Excerpt-Ring of the Or'tux

On a plane of existence unattainable by living mortals, sat the High Temple of Casdralla. Within its sacred halls resided the greatest of the Qyaendri who served the goddess. These beings, immortal and powerful, had the ability of traversing between the planes upon which the gods resided and the ones their mortal worshipers inhabited. Having such beings in their service was the only way in which the gods could affect what transpired on the numerous inhabited worlds of the universe.
In a never ceasing stream, the prayers of Casdralla’s worshipers were brought to the High Temple. Lesser Qyaendri were always among her people, ever watchful and listening to their needs. When a prayer was given up to the goddess they brought it to the High Temple, and there the decision was made whether or not to grant the follower’s prayer.
Prayers ranged widely from the mundane to the grandiose. Those which flowed from great need, or were in line with the philosophy of the goddess, were the ones most likely to be granted. Those of a selfish nature such as wishing ill on another so you could prosper, or for money to buy items of little import, were summarily rejected. Whether large or small, each was brought to the High Temple for consideration.
Many Qyaendri were always in and about the High Temple for there were many worlds upon which Casdralla’s influence had spread. Some worlds numbered followers in the millions, while others held but a handful. No matter the size, each was accorded the same amount of diligence by the attending Qyaendri.
This day was no different than any other, though days as mortals thought of them had little meaning in the High Temple. Qyaendri came and went with prayers both large and small. Those which had been deemed worthy, were assigned lesser Qyaendri that would return to the world from which the prayer originated and do their best to fulfill the worshiper’s need.
Needless to say, some prayers needed to be answered by more experienced Qyaendri. Those were the prayers which had a much more encompassing affect, or were directly linked to the worship of her followers; ones such as the choice for the next High Priest, or dealings with neighboring kingdoms, those sorts of things.
Once in a very great while, communication to the High Temple comes not from the worlds of her followers, but from the goddess herself. Only three of Casdralla’s Qyaendri ever had direct dealings with Her. Those three had served her the longest and proven their faithfulness and judgment over the millennium. Rarely were they seen within the High Temple. For the most part, they appeared only when they were there to gather high ranking Qyaendri and a cadre of Celestial Warriors for a mission to a world wherein Casdralla held little or no influence. Such missions were how she continued spreading her influence throughout the universe.
Of the three, Xi was senior and had served Casdralla longer than the memory of any other Qyaendri could recollect. Not for a thousand years had he graced the High Temple with his presence. And so, when he appeared within the Rotunda of the High Temple before the goddess’ statue, it was greeted with great surprise and anticipation. For surely, his presence foretold an event of possible world shattering import. Word of his presence spread like wildfire through the ranks of the Qyaendri.
Those Qyaendri on their way back to worlds to answer prayers, or simply to watch over the faithful, stopped when they were made aware of his appearance. Prayers were left waiting as each and every Qyaendri converged on the High Temple in the hopes of being one of those chosen to aid Xi in whatever his endeavor may be. While it was true, those of minor standing in the hierarchy of Casdralla’s Qyaendri had little chance of being chosen, one never knew. And so, each came and waited as Xi stood there quietly gazing out over the assembled Qyaendri.
Finally, his eyes settled on one of the Qyaendri. “Daeson,” his deep, base voice intoned.
A murmur ran through the assembled Qyaendri as the one upon whom Xi’s gaze was fixed made his way forward.
Daeson’s heart, if Qyaendri were to have such, pounded in his chest with pride and exhilaration for having been picked. As he made his way forward he could feel the eyes of everyone upon him, some joyful for him, others envious.
He wasn’t a high ranking member of Casdralla’s Qyaendri, but had proven himself throughout the years and was now what in human terms would be considered a sergeant of sorts. Daeson held a modicum of authority and oversaw a cadre of the lesser Qyaendri.
Coming to stand before Xi, he knelt down on one knee, bowed his head and asked, “What does our Lady require of me?”
