Story 4

Tom Howard

Tides as an expression of gravitational attraction hold a special fascination for me, from the expansive oceans of Earth to the mysteriious features on remotest Pluto. Here is a tides origin story to explain part of the primitives' unexplainable world: Tom Howard's Advent of Tides.

Tom Howard is a fantasy and science fiction short story writer living in Little Rock, Arkansas. He thanks his family and friends for their inspiration and the Central Arkansas Speculative Fiction Writers' Group for their perspiration.

I can't think of anything else to tell the reader, but thanks.

-- Tom

The Advent of Tides

by Tom Howard

Timor the Adventurer flicked the reins and drove his steeds westward toward the fiery sky. When he’d left his home in the Diamond Mountains, his six stallions had been white and noble. As they neared the broken and tumultuous area near the sea, the team pulling his chariot had become jet-black and quarrelsome. He had to keep firm control to prevent them from nipping at each other and pulling him off course.

His silver and gold chariot leapt over deep chasms that appeared as the earth shook. The planet’s blood throbbed hot and molten far below. Cinders and smoke hid the view of the tortured sea in front of him, but Timor followed his troubled heart. He thought to remove the lion skin he wore across his shoulders, but his followers always pictured him wearing the lion head and golden pelt so he complied with their beliefs. His attire wasn’t his concern. He had to reach Kenok before his brother’s anger and sadness destroyed them all.

Timor left the chariot on a plateau near the sea and hobbled his unruly steeds. Kenok’s battle with the sea had left the surrounding ground scoured to the bedrock. The sea screamed as Kenok froze it into giant tidal waves overhanging the land. The wall of water, constrained and experiencing Kenok’s wrath, threatened every shoreline on the planet.

“Kenok!” shouted Timor, his lion skin cape fluttering behind him as he bounded from boulder to boulder. “Stop!”

Kenok was a colossus, his ant-like head bellowing in agony and anger at the ocean, his giant claws and black leather wings pounding the thin strip of sand that remained.

Timor, in his human form, shouted at his brother. “Stop!”

As he approached Kenok, the surges of pain his brother radiated made Timor stumble. How long had he been like this?

Kenok gesticulated at the wave trembling before him. The water ripped apart and reformed. The ocean shrieked, and water on the entire planet cried out in pain.

Kenok sat on the blackened sand and placed his head in his clawed hands. Nearby, bones of ships and sailors littered the exposed floor of the ocean. Kenok’s anger had driven him mad. In his grief, he didn’t realize how much damage he’d done to the shore and its people. If he did, he didn’t care.

“It killed my son,” said Kenok, shaking his claw at the quivering wave overhead. “I want revenge, my brother. I want it to suffer as I do.”

Timor sat on a boulder and removed his lion helm. The other gods, frightened at Kenok’s madness and power, had sent Timor to reason with him before they were forced to take more drastic action. This world must not be destroyed. The song must continue.

Kenok slowly shrank in size, taking on his normal human appearance -- except for the claws with which he continued to beat the sand. Back were Kenok’s blond curls and beard, his wide shoulders, his white toga trimmed with gold. Gone were the sparkling blue eyes and the quick smile.

Timor moved closer and put his arm around his brother, trying not to let Kenok’s sadness overtake him. “Why do you wage war against the peaceful sea?” The nighttime shoreline indeed resembled a battlefield with beached boats and drowned corpses. Nearby, Kenok’s temple lay in ruins, and the surrounding village had been washed away.

“Mavon’s tiny body was so pale,” said Kenok. “He was only a year old. His song ended before it began.”

Timor patted Kenok’s shoulder. “How did it happen?”

“He was playing at the edge of the water with his mother and his caretakers. They looked away but for a moment. When they discovered him missing, it was too late.” Kenok stood and shook his claws at the wall of water, and it howled in pain as he strangled it with his mighty will.

“What happened to his mother and the others?” Timor asked, trying to ignore the dead bodies lying scattered on the black beach.

“I killed them,” Kenok said, his voice cold. “They let my only son die.”

For a moment, the Adventurer was overcome by the dark waves of his brother’s wrath. “Please, Kenok. Think of what you are doing. Bellina didn’t sacrifice herself to populate the world, so you could destroy it in a fit of rage. I’m sorry about Mavon, but you’ll have more children.”

Back in his monstrous form, Kenok roared. The ends of his black wings gouged craters in the stony beach. “How do you know? Your children, the four winds, are healthy demi-gods. They are alive and part of the cosmic song. Don’t tell me I can have more children. I want Mavon.”

He stopped and shrank, his human face growing hopeful. “Timor, we can go together to death’s gate and retrieve his song! I have Mavon’s mortal remains here.” He waved one of his claws, and a nearby stone parted to reveal his son’s small body. “Come with me. What good is being a god if we cannot save one small child?”

