(no subject)
Kantor looked round at the scared little faces crammed in his corner of the Great Hall. Outside, the wind snarled its fury and the sea roared in response. The other adults were busy, making sure their refuge was safe against the storm, but with a missing arm and leg, he couldn’t do much more than ensure that the little ones didn’t get underfoot.
A loud crash of thunder caused his littlest charge to whimper, and he beckoned to her to come closer, embracing her with his arm.
“Don’t be afraid Xylia, the gods just be quarrelling again.”
She shrank into his embrace as the wind gave a loud shriek outside.
“Why are they fighting?” she whispered, dark eyes wide.
“They’re arguing over who’s to blame for breaking the body of the goddess Tai, and separating the land into different continents and islands.”
The child’s brow furrowed in confusion, and Kantor feigned surprise.
“Didn’t your momma tell you the story?” The child’s braids shook her negative response, and the other children crept closer to hear.
“Well now…
“Long ago when this world was new, Celos, the Spirit of the Universe created two gods to watch over it; Tai, gentle goddess of the land, and restless Kor, who ruled the skies.
“For a while things were good. Then Kor came to Tai and said ‘We need help to make this world what it should be. Let us ask The Celos for helpers for the work.’
“Tai thought about this for a while before she agreed. ‘We will need to show what we wish to make of the world before The Celos considers our request.’ Kor heeded her counsel, and they spent centuries crafting and arguing about their plans before presenting them to The Celos. It was pleased with their passion for the work, and helped them call forth the wind-goddesses; tempermental Sarsess and flighty Mir to aid Kor in the skies; and Alar the Powerful to aid Tai and watch over the seas.
“The five created all manner of fish, fowl, flora and fauna from Tai’s substance and placed them in and around the vast land-mass that was the world, waiting to be awakened in their own time. The gods then rested before starting the final stage of the work.
“During their rest, Kor fathered the fire-haired Ruha with Tai. With Sarsess, he fathered the sun-god Rihos, and the sisters, Yerla the Slender and Talis the Graceful. Sarsess also gave birth to Typhus the Storm-bringer, son of Alar.
“Mir also gave Alar a son, but died in the birth. Grieved at the loss of their companion, the remaining four named the child Mir-Amat, Heart of Mir, and spoiled him greatly much to the annoyance of his cousins and siblings.”
“How could they have so many babies at the same time?” Han, the practical farmer’s boy, wanted to know.
“It wasn’t all at once!” Kantor smiled. “The priests agree that the rest probably lasted for centuries as we measure time.”
“When were we made?” Xylia wanted to know.
“Well now…” Kantor shifted the stump of his leg and gathered the threads of the tale.
“The Elder gods were now ready to wake the world with the help of their children, but Mir-Amat refused. ‘Nothing of this world reminds me of my mother.’ Said the lazy godling, making excuse. ‘Why should I help wake a world that won’t know her?’
“The pleas of the others did nothing to move him, and finally in frustration, Kor ordered each god to make creatures in their own image, to honor Mir. Thus, they began work on the greatest of their creations, the sentient beings that populate the world, using air, fire or water as most suited their nature.
Only Tai though she had loved Mir-Amat as her own, and Alar, grieved at his son’s behavior abstained, as this was not part of the plans they had discussed with The Celos. They broke with the others and found comfort with each other.
“Indeed, The Celos was angry when It saw what Kor and the others had done, and took away the power to wake any creature of the world, planned or unplanned from the gods. Then Tai felt a stirring in her womb, and not wanting her children to be born into a dead world, went with Alar to beg The Celos to relent, showing It the beauty of the different creatures designed by their companions and children. They finally returned to the others after a few hundred years, accompanied by a young maiden and man of uncommon beauty.
“The Celos, had agreed in the face of their persistence, on the condition that they created races in their image to balance the disobedience of the others. It also gifted their children with the wisdom and power to waken and return the creations of the other gods back to the stuff that formed them. This was the power of…”
“I know!” interrupted Galina, Han’s sister bouncing up and down with excitement. “Life and Death!”
Kantor smiled. “Yea, the last born of the gods, Nari Life-Bringer and her brother Narsen Death-Lord, were the most powerful of them all.
“Tired from their journey, Alar and Tai returned to their realms to slumber, leaving their son and daughter to breathe life into the creatures of the world and determine the span of years each of the races should enjoy.
Mir-Amat was annoyed that mere children (in his eyes) were given control over the life of their peoples, and tried to persuade his cousins, Yerla and Talis to seduce Narsen into giving their creations immortality. Yerla and Talis laughed at the thought of crossing the Celos again, and fled from Mir-Amat’s badgering, taking refuge in their father, becoming the twin moons we see in the sky.
