Songs of the Full Moon

By Clive Hanuschak

In an age of Pharaohs and pyramids, Gods and Oracles, two men fight beliefs that could tear their world apart.

Accused of angering the tribe's spirits, and blamed for the raid and kidnapping of two children, Tor and Kel are banished for their closeness. Forced from home and apart from Kel, Tor must follow signs left by the raiders, Kel, and the two children

Seeking proof about the raid and healing for his doubts about himself, Tor visits the sleep temples of ancient Egypt (Kemet). But Tor's dreams and visions are shared by others also threatened by the growing movement of the raiders: the Pharoah, two of his priests, and a woman claiming to be the Oracle of the Earth.

To protect Kemet, the Pharoah sends them to Gebal and Cirali, both vital trading ports under potential threat, to find the truth about their disturbing shared visions and the raiders.

The destiny of Tor, Kel, the children, the Oracle, Kemet and Phoenicia will all meet at the Fires of Yanartas,

Tor’s writings and stories tell the value of finding yourself, celebrating differences, and the need to stand against hatred and division, and is ultimately a tale of joy and redemption.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clive Hanuschak
• Release date: Jan 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9780557750825

Clive Hanuschak

Clive Hanuschak is the Winnipeg, Canada based author of his debut novel, Songs of the Full Moon. He has lived and worked in Minneapolis, Los Angeles, and Vancouver, Canada.

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Songs of the Full Moon

By Clive Hanuschak

Copyright © 2010 Clive Hanuschak

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

For all who are different in some way, and hear the Songs of the Full Moon.

For our families, friends, kind souls and companion animals who help us accept and love ourselves and each other.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Preface

Prologue: Earth & Moon

Chapter 1. Tribe of the Bright Night

Chapter 2. Stones, Songs & Wolves

Chapter 3. Raid & Sacrifice

Chapter 4. Spirit Cave

Chapter 5. Nevea & the Snakes

Chapter 6. Temple of the Moon

Chapter 7. Oracles & Goddesses

Chapter 8. Kings & Pharaohs

Chapter 9. Two Legs

Chapter 10. Fires of Yanartaş

Chapter 11. Tears of the Moon

Chapter 12. Voices of Ra

Chapter 13. Heart of Kemet

Chapter 14. Shifting Sands

Chapter 15. Ma’at

Chapter 16. Unity

Epilogue: Moon and Beyond

Glossary

Acknowledgements

Few are able to sit down and write a long story, or even a whole book, in a short time. Songs of the Full Moon was written over almost two years, and I was blessed to have the means to be able to think and reflect and research and write with few worries during that time.

My family helped me immensely in many ways, and I thank them profusely. I couldn't have done it without their love and help and support. Dad and Mom, I love you!

I made many new friends and reconnected with many old friends during the last two years. My extended family and friends were interested and supportive, without fail, of my latest (of many...) endeavors. 

Special thanks to Geoff for his expert and patient review of my drafts, and the extensive notes he gave me. Also thanks to John Easton for the Moon image on the cover of the book.

Preface

We're all the same, yet different. Many of us focus on the negative aspects of our differences and the things we don't like about ourselves and each other. We still don't celebrate our differences. Some of us lose our confidence, or never find it, and even fall into depression.

Songs of the Full Moon isn't primarily about depression, and isn't a self-help book. It is a fictional tale, built around some real characters and events, that tries to tell a story about being different and finding one's self. That may be one of the oldest stories in the world, but finding one's self is still of the hardest things to accomplish. No one can really teach or show us how to find ourselves, and we just have to struggle and muddle through it as best we can. For some it is easy; but for some it takes years to learn and accept and embrace and celebrate who you really are, with all your flaws and gifts and skills and limitations.

I don't have any more answers about life than the next person, and only know what works for me. Songs of the Full Moon attempts to distill my own struggles and troubles and failures and successes into symbols and metaphors, and tell the kind of story I always wanted to read.

