like the red clay of the southern provinces, clumped and broken.  She couldn't make out one whole guard's body from the remains; her weapon had flown true towards quick deaths, flinging pieces hither and yon.  At first she was afraid that the final blow she'd delivered on her quarry had strewn his remains to where she would never find them, but just as the pain in her side was becoming too great she found both halves of him atop a broken pile of his men.

	She smiled.  It was foolish to assume being cut in half would stop a god.

	Glyren, God of the Battle, God of the Manifold Dead, appeared peaceful.  The leather armor, said to be cured from demon beasts birthed before time itself, lay torn open at his waist.  His pelvis and legs were a few steps away, unmoving.  Neither half of him bled, although his skin and insides were clearly visible.  The fire she had seen during her charge was gone from his black eyes, eyes like the void of space behind the stars, but there was no hatred in them towards she who had felled him in combat.

	He looked up as she neared, and smiled.  "Well fought, warrior," he said, his voice belying nothing of his sundered condition.  "You are not the first to try, but you are the first to succeed in bestowing this great honor upon me."

	Synn coughed, feeling the knife in her side scrape bone.  She hit the ground again, harder this time, but refused to let herself collapse completely.  The sound that escaped her throat was nothing like the one that had sung in his temples so long ago.  "You... deserve... I... trained..."

	He managed to nod.  "Yes.  I have long watched your progress.  Your weapon choice was... interesting, but you wield it well."  He propped himself up on an elbow; it was an interesting motion without the lower half of his body.  His gaze filled her with pride.  "Warriors like you are the reason I exist.  I could not ask to have fallen to a more worthy opponent.  Now..."  His voice changed, deepened.  The tone of command was unmistakable and hit her with the force of a maul to the chest.  She barely caught herself.  "Now... Stand, my warrior, and say the words."

	With the last remaining bit of strength she had, she forced herself to her feet.  She reached down and tore the dagger out of her side, stifling a cry.  "I am Synn... daughter of... Ashur, child of Glyren's Path.  Out of pain... I forged... my skill.  Out of... 'sryn..."

	Her head swam and she scrambled at the thread of her consciousness.  "Finish it," she heard him say, and his voice called her back.

	"Out... of Ilsyreen's eternal fires I forged... my blade.  In battle... I forged... myself.  I am... your child... your defeat.  I am Synn... have earned... rest... in... Hall..."

	Her strength ran out, and the bloodstained earth found her chest, her chin.  Her breathing sounded a gurgle in her lungs and blackness ringed her vision.

	Glyren smiled.  "Close, my child.  The final part is, 'I have earned a place in the Halls of the Manifold Dead.' That place is yours when you breathe your last, you have my word.  You'll be a welcome addition.  I'm sure your father will be pleased to see you.

	"But rest... Why would you think you've earned rest?"

	And the pain was gone, and she was on her feet before Glyren, not the Glyren of her battle but the god of legend, a titan of earth and fire and bloodstained steel taller than the grandest buildings in Ki'ier kel Izai.  She realized then, why some believed Glyren to be the God of the Skies: his eyes were the twin suns, his breath the clouds.  All the light she felt on her skin was from him, and beyond them both was nothing, not even tangible darkness.  She stared out at the Nothing, feeling her mind failing to comprehends what she wasn't seeing, then focused back on the burning face of her god.

	"You, Synn."  Gravel, magma, a hammer and tongs shaping all the blades of an army, and strangely, the scent of rain and ashes.  "You will meet your destiny."

	A flash and she was surrounded by waist-high grass facing another scene of battle.  It was Glyren, and his opponent was wearing the armor of the Warrior God.  "This is how it has been since the Dawn, my child," Glyren said, being careful not to let his blade slide out of his opponent.  "As I felled my predecessor, so too have you defeated me.  And now--"

	Flash; back to the Nothing and his towering form.  "Now you, Synn... You will accept this honor.  You will protect those who follow the Path, and lay siege to its enemies.  You will don the armor and the mantle of my name.  Step forward."

	She did as she was bade and before her the Warrior God's armor appeared, already shaped for her body.  "Accept the charge, daughter, and take your place among the gods."

	Synn's hand reached up before she stilled it.  She couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like, what it could do.  She shook her head.  "Powerful Glryen, may I ask a question?"

	The visage that floated impossibly above her shifted but betrayed no emotion.  "Proceed, warrior."

	"Is it true that you may not enter your own Halls?  That the Manifold Dead speak to you in whisper, in shadow?"

	The suns darkened, as passing behind a thunderhead.  "Yes.  These and other rules passed down from the Dawn you will learn, in time."

	She dropped her gaze.  "Then I respectfully decline this honor, great as it is, my god.  I sought you out for a chance to meet my father again.  You have told me he is now with the Manifold Dead."  She prostrated herself before him.  "Please, I beg of you, allow me passage."

	The Nothing rippled with sound.  Heat bore down on her.  "You refuse the mantle?"

	"Yes."

	The universe split in half.

	The skin on her left hand singed and peeled away as an errant star came too close.  Solar wind stole her sight.  Pure molten iron rose from below her and settled on her legs, melting bone as it cooled.

	She did not stop her cries this time.

	The Nothing closed about them, and she was left broken as his sunfire eyes stared down at her.  She yet drew breath.  "In time, Synn, you will come to realize your mistake and you will accept the armor.  Until that day, you are Marked.  May you learn your lesson well."

	Searing pain on her forehead.  "No! Glyren, forgive me!"

	"IT IS TOO LATE!  Bear the misfortune of your choice, and be gone from my sight."

	Blood flowed down the scythe's pitted edge like rivers on an explorer's map, carving out the borders and trade routes of an era not yet come.  She sagged against its handle before righting herself and reaching for a dagger in her side that wasn't there.  Bodies marked her wake, but the body of the Warrior God was nowhere to be seen.

	She took off one of her leather gloves and felt her forehead; the mark was raw and drying slowly under the heat of the twin suns.

	"I heard you wanted to see me."

	She spun around, scythe at the ready.  Its blade ended a hair's breadth from a face she recognized all too well.  He was somewhat intangible but certainly recognizable.

	Ashur adjusted his glasses and smiled.  "Pissing off folks always was one of your best skills, right, Synn?"