Nurturing Wonder

Tondo Lachwallan was inspecting the storage caves with one of his fellow priests when they heard the screams. They paused in their task – checking for spoilage and evaluating rationing levels – and soon heard the sound of rapid footfalls as an initiate sought them out.

“Fathers!” the initiate gasped, prostrating himself before them as much to catch his breath as to show respect. “The Year-King! He’s dead!”

They exchanged glances. Calmly, Essan Felwenna said “Show us,” and then they left the torchlit cave for the surface, blinking in the bright sunlight and wrapping their robes securely against the biting winter wind. The initiate lead them to the Year-King’s residence. Priests and villagers alike were gathered outside the entrance to the lodge, looking anxious. One of the Year-King’s lovers was crouched by the door, sobbing. Everyone else looked to them as they approached, but they said nothing as they brushed past the crowd and entered the lodge.

Everything looked as it should be – the fire was well-stoked, keeping the lodge warm and comfortable in spite of the bitter cold outside. The rugs and pillows set around the room for visitors were all in order, as were the piled pelts that made up the Year-King’s bed. There was no sign of violence, no blood, no wounds on the body. But there was no denying that the Year-King was dead where he lay, his body slowly cooling to air-temperature, five days before his appointed time.

They examined the body closely, questioned the lover who had woken up beside it, questioned the guards of honor who stood vigil outside the lodge throughout the night, but nothing they heard indicated anything but a natural death. In some ways, murder would have been more reassuring.

The day passed quickly, and the sun was setting by the time the priesthood finished their questioning and gathered to determine their course of action.

“What did you find?” asked Elder Keemun. “Was he struck down by the Sun God? Or by the demons of the Long Night?”

“Does it matter?” Essan asked, “Either way we need to find a replacement.”

Tondo ignored his fellow priest and answered the Elder’s question instead. “We have found no indication one way or the other, Elder. All we know is that he was not killed by human hands.”

Elder Keemun sighed heavily. “Who shall we choose? Lellan?”

Lellan Etsucha had been mentor to the Year King, and was also responsible for preparing the Year King’s successor. He nodded to acknowledge the Elder, then shook his head. “Young Balen would not be an appropriate choice. He is ready to become the Year-King at the Solstice, but he is looking forward to indulgences of the year. I do not think he would be prepared to give up his life in a mere five days.”

Elder Keemun sighed again. “And that is the problem, of course. The harvests have been bad for six years now. The Sun God is obviously less than satisfied with the sacrifices we have chosen, but the Year-King must be willing… we cannot simply buy a slave or raid our neighbors.”

“Would he take a child?” asked Silfa Doyan, the most junior of their number. “My nieces and nephews are very eager to please. My sister would be angry, but a child, told he’s going to meet the Sun God, might even be excited.”

The Elder frowned, as did the other priests, but they considered the question seriously.

“A child,” Tondo countered, “Would be unable to intercede with the Sun God, and convince him to favor our crops with his bounty. Likewise, a reluctant sacrifice would be unwilling to persuade the Sun God in our favor, and might even work against us.” He paused, pondering the question of who would be both willing and able.

The Elder nodded, “Six years of bad crops. Imagine how much worse the next year will be if we choose a sacrifice who displeases the Sun God. We’ve been able to feed the People of the Sun through the winters so far, but if the harvest continues to decline…”

“And if we send no one?” Silfa asked, “What would happen then?”

The other priests stared at him in disbelief. “Our people would be destroyed,” Tondo said, incredulous that he could even think of such a thing.

Silfa shrugged. “Then it must be a child. I see no other option.”

The other priests nodded reluctantly, with the exception of Tondo. He shook his head sharply and said, “No. It’s too much of a risk. I will go instead, and see if one of his priests can convince the sun god to bless his faithful People, rather than putting their future in the hands of a child.”

The others protested, of course. Sacrificing a priest seemed like a dangerous precedent to set. But Tondo held firm. The People of the Sun were in need of the Sun God’s blessing, absent for so long. It would take a year to train a new Year-King in the ceremonies and disciplines that would allow for successful intercession with the Sun God, and the Winter Solstice was only five days away. Eventually Tondo convinced them, with the undeniable argument that only one of the Sun God’s own priests had the training, wit and knowledge to take up the challenge on such short notice.

