The opulently dressed priest, shaven head shining in the sun, stood unmoved in the doorway of the temple of Enenshio'a.

"Please, Sir, it's important we get inside, my husband has had a visitation!" begged Ninri'a for the thousandth time.

"No commoners may look upon the statue, only the Enen and the chosen, now please leave before I have a guard remove you forcefully."

Gagesh stepped forwards, looming over the bald man, his dark eyes boring a hole into his forehead, "Move, or I'll move you myself."

The priest shrank back slightly, though still held his ground. Ninri'a placed a hand on her son's shoulder, pulling him down the steps, away from the priest.

"This is outrageous," hissed Shashishio'a, throwing his hands into the air in annoyance, "Always the bloody same with these holy men."

"A visitation from Enenshio'a himself and you won't allow us in to speak to him?" pressed Ninri'a, becoming angry herself now.

All around them, on the stairs leading to other temples, the priests and guards looked on, pointing at the commoners come to enter the holy place without permission or need. The temple precinct hummed with scurrying initiate priests and temple slaves. In the plaza, women brought shipments of cloth and basketry that they had made on behalf of the temples, receiving rations of food and oil in return for their labour. Behind it all was the faint sound of chanted prayers, repeated over and over within the sanctum of each temple, where the statues of the gods stood.

At the foot of the steps of the finely painted, pillared temple of Enenshio'a, behind the family, a beggar approached. His eyes were bound with a mucky, red rag, tied about his head atop his shabby hair. He carried a crooked stick, which he used to find his way about.

"You won't get in, they never listen to people in real need," croaked the blind old man, "too concerned with their own importance, I'm afraid."

Shashishio'a recoiled from the urchin, a look of disgust drawn across his face, "What on earth could you possibly want, old man?"

"A word, if I might, with your father, Shashishio'a, he is here, isn't he?"

The three sons looked at one another, surprised that this beggar would be specifically looking for their father. Ninri'a could see that Shashishio'a was clearly shaken by the use of his name.

"How do you know me?"

"I know everyone here, some better than others. Now, can your father speak? I sincerely hope that he doesn't communicate through sign language alone."

Asaba'an stepped forward cautiously, Mo'abe keeping step behind him as he approached the blind man.

"I am Asaba'an, who are you?"

"I wouldn't want to make you cry, again, young man. Suffice it to say that I come bearing a message, as the priests of this place have little pity and there will be little other way to tell you what needs to be heard."

At the slander of his order, the priest on the steps above them sneered at the beggar, who seemed to notice the gesture, turning his blindfolded face to meet the advance. The robed priest took several steps towards the stranger, scowling, before Gagesh put out a meaty palm and stopped him in his tracks with a shake of the head.

"Begone, you disgusting vagabond, piss off back to whichever gu-"

The priest's words were cut short as the blind stranger waved a hand in his direction. The flesh around his mouth and lips began to fuse together like melted wax, sealing in a bubbling scab. The man clutched at his face, clawing at the place where his mouth once sat. Gagesh leapt back in terror, letting the man tumble over forwards. He barrelled down the steps of the temple, head over tail, skull rebounding from stone slab after stone slab. His lifeless corpse came to rest at the foot of the stairs in an expanding pool of dark blood, which trickled from a cleft in his forehead.

The buzz of the plaza stopped instantly. Guards from all of the surrounding temples came rushing to the scene. Ninri'a and her sons formed a semicircle, prepared to go down fighting as Asaba'an cowered on his knees in front of the deadly stranger.

"A small price to pay for blasphemy, don't you think?" said the beggar as his body began to grow and change. His filthy rags morphed into the ornamental robes of Davtashio'a, stiff-woven with gold and silver threads. He stood at the height of three men, with skin of red clay and silver hair, which fell over his raw, empty eye-sockets.

Now all of the people in the plaza fell flat on their faces, worshipping the god of knowledge and writing from the floor. Davtashio'a paid no attention to them as he stood over the kneeling potter.

