by Githwin the Bard

A study of the funerary rituals of the Scyian Empire (modern-day Nyssia) offers a rich and fascinating window into how our mortal views of the gods have evolved. The funerary texts referred to by some of my fellow scholars (wholly inaccurately) as the “Book of the Dead” are really a collection of varied arcane rituals, litanies, hymns, prayers, guidance, contracts, and words of power. These are inscribed on tomb walls or written on papyrus to help a soul navigate the treacherous, grey nothingness—the Duat (or Nuat). Once past this place filled with demons and devils of all manner of horrific description, the soul of the departed arrives at the Land of the Dead, under the dominion of Scy, God of the Dead. Here their virtues are weighed as the departed’s patron deity beseeches Scy for a particular outcome, and judgment is rendered.

So far so good. We hold much the same belief in enlightened, modern-day Anivere. However, from the point of judgment, matters diverge. In modern as in ancient Nyssia, the people believe souls are reborn, “coming forth into day.” In the West we rest assured the soul lives forever in a joyous ever-after if our life in this world is judged by Arathan to have been worthy; Scy is only the afterlife's keeper, not the adjudicator.

The modern Nyssians have come to agree that Arathan (Ahhon-Ra in their tongue) is the master of all the gods and judgment is in his hands. A remarkable example of this can be viewed on the front façade of the tomb in the late 20th Dynasty, that of the priest-king Nesukenchet (written in syllabic script as Ne-Suk-En-Khet). In the carvings, the priest makes a contract with the Sun God in a series of paragraphs written in very legal phraseology. The contract binds Nesukenchet to the worship of Ahhon-Ra and attempts to bind the god to a favorable dispensation in the afterlife. Here the Sun God is clearly viewed as the superior to the God of Death.

It was not always so.

In the tombs that date from the Scyian empire, thousands of years past, there is scant mention of the Sun God in funerary texts. Horan, the God of Knowledge, appears often, advising the dead on how best to convince Scy of their virtue, or in some cases acting as judge himself. I have been able to read the papyrus scroll of Princess Neshimune, all 36 chapters, in which Horan advises the princess how to negotiate her passage of the Duat and convince Scy of her virtue. In another, there exists a beautifully illustrated vignette showing Horan holding high the scales of judgment while both the kneeling supplicant and Scy look on.

Clearly, the cults of Horan, Scy and Arathan vied for influence in ancient Nyssia, with the Sun God only becoming fully ascendant with the arrival of the conquering legions of Alvenia.

Another fascinating tale I discovered during my trip to where the great Nefret empties into the Jade Sea. In this delta region lie the oldest cities of the ancient world: shining Amarnus, mighty Dahhun, and secret Tanis. Within the temple of Scy, built upon an outcropping of rock above the warren of buildings of old Amarnus, exists a frieze depicting the story of the God of Death himself.

He was mortal once, the tale goes, and a magnificent sorcerer-king of the Nefret delta region, married to a beautiful sorceress. His name was Usiris (written in syllabic script as Uh-Scy-Rys). His wife was Ysis, and he had a brother, Settish. This brother became jealous, wishing Ysis for his own. He poisoned Usiris and sought to entrap Ysis. She slipped through his grasp with a powerful magic and the help of a brave and dedicated court servant. Completing a complex ritual just in time, Ysis transfigured herself into a necklace of six rings (the most common iconography now associated with the goddess). The change shocked the young handmaid, but she carried through her part in the deception and managed to wear the necklace out of the palace under Settish's very nose. This scene is lovingly depicted in the frieze: A fearful-eyed young woman exits a columned palace wearing a necklace on her bare chest, as a serpent-headed Set glowers from nearby.

Weakened by the transformation, Ysis hid for years in the swamps of the delta, existing in misery. But she persevered, all the while beseeching the gods for the return of her beloved Usiris. Some versions of the tale say Horan helped her with knowledge, teaching her how to avoid the crocodiles and venomous snakes. The gods heard her plea, the story goes, and breathed life back into the body of her beloved, carefully preserved and hidden as it was by what remained of Ysis’ magic.

Alive once more, Usiris found Ysis and delivered her from the swamps, then went to face his nemesis, Settish. The two met on a plain outside the city and fought for ten days (a decan, or week in Nyssia). The land was riven, and the air crackled from thunderbolts, such was their skill with magic and so terrible was their rage. In the end, they both lay dying on the blasted sands, and the frieze shows the gods gathering around as Ysis pleads for them to save Usiris once more.

The gods judged the two mighty brothers. Usiris they made a god, and to him was awarded dominion of death, Ysis at his side. In the final frame of the frieze, the gods watch as Usiris and Ysis chop Settish into pieces.

With the turnings of the years, the old form of Uh-Scy-Rys was shortened to Scy, while Ysis becomes Illustria in our tongue. As to Settish, other tales say he was not killed, but rather turned himself into a serpent and slithered out of reach within a hole in the ground. Over the millennia he has grown so large that he encircles the world, seeking to trap departing souls within. His name, when whispered in foul prayer, is often now shortened to Set.