Tondo himself was excited, although he endeavored to appear as staid and responsible as ever. He had spent his life in the service of the Sun God, leading the people in their worship, begging the God’s blessing for their fields and flocks, hunts and raids, and preparing sacrifices for their eternal service to the God. Now, he would finally meet his Diety. He knew his duty, and would not waver in his efforts to secure the Sun God’s blessings for his People. In his daydreams, though, he occasionally imagined taking the Sun God to task for His feckless behavior toward his own faithful worshipers. He dreamed of asking the Sun God “Why?” – so many “why’s” that had troubled him over the years, about the troubles visited upon the People. He knew his duty, but secretly he hoped there would be time for at least one “Why?” when his duty was done. The fact that his body had to die for the chance seemed… inconsequential.

He spent that night and the next four in the Year-King’s lodge, purifying his body with clear water and sage smoke, and meditating to purify his mind and soul. At the end of the longest night, he was escorted by the guards of honor to the Sun God’s altar, carved each year from the trunk of a lightning-struck tree. There, Elder Keemun waited, the Senior Priests standing by to lead the Solstice chant. Behind them, the People of the Sun gathered, initiates scattered through the crowd with drums to keep time and support the chant.

Tondo lay willingly across the altar, suppressing the nervousness that finally surfaced in his final moments. He looked up at the sky, marveling at the difference between the unsettling submission of sacrifice and his accustomed role as officiant. The knife rose into his field of vision, borne by Elder Keemun’s hand. Tondo saw a tremor in the Elder’s hand. He reached up, steadying both hand and knife and, as the chant peaked and the first glint of morning light caught his eye, adding his strength to the Elder’s to bring the knife plunging down. Then all was darkness.

Elder Keemun completed the cut as Tondo’s hand fell away from his, shaken by the other’s unconventional participation in his own sacrifice. The rest of the ceremony went smoothly, as the Elder cut out Tondo’s heart and held it up to the rising sun in offering. Essen held a torch lit from the fire in the Year-King’s lodge to the tinder laid around the altar, starting the bonfire that would speed his fellow priest’s soul to their God’s side. Then he stepped back, watching attentively as the flames licked up around Tondo’s body. His hair and simple loincloth caught fire and the flames grew thicker, enveloping him and affirming the Sun-God’s acceptance of the sacrifice. Sacrifice accomplished, Tondo’s heart was diced and eaten, binding the People of the Sun closer to their Year-King and through him, to the Sun God.

***

Tondo woke. Slowly, he became aware of a hideous weight on his back and a strange, featureless plain surrounding him. He was on his feet, but borne down by his burden so that his knees strained and his back bent. His shadow stretched out long before him, etched black as night by some light behind him. He tried to look at the light but it was too blinding so he turned back to his shadow, blinking tears of pain out of his eyes.

“Welcome, Year-King,” said a gentle voice.

He looked up and saw a strangely familiar face. A face that crinkled in confused recognition a moment later. “Father Tondo? What are you doing here?” the young man before him asked.

“The Year-King, Renick, that is, died before the Solstice,” Tondo explained. “I thought it would be best if I took his place, and came to see the Sun God myself.” He looked around, craning his neck awkwardly because of the way his back bent under his burden. “Where is he?”

The young man shrugged. Tondo gave him a sharp look. “I recognize you, Jaccho Tendisson. We sent you to intercede with the Sun God a year ago today. Where is he?”

Jaccho shrugged again. “I couldn’t find him,” he said simply. “The Year-King before me went off to look for him while I carried the Sun. Now that you’re here to carry it a while, I’ll go do the same. As I imagine you will when the next Year-King comes along.”

He started to turn away and Tondo staggered forward a step. “Wait!” He yelled, feeling a little frantic. Jaccho paused and looked back at him. “How do you carry the Sun?” Tondo asked, “I was prepared to treat with the Sun God, not to take his place!”

Jaccho smiled gently and said “Just follow the path. You’ll figure it out. You can’t do a much worse job than I did.” He shrugged again, then he turned away and was gone.

Tondo looked forward. “Path?” he said out loud, looking for a path to follow. All he saw was his shadow stretching out ahead of him across a snow-covered plain. As he looked, it stretched out far into the distance, and he realized this was his path, etched out by the Sun itself. He took a step, afraid that his knees would give out under the weight and terrified to think of what would happen if he fell. He stayed upright, though, and took another step, and then another, following the Sun’s path.

He walked and walked, one step after another, and after a while he thought that the Sun may have grown a little lighter, or perhaps he had grown stronger in order to bear it more easily. Soon after that, the field of snow started to give way in patches to brown ground, and then to green grass sprouting up to soak in the Sun’s blessing of light. Tondo smiled, feeling joy at taking part in bringing life back to the world after the long winter.

