Valhalla

Wahala in Valhalla – Part Three

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Disclaimer: This is not intended to be faithful to the myth or canon of any of the deities described in this series. If you are a stickler for the traditional origins and lore, this would be a good point to close the webpage.

The edge of the ethereum was every bit as fantastic as Eshu had described to Shango, and the other world was indeed as heavenly as theirs, yet different. It shimmered but with a hue that varied somewhat from that of the orisha plane.

Shango eyed the chasm nervously. It seemed to be changing in size all the time, expanding and contracting in time with the vibrations of the cosmic energy in the atmosphere.

“What now?” he asked Eshu.

“We wait. Or we leap, if you think we can do it in one bound.” Eshu chuckled.

“We don’t have time.”

“Your precious Alaafin might not, but we do. I can’t cross in a single bound but perhaps the mighty Shango might, with me on his back.”

“Be careful with your mockery, Eshu. I may have misplaced my oshe but you still do not want to make me angry.”

“Our earthly followers have a saying.  ‘Anger is the father of hopelessness’ … your Alaafin has 3 hours until he is crowned. We can either go back to look for your oshe, which we may not find in time, or press forward to Thor, whose hammer may not retain its sacredness in our plane, even if he agrees to lend it to you. Either way, your rage, legendary as it is, solves nothing for now.”

Shango’s eyes flashed momentarily but he pulled back. Eshu was right. Besides, he needed Eshu’s stealth to get him close enough to this Thor fellow. He heaved a sigh and stamped with his right foot, rattling his ankle amulets, and settled into waiting.

It was fortunately a very short wait as just then, a path materialised in the void beneath the chasm. On the road, being drawn by two of the largest bulls Shango had ever seen, was the cart filled with the souls of men and women, on the way to the Great Hall. They seemed battle-weary but happy, many brandishing swords. They were also of different physical appearance to the men and woman that worshipped Shango, with straight hair and coloured eyes

Eshu reached out to touch Shango’s hand, and Shango drew it back sharply. Eshu smiled.

“It’s fine if you want to get into a fight on the way to Valhalla in your coronation raiment. Or you could let me sort out our appearance.”

Eshu put his hand on his own head and was instantly transformed. His skin and hair grew paler, his eyes turned blue, and his body markings changed, as did his apparel. “Your turn?”, he said to Shango.

They jumped into the rear of the cart and apart from a few questioning eyes, none of the dead souls questioned their presence. One eventually tried to ask Eshu what battle he lost his life but Eshu only grunted a gruff whisper.

The bulls came up to what looked like palace gates and a guard led the cart the remainder of the way. “Welcome to the courts of Odin, einherjar!” he greeted them. “Come and be received by the All-Father, and his son Thor!!”

“Einherjar?” Shango asked Eshu.

“How is it you understand everything else they’re saying and not einherjar?” Eshu responded, confused.

There was no time for Shango to answer, as the souls processed out of the cart towards the Great Hall. The doors of the Great Hall opened and out of the piercing lights emerged two figures, who could only be gods. Their auras were radiant, they emanated cosmic power and the younger looking one had a hammer hanging from his belt.

Shango’s right hand tingled as he felt the power of the hammer… the power of mjolnir. The hammer had a voice and the voice was inside Shango’s head. A whisper at first, but persistently louder. “My name is mjolnir. Who are you and where have you come from?” over and over again.

Thor and Odin heard it too. “Do you hear that, Father?” Thor queried, beginning to panic.

“You two!!” Odin bellowed, looking directly at Shango and Eshu. “Come forth!”

Shango and Eshu felt themselves being pulled towards Odin, unable to stand to firm. As they got to his feet, Eshu’s masking fell away and both stood there in their usual form.

Eshu cowered slightly but he was emboldened by Shango’s fearless gaze. Shango stood upright and looked straight at Odin.

“You dare look the All-Father in the eye?” Thor sparked.

“Who are you and where have you come from?” Odin asked.

******** TO BE CONTINUED ********

Wahala in Valhalla – Part 2

/ Scribe of the Tword / 2 Comments

Disclaimer: This is not intended to be faithful to the myth or canon of any of the deities described in this series. If you are a stickler for the traditional origins and lore, this would be a good point to close the webpage.

“What troubles you, Father?” Thor asked Odin, in the Great Hall. “You sip your mead with uncustomary caution, and your brows furrow as they are wont to do when you are uneasy.”

Odin smiled, wearily. “I had a strange dream,” he began. “We were welcoming new warriors into the Great Hall, you and I, and in their midst stood a man who shone as brilliantly as a god. He spoke with the voice of thunder and his eyes flamed as yours do. He had black braided hair and his skin was the hue of cedars. All of a sudden he was stood beside me and he and I were welcoming you. And then it was you and I welcoming him again. Very curious.”

“Another god of thunder, Father? Surely the all the sky in all the world is not wide enough to contain two gods of thunder! It’s barely big enough for me!” he laughed.

“Humility was never one of your virtues, was it, son?” the All-Father replied.

“Let your heart not be troubled father, it was only a dream. And if indeed there are other gods as fearsome as I, then I must be the strongest and most fearsome of all, for I am the son of Odin! I cannot be supplanted Father, surely it is impossible?”

“Let us hope we never have to find out. It was only a dream anyway.”

—

“So, now, you’d like to hear about my multi-pantheon fantasies? All it took was for Oshe to go missing on coronation day?”

“I have no time for games, Eshu. I need a divine axe to perform my benediction today. If mine is missing and another exists, then I must have it. Or borrow it.”

