The Curse of Serapis

. . .And where the spilled blood fell upon the earth, there grew up a race of giants, and they called themselves the Heledim. Fierce and terrible they were, and they feared not the gods of heaven. Where they walked upon the earth they scorched it, and they made no offerings to heaven. So Meta laid the bones of the ruined feast as mountains to ward the Heledim from the divine gardens, and the Earthforge, wondering at the deeds of that day, laid the ashes of the fire as deserts, to be a warning against folly.

And on the fourth day there came an end to feasting. Euclidites, the ordered thinker, asked each god to name his domain, either over the things they had made, or as keepers of the Great Order, and at each choice the god drained his flagon, and it was so. Eleven flagons were drained, until it was the choice of Serapis, and he chose the Heledim as his domain. But the giants made no libation, and would not have him as their lord. So Serapis left his cup unemptied, and took up the bough from the Tree of Life that lay still in the embers of the fire. And he traveled to the lands of the Heledim, and disguised himself as a hermit. Clad in simple cloth and leaning on his staff, he came with unshorn hair from the mountains to preach wisdom to the Heledim.

He found them gathered in a place called Zaragosa, which in their tongue meant the cliff of the talon. There they slew beasts, and ate of their raw flesh. And finding them there, he leaned upon his staff and spoke unto them. "Brothers and sisters, leave this place. Cursed is he who eats of the flesh while the blood is still in it, and only in patience is wisdom. Raise up cities, and in them temples, and offer libations to the gods, and they will bless you. But raise up curses to heaven, and so too shall ye be cursed.

Then the Heledim called to him, for they saw that he was wise, but thought he was one of them. "Brother, long have you been a hermit in the mountains. Lead us through those tall barriers, that we might reach the earthly gardens and devour them!"

And the Guide of Mortals answered them with shrewd words, saying, "A tended garden is a feast forever, and the wise are not quick to devour wisdom."

Long the Heledim thought on this, and many of their deeper thinkers saw the folly of their ways, and repented in their hearts. But still many called, "Take us to the earthly gardens, that we might devour them!"

Again Serapis answered them with wisdom, "The earthly gardens are as vast as oceans, and a right choice swifter than a thousand sails."

Then the Heledim were swayed, for the thoughtful among them saw the meaning in his riddles, and explained it to the simple in their own speech. Then as one they said, "Take us to the earthly gardens, that we may look upon the glory of the heavens, and make sacrifices there for our salvation!"

So for a thousand leagues Serapis led them through the mountains, and where he walked a path opened clearly through the cliffs, and where he smote the rock with his staff clean water sprang from the stones. After a hundred days of barren travel the Heledim looked upon the earthly gardens, and were amazed, and offered prayers in their hearts to the gods who had made them there.

But the Adversary was among them, and spoke to them in whispers of appetite. A lust overcame the Heledim, and they cried "Let us devour the earthly gardens!" They seized Serapis with many arms, and bound him, and beat him with a scourge of thorns. Serapis fought them not, but wept bitterly for their folly. And after they had scourged him, they cast him into a thicket of brambles, and set to devour the fruit and flower of the earthly gardens.

In the deep thicket, the blood and tears of Serapis pooled upon the ground. And the Guide of Mortals broke the staff, the single bough from the Tree of Life, and sundered it into many pieces. In his right hand he took a splinter of it, but in his left hand he took the scourge of thorns. He thrust both hands into the pool of blood, and spoke a curse upon the Heledim:

Foolish are the ways of mortals;
Ever wayward is their hunger.
The earthly gardens were a feast forever,
But you were quick to swallow wisdom.
Thorn and thistle will be your feast now,
And the flower will yield you nothing,
As you drank the blood of mortals,
So will your blood be drink for brambles.
As you loved the earthly gardens,
So will you fear the earthly wilds.

Together the blood, bramble and bough grew into the shape of him that is called Acanthus, but in that day he was without master. Away he sprang as the hart in the woods, but his mind was fierce. And where he passed in the earthly gardens the brush grew thick and the trees gnarled in anger; still the flowers blossomed, but their thorns were long.

Wherever the Heledim had gone in their hunger, devouring the orchards of the earthly gardens, Acanthus hunted them. By the scattered cries of those who in each slow turn were swallowed, the Heledim knew that there was some new terror among them. And they drove in their pride and hunger to the very Gate of heaven, calling "Let us cast down the gods, and devour them!" Against the Gate of living mercury they advanced, for they knew that there was no escape behind them.

But Fury held the tower and the Gate, and however they assailed him his warfare was the greater. And the gods rained fire upon the Heledim before the tower, until the giants broke and fled. The earthly gardens were scorched, and made a wasteland of stump and bramble. Into these wastes the Heledim fled, cowering in hidden places from which none emerged again. But bough and bramble grew strong in later years, and the flowers there bloomed with crimson, even on the apple trees.