In the distance, he could sometimes see humans – working their fields and gardens and tending their flocks and herds. He tried to send them a little extra sunlight, only to see their crops wither and die of the heat. He saw rain clouds in the distance and called them near, hoping to revive the plants with water. The rain clouds drew near indeed, and unleashed a torrent that flooded the fields, drowning the already withered plants and threatening the homes of the people. Tondo sent them away again as fast as he could, angry at the realization that the People of the Sun were going to have another year of poor harvests because of him. He thought about the six hard years previous and wondered how long the Sun God had been missing, leaving his work to inexperienced humans.

Mindful of his previous errors, Tondo tried not to do anything but carry the sun along its shadow-path. Then the Spring Equinox came, and with it a sacrifice of lamb and calf. He could taste the meat as it burned and enjoyed it immensely. He thought he felt a little stronger after the sacrifice too, and that the sun seemed to ride his back more lightly. With the meat, the People sent prayers, the first he had heard since taking up the Sun God’s burden. While the floods of early spring had nearly drowned them, their crops were now parched and dry. The People begged for gentle rain to nourish their fields and gardens.

Tondo looked to the rain clouds that still gathered in the distance, and he examined them closely. He chose a tiny one that seemed lighter in color than the others, and called to that single cloud, watching carefully to be sure the others stayed away. The cloud came near and shaded the fields, giving the farmers and crops relief from the Sun’s heat, but no rain fell. Carefully, carefully, he selected another, slightly darker cloud, and called it near. He watched, elated, as it dropped gentle rain across the People’s lands, and when the fields seemed moist but not flooded, he sent the clouds away again to let the People rejoice in the Sun’s light.

Step by step, Tondo carried the Sun, and as he walked it seemed to grow lighter and lighter. At the Summer Solstice, the People again made a sacrifice. As always at Midsummer, it was an enemy of the People, captured in a raid and burned alive at the beginning of the longest day. Tondo could distantly hear the screams of the sacrifice and smell his burning flesh, but he found it less appetizing than the spring sacrifice of the lamb and calf. He wondered at the Sun God’s taste, but then the flames finished engulfing the man’s flesh, loosing soul from body and propelling it into Tondo. He felt the stranger’s soul, still screaming, and tried to soothe the man, unsure as to what the Sun God would have done. When he touched the stranger’s arm, though, he dissolved into light, and Tondo felt strength flood through his soul, almost carrying him forward as he carried the Sun.

Tondo was grateful for the extra strength as he moved forward through the year. At first, the Sun seemed as light as it had at the Solstice, but step by step it grew heavier. At the Autumnal Equinox, the People burned offerings of wheat, pumpkin seeds and wild boar. He was pleased by the smell, and by the songs of thanks that the People sent to him with the sacrifice. It gave him a little strength too, but as the days went on and the Sun grew heavier it took all his will to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He began to look forward to the Winter Solstice, when the new Year-King would take up his burden and set him free to go seeking the Sun God.

Finally, the day came. The smell of burning flesh brought him out of his focus on making one slow step after another, and he looked up to see Balen, the new Year-King, standing before him. The young man was not awake yet. It would be easy for Tondo to pass his burden on before the other became aware again, as the burden had been passed on to him. Instead, though, he watched Balen. The new Year-King looked so young, so inexperienced, and Tondo thought of his own mistakes with the drought and the flood. So instead, he waited, watching until Balen’s eyes flickered and opened, and the young man looked at him with confusion.

“Father Tondo?” he asked tentatively, “Where is the Sun God? And why is the Sun on your back?”

Tondo smiled gently at him. “The Sun God is missing,” he said. “You must go seek him out and bring him back to us. Until then, I will carry the Sun for the People.”

Balen pestered him with questions for a time, but before long Tondo grew weary of trying to answer them all and started his slow walk again, putting one foot in front of the other with stolid determination. Finally, Balen bowed to him and set off to search for the Sun God, disappearing from Tondo’s view between one step and the next.

Tondo continued on, sustained by the knowledge that the Sun would grow lighter soon, and that this year he had more knowledge, more experience, with which to shepherd his People’s fields and flocks. From time to time, he wondered whether Balen or one of the other Year-Kings would find the Sun God and bring him back, but he was in no hurry. Some of his “why’s” had already been answered, simply by learning the limitations of the Sun God’s power. He thought perhaps the others didn’t matter as much, now that he was the one granting the Sun God’s blessings and watching over his people.