Berzerker

Image of an angry man shooting a gun, a howling dog and a mummified being.

Vincent was in love with a goddess. She was the sweetest, loveliest person he had ever met. Her name was Francine and although she loved Vincent oh so much, she was called to be a priestess.

Vincent trained day and night to become a fierce warrior. He dreamed about the honor and respect he would gain by being a great warrior.

One day, the sheriff of the town announced war coming. All the young men were called to fight the battle for the protection of their way of life and for the kingdom, for glory.

Vincent and Francis were sad to part. They did not know if they would ever see each other again.

Vincent was a warrior and more than anything he wanted to achieve glorious victory in battle and to be honored as a true hero. He went off to war. The war was horrible and terrible and lasted a very long time.

While Vincent was away, he heard stories about a goddess religion growing stronger and subverting the rule of the King. Eventually the war was over and Vincent returned home. He wasn't the hero he wanted to be.  He had not achieved the glory he had wanted.  He was fierce and formidable,  but he had seen too much death, pain and suffering.

He returned home. What had kept him alive were his thoughts of Francine. He longed to be with her.

He came home and found out that Francine now lived in the temple. He went to the temple and it was the most beautiful place he had ever seen. But after so many years at war, Vincent could not bear the beauty. It tore at his heart. Something he had shoved away and buried it deep inside himself.  The beauty made him double over with pain.

He called Francine's name! He howled it into the sun. Soon members of the temple came running out to see this grizzled warrior.

He was still filthy from all of the years at war. His hair was tangled, scars covered his face and body from the wounds he suffered. He was missing teeth. He was a horrible mess.

As he screamed and cried, the women and men from the temple hesitated. When they saw this broken man, they said they would help him and they could tend to his wounds and heal him. But no. It was too much for Vincent to bear. “Francine!” He cried, “Where is Francine?”

The crowd parted and Francine appeared. She held Vincent in her arms, and Vincent wept like a child. He was so happy after the many years of war to be home again.

“Come home with me, Francine. We will build a home and have children. We will have the life we always dreamed!” Vincent weeped.

Francine hesitated and said, “Oh Vincent. This is my home now. This was always what I wanted.” 

“No!” Vincent cried. “We were in love! We were meant to be together”. He looked down at his hands and his fists.

“Let us help you my brother!” The men reached out to Vincent and laid their loving hands on him.

“No!” Vincent cried. He started to struggle. He pulled out his weapon. Francine screamed.

Vincent looked at Francine. He had seen that look many times before. That was the look of many of the women he had to kill during the war; the look of fear.

The look on Vincent's face was that of an angry stunned animal. The group of temple workers took Francine by the arm and brought her into the temple.

Francine sadly said, “Oh Vincent, Vincent I'm so sorry,” as the stone doors closed.

Vincent was lost now. All those years he dreamed of Francine and now he wished he had died during the war rather than to be here without her now.

Weeks passed and Vincent moved back home. He drank, he raged. He started to hear more and more stories about the work of the Mother Goddess sect. They were growing more and more powerful. The people talked of their healing powers. Some were enamored by the group, but some were very afraid of them

The sheriff of the town had an important announcement; we would need men. The Mother Goddess sect had grown too powerful and the king wants to bring them in for questioning. Could they have any volunteers? “How about you Vincent? Would you be one of the King’s men?”

Vincent stood up and said “yes”. He would stand with the King.

Their orders were to go from temple to temple, capture the priests and priestesses and detain them for questioning.

They did not start at the temple where Francine lived.

When they got to the first temple, the guards would not let them in. The Warriors forced their way in. A skirmish started; Vincent was punched. Rage ignited within him. He drew his axe and cut off the head of one of the temple priests. Blood squirted all over Vincent and Vincent went into a berserker rage. When he was done, everyone was dead.  Vincent was surrounded with the corpses of the priests and priestesses.

The king was pleased. Vincent was applauded for his efforts. These priests and priestesses were subverting their way of life. The King and his ministers said that the prests and prestesses were as bad as their enemies they fought in the war.

Vincent and his warriors killed anyone who stood in their way.  The ransacked the temples one by one.  Vincent's rage grew and grew. His rage became more and more ferocious.

Until one day, they arrived at Francine’s temple. They broke through the door and started their raid.  Vincent recognized where he was and went even crazier.  A small part of him pleaded to stop, but he could not, would not.  He attacked with a greater ferocity but then stopped.  There was Francine!  She was wounded and covered in blood.  Vincent’s heart broke again.  He thought he had nothing left to break, but he did.  He looked down at the blood on his hands.  He stepped forward and a tall man stood in front of him.

This man stood a foot taller than Vincent and his hair was pulled back into a bun.  His robes were immaculate.  He stood still; his hands clasping a tall staff.  

Vincent roared for him to move.  The man did not.  Vincent tried to push past him,but the man stopped him every time with his quick moves.  Vincent lifted his great axe to strike down the man.  The man countered with his tall staff and disarmed Vincent.  Vincent’s axe fell to the ground.  Vincent reached for his axe and the man slammed his staff down and smashed Vincent’s wrists.

The pain was incredible.  Vincent, in all his battles and all his wounds had never felt such agonizing pain.  The man swung the staff upwards, striking Vincent in the neck and Vincent saw black as he lost consiousness.

