The Myriad

Peering down from the rock face, Mother of the Myriad stared blankly but compassionately into the depths of the water below.  The twisted forms of her children tumbling from her open mouth had been smoothed and blurred by more than a century of warm spring water cascading over them into the pool.  Although their edges of the carvings had been simplified, the nearly-human abominations depicted still stirred faint disgust in any who approached.  The group shuffling towards the pool did not look to the massive carving, however, with heads respectfully hung low and veiled in coarse fabric of a vivid blue.  Heavy robes did not entirely disguise the subtle wrongness of several of their silhouettes.

"Mother of the Myriad, we come to return your child to your arms," the leader of the group cried as they came to the outflowing edge of the pool.  She pushed back her veil, revealing a surprisingly young face with just enough asymmetry to warrant a second glance.


"We entrust him to your love," intoned all but one of the other women.  The silent figure cradled a small bundle in her arms which she now brought forward towards the water.  Her clothing, unlike the others', was layered with chitonous plates from several recently sacrificed elamd now rattling with every step she took.  The group parted to make way for her and fanned out into an arc around her.


Although her voice betrayed recent weeping and had an oddly watery cast to it, she spoke clearly.  "I thank you, Mother, for your gift of this life.  We relinquish him to you in accordance with your will."  As she finished speaking her part, she handed the bundle to the priestess who smiled and made a gesture of blessing over her.  The other figures began to hum in winding harmonies as the two knelt at the water's edge.  Three voices joined with pure, high tones singing of the blessings the Mother had bestowed on her beloved Myriad.


No one from the village was sure how deep the pool was although the priestess assured them that it had no bottom but rather led to the realm of the Mother.  Instead of the dark and murk so common in rivers and ponds elsewhere on the continent, this spring-fed pool was quite clear and indeed luminous.  Strangely colored algae formed mats stretching along the steep sides of the shaft but did not fade away into shadows; a bright blue the matching the robes and veils of the congregants suffused the water, emitted from the unseen depths shrouded by the sediment filtering down from above.  A few other hot springs nearby shared this curious quality, but none so clearly and none were held to be sacred.


The young woman's control slipped and she began to cry softly, stifling the emotion as well as she could.  Beside her, the priestess gently unwrapped the form in her arms.  The tiny infant reflexively curled at the brisk air, but did not cry out; its head was little more than a pinched face and scraps of hair leaving no room for more than simple reflex and instinct while its throat could make no sound.  His mother reached for him, but the priestess pulled him away, still smiling gently.  Around the deformed child's waist was a belt of stones with the customary prayers written on them.


The singing reached its climax with the voices sweetly declaring, "Mother of the Myriad, keeper of the those the world will not, your love echoes in the deeps and endures," before falling completely silent leaving only the chuckling of the water spilling into the sacred pool.  They all knelt and pressed their foreheads to the ground as the priestess placed the boy on the surface of the pool.  The girl beside her sat with tears streaming down her cheeks but made no sound.  The priestess released the gently released the child and made another sign of blessing over its sinking form.


Together, signaled by the clatter of the mother's robe, all the assembled women stood and walked back down the path towards the village without another word.