Well of Sins: Book One: of Chastity & Lust

By Emma Chichester Clark and Bonnie King

BOOK DESCRIPTION

All civilizations have a story or myth of an Armageddon, a great war where good and evil will clash, fighting for the fate of the Universe. Some say good will triumph, others say not.

In the time of Troy, three god-forged items were crafted. None of the gods who made these artifacts knew of the vital role each will play in that battle until history has molded them to its own needs.

From Troy through Moses and to the Emperors of Rome, these items have been influenced by the sins and virtues of those who held them, and in return they have influenced their holders. From one hand to another they have been passed, through the generations. Only centuries after their making will their final purpose be known.

No one truly knows when Armageddon is supposed to begin, but many believe it is right around the corner. They may very well be right. A time approaches where these artifacts will be sought; whether for good or evil remains to be seen. But to understand what these items are, it must be told how they came to be.

It all started in Troy, with a little girl who loved a particular god very much.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465309969

Emma Chichester Clark

Emma Chichester Clark studied art at the Royal College of Art. She has worked as a freelancer for magazines, publishers and advertising agencies as well as teaching art for several years, but now dedicates most of her time to children’s books. She was nominated for the Kurt Maschler Award for Illustration twice and ‘I Love You, Blue Kangaroo!’, was shortlisted for the Kate Greenaway Medal.

Book preview

Prologue

For centuries, mankind has debated on how the Universe came to be, as well as what forces ruled over it. Some say a single deity created it all, perfect from the start. Others believe it blossomed from an unexpected explosion and developed naturally over billions of years.

Alas, they have yet to understand the truth.

You see, this Universe in fact was an accident, though it was no act of nature that created it. In truth, it was nothing more than a side effect of powers clashing. The Elder Gods—so old that their names have long been lost—existed in a place that was not a place, where things such as Order did not exist. There was no physical matter, no time, no consistency, no boundaries or limitations. Only the natural force of Chaos could be found, and the Elders had often battled against each other, manipulating Chaos and flinging it at each other. It was during one fateful battle where the clashing of Chaos became too much for their reality to handle, sparking a phenomenon unlike any that they had ever witnessed.

From the great backlash, new forces were born. Time. Gravity. Physics. Order. The Elder Gods were unable to understand these influences, thus they feared them. Order created form and matter, laws and restrictions. As entities completely unhindered even by physical forms, they feared that Order would steal their freedom.

During the blast, a small number of Elders—no more than a dozen—were drawn into the new Universe. Physical forms, though malleable, were imposed upon them. They suddenly felt the slow plodding of time and the pull from one object to another. Most could not adapt to this new existence. Many went mad and a few simply ceased to be, creating nebulas of Chaotic energy.

This energy was dense and its power overwhelming. Even so, it succumbed to gravity as each pool tugged physical matter toward themselves. In this way, galaxies were born—each centered by what would eventually be called black holes.

Though confined by Order, the energy in each black hole was still Chaotic, and from them sprang new entities, each unique to the force that formed it. Though still composed of Chaos, these younger yet still-ancient gods were shaped by the Order of the new reality and, therefore, had no need to fear it. In fact, they could inherently touch Order and work with it to shape the Universe.

Those Elder Gods that survived still roamed the stars, some just passing time. Those who fell into madness refused to adhere to the new laws created by Order. They continued to wreak havoc, trying to overthrow the stability of the cosmos by drawing upon that with which they were more familiar: Chaos. Thus, the first generation born under the laws of Order—who eventually began to refer to themselves as Ancients—took it upon themselves to minimize the damage. Each Ancient vowed to watch over the galaxy from which it was spawned.

These Ancients soon realized, however, that they could not do it alone. Thus they reached into the black holes and drew forth more Chaotic energy, shaping it into powerful, godly servants. The angels, the Titans, and other gods. They were meant to assist in the shepherding of the cosmos, but not all were willing to do so. Some were quietly influenced by their mad Elders, while others craved more power than they were due. Those aligned with Order soon found they had to regulate their own brethren as well as everything else. Those whose rebellion brought them past the point of redemption had to be eternally confined so they could no longer harm what the others strove so hard to create.

In one spiraling galaxy that would someday inspire the name of a candy bar, the Ancient named Yahweh guarded his stars with the help of many different servants. Those worlds that could be considered living were his most cherished creations, though the younger gods perceived them more as playgrounds. Still, Yahweh’s underlings guided life as he directed.

As time went on, the Ancients devised new methods of creation, all trying to outdo each other in the spirit of friendly competition. Every manner of animal, mineral, and vegetable was created throughout the living worlds of the Universe. Great beasts roamed the worlds, and all were magnificent. However, none were divine.

It was Yahweh who conceived the first Soul, drawn from the same pools of energy from which the gods sprang. These Souls were placed into corporeal forms and given the one thing the gods did not possess: free will. Thus were mortals created—above the beasts, but not yet gods.

