Anumar's Fall Book I - The Golden Prophesy

THE SIEGE OF LIN-KAMARA

Lin-Kamara is the house of the Great Goddess and the Seat of Paradise, founded by the Great Goddess herself, from whom the city borrows its name, which, in the most ancient and sacred Tongue of Creation, means ‘Our Lady’.

No city in all of Paradise is more beautiful, especially at night, when Lin-Kamara’s famous shining trees illuminate the paved boulevards with their soothing, mellow light. Beyond their light, tiny flecks of light, called norama– or stardew– wink in and out of the night, floating about in their millions like pollen caught in a gentle breeze.

Unusual for a divine city, a great wall surrounds the celestial capital, imbued with all the protective enchantments known to the ever-living gods. The wall is relatively recent, necessary to some, but to others a blemish on Lin-Kamara’s beauty.

As night grows late, the Lin-Kamara is unusually quiet. On other nights, songs and shouts of laughter would still be heard by this time, for the gods love nothing more than to make merry from dawn till dusk and then to dawn again. On other nights, the theatres would still be open at this hour, full of gods enjoying the performance of the latest plays or symphonies; lovers would still be about, holding hands as they walked in the city’s many parks, or sharing kisses in starlit gardens; fellowships would still be having their chapter meetings. This night, however, is one of those rare times when bedtime comes early for the Paradise’s populace.

Though it’s not all quiet. The city guard are still about, patrolling the streets and watching the gates. The guard consist of gods sworn to the Highest, ruler of the gods. Like the walls, they too are a recent addition, and just as unusual, for what use did gods, who have little worries, have of them? None, it seemed, until certain, recent, events changed all that. As for the citizens of Lin-Kamara, they were yet to get used to them, these ‘excesses of security and indulgence in vanity’.

At the eastern gate, called the Glorious Gate, two of the guard were busy playing balaga, a popular board game. Other guards watched them as intently as if they were the ones playing, itching to draw the attention of either player to a favourable move that had escaped his notice. Hearing approaching footsteps, they looked up to behold the captain of the guard, and hurriedly got to their feet to salute him.

“Idle, I see,” the captain commented, eyeing the balaga board. He looked around. “An unusual night, is it not?” For some reason, that caused him a little unease. He would have been glad to apprehend a Merry One– one of those gods who sought fulfilment in criminal pursuits– this night. He walked out through the gate and was gone quite a while. When he returned, he had orders to be carried out.

“Shut the gates. The city is asleep; there is not any need to leave them open any longer.” The guards saluted him as he walked away. Drawing the great gates shut, they returned eagerly to their game. All the way from the other side of River Mero, Paradise’s holiest river, music from the dwelling of the god Oron drifted softly up to the Golden Gates, music so enchanting that distance did little to hush it. Indeed, it was not all quiet.

Beyond the great city, other places have quieted as their own inhabitants prepared to turn in for the night as well. One by one, lights were put out; here and there celestian revellers stumbled along the streets, taking swigs from flasks and singing wonderful nonsense as loudly as they could.

Two hours by carriage from Lin-Kamara, the hamlet of Meloth was aroused by a thunderous crash, followed at once by some very angry and particularly creative curses. Through the curtained windows of one of the houses, one could see a light as it moved through the house, until a goddess emerged from one of the doorways. Holding up an aether lamp, whose teardrop shaped crystal globe dangled from a silver chain, she stalked angrily around the house, towards one of the attached buildings, from whence had come the crash.

But she had barely turned the corner when her bare feet felt an unusual tremor in the earth, her ears picking up a distant rumbling.

Ire forgotten, she made for the main road to discover what it was. The night-time stragglers, at least those of them who still retained their wits, were no longer going in diverse directions, but were moving in a single direction, borne by an invisible current.

The rumblings grew alarmingly louder, shaking the ground enough for the stones to dance in rhythm. Curtains were drawn back and gods looked out of windows to see what was going on, and at each other in consternation. The sounds of footfalls were now clearly discernible.

Then suddenly, from just beyond the hamlet, there was a yell, drowned in the growing rumbling. And lo! a host burst into view, emerging from the dark and speedily climbing the paved road into Meloth. The advance was led by knights on foot, trotting into the hamlet at a measured pace. Riders cantered in on magnificent unicorns as black as night between units, keeping pace with the foot soldiers.

Meloth was thrown into turmoil. Many tried to flee, running off to the main road heading north, to Lin-Kamara. But the knights were swift. Quickly they surrounded the hamlet and rounded up all the residents, in the manner of sheepdogs herding sheep. Through it all, the people resisted, demanding an explanation.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Unhand me, you—”

“What host is this?”

“You cannot do this to me, do you hear me? I am a free god and I have my rights!”

“Are you Ranuyans? We have no quarrel with you.”

But the knights were unyielding, not to mention rough. The people of Meloth were hustled unceremoniously into the village plaza, with the knights surrounding them, blocking all the exits. Still, the protests and demands would not abate.

Then came the sound of a horn, followed by the announcement,

“Make way for the Highest!”

At the mention of the Highest, the buzz of protests became louder, more agitated. Amadon, Highest of Paradise, was not held in favourable esteem by most of the gods, and the fact that he was the one behind their harassment did away with all confusion, leaving only sheer fury.

“This is an outrage! What does Amadon mean by this?”

“Why has he sent his host to harass us?”

“How dare he treat us in this manner!”

“But this is not the uniform of the Cloud,” said a resident, looking closely at the knights’ outfit. They were wearing dark armour, typically fashioned to maximise freedom of movement during unarmed combat, which the gods enjoy. The armour was decorated with wavy patterns, and two monstrous fish of silver faced each other on their breast. Its edges were trimmed with silver. Their armguards were decorated with mother-of-pearl and studded with a single indam, a spiritstone.

“What of it?” snapped a goddess as the knights cleared the main road to make way for the Highest. “Did they not mention the Highest? How many Highestsare there in Paradise?”

“Amadon has gone too far this time!” growled another.

“Indeed,” agreed his neighbour, “Who knows what he is up to?”

His friend addressed the nearest knight, “Ho, knight of the Cloud, what does Amadon want with us?”

The knight strode forward and struck him so hard across the face that he was knocked to the ground.

“How dare you!” he spat, “We do not bow to any tyrant!”

“Are you not the Highest’s host?” demanded a goddess. The knight reached her with quick steps. As he raised his hand to strike a voice said behind him,

“Restrain yourself, knight. I gave no orders for my subjects to be mishandled.”

The villagers swung to face the Highest and confront him about what was being done in their hamlet. Instead, for the first time that night, they lost their voices, for it was not the Highest they expected to see. It was not even a Highest at all, but Amadon’s brother, Onigon, who the sons of men on earth below worshipped as Watcher of the Deep.

He was outfitted with blue steel armour decorated with sea foam trimmings and a double-headed wolf device on his chest, both worked in silver, shoulder guards also overlaid with decorated silver. He had a silver earring on his left ear. With him were his generals: Kanus, his First General, Drigori, Agelon and a goddess, Ekura. They all wore armour similar to his.

The knight Onigon had addressed bowed to him and retreated. Only then did the villagers recover and started whispering to one another.

“His subjects?”

“What does he mean?”

If a gate has 2 pieces, do you use the plural form gates?

Generally, no. We focus more on the place in the wall, fence, etc., where one can enter and exit. That place is singular. if the gate has two “doors” It matters not.