"Do you know what I was reading the other day, pot-maker?" he asked in a voice like far off thunder, "it was a treatise on alchemy. Now, usually I pay no attention to such pseudoscience, If a mortal could become immortal with herbs, I would already know, trust me, however, in this particular work, written some time around the scouring, there was mention made of mercury and its properties. Oh, I don't know how much my brother has told you, so stop me if you become confused."

Asaba'an merely mumbled as he stared up at the eyeless giant before him, Ninri'a could not blame him for that at all, likewise unable to move.

"Now, the author mentions in that work the reaction between mercury and sulphur, which dulls and absorbs the quicksilver. I won't bore you with details, just be content in the knowledge that you have to climb into a volcano to retrieve some for us, sulphur, that is. Well, content may be a poor choice of words… Be aware of it."

At that, Asaba'an whimpered.

"The downside of all this is, of course, that you will need a boat to get there, and judging by the quality of your craftsmanship and the accounts you had taken down by a scribe last summer, that isn't feasible for a man of your means."

The god turned to face the prostrated masses around him, withdrawing his clay tablet of knowledge from a pouch at his waist. He ran his fingers across its shifting surface, muttering to himself under his breath as he read it. A quick smile came across his lips.

"Now, Andi, son of Garad, did you make it to deliver that honey to the temple on time? Step forward if you did, please. Come on, don't be shy."

Not a soul in the crowd made a move and Davtashio'a frowned, running his fingers across his tablet again, "Look, I read correctly, you must be here, where are you, Andi?"

Finally a well dressed gentleman stepped forwards, his loose trousers and finely woven cloak marking him out as one of the Bargoabid, the boat people of the far south.

"Ahh, there you are! Take these people to the docks, give them your boat, please," commanded the scribe god.

A look of defiance flitted across the man's face for an instant, then looking down at the corpse of the priest, his expression softened again. Andi, son of Garad gave a shallow nod and beckoned the family to join him. Davtashio'a turned to face them again, and manhandling Asaba'an back to his feet, he reached into his pouch once more. When his hand was withdrawn, it was holding five swords of masterful workmanship, the bright, narrow, bronze blades sheathed in leather scabbards, embossed with images of warriors at battle.

"I would tell a bronze smith to outfit you but I don't trust mortal craftsmanship, it's always shabby. Take these, one for each of your family," said the god, offering the weapons to Ninri'a, who took them without question, shepherding her sons to follow the merchant.

"Go quickly, I have no idea when the next phase of Mari's plan will take effect. Oh, and good luck!"

With a flash of blinding light and heat, the god was gone, nowhere to be seen. The people about them began to take their feet and flock towards the family. Ninri'a pushed against the merchant's back and grabbed Asaba'an by the forearm.

"Go!" she yelled, her family sprinting behind as the confused and reluctant man lead them as quick as possible to the docks.

The press of bodies became denser as they moved towards the waiting shipyards. Fortunately, with three stout sons and her own strength, it was not long before they had managed to make their way through the crowds and to the jetty, where the boat was moored and ready.

"I hope there's going to be some form of compensation for this," complained Andi.

"You'll be famous in no time, everyone will want some of your honey now," replied Shashishio'a.

Mo'abe helped his father onto the deck as Gagesh and Ninri'a stashed a few barrels of salted fish and fresh water into the hold. The people had gathered at the far end of the dock to witness the beginning of the family's journey, though they dared not approach any closer now, fearful of angering the gods. It took only a short amount of time to prepare the small vessel, barely large enough for ten people, for sailing.

Casting away with no experience of the sea and very little idea about where to go or how to get there, they trusted to the gods for further guidance and the help they would need in their task. The boat had six oars, and two of the men worked on either side, Ninri'a steering. The currents of the gulf helped to speed the boat to the South-East, making light work of the first day's rowing. Ninri'a was careful to keep the shore always in view; to stray too far would be to become lost and ultimately drowned or starved at sea, incapable of navigating back to safety. It was at the dusk of that first night Ninri'a spotted the glow on the Eastern horizon, the feared islands of fire.