Since this is a work of fiction, I hope the reader will forgive any inevitable historical, factual or language inconsistencies. I'm not a historian or professional writer and would love to hear any comments or corrections about the story by [e-mail].

Clive Hanuschak

Winnipeg, Canada

December 2010

Prologue: Earth & Moon

Fourteen billion years ago, depending on which story and whose calculations you believe, our Universe came into being. Otherwise we would not be having this conversation. Some believe that our Universe was put into place by a Creator or Creators. Our scientists believe that the oldest elements found on the Earth, Moon, and meteorites are about 4.5 billion years old, and our Sun is about 5 billion years old. Others do not believe anything was created until modern human fossils appeared much later.

Now the question of why Universe was created is another matter altogether. Thinking about the hows and whys of Universe and Creation is enough to drive any sane creature mad. Many have been driven to lunacy through the ages, and not necessarily from pondering such deep questions as where the Universe came from. For now we will assume that the Universe was created, somehow, for reasons mere humans may never fathom.

About fourteen billion years ago (give or take), the story goes, an amazing thing happened. An immense concentration of energy was unleashed, and the big bang occurred. Particles and types of energy came forth to create light and energy from where there was previously only nothingness, not even darkness, which requires light to balance its’ existence. At first there was only energy, perhaps light, but not even matter. Energy would take its time to create light and matter. Even matter at first was not as we know it, but was made of the primal particles we have yet to discover with human magic. Our ancestors built great structures to try to tease the knowledge of the Universe, the Sun, the Moon, and the stars from Creation, and we still do the same with our modern inventions. The structures grow more intricate and complex--even dangerous, some say--yet we are still far, far away from knowing the secrets of Creation and Universe.

The first kinds of energy and matter started to settle down and behave themselves in a more orderly fashion. The solid matter that we limited humans perceive appeared, but was widely scattered through Universe only as subatomic particles, and later dust. Everything in Universe was a new invention, new technology, and Creation was amused with each new experiment. The new forces of atomic, electrical and gravitational attraction appeared. Energy and atoms and dust and the other new forces conspired together to create new structures. Stars, black holes, quasars, pulsars, comets, galaxies, clusters of galaxies, dark matter, dark energy and superclusters began to form. Other kinds of energy and matter we have yet to imagine, despite a million years of evolution, are taunting us to be discovered.

For billions of our human years, matter and energy and dust and stars and galaxies whirled about, and still do. Settling down is not really the right description; organizing temporarily might be a better fit, since Universe is always moving in some way. The only constant in the Universe is change, and some of the dust began forming into lumpy clouds. Some of these lumpy clouds birthed stars or other energetic forms; some birthed comets, rocks and even planets; some lumpy clouds did all of that. Our own solar system still has a lumpy cloud at its periphery, and some of the lumps visit us periodically as dust and meteors and comets and meteorites.

When they were ready, stars began to radiate energy and light and warmth. Clouds of dust around the new stars gradually became gaseous, liquid, solid or bits of each, and all manner of rocks and even planets later appeared. Universe is a very patient place and has no idea of time, a human invention. Trying to think seriously about time is another of those things that can drive minds insane, and you would be wise to merely accept that time happens. Some of our greatest thinkers believe that time only moves forward, that the past cannot be revisited or changed. This is a very good thing, otherwise the past would be constantly shifting, making the present Universe a much messier place. Perhaps the future can only be changed in the present, not in the past; but that does not mean that time cannot be slowed or made to stand still occasionally.

The lumpy clouds continued their own work, and arranged themselves in different ways. They spun and cooled and formed layers. There was still dust, but also lumps of every shape, size, and composition. Some lumps stayed together in their own clouds; some became captured by other larger objects, like stars, planets or solar systems. Some lumps became homeless wanderers, forever traversing the distances between stars and planets. Some decided to follow more orderly paths called orbits that enable them to repeat their appearances to us periodically.