Mir-Amat, then approached Ruha. ‘You’re not as pretty as my sisters, but…’
Ruha became so angry and disgusted that she spat fire, and drove him from her dwelling place.
Mir-Amat then enlisted Kor’s harangue Nari, assuming so beautiful a maiden would be as gentle as her mother.”
Kantor smiled and tugged on one of Xylia’s plaits. The storm outside had also quieted, as if also straining to hear the tale.
“They underestimated her. Life can be hard and ruthless. ‘Tis Death that’s full of mercy. She agreed after much persuasion that their people, the elves, could live for at least two thousand years. What they discovered later is that she also meant the elves would not bear children easily, and the last third of their life would be full of the pain of growing old.”
Mir-Amat encouraged Kor to punish Nari for her deceit, but she fled into the embrace of her mother, deep within the earth. Mir-Amat called out to Tai, asking the help of the once most fond of him, but she refused to take sides, and returned to her slumber.
Mir-Amat and Kor opened the wrath of the heavens on poor Tai, battering her mercilessly to force her to give up Nari. Once again, Tai woke and refused, this time making the ground tremble as her anger, so slow to build grew. Great cracks appeared in the ground, and mountains rose to stab the sky in response to her rage.
Kor’s temper, egged on by Mir-Amat’s hurt at Tai’s rejection soon grew too great for Tai to bear. As she opened the ground to return to her slumber, Mir-Amat hurled a lightning bolt straight at her unprotected back.
“She shrieked and fell into the earth.”
Kantor’s face was strangely sad.
Outside, the storm seemed to have died out completely, and the adults had left their chores to join the children around him, quiet.
“The ground broke in two. Alar woke too late from his slumber, and rushed with his waters to her aid. Ruha, also rode her molten flames to see to her mother.
“The molten rock and seawater caused the land to explode when they met, causing the cracks to spread further, finally breaking the land mass into pieces. Horrified, Alar and Ruha fought to contain the damage as Tai thrashed in pain, pushing up new land and submerging other large swaths of forest in with each shudder.
When it was over, what was once one, was now hundreds of islands and continents. Narsen fed well that day. Tai fell into a coma never to awaken, and her daughters spirited her away from the eyes of all gods to heal.
“From that day, Kor and Alar have blamed each other for what happened, and Sarsess and her daughters have the difficult job of placating them. Their quarrelling is what causes the fierce hurricanes as the time of Tai’s wounding approaches each year.
"Ruha, despite the best efforts of her half brother and sister also blames herself. Even to this day she when she remembers the incident, the volcanoes of Valin where she now lives erupt with her rage, sending her people scampering for cover.
Xylia tugged on the empty sleeve of Kantor’s shirt.
“What happened to Mir-Amat?”
Kantor looked off into the distance, idly noting the fingers of Rihos’ light working its way through the cracks of the shutters.
“Only Narsen knows. The other gods think he died in the explosion.”
Kantor sat, looking at the play of light and shadow on the ground, long after the children had gone out to play.
“And maybe,” he whispered to himself, “Mir-Amat roams the world trying to find ways make up for the wrong he has done…the selfish brat he was.” He drew his remaining hand over the moisture in his eyes.
“I’m sorry...Mother.”
A loud crash of thunder caused his littlest charge to whimper, and he beckoned to her to come closer, embracing her with his arm.
“Don’t be afraid Xylia, the gods just be quarrelling again.”
She shrank into his embrace as the wind gave a loud shriek outside.
“Why are they fighting?” she whispered, dark eyes wide.
“They’re arguing over who’s to blame for breaking the body of the goddess Tai, and separating the land into different continents and islands.”
The child’s brow furrowed in confusion, and Kantor feigned surprise.
“Didn’t your momma tell you the story?” The child’s braids shook her negative response, and the other children crept closer to hear.
“Well now…
“Long ago when this world was new, Celos, the Spirit of the Universe created two gods to watch over it; Tai, gentle goddess of the land, and restless Kor, who ruled the skies.
“For a while things were good. Then Kor came to Tai and said ‘We need help to make this world what it should be. Let us ask The Celos for helpers for the work.’
“Tai thought about this for a while before she agreed. ‘We will need to show what we wish to make of the world before The Celos considers our request.’ Kor heeded her counsel, and they spent centuries crafting and arguing about their plans before presenting them to The Celos. It was pleased with their passion for the work, and helped them call forth the wind-goddesses; tempermental Sarsess and flighty Mir to aid Kor in the skies; and Alar the Powerful to aid Tai and watch over the seas.
