The Fate of Durgas the Unmerciful

Long ago, when the world was young, as were the children of the Tree, there arose a leader and warrior among men who was a scourge to the earth. His countenance knew only rage and his hands bore naught but death. Durgas the Unmerciful he was called, may his name forever be cursed, for he cut a bloody swath across the land. All who dared oppose him were crushed beneath his might; his cruelty and malice were unrelenting, and only exceeded by his hunger for power. Those conquered by the Unmerciful found their lands, homes, and very families ruthlessly pillaged. Durgas had fought wars on many fronts, but had never extended his conquests eastward, for that way lay a powerful nation that opposed him bitterly. After a time, the wicked warlord became determined to conquer his Eastern neighbor, and focused his forces for an all-out assault. This was no normal conflict. The pride of Durgas was unending, and he felt it an affront that this nation had opposed him for so long. He therefore had no plan to capture and keep his enemy’s lands; his mind was on more sinister machinations. He would kill these Eastern people, make their King eat his own family, destroy their cities and salt the earth. If he was successful, there would be nothing left but desolation and death. Then all would know the price of resisting Durgas the Unmerciful. The campaign began as had so many others. Armies of men started out strong against his onslaught, but soon retreated, hoping to fight another day. The horde of Durgas set about slaughtering those left behind. Homes were burned, crops destroyed, and the earth poisoned; the stench of death and roasted flesh was everywhere. Then he saw her. She was a solitary figure, silhouetted by the fires raging behind her. She stood stooped over a cane, seeming ancient and tired. As Durgas rode forward to strike her down, the old woman uttered these words: “Hold, warrior! Stay your hand! You must abandon this path of murder—of destroying the people and their lands. Remember, warrior: The Earth gives life, and life it can take away.” Durgas roared back, “You are a fool, woman! Death is before you and all around you. Only I can give you your life now, but I choose to take it away!” With that, the Unmerciful beheaded the old woman. Her head rolled on the ground and turned face up. Durgas saw the eyes of the old woman staring right at him. Then the lips moved, speaking thus: “You have made your choice, Durgas the Unmerciful. We shall see who lives and who dies.” With that, her head and body turned to dust before him. The campaign continued, as Durgas and his army moved further and further into enemy territory. Again, they destroyed everything in their path, leaving nothing but death and destruction behind them. And again, he saw her. Venerable Rontra, though Durgas still did not know who she was, stood in the center of a burning field. Heedless of the destruction around her and the approach of Durgas, she stood patiently, waiting for him to approach. At first, Durgas thought it a coincidence, but when she spoke, he knew it to be the same voice he had heard before. “Durgas,” Rontra the Wellspring said, “You have yet to learn. I ask you again to give up your war and go on your way. Only your doom awaits you along this path.” Durgas hesitated for a moment this time, looking down from his saddle at this stooped grey woman who spoke with such authority. His men were stunned, for they had never seen him think over a killing blow. But if there had ever been a place in Durgas’ heart where mercy might find root, it was now as scorched and barren as the lands he had left ravaged in his wake. Raising his blade, he hewed that old grey head, saying, “You will not stop me, woman. I am Durgas! I am invincible!” Again, before turning to dust, the last words of Grandmother Rontra were, “You have made your choice, warrior. We shall see who lives and who dies.” Now Durgas was filled with an incredible rage. A fey light kindled in his eyes and he drove his men to unspeakable acts. No home was left standing, no field left unburned, no life untaken in his path of destruction. Again, he saw the old woman! She waited for him as before, though now she seemed not so frail. She stood unbent and unbowed at the crest of a hill. As Durgas approached, his men fell back, for whispers of this old woman had now spread through the camp and even the Unmerciful’s mightiest captains feared her. Only Durgas dared approach, and he dismounted to climb to the top of the hill and stand face to face with the Earth Mother. She spoke to him: “Warrior, I ask you now only for the sake of the earth, provider and nurturer of all life, stay your hand. Leave this place unharmed. It is in your power to do this. All you need do is walk away. Think ere you strike.” “I do not need to think, old woman,” responded Durgas. “You have been unable to stop me and you will not stop me now, so close to the end. On the morrow, I will have the king of these lands beneath my heel. Durgas stays his hand for no one! I strike you down for the last time. Begone! Trouble me no more!” This time his cruel stroke split the old woman in half. There were no words from her, and her body dissipated into dust. Durgas continued his onslaught, cruelly destroying his enemies and their lands, making them uninhabitable. When there were none left to kill and nothing left to plunder or pillage, he turned his tired army homeward. The march was long and the land was dry and parched. There was no water and no food—for all around, in every direction, was the destruction that Durgas had wrought. One by one his men died, as they had nothing to eat or drink. At last, only Durgas was left. As he stumbled forward and fell to the ground, he looked up and saw the Foremother standing before him, her cane in her hand. She was robed now in purest white, and her old grey hair shone in the light of the day like threads of pure silver. “Help me!” he said to her. “Please help me.” The old woman looked down on him, and even for this worst man among men, there was pity in her gaze. But there was no sorrow in her voice when she spoke: “Look now on the mighty Durgas. The Unmerciful! The Invincible! Look how you have been laid low. You did not heed my warnings. You did not respect the land. Now you taste death, not at the hands of another warrior, but at the hands of the earth you so sorely abused. For behold! I am Rontra, the Earth, and had you obeyed me, I would have nurtured and sustained you as I do all others who respect me. But in your pride, you destroyed all you saw. From dust you were born, to dust you will return. Go, and be judged!” Finished, the Wellspring plunged her cane into the earth before him. With that, Durgas turned to dust and his remains seeped into the earth. The cane remained, marking the spot of his demise. It grew to a mighty oak tree in time, as the earth around it recovered, growth spreading out from that spot like ripples in a pond.

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