“Would you lend another orisha your Oshe?”

“Are you mad? Of course not. And when I find out who has taken my Oshe, only the word of Eledumare will preserve their breath and…”

“So why do you think my fantasy thunder deity would lend you his?”

“Look – does he exist and how do we get to where him and his pantheon are?”

“WE???”

“Yes, you’re taking me to him. And If you lie to me I will strike you down and make a new Oshe out of your ashes.”

Left with no choice, Eshu agreed to take Shango to this other world.

“Just how exactly did you discover other pantheons?” Shango asked.

It turned out that most of the orishas only journeyed ‘vertically’ between the Ethereal Plane and their shrines in the world of men. But Eshu was the messenger of the orishas, and he liked to take the more scenic, lateral route. One such occasion, he came right up to the edge of the Plane and saw, just beyond the chasm, as clear as Shango was standing beside him, a world that was also ethereal but not theirs.

And to cross the chasm was not difficult. Every day, there was a bull-drawn cart ferrying souls from the world of men to this other word. It came up through the chasm and one only needed to leap onto the cart and be carried towards a huge hall, which he had learnt was called the Great Hall of Valhalla. As the deity of mischief and trickery, taking on the appearance of the earthly souls was easy enough to do. This was how he had come to learn of this other thunder god called Thor.

“What happens if we miss the cart when we leap?” Shango asked. “Can an orisha get lost in the void?”

Eshu chuckled. “You know we have to leap off as well on the way back, right?”

Meanwhile, back at the coronation, the Oluwo was concerned. He could not feel his master’s presence and this was most unexpected. He’d led the rituals all week personally and had seen the omens that Shango was pleased. He was reluctant to proceed without the presence of Shango, for how would the benediction be done if he was absent? The benediction was the most important, most sacred part of the ceremony. But he could not delay the coronation – the privy council would have his head. He therefore decided to do the only thing he knew he could in the circumstances.

“Brothers, the master calls me to say an extra prayer. Fear not, I will be there with you for the final rites” he said to the other priests.

******** TO BE CONTINUED ********

Wahala in Valhalla – Part One

/ Scribe of the Tword / 2 Comments

Disclaimer: This is not intended to be faithful to the myth or canon of any of the deities described in this series. If you are a stickler for the traditional origins and lore, this would be a good point to close the webpage.

It was a lovely night in the Ethereal Plane. Not “night” as mortals might describe it, for the deities had no need for the demarcation of time by the physical rotation of the ephemeral on its axis. And, indeed, what was time to those who lived outside of it?

Nevertheless, in a world that fed off the worship and adoration of men, there needed to be a semblance of order. Day, for when the supplications and sacrifices of the devoted rose up by faith to the orishas, and night for the tasks they needed to undertake to preserve, from the Ethereal, the things that kept the balance of the cosmos.

On this night though, Shango was preparing for the coronation of the new Alaafin of Oyo. He had been watching his priests making their preparations all week, efforts which would culminate in their proclamation of his blessings on the new Alaafin the next day.

No one else would see it except the Oluwo, but after the crown was placed on the Alaafin’s head, Shango would touch his Oshe – his famous battle axe – onto the new Alaafin’s forehead and imbue the new ruler with his graces, wisdom, justice and power.

His fellow Orisha never said anything, but he could tell a few were jealous. Yes, they received sacrifices from their devoted but these gestures were invariably for fleeting things. Money, favour, fertility and the like. Not a tradition that had endured for centuries.

He drank from his gourd, picked up his Oshe and started to head back to his chambers. He saw Eshu in the distance with the child-orishas at his feet, listening intently to every word that fell off his lips.

“Stop boring them with your multi-pantheon fantasies, storyteller!” he called out, laughing. “I keep telling you they are not fantasies,” Eshu retorted. “Little ones, do you know that Shango here is not the only axe-wielding thunder deity?” Shango felt the hair begin to rise at the back of neck. Not tonight, Eshu. Not tonight, he thought to himself and retired for the night.

A surge of prayers and incantations spiked Shango’s consciousness not too long afterwards and he realised the coronation was about to begin. He went into his vestiary to select his raiment for the day, settling on what men (more likely, women) might describe as burgundy robes with flashing white trimming and chartreuse hemming.

Feeling resplendent, Shango returned to his chambers for his Oshe but it was not hanging where he usually kept it. Thinking he might have absentmindedly taken it with him to the vestiary, he returned to retrieve it, but it was not there either. The deity of thunder was not known for being of measured temperament and started to bristle visibly.

He tried to feel the presence of the Oshe and have the Oshe call out to him and when that did not work either, he let out a cry of frustration, smoke beginning to pour from his nostrils. “WHERE IS MY OSHE???” he bellowed, shaking the ethereum to its core.

He could not perform the benediction without his axe. And a coronation without the benediction of Shango would be dire not just for him, but all the Orishas in the Ethereal Plane. Why? Because an Alaafin that was not imbued would be completely incapable of manifesting the mystery and divinity of and behind the throne. Without that, the devoted would begin to doubt. With doubt would come the fading away of the sacrifices and supplications. And if those went away, of what use would the orishas be?

Shango quickly summoned Eshu.

“I don’t have your Oshe,” Eshu protested. Shango ignored the protestations and looked Eshu squarely in the eyes.

“Did you say I was not the only thunder deity with a hammer? Is this the truth or one of your tricks?”

******** TO BE CONTINUED ********