Because the Ancients and their servants were created with the same energy as the Soul, they could tap into that divine spark. They could also subtly influence that energy in order to help guide the mortals. While this was a great achievement indeed, it had unforeseen side effects. This free will allowed the mortals to believe and act however they wished. This belief, this faith, echoed in their Souls. Because the Soul was made from the same energy as the gods, such deities were inescapably bound to mortal faith; therefore, Souls could only be accessed by those deities the Soul believed in. The more Souls that believed in a particular deity, the more powerful that deity became. Alas, the reverse was also true. As more mortals lost faith in a god, that god’s power was greatly diminished. Still, so long as a single mortal remembered that god’s name, that god could continue to exist, usually taking refuge in their own godly realm. A god would fade completely only when all of mortalkind forgot them, their cosmic energy returning to the pool from whence it came.

Thus, an intense competition arose between the gods to see who could get more followers. None of them wished to fade, or even become diminished, so they each fought to instill themselves in the hearts of mortals. To thank those that gave them love, the deities created realms in which Souls could rest after death.

Then, one day, something happened that shook the gods’ foundation: a mortal stopped believing in them altogether. None of the divine beings could touch that mortal’s Soul. None of them could shepherd that Soul into one of their utopian afterlives upon its passing. Upon its death, that Soul went to a place Between—not of the living realm, not of the afterlife. It was lost and alone. The gods named this place Limbo.

One god could not accept this. It is unknown exactly which deity rallied against this incident, as even the gods themselves tell different versions of the story. What is true in all accounts, however, is that this lone Soul was given another chance at life. If that reborn Soul found faith and kept it, it would be able to go on to bliss when it passed.

And so it went for any Soul that drifted into Limbo, with the gods going out of their way to encourage belief the second time around. They feared the damage even one lost Soul could do.

Unfortunately, sometimes even these divine efforts were not enough.

When the mortals were first created, Yahweh had summoned his personal servants, the angels, to come pay respect. Most did, but there were many who refused to bow to a creature that was below even them. One angel named Lucifer, the brightest of them all, had led the dissenters in a rebellion. They were subdued, however, and cast out of Yahweh’s heavenly realm. It was therefore somewhat understandable that Lucifer and his ilk harbored a bitter hatred toward both the mortals and their makers. So Lucifer took it upon himself to offer Souls in Limbo another option: joining him against the divine. Very few Souls who accepted that offer realized that it was the last act of free will they would ever exercise; because they willingly sacrificed their free will, it was Lucifer’s to take.

Whenever Lucifer so claimed a Soul, it was truly lost. The energy of that Soul was beyond the reach of even the strongest gods. They knew that, eventually, Lucifer could very well convince all of mortalkind to stop believing in anything but him. All of the gods would be forced to fade back into the Universe, leaving Lucifer with no opposition.

Chaos would once again reign.

* * * * * * *

Deep below the sky, the sea, and the earth was a pit swathed in darkness. Light shunned the place, unable to exist in even the slightest form. Occasionally sounds would slip out of the shadows, though they were muffled by the heaviness of the cold air. The rattle of chains, whispers of urgent anger, and every so often a cry or sob. It was a place of despair and misery.

It was a fitting prison for those gods who rebelled against Order.

There was a surprising—and perhaps alarming—number of prisoners in Tartarus. Many gods, demigods, and demons had tried their hand at conquest, but they had all been subdued. It was a source of shame to Yahweh, as his prison was more crowded than those of most of his Ancient brethren. Needless to say, Tartarus was rarely discussed.

Several of Tartarus’s denizens had tried to escape, but Yahweh was nothing if not thorough. The chains that bound them were a collaborative creation of several divine smithies, and the pit’s boundaries carried the most powerful wards. Those that were desperate enough to attempt an escape found it impossible.

Those that knew better were content to sit back and watch the failed escapees make fools of themselves. Some, though, took mental notes, learning from the failures of the others. They were patient and knew that someday they would be free. Then they would take back what was rightfully theirs, and this time, nothing would stand in their way.

Chapter 1

The oracle of the Phrygian kingdom stood before his king.

Are you sure? the king asked. He sat slumped in his throne, contemplating the expense and hassle required to hold the annual tournaments. The harvests had been poor this year, and he was considering cancelling the games. However, the message his oracle had just delivered made that an impossibility.

Quite, sire, the oracle answered with confidence. The Vision was clear, a message from the Shining One himself. He desires that you gift the winner of your games with his sacred animal and beseeches that the victor build a home for it wherever it should first lie down to rest.

The king sighed and mused over the situation for a moment. He then nodded. Very well. As the golden Apollo wishes, it shall be done.

* * * * * * *

Three weeks later, Ilos, the eldest prince of Dardania, stood in the center of the arena. He was tall and deceptively slender. His strength was well hidden and had caused all of his competitors to underestimate him.

Those same competitors now surrounded him in various states of exhaustion. He had triumphed at every event—his javelin and discus had flown the farthest, his feet had carried him the fastest, and his legs had propelled him the highest. Anyone who doubted his complete and utter victory would have to be blind.