An expectant hush fell over the gathered Qyaendri as they waited for Xi’s reply.
“Have Larus returned to the High Temple,” Xi commanded.
Daeson couldn’t believe at first what he had heard. Xi wanted him to bring Larus back? His first inclination was to ask why, but he dared not do so. If that was what their Lady wanted, then that is what he would do. Raising his head, he looked at the ancient Qyaendri. “It shall be done,” he replied, giving Xi another bow. When he brought his head back up, Xi was gone.

On a world far removed from the High Temple, a boy worked in a field cutting tall grass with a scythe half again too large for him. The youngest of five sons, he was thought to be a little bit addlepated.
He was often withdrawn and rarely had dealings with others his own age. This gave his mother and father grave concerns for his future. Now eight years old, he should be taking a more active role in life, but instead, seemed to be withdrawing more and more. He tended to work alone and was lost when forced to work with others. That was why he was here, alone in the corner of the field, cutting grass to feed their livestock. Next to him stood a wagon partially filled with grass already cut. Once it was completely filled, Allen could return home.
“I don’t care what you think,” he said to his friend.
“Yes you do,” replied Stymie. Though no one else could see him, Stymie was Allen’s best friend. They had been fast friends for two years now, and Stymie was the only one with whom Allen would talk outside his family.
“School is stupid!” Allen said as the scythe cut a small swath of grass.
From where Stymie sat on a nearby stump, he sighed as he watched his friend pick up the cut grass and lay it within the wagon. “School is not stupid,” he argued. “You get to meet people and make friends.”
After tossing the grass into the wagon, Allen turned to his friend. “I don’t like people,” he replied. “No one understands me.”
This has been a common conversation between them for some time. In the fall, Allen would be starting school as do all youths in his community when they reached their eighth year.
“They will,” replied Stymie. “You simply need to give them the chance to get to know you.”
Returning to cut more grass, Allen gripped the scythe and paused before cutting a swath. Without looking at his friend, he whispered, “I’m scared.”
Stymie hopped off the fence and came toward him. “I know you are,” he replied. “But I’ll be there with you.” When Allen turned to look at him, Stymie could see the fear in his eyes. Even a small tear had begun to make its way down his cheek. The dread he felt at being forced into social contact with others had grown steadily as the first day of school began.
“I don’t know what I would do without you Sty,” he said.
Then as Stymie always did when Allen grew melancholy, which he had begun to do less and less since Stymie’s first appearance, he hopped onto his hands and began gyrating around. When a smile broke across Allen’s face, he flipped back onto his feet and launched himself toward the boy. Giggling and laughing, the two rolled about in the tall grass as they wrestled.
When they finally broke apart, the melancholy which had taken hold of Allen was gone. Stymie knew Allen was in for a hard time once he began school. Over the past two years, he has seen Allen emerge from his shell bit by bit. By the time school began, it was Stymie’s hope he would be ready.
“You always know just what to do,” Allen told him. Stalks of straw intermixed with his shoulder length brown hair made him look quite comical.
“That’s what I’m…” began Stymie when his attention was caught by the sight of someone standing across the field looking in their direction. A sharp intake of breath followed as he saw a faint glow shimmering about the figure.
Larus’ time wasn’t nearly over yet. When he had come in answer to the prayers of the boy’s mother two years ago, he had been charged with helping Allen emerge from within himself and be able to have a more active role with those around him. In Larus’ mind, the resolution of Allen’s mother’s prayer hadn’t yet come about. To remove him from Allen before his mission was completed could undermine everything he had worked to achieve with the boy.
Staring across the field to where Daeson waited, he inwardly sighed. Creating a simulacrum of himself to remain with Allen, he hurried toward Daeson.
He came and knelt on one knee before the superior Qyaendri and bowed his head. “What does our Lady require of me?” he asked. Such was the ritual question a subordinate Qyaendri always asked a superior.
“You must return to the High Temple at once,” Daeson replied.