The lumps gradually changed their compositions in their travels through the new Universe. Sometimes they attracted and accumulated new matter. Sometimes they merged with other lumps or were caught by the larger planetary lumps they happened to pass by. There might not have been a large number of traveling lumps at any given time near any planets, or solar systems of planets, but with the patience of Universe, there were many lumps attracted to each other. Lumps have minds of their own, and behave themselves accordingly. Some of the traveling lumps managed to accumulate some very interesting types of atoms and molecules, which they gave up to the larger lumps and planets they combined or collided with.

Some planets, like our Earth, were very lucky. They were just the right size, and at the right location. They spun and boiled and cooled and formed their layers in a more orderly and sensible manner than other objects did. Their suns were just the right size and composition, just the right distance away, and shone with just the right amount of energy and radiation--not too much, and not too little. On the surfaces, in the depths and heights of these rocky and gassy planets, matter was busily organizing itself into increasingly complex atoms and molecules.

Some of the planets were blessed with visitors over the years, the lumps that fell from the heavens. Some lumps gave the planets new atoms and molecules, and some were large enough to leave evidence of their visits as craters. Some of the traveling lumps might have even spread the complex molecules throughout Universe that helped some planets to create and evolve life itself.

Some of the larger traveling lumps are quite mischievous, and enjoy rearranging things to suit their fancy. The lumps delight in their ability to elicit change, the only constant in the Universe. Long ago before life even thought about appearing, one or more of the large lumps decided to play with our planet, giving Earth a single new companion, our Moon.

Life did not exist yet--at least in our corner of the Universe--and the Earth and Moon were still genderless. Were they lovers? Were they parent and child? Perhaps there is some other relationship we do not understand. The Moon might have been captured by the lonely Earth; or perhaps the Moon fell for the beautiful Earth and decided to stay, but neither are telling. Perhaps Earth and Moon were separated from each other by one or more of the mischievous lumps, or maybe they parted for their own reasons. They had been together for ages, and Earth and Moon missed each other very, very much. Moon stayed close by, forever circling around the Earth he was no longer part of. Both Earth and Moon playfully shine their light on each other in varying amounts, sometimes hiding from each other, sometimes calling to each other in full light. Sometimes Moon would even hide the Sun from the Earth. Being part of each other, the Moon and Earth playfully tug at each other, making great tides in the waters of the Earth. Even the rocks themselves, on both the Moon and the Earth, feel the call of each other. The Sun joined in this game too, but Earth hears the Songs of the Full Moon more strongly.

Being torn from the Earth as a smaller piece, the Moon could not hold onto its layers of water and air. They both, however, continued to receive visits from the playful lumps. The Earth absorbed most of her lumps, but the Moon easily showed cratered scars the lumps left behind in memory of their visits. The Moon was forever a barren place without the blanket of oceans and atmosphere that the lucky Earth developed. Moon kept his water and other elements trapped in his rocks and soil, waiting for future creatures to find.

The Moon grew sad and missed the Earth greatly. Moon was even a little jealous when life first appeared in Earth’s depths, on the surface, and in the air. Moon knew this was a wondrous thing and was also joyful for the Earth. Moon was there from the beginning of the Earth, and witnessed the creation of the first inorganic molecules. Moon shone with gladness as the molecules transformed themselves into the organic, perhaps energized from the bolts of lightning that came from the storms above the Earth's waters that Moon helped create with his continual songs and playful tides.