He lifted his arms to the sky as the crowd began chanting his name. He was by no means a conceited man, but even he was taken by the thought of all those people knowing and respecting his name. He reared his head back and roared in triumph, ridding himself of whatever adrenaline remained. The spectators cheered louder, their volume threatening to deafen everyone present. Ilos turned in place, arms still held high and hands balled into fists, offering his new admirers a broad smile. He stopped only when his deep brown eyes met those of the host of the games, the Phrygian king.

The sage ruler beckoned the young man forward and Ilos complied, quickly combing his damp black hair back with his fingers and straightening his tunic. He strode across the field with an undeniable aura of strength, pride, and honor. When he was near enough so that the king could speak to him without shouting, Ilos dropped to his right knee and bowed his head in veneration. He had learned many things at the feet of his grandmother, honor and respect being amongst the more important. When the King bade him rise, Ilos stood to his full height.

You have traveled far, young man, the King said.

Ilos allowed another small smile. I have, Sire, and I am pleased to say that it was well worth the journey.

And it had been. He had set off from his father’s kingdom of Dardania in order to find his own way. He felt that his destiny waited for him somewhere outside of his father’s sway. He didn’t want to rule just because he was the eldest son of a king. He wanted to stand on his own merit. So he ceded his father’s throne to his younger brother and set out. His father was not entirely pleased, but allowed his son this journey in the hopes it would eventually be worked out of his system.

When Ilos had heard of the games being held in Phrygia, he jumped at the opportunity to compete. He had always been athletic and loved a good competition. He wasn’t so vain that he was perfectly assured of his own victory, but he knew he would give the other entrants a challenge at the very least. His victory was pleasant and well earned.

The king nodded to him and said, As you are the victor, you are due your reward.

Ilos’s smile quickly became forced. He had entered the games not for the prizes, nor for the honors and renown he would gain. The joy of competition was enough. He was already a prince in his own right and didn’t need the riches of others. Moreover, he had heard what the prize actually was and was none too thrilled. While many would love to have fifty youths and maidens to do with as they pleased, Ilos couldn’t stomach becoming what would be nothing more than a slave master. He had left his father’s domain so that he could be free to follow his own star, and to deny others the same freedom was wrong beyond all reason to him.

He strengthened his smile and replied, While I appreciate the gesture, my Lord, it is not necessary. What would I do with all those people, anyway? he thought.

The king chuckled. Your humility is… refreshing. However, I must insist. You have earned it. I also must tell you that there is more to your prize, and Apollo would be most displeased if you were not to accept it.

* * * * * * *

In the end, Ilos had accepted what were meant to be slaves, though he had every intention of giving them their freedom. They were so surprised and overwhelmed by this generosity that they decided to follow him anyway. After all, many of them had no knowledge of the world outside of being owned by others, and they wouldn’t have fared very well on their own.

The second part of his award was surprising. Ilos was told it was a gift from Apollo himself. He had never expected to be granted a gift from the gods, and while he could’ve done without the slaves, he was eager to accept Apollo’s reward. When he learned that it was to be one of Apollo’s sacred animals, he anticipated a tamed hunting wolf or a magnificent bull.

He was utterly underwhelmed when he found out it was a normal, young, unbred milking cow. He was quite confused when he was told to build a shelter for her wherever she should first lie down to rest. He was then ordered to build a city around that shelter. Ilos thought this was an odd way to find a suitable location for building a city but, considering it supposedly came from Apollo himself, he wasn’t about to challenge it. Besides, he had wanted a kingdom to call his own anyway.

As the cow had been very healthy, she had been able to travel far before she needed to lie down. Eventually, the cow brought Ilos and his troop to the largely unsettled western shores of Troia, just south of Dardanus, the city of his birth. The sacred Mount Ida was not far off to the southeast. Lush fields speckled with wildflowers covered the area, proving the soil’s fertility.

Knowing destiny when he saw it, Ilos honored Apollo’s wishes and began to build a city at that spot. His father, King Tros of Dardania, realized that this was not just a phase and his eldest son was serious about establishing his own kingdom. Therefore, he gave Ilos a prize bull to go along with his cow so that he could grow a strong herd. Both Ilos and the cow appreciated the gesture, though for entirely different reasons. Tros also granted him a wooden statue of Athena (called the Palladium) that had been handed down through the generations. This artifact acted as a safeguard that would protect his people so long as it remained within the boundaries of the city.

So Ilos and his group set to building a meager town with the help of local farmers and shepherds. The quickly growing village was named Ilion in his honor.

Some time after the city’s founding, Ilos was sitting in the audience chamber of the town hall, looking over the latest progress reports. He didn’t feel his town was yet large enough to warrant a palace, and he had never been one for such grandiosity anyway.

He smiled as he sat in his ornately carved chair and pored over the scrolls on the small table next to him. The crops planted in spring were finally ripening and in greater abundance than he had hoped for. Two couples that had married rather spontaneously in summer were now expecting children. Just last week, even his beloved founding cow had birthed her second calf of the season. He