Eric Guindon Writes

This is an except from without much context but it might do alright standalone. Enjoy!

The men at the mine head gave Hesseth no trouble as he directed them to lower him down the shaft he himself had commanded them not to use any longer. Of course, he did not wear his true shape, which they would not have recognized; no, instead, he wore that of the mine’s owner, their employer, Oromir of house Algen. This simple trick was child’s play for Hesseth who was no ordinary being, despite being Oromir’s son, though only after a fashion. No, he took moreso after his mother, whom he was on his way to visit, and she was one of the few beings alive today more powerful than any single one of the gods. In fact, what power the gods had, Hesseth knew, they had stolen from his mother’s people. Yet his part-human nature made Hesseth no match for even the weakest of the gods, especially not while dwelling within their creation. Still, he was an order of being far superior to the mere humans he spent most of his time amongst. In fact, he preferred their company to that of his mother and her handmaidens, and reproached himself for this.
He was alone in the wooden cage as it descended into the earth, only a few woven cables keeping him and it from plummeting into the depths. Hesseth did not fear this fate. He would likely survive such a fall, true, but the truth of the matter was that he simply did not possess the emotional range of his father’s people. Fear was unknown to him, as were joy, sorrow, and love. But he was not altogether without emotions. He was quite familiar with disgust and hate, with desire and envy, and, of course, anger was no stranger. And though he did not fear his mother, he also bore her no love. As it was, his feelings did not matter. Their relationship was such that he was her tool and had no choice but to do her bidding. Given his head, once shot of this mine he would never have returned.
Hesseth had plenty of time to consider how much he disliked returning to visit his mother; the descent he now undertook would not come to its end for the better part of two hours, with nothing else to occupy his thoughts but the steady rhythm of the unrolling cable above him and the flickering shadows cast by the lantern hanging from its hook, his only companion in the cage.
He had tried to fight the call to return, but it was a fight lost before it had begun. He could no more resist his mother’s will than he could keep the sun from rising and setting every day. Before he even knew why he was doing it, he had packed his necessities for the trip, what few there were, and engaged a carriage to take him from the small mining village he was visiting in the eastern reaches of Ustra all the way to this mine in the foothills of the southern mountain range the locals named Agath’s Heights. The call itself had come without warning, without reason, and without explanation. Hesseth knew his mother could have simply communicated with him at a distance without effort if she had willed it, but evidently she had not desired this. Instead, she had forced him to travel back to the place of his birth to speak with her in person.
What am I doing here? he wondered for a thousandth time. Why now?
He hated his own impotence in the face of his mother. This summons brought Hesseth face to face with one of the key facts of his existence: he had no purpose other than to serve his mother and no ability to ever do otherwise. His fury at this was fruitless, though, and most of the time, he managed to fool himself into overlooking this fact, losing himself in the work he was doing. His mother’s work, perhaps, but his project, his idea. But now he was about to see his mother and the uncertainty of what she desired of him unsettled him to the core.
When the cage finally came to a jarring halt, striking the rock at the bottom of the mine shaft, Hesseth was eager to be done with the meeting, to end the suspense as to what his mother wanted of him.
The waiting is done, Hesseth. His mother’s voice. Not quite speech, not quite thought, not quite real.
She waited in the cavern outside the cage, of course. He should have known she would be there. She knew exactly what he did, when he did it, and why. Still, he had expected she would have received him in her own domain and not this semi-earthly place on the terminus between the underworld and the world the so-called gods had made.
“Mistress?” he called to her as he exited the wooden contraption that had borne him down to her. When they communicated, offspring and parent used the tongue of the world above, galling though it was to them. Hesseth was too human to share thoughts abstractly as his mother and her kind could among themselves and could not receive the same without harming his mind. Source had to be their means of communication.
Shifting before him, the form of the creature that spawned him loomed closer, growing larger and more distinct, choosing a single shape to take. By her nature, Hesseth’s mother was no single thing, but rather a concept, a being very different from what the world above could grasp. Yet when she came to a place like this one, where things were more concrete, where the power of the gods held some dominion and imposed an ordered reality, he knew she must settle into a single entity or constantly fight to remain only conceptual. The final appearance she now bore was that of a pillar of black stone, its surface covered with designs that themselves changed, almost as an act of rebellion against the rules of this reality his mother scorned. To Hesseth’s eyes the patterns sometimes looked like waves on a turbulent sea, other times like roiling flames, but always small human figures could be spied in the design, always succumbing, crumbling, burning, drowning.
Hesseth prostrated himself until his forehead touched the ground, only rising again once he felt his mother’s acknowledgement and her permission given.
Our time comes now. No more waiting, she told him.
“Have I been recalled because you have found a means to break out of the underworld, Mistress? Is my other work no longer needed?”
He felt a wave of madness crash into him as his mother failed to completely contain some thoughts. This sort of outburst he knew as a sign of his mother’s displeasure.
Your other work? A waste of time and effort. It ends now.
“As you will, Mistress, but then how will you be freed from this place?”
I have a new task for you.
“You have found another way to break the seal?”
A way presents itself, yes. Your previous work shows no sign of providing escape.
“My work takes time to come to its fruition, Mistress. I guarantee that it will work given enough time.”
Your way has run out of time! Hesseth’s mother sent this so forcefully, he fell to his knees, nearly losing consciousness from the blow to his mind.
Still he managed to argue back, “But Mistress, the humans mine the thaum. It is inevitable that their mining will deplete enough of it that the barrier will collapse. This is a fact. It is only a matter of time.”
I have waited long enough. Abandon your cajoling of human miners. Your work now will be true work with real results.
Hesseth swallowed his objections. “What is your will, Mistress? What must I do?”
Much of the power the unworthy stole has made its way into the hands of their creations. It is in the form of items now, items you can easily acquire.
“The gods have let their power be stolen from them?” He spoke without thinking.
They are not gods. They name we who are gods demons and take that name for themselves, but that does not make it so. They are the unworthy!
“Yes Mistress, forgive me.”
One of their own has stolen the power of the others. It is that one who is responsible for placing the power in the hands of the humans.
“And the power is in the form of material items now, Mistress?”
Yes. The unworthy are fools. If they could not contain the power within themselves, they should have kept better watch over the receptacles they used to store it.
“It is your wish for me to take these items from the humans who now hold them? Are those humans not formidable now?”
All I ask is that you try. If you die in the attempt, perhaps I will have to make a better offspring to do the task.
Hesseth knew better than to argue any further. His mother’s mind was made up and he could only obey her wishes. He did not know how formidable the holders of the divine artefacts would prove to be, but he would have to find out and do as he was bid. As much as he wished his mother would send more help with him, she had refused him this request before. She did not provide him with a reason why she refused to make an army of part-humans like himself to go out into the world the unworthy had made and do what she needed done to free herself, but he suspected it was because she could not. He was not sure why, though. What could possibly prevent her from doing so? Perhaps, he had decided, if she sent more than himself into the world, the so-called gods would notice that demonic power had made its way out of the underworld, that their barrier was flawed.
Hesseth had plenty of time to ponder this on his way up the shaft and out of the mine.