Moon was being a watchful father when the organic molecules of Earth became self-replicating, and both knew that something very special was happening. Both watched with joy and sadness as life came and went over the ages that followed. Life evolved under the influence of the Moon's songs and dancing around the Earth and Sun. From the smallest microbes and bacteria that ride the great tides, to creatures in the air and sea and on the land, all hear songs of the full Moon in ways we do not yet understand. Some creatures travel, spawn, birth, and migrate by the light of the full Moon; or seem to know when to avoid these things by the darkness of the new Moon. Some creatures are fooled or disoriented by the light of the Moon. Humans believe they and other creatures are susceptible to songs of the Full (or new) Moon, or when the tides of the playful Moon are highest or lowest. Like the life on the Earth he watches, the Moon's songs constantly change and evolve. There is joy at new life and its struggles and failures and accomplishments, but sadness and pain when Moon and Earth see life needlessly suffering, or destroying itself or others.

Even ancient creatures howled along with the songs of the full Moon. Humans ascribe all kinds of things to the Moon, no differently than our ancestors who first walked upright on two legs. Moon is always present and singing to his companion Earth, even during the day, and his songs are especially strong when he is fully lit by the sun. All creatures hear the songs differently; some not at all. Creatures conceived or born under a full Moon hear the Song particularly well, and struggle to make sense of it.

Chapter1. Tribe of the Bright Night

Who gets to decide who is weak or unworthy, and should be cast out? No one decides such a thing. Punishment for attacking with spears or words is a serious matter. Yet those who demand punishment and claim harm to themselves and their families, and offense to their beliefs and gods because others are different, are hiding hate in their hearts.

--Asta, head of the Elders

I am Tor, a hunter and the best story-maker in my village, the Tribe of the Bright Night. We are named for the songs of the full Moon that are said to guide our hearts. I used to believe that receiving inspiration, or becoming unhappy, from the Moon in the night sky was a foolish thought. Now I know that the songs are a reflection of ourselves and our own hearts, and we are wise to listen to what the Moon has to say. We gather at the tribal fire and tell our stories and sing our songs when the Moon is bright.

Thousands of years from now, one of my descendants will tell my stories. Perhaps the songs of the full Moon, the Oracle, and the Temple of the Moon that I visited all helped pass my stories along to those who would write them. I learned that thousands of years is nothing, compared to all that has happened before and will happen again on Earth, the Moon and in the heavens.

Our caves and huts are covered with the stories of our fathers and my own work. Lit by torches fueled by the fat of the animals we hunted and kept, and by the oil and natron we traded for, I have been painting stories since I was old enough to draw in the dirt.

I knew I was not like the others at a young age, and always wondered if that meant I was unworthy. Learning the stories of our fathers, and my own drawing and painting and storytelling gave me comfort and took my mind away from the sadness of being and feeling so different. I would cry at night, asking the Moon and the stars for words of truth and wisdom. I would not receive any answers, even when the Moon was full. I felt only my own pain and heard the loneliness of the Moon in response. Even Akela and his wolves howl at the Moon, seeking answers, but hear only their own echoes in return.

The elders told me I would find my answers inside my own heart, but I did not know how. Only then, they said, would I hear all that the songs of the full Moon have to teach me. I listened patiently to the elders but could not understand what they were telling me.

In his youth, my father, Niall, traveled to a far away tribe in Kemet to learn their ways. He returned with new wisdom and a wife, Raya, and was now our tribe’s builder. My father told stories of giant huts, temples and statues, all built of stone. My mother and I were the only ones who believed his stories about Kemet. My father builds the dwellings of mud-brick, straw and timbers that most of us now live in. Mother and father taught me how to paint the stories that cover our caves and huts.

My mother was not a builder. She says her fathers worked during the time of King Sneferu's first pyramid building projects at Saqqara over a hundred harvests ago. My father’s fascination with building endeared him to my mother’s father in Kemet, and he blessed their marriage. She returned with my father to our tribe, and later ruled our tribal council. Mother and father were both full of stories, but I never knew whether to believe them or not.

Mother says that her fathers worked for the priests, imagining and drawing the great tombs and pyramids and monuments built by the Kings. Mother loved to tell her stories for the children around the fire during gatherings. Her favorite was the story of Khufu’s solar barge. Stories like this were known among tribes outside of Kemet, and everyone would listen closely when my mother spoke. She would tell us how Khufu and his people loved life so much, they never wanted it to end.