“But,” argued Larus as he came back to his feet, “my work here is not finished.”
“I realize that.” He paused a moment as he glanced back to where Larus’ simulacrum sat near Allen. “Xi has requested you to return.”
“Xi?” he asked, shocked beyond measure that a lowly Qyaendri like himself would even be known by one such as Xi. “What…what does he want of me?”
“He would hardly explain himself to me,” explained Daeson. “All I know is that you are to return to the High Temple immediately.”
It was with no small amount of trepidation that he heard those words. Once before he had been summoned back to the High Temple and it hadn’t been for congratulations on a job well done. Rather, it had been due to the disruption he had caused on a mission where they had striven to bring Casdralla’s enlightenment to one of the many worlds filling the universe. He could see that Daeson remembered as well. Daeson had been one of the leaders of their group and had lost much standing within the Qyaendri hierarchy because of him.
“But, what of Allen?” he asked.
“Allen will be assigned another Qyaendri,” Daeson told him. Directing Larus’ gaze back to the boy, he showed him where another Qyaendri had already taken his place. In every aspect, the new Qyaendri looked just like the ‘Stymie’ Larus had portrayed. It didn’t appear Allen even noticed the difference.
Larus looked on with mixed feelings, not the least was sadness at being parted from Allen. Many of the Qyaendri disliked being the ones who fulfilled the lesser prayers and would have jumped at the chance to put behind them such an ignoble job as being the playmate of a small boy. Larus on the other hand enjoyed these types of jobs. True, he had originally been part of Casdralla’s Celestial Warriors, and had shown great promise before the incident which had preceded his earlier summons back to the High Temple. But where he was happiest was out in the field helping to make the lives of his Lady’s followers better. He held great empathy for them.
Turning back to Daeson, Larus sighed and nodded. “I’m ready,” he said.
“Before we return,” said Daeson, “let me just tell you that I don’t know why Xi would request you. There are many others who are wiser...” he paused and stared at Larus as if daring him to argue, “and more dedicated.”
Larus knew that Daeson didn’t like him, and he felt guilty for having been responsible for all the troubles Daeson had gone through because of him. Frankly, he too was rather astounded that Xi had asked for him.
“Whatever he may have in mind for you to do,” continued Daeson, “give it your utmost attention and stay focused on the job at hand. I don’t want you to mess it up like you did before.”
“I won’t,” replied Larus. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll stay focused on whatever my task is to be.”
Daeson continued glaring at Larus for a moment before nodding. “See that you do.” Then with that, he and Larus left Allen’s world and returned to the High Temple.
Upon their return, they found the High Temple even more crowded than it had been when Daeson departed. Word must have spread throughout the ranks of Qyaendri that Xi had appeared and something momentous was in the offing.
None spoke to the pair as they made their way toward the rotunda where Xi had so recently appeared. The Rotunda was the general meeting area within the High Temple. Seven statues of the goddess were evenly spaced in a circular formation around the outer fringe. An eighth statue, dwarfing the others, stood majestically in the center. It was toward the central statue that Daeson and Larus proceeded. As they drew close, Xi appeared.
Larus and Daeson dropped to one knee and respectfully bowed to Xi in silence. They remained that way until Xi spoke.
“Larus,” resonated Xi’s deep voice.
Larus raised his head and gazed at the most ancient of all Casdralla’s Qyaendri.
“Our Lady’s people are faced with great difficulties in the times ahead,” he said. “Her presence on their world may come to an end.”
“No!” several of the Qyaendri among those watching exclaimed.
“What does our Lady want of me?” Larus asked.
“To save her people,” he replied.
“How?” asked Larus. The fate of her people on an entire world was going to rest in his hands? Where most would feel only the greatest sense of pride in being selected for such a job, he instead felt grossly inadequate with just a touch of fear.
Reaching out his hand to Larus, Xi replied, “Take my hand.”
Larus reached out and laid his hand upon Xi’s palm. As soon as contact was made, they disappeared.