The stronghold of E'i, god of fire, the islands were a volcanic chain, crowned in the centre by a volcano of such great scale that it could be spotted for leagues around, standing proud in the Northern waters of the gulf. It was no difficult feat to recognise this as the intended destination of their journey.

As nightfall approached, they lowered their anchor to rest. To their left were the towering spires of the Dawn mountains, not far from shore, a spine of jagged silhouettes against the deep blue of the night sky. In front and still on the furthest horizon was the blood-red halo of the islands. The sea all around them was still and calm, the lapping of tiny waves against the hull rocked them to sleep.

As Io'a, goddess of the sun, came above the Eastern horizon with the dawn, Ninri'a was woken by the violent jerking of the boat; the once still seas were growing ever more choppy. The daylight did nothing to dull the glow of the volcanoes in the South-East and now a pillar of smoke belched from below the horizon. Above, whipped by rising winds, ink-black clouds swirled, grimacing with evil intent as lightning began to shred the air with cracks of hateful thunder.

"The anchor! Quickly, jump to the oars!" she screamed in panic, her sons responding in lively fashion.

Asaba'an too, terror etched into his greying face, leapt upon the bench, taking position.

"By all the gods! What now?" he squealed, working hard to bring the boat to face the shore.

Mo'abe had the anchor inside double-quick and Ninri'a steered the ship towards land.

"King of kings, protect us! What deadly waves!" cried her husband.

High above them, formless as gas, glowing clouds of elemental energy worked together to undo the boat and its crew. Ni sent her gusting winds from all directions, tossing the boat side to side, bucking upon the high, breaking waves of A'a. Sheets of bitter hale, the size of fists, pelted the decks, cracking the knuckles clasped tight around oar-shafts. E'i boiled the water about the vessel, splashes of scolding liquid heaving and bubbling onto faces bent in terror.

Chords and cables snapped taught, the wooden mast was bent double and cried out in torment. Boards and planks rattled and groaned as nails worked their way loose from creaking ribs. The keel of the ship bounced from the crests of tidal waves, whirlpools gulping down obscene volumes of water to either side of the prow. Then a bright ray of golden light split the sky in half.

Far to the left, back-lit by the same dazzling, radiant light; not of the sun but of his own divinity, Enenshio'a raised his hands and threw all of his power at the gathered storm. A shield of shimmering silver splayed out around the boat, hailstone and boiled water alike splashed off of it. The seas within the orb were stilled and the vessel regained its balance. She looked upon him, safe in the knowledge that their task had been ordained. Ninri'a's heart swelled with as she gazed at the god, high upon the mountain.

"Pull, lads! Heave to shore! The gods are with us!" she rejoiced.

Not all of the gods were with them, however, and soon the gathered elements renewed their efforts to destroy the family. Waves, which had already been towering over the gunnels, now came at the height of mountains and the winds tore the mast clear of the boat, carrying it high into the air. Enenshio'a's strength began to fail and they were dragged on irresistible currents, further and further out to sea. The storm had reached a crescendo so great that the elements themselves could no longer spy the ship through the maelstrom, losing it somewhere in the Southern gulf as the torment spun its way out of their control.

Beneath billowous black clouds, skin seared and bruised by the onslaught, Ninri'a lay flat on her back, swollen planks and disjointed beams scattered about her. Her family were exhausted, each of them curled into a ball or leant against the sides. Mo'abe vomited violently into the raging sea and even bold Gagesh had been reduced to sobbing tears. Her eyes dimmed as sleep came to claim her in his relentless onward march, the deadly clouds above her receded from her consciousness as she fell in on herself. Then she was adrift on an ocean of nothingness, her and her boat, becalmed by the release of oblivion. The outlines of her vessel frayed like rough-woven cloth and her heartbeat echoed eternally in her ears. For a time, she was safe in her unawareness.