Vincent awoke later on.  He was completely disoriented.  Where were the screams he was used to?  Where were the snores of the warriors to which he had grown accustomed to?  He heard birds singing and calling to one another.  One set of birds sang and what may have been on the other side of the valley, another group of birds returned the call.

Vincent tried to sit up, but could barely move.  The sounds of the birds were almost deafening.  He could smell the forest.  He could discern a window on the side of the yurt he was in.  There was green trees everywhere.  His hands were bound with bandages.  Someone had treated his wounds.  He tried to get up but did not have the strength.

Days passed in this manner.  The people who tended to him did not speak.  Someone came to him every day and fed him broth and cleaned his bandages. He started to remember the man who did this to him. His neck hurt terribly;  he could barely move with his neck so badly wounded and he could not even speak.

Eventually, he could sit up.  Finally,  he could speak.  He demanded to know where he was.  A young man, dressed in light clothes, who had brought him his meals, smiled and nodded while bowing his head.  Vincent grew so angry that he lunged at him.  He struck the boys face and started to choke him.  Out of nowhere tall man with the staff and wearing the immaculate robes appeared.  The man took his staff and separated Vincent from the boy whose nose bled profusely.

“Where am I?”  Vincent screamed.  “Who are you?  Where is Francine?” he demanded to know.

“I am your new Master,”  said the tall man.  “I have taken you from the King and you will now serve me”.

Vincent glared at him and lunged at the tall man.  The man sidestepped Vincent’s attack and struck him on the leg.  Vincent got up and tried to strangle the man.  The Master moved slightly to the left, barely touched Vincent’s left arm.  Although Vincent was barely touched, excruciating pain passed through him.  Vincent felt so much rage and anger, but could not move.

“This behavior will not do any longer.  You will remain here until you can control yourself’” the master said.  He pressed the end of the staff against Vincent’s shoulder and Vincent passed out from the pain.

Everyday Vincent tried to escape and every day the Master appeared and withalmost no effort, easily subdued Vincent.  Finally, Vincent grew more and more exhausted.  Eventually, Vincent stopped fighting.  Eventually, Vincent learned to control his rage.

Vincent was finally able to leave his yurt.  He helped work the fields.  He carried stones from the fields and to the stonemason.  When he had a free moment, he watched the master stoneworkers carve their reliefs.  They carved the bodies of beautiful women, men, children and animals.  Vincent could hardly believe what he was seeing.  When no one was looking, he would rub his fingers across the smooth surfaces of the stone.

Vincent started to volunteer whenever a great stone was uncovered in the field.  He would help remove it and he had a natural strength that could pull the stone from the Earth.  He would ask the stone if it minded being removed from its slumber and he told the stones how they would become part of beautiful works.  The stones would seem to be released from the Earth.  Somehow he knew this, somehow Vincent was connected to the Earth.

One day the stonemason recognized the look in Vincent’s eyes when he looked at the stones being shaped.  Stories of Vincent’s uncanny ability to remove great boulders from the ground soon began to circulate among all the people throughout the grounds.

One day the Master came to him.  In his hands he held a chisel and stone tools.  He handed them to Vincent.  Vincent started to weep.  Years of rage and anger melted out of him.  He clutched at the Master’s robes and feet; crying like a child.  The master reached for him and held him in his arms.  Never before had any man showed Vincent such tenderness and compassion.  Never before had Vincent felt so recognized and witnessed.

Vincent didn’t need to work the fields anymore.  Only when a particularly large boulder was encountered, would the field workers call for him.  His days and nights were spent learning how to become a master sculptor.  He learned how to make beautiful stone architecture, beautiful buttresses which not only could be incredible protection but had beautiful facades built within it.  Each of the women he carved, was the likeness of Francine. Sometimes his tears would fall onto the stones, mixing with the materials.

After many years, Vincent was asked to present his stone works.  He didn’t want to.  He was still so ashamed of the terrible things he had done so many years ago.  But the Master put his hand upon Vincent's hands and Vincent knew he should go.

He was dressed in his finest clothes and rode in a carriage over many, many miles.  He hadn’t seen anything outside the mountain top on which he lived for many years.  He entered into a temple: a magnificent temple.  He could not believe his eyes.  Everywhere around him were the facades and the statues on which he had been working fon all these many years.

Vincent and the Master left the carriage and proceeded to walk a great pathway through the streets.  The entered a great temple’s central garden.   Vincent was greeted with great pomp and circumstance.  They thanked him for his work and then unveiled a beautiful statue of the Great Mother.  Her feet became the roots of the earth and her arms reached out and held the Sun.  At the right time of day, the sunlight coursed through the statue’s hands, filling the courtyard with magnificent shadows and spectacular reflections.  The statue had the face of his lost love, Francine.

He had never seen his work in such a setting.  He could not believe it.  They told him that the Mother Priestess wanted to thank him himself.  Vincent wanted to leave, he didn’t want her thanks.  But before he could leave, he stopped.  He fell to his knees, from behind the brilliant light of the sun, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen stood in front of him.  He dropped to his knees, she touched his head,  It was Francine! She held him and he cried.  She was alive and she was exalted.  

Vincent lived many years after this, dedicating his life to the fortification and beautification of the Goddess Mother’s kingdom.

© 2015 Frederick Kluth