Timor shook his head. “You know it cannot be, Kenok. Once the song is ended, it cannot be sung again. If we tried to interfere with death’s gate, we risk casting ourselves into oblivion.”

Kenok didn’t reply but returned to crying. His tears, instead of being water, ran down his cheeks in streams of acid. Where they landed on the sand, puddles of glass formed.

“Remember how we first shaped this world?” asked Timor, trying to calm himself and his brother. “It was just a little pocket of space where songs from many worlds came together. We came here to listen.”

“We only needed a place to rest and listen to the song.” Kenok stared at the wall of writhing water before them. “Why did we have to create a deadly ocean when we formed this world?”

“We made the ocean for the humans,” said Timor. “What few of them remain after you forced the sea to stampede over the land. The god of Chaos and the goddess of War are pleased at the amount of destruction you’ve caused, but even they worry about what happens next.” Human beliefs had given the gods their names and attributes and solidified them into existence. Timor wished they’d imagined him in less dramatic attire.

He gestured at the dark sea. “What is that?” Timor asked. He pointed at the new orb over their heads. “You could have destroyed us all by dredging earth up from the bottom of the ocean and throwing it into the sky. Do you know the sadness of the cosmos when you stop the songs of an entire world?”

Kenok regarded the glowing sphere. “I was out of my mind, Timor. I tried to destroy the ocean by ripping up the ocean floor, but it didn’t work.”

A volcano to the south erupted, shaking the ground and darkening the sky. Timor heard his steeds screaming on the plateau. “So you have gone from being the Beauteous One to being the God of Death? From the beginning, we decided there would be no such deity.”

Kenok looked at Timor, his eyes filled with pain. “We also agreed because of its nature that there would be no god of the ocean. It’s a wild beast that kills. It must be destroyed.”

“Because of your wish to punish the drink, you would destroy the cup and send all of us through the gate?”

Kenok shook his head but didn’t return to his larger form. Instead, he took a deep breath. “The beast must pay.”

Timor stood and looked at the shining ball in the night sky overhead. “If I ensure the beast will never rest, never know peace, would that appease your anger?” He waved his right hand at the sky, and the orb began to move.

“What are you doing?” demanded Kenok. “You cannot return it to the sea.”

“True,” said Timor. “That would cause even more damage. No, I’m ensuring the sea is never calm again.”

“I don’t understand,” said Kenok. “What are you doing?”

“Watch.” The orb fell toward the horizon, and the sea struggled to follow it. “But you must release the ocean.”

“No,” said Kenok. “It will kill other children.”

“Trust me,” said Timor. “Do you want to destroy the cup?”

Kenok shook his head, and Timor felt his brother’s remorse break over them.

The stone containing his firstborn drew Kenok’s attention, and he held out a human hand to touch it. “I’m sorry. I do not wish to end this world’s song.”

“Your brothers and sisters do not wish it to end either, but remind me to be far away when Bellina returns. She will not appreciate having so many of her children killed.”

Kenok’s tears stopped, and he gestured at the sea. The giant wall of water slowly sank, increasing the water level at their feet. The sea, released from Kenok’s mighty grasp, sighed with relief and sought its former bed.

“What happens now?” asked Kenok.

“Is the sea quiet and calm as it once was?” Timor watched the water lap the shoreline.

“No. It’s moving as if it flows over giant boulders. What is happening?”

Timor laughed. “The sea will ever regret the death of Mavon. Every day and every night, it will toss, never quiet. This doesn’t mean fewer humans will die now, but you will have your revenge on the heartless, unfeeling sea. Are you satisfied?”

Kenok looked at the churning waves. “What is causing this unrest? Is it something I did?”

“In a way,” Timor replied. “That moon you placed in the sky tugs the ocean as it orbits the world. The sea will never lie still as it once did.”

Kenok clenched his fists. “It doesn’t seem enough.”

“You will always miss Mavon,” said Timor, “but now we’ll place his body on a pyre, a grand pyre that reaches to the stars. We will show the heavens what a hero he might have been.” Timor hugged Kenok to him, pleased when Kenok hugged back.

“We’ve cursed the sea for eternity,” said Kenok. “Why don’t I feel better about losing my son?”

Timor hugged him tighter. “One of the drawbacks of being immortal, I’m afraid.”

“We could use a volcano for Mavon’s pyre,” suggested Kenok. “He always liked playing with fire.”

“Excellent,” said Timor, donning his lion helm and gathering Mavon’s body in his cape. “Then we can build a pyre for all the mortals.”

He watched the ocean waves crash against the shore, an eternal lament for the loss of a god’s son.

THE END

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