They built great structures and even elaborate boats, like Khufu’s solar barge, to carry them in the afterlife. Khufu and other honored dead now lived in the heavens with Ra, sailing between the Sun and the Earth in eternal celebration of all life and creation. They were wonderful stories, but no one took them seriously, even my mother. She used her stories to get everyone to think about their lives and deaths, their actions and consequences, the Moon, the stars, the sun and the heavens. Our tribe did not know the Ra of Kemet my mother spoke of. We followed the spirits of the wolves, Akela and Keeka, the Earth, the Moon and the stars in the heavens.

We did not have great structures or tombs in our tribe, but our caves were full of the paintings of our ancestors. Mother thought this was a greater feat than even the largest pyramids, and encouraged my interest in drawing, painting, and story telling. I suppose I also got my creative and questioning nature from her.

Father and Mother were both stubborn, and would bicker playfully. She did not understand my Father’s passion for building, and he did not understand her ways, but they loved each other very much. Being from the tribes of Kemet who painted stories as well as words, she had a wise and sharp tongue. She was stern and kind and generous, but not to be angered. She was fearless and would scold anyone in our tribe if they were acting or speaking badly. As a child I believed that even the Great Wolves would obey her. She was moody and fierce, and would be annoyed if the wind, the sun or the rain was not to her liking.

Woman, my father would tease, though the bears and the deer and the wolves might obey you, commanding the skies is beyond even your power. They would glare at each other like two beasts about to fight, and she would start. Old man, she would reply, you have only one good eye left, and your huts grow more crooked every day. I will command the animals and the skies to my liking. Things would be tense for a few moments as they continued glaring at each other; then they would burst out laughing until their sides hurt and tears ran down their cheeks.

My best friend and companion, Kel, lived nearby in his own hut. We were born the same night under a full Moon, and were always together. Kel was named after the great wolf, Akela, who howled at the full Moon from the cliff tops when we were born. Kel also became the best hunter in the tribe. I was called Tor, for the fierce storm that struck at the Earth that night. My father said the Moon and Akela were restless that night, but Kel was bolder. During story-time around the fire, I would dress in furs as a wolf. Kel would pretend to be a monkey, crawling and walking on all fours, and look at the sky. He asked the sky for inspiration and guidance, and scratched his head and bottom like a monkey, and beat his chest. The children, and most of the adults, would giggle with delight. Kel always knew how to make everyone laugh. Then his monkey would become more serious, and would carefully and gracefully stand up, on two legs, looking over his audience. He would declare, very dramatically and convincingly, that the Moon, the Earth and even Akela would be afraid of the coming births of two men named Kel and Tor. I would laugh and howl like a wolf, motion to the children to be quiet, and creep up behind Kel to eat him. The children would roar with laughter, and we all knew that the Moon, the Earth and Akela feared no one.

We taught our children to be wary of the wolves. We told them Akela liked to take children. If they were worthy and not eaten, they would join Akela's pack, forever howling at the sunrise, sunset, and the Songs of the Full Moon. Unruly children were told they would be fed to the wolves if they did not behave, but this usually just made them laugh and roll their eyes at us.

Kel and I grew up together, and learned how to hunt, paint, and build huts from our fathers. Kel said that one day he would capture Akela for me, but he was always boastful. Even the Tribe's leader had only ever captured one great wolf, and had the scars to prove it. When we were old enough to hunt without our fathers, Kel and I began sleeping together for warmth and closeness, but never spoke of it to anyone. Some of the elders and the Unwanted would smile when they saw us together, but never said anything. I was afraid of many things, including becoming one of the Unwanted. I was sure they knew why I felt so different, and that Kel and I would both end up joining them. For now my differences and closeness with Kel were unspoken secrets.