Serapis looked upon the wasteland and wept, for he had guided the Heledim, even in their folly. Then he said to the other gods, gathered on the field of battle, "Let us take up the embers of this burning, and fashion mortals of it. So close to the ruin of that which was beautiful, they might be reminded ever of wisdom." The gods nodded, and took up the ashes in their hands, breathing life into each kind. Each one made mortals according to their skill and fancy, bird-folk and beast-folk and the great leviathans of the deep.

Then Serapis repented of his earlier curse, and made blessing upon the new-made mortals. He spoke:

Embers you are, burned from folly,
That still may light a lamp to wisdom;
Though you be beset with hunger,
The earth will yield you feasts forever,
I will be a guide to mortals,
And a guard against the wilds.

And speaking this blessing upon the mortals, Serapis poured forth from his cup the nectar that was set for him at the feast in the first of days. Upon the earth he poured it, as covenant that he should never again bring a curse down on mortals.

But below Acanthus still dwelled, and though his forests brought forth great bounty of game and fowl few hunters dared to enter them. By night he entered into cities, taking warrior and child alike, so that none would sleep outside a strong place ringed with fire. No wall could hinder him, nor any weapon slay him, and he had learned the dark and secret ways of cities. And the people called unto Serapis for aid, and made libations to him.

So the Hope of Mortals traveled to the Underworld, and gathered two score faithful souls from there, and the Deathforge beat them into a blade. The blade was called Dachea, the Imprisoned Death, and as Serapis held it it had the color of wine and molten lead. Then he returned to seek Acanthus in the deep wilds. From a thicket Acanthus sprung in ambush at him, swift as a serpent, but he bore no weapon, and Serapis was ready. Dachea cut limb and tendril until the Lord of Thorns fled down hidden paths. But when Serapis found him again the wounds were whole as a broken bough after twenty summers. And Acanthus had learned of weapons, and bore in his right hand a cudgel torn from a living oak, and in his left a scourge of thorns.

He spoke unto Serapis, "Why do you come for me, Hope of Mortals? I am your curse, and cannot be undone. And I fear your blade as little as the ocean fears the plow."

"You were a curse, Acanthus Thornlord, but you are foolish. You are fierce, but short of wisdom; your law is simple, fear and hunting - unchanged you shall be swiftly mastered. Turn to me, away from cursing, or as slave you'll give your blessing."

"You are a fool, Serapis, who speaks of wisdom. Seek hidden places in riddle, if you must, but the hidden wood is my domain. All who enter it perish and despair." And with that he sprang as swiftly as the pard, and the two grappled to the very edge of the lands. Ever Serapis hewed with Dachea, and ever he was torn by root and clutching bramble. At last in their struggle they came upon the blue-marble temple that has stood atop the Hill of Light, and battled around its signal-fire that has burned since the first of days. So tangled they became in their grappling that Serapis could no longer swing his blade, but he held fast to Acanthus, rooted in the marble.

Then the Guide of Mortals spoke. "Yield to wisdom, Lord of Brambles, or you will be doomed forever. You have no reason to hate mortals, and they are unworthy hunting."

But in anger Acanthus answered. "I hate mortals for their foolish cutting, for putting the yoke on the lands and themselves. Within city walls all are slaves, and the servile make fine hunting. I know the secret ways of man and city, and none ever removes the yoke who has set it upon his shoulders."

And Serapis released Dachea upon the temple floor, never again to wield it as weapon. He reached for a brand from the eternal fire, though Acanthus tore at him. And when he had it, he thrust the torch into Acanthus and kindled his body, and said, "From a fire came the bough, the Tree of Life from which you rooted. Yield to wisdom, and to learning, or this flame will end your hunting."

"Burn me, Serapis, and my body will be your pyre. From these thorns will burn the temple, and you will be destroyed."

"Make no threat, Lord of Forests! I came for the good of mortals, and twice my flesh was scourged with brambles. Thorns to me are less than nothing, and the pyre would be a welcome. I have felt the flame of wisdom; how could burning bring me terror?"

At that Acanthus was afraid, and he released the Hope of Mortals, and drew in his final breath to speak his deathcurse upon him. But Serapis bade him hold, and beat out the fire with his hands, though the flames were bright.

Vanquished Acanthus spoke, saying "You are the stronger and more devoted, and I am too weak to escape the yoke. Feeble have I become, to fail in my hunting."

But Serapis blessed him, saying, "The harness is no grave dishonor, but the tool of greater labor. A tended garden is a feast forever, and once established needs no ploughing. When the field at last is ordered, then from harness will you have freedom. Until then will you keep the deepest forests, but the yoke will fall upon you; still you may give hunt in heaven, but the hunt must be for wisdom."

And Serapis took the blade Dachea, and melted it in the flame of the deep-blue temple. He shaped it into a plow-blade, and showed the peoples how to do the same, and the tending of fields. And thus Acanthus was subjugated by the Hope of Mortals, and his curse on mortals lifted.