Without the tasks of raising children, the Unwanted were also our healers, and tended our sick, injured, and dying. Those who did not attract mates, bear young or became too old or sick joined the Unwanted. They gathered plants and fresh water, cleaned carcasses, fished, and performed other chores normally done by women and young who could not join the hunts. The Unwanted fed and cleaned up after our little wolves, the dogs. The largest and smartest dogs would join us on our hunts. The tribe kept some of the slower, dumber beasts for food on the plain below, protected by trees we cut down, and the Unwanted were also our shepherds. I always thought it was strange they were called Unwanted, yet were so important to the tribe. My father told me not to ask about such things, but it always troubled me.

I believed that I avoided becoming one of the Unwanted because of my story telling and painting, and my parents’ influence in the tribe. I was trying to learn my father’s building skills, but it was not in my heart. My path would lie elsewhere.

I tried desperately to be like my father, to be a builder of huts. We were asked to build some especially tricky huts for the elders and the Unwanted one summer, when Kel and I were at the age of promise. I had a good excuse to delay my promise for a woman, saying I was too busy helping my father with the new huts, and my family stopped asking me about it.

The council had ideas for an unusual series of connected huts, with intricate plans they sketched with sticks on the ground. It was too difficult to remember, and every time we asked questions about what they wanted, they would make new and slightly different drawings in the dirt. They could never agree amongst themselves what they wanted, and depending on who we asked on which day, we got different answers. They resorted to painting their ideas in one of the caves, but the painting kept changing. Father moved on to huts for others, and left me to deal with the council’s wishes.

Then others in the tribe saw what the old ones and the Unwanted were planning to build, and things got even worse. There were objections that the huts were too tall, too close together, blocked someone’s view of the sunrise, the sunset, the Moon, the plains, the forest, or the river below, blocked another’s clear view of some animal pens, that they were not far enough from or close enough to the other huts. Someone else did not like how the paths went around the new huts. The elders in charge of this started pestering me almost every day, which I had very little patience for. The council constantly quibbled with us about the new huts--the thickness and heights of the mud-brick walls, or the sizes and quantities of timbers and roof branches that my father tried to decide on. Everything was harder since their wishes and plans kept changing. One day I was told that the elders might never ask us to build again for the tribe if things did not get settled quickly.

I wanted to tell the council that they must have rocks in their heads, and needed holes carved in their skulls, but I held my tongue. I was tired of their bluster, but did not want them saying anything bad about father’s building skills to the rest of the tribe. I told them what father had taught me to say to impatient elders, that they were free to act as they wished. That seemed to take the fire out of them, and they stopped hounding me. Their objections and quibbling continued, and another full Moon passed. Finally the council held a special meeting to get everyone to agree.

The elders presented their side of the story first, followed by an endless number of objections from almost everyone in the tribe who already had huts. There was lengthy talk about the planned heights, number and closeness of the new huts and paths to all the old huts. The council continued to argue with us about the quantities and sizes of mud-bricks and timbers we wanted to use. They were sure we had it all wrong.

The Sun set and the Moon rose. The fire burned low and was replenished several times. The Moon climbed and crossed the night sky from one side to the other, and the debate continued. Finally when morning light appeared, there were no more questions. The elders and the Unwanted would get their huts.

Then the rains came. The ground became too wet to build huts the way the council wanted, and everything had to be changed again. My unlucky Father got dragged back into it, and started bickering again with the council. My father knew my heart was not captured like his was by building huts, and I think he was relieved when I returned to my painting and storytelling.

Kel and I hunted together late that fall, after the new huts for the Unwanted were finished and I was no longer bothered by the demands of building for the council. Our parents were beginning to ask why Kel and I spent so much time hunting together, and were not chasing after women mates like the other young men. Kel told me one night, under the full Moon, that his family arranged his promise with a young girl named Lora. He cried when he told me he only agreed to be promised to Lora to silence his family. He saw her a few times that summer, while I was busy building huts with my father, and said they