“The five created all manner of fish, fowl, flora and fauna from Tai’s substance and placed them in and around the vast land-mass that was the world, waiting to be awakened in their own time. The gods then rested before starting the final stage of the work.
“During their rest, Kor fathered the fire-haired Ruha with Tai. With Sarsess, he fathered the sun-god Rihos, and the sisters, Yerla the Slender and Talis the Graceful. Sarsess also gave birth to Typhus the Storm-bringer, son of Alar.
“Mir also gave Alar a son, but died in the birth. Grieved at the loss of their companion, the remaining four named the child Mir-Amat, Heart of Mir, and spoiled him greatly much to the annoyance of his cousins and siblings.”
“How could they have so many babies at the same time?” Han, the practical farmer’s boy, wanted to know.
“It wasn’t all at once!” Kantor smiled. “The priests agree that the rest probably lasted for centuries as we measure time.”
“When were we made?” Xylia wanted to know.
“Well now…” Kantor shifted the stump of his leg and gathered the threads of the tale.
“The Elder gods were now ready to wake the world with the help of their children, but Mir-Amat refused. ‘Nothing of this world reminds me of my mother.’ Said the lazy godling, making excuse. ‘Why should I help wake a world that won’t know her?’
“The pleas of the others did nothing to move him, and finally in frustration, Kor ordered each god to make creatures in their own image, to honor Mir. Thus, they began work on the greatest of their creations, the sentient beings that populate the world, using air, fire or water as most suited their nature.
Only Tai though she had loved Mir-Amat as her own, and Alar, grieved at his son’s behavior abstained, as this was not part of the plans they had discussed with The Celos. They broke with the others and found comfort with each other.
“Indeed, The Celos was angry when It saw what Kor and the others had done, and took away the power to wake any creature of the world, planned or unplanned from the gods. Then Tai felt a stirring in her womb, and not wanting her children to be born into a dead world, went with Alar to beg The Celos to relent, showing It the beauty of the different creatures designed by their companions and children. They finally returned to the others after a few hundred years, accompanied by a young maiden and man of uncommon beauty.
“The Celos, had agreed in the face of their persistence, on the condition that they created races in their image to balance the disobedience of the others. It also gifted their children with the wisdom and power to waken and return the creations of the other gods back to the stuff that formed them. This was the power of…”
“I know!” interrupted Galina, Han’s sister bouncing up and down with excitement. “Life and Death!”
Kantor smiled. “Yea, the last born of the gods, Nari Life-Bringer and her brother Narsen Death-Lord, were the most powerful of them all.
“Tired from their journey, Alar and Tai returned to their realms to slumber, leaving their son and daughter to breathe life into the creatures of the world and determine the span of years each of the races should enjoy.
Mir-Amat was annoyed that mere children (in his eyes) were given control over the life of their peoples, and tried to persuade his cousins, Yerla and Talis to seduce Narsen into giving their creations immortality. Yerla and Talis laughed at the thought of crossing the Celos again, and fled from Mir-Amat’s badgering, taking refuge in their father, becoming the twin moons we see in the sky.
Mir-Amat, then approached Ruha. ‘You’re not as pretty as my sisters, but…’
Ruha became so angry and disgusted that she spat fire, and drove him from her dwelling place.
Mir-Amat then enlisted Kor’s harangue Nari, assuming so beautiful a maiden would be as gentle as her mother.”
Kantor smiled and tugged on one of Xylia’s plaits. The storm outside had also quieted, as if also straining to hear the tale.
“They underestimated her. Life can be hard and ruthless. ‘Tis Death that’s full of mercy. She agreed after much persuasion that their people, the elves, could live for at least two thousand years. What they discovered later is that she also meant the elves would not bear children easily, and the last third of their life would be full of the pain of growing old.”
Mir-Amat encouraged Kor to punish Nari for her deceit, but she fled into the embrace of her mother, deep within the earth. Mir-Amat called out to Tai, asking the help of the once most fond of him, but she refused to take sides, and returned to her slumber.
Mir-Amat and Kor opened the wrath of the heavens on poor Tai, battering her mercilessly to force her to give up Nari. Once again, Tai woke and refused, this time making the ground tremble as her anger, so slow to build grew. Great cracks appeared in the ground, and mountains rose to stab the sky in response to her rage.
Kor’s temper, egged on by Mir-Amat’s hurt at Tai’s rejection soon grew too great for Tai to bear. As she opened the ground to return to her slumber, Mir-Amat hurled a lightning bolt straight at her unprotected back.
“She shrieked and fell into the earth.”
Kantor’s face was strangely sad.
Outside, the storm seemed to have died out completely, and the adults had left their chores to join the children around him, quiet.
“The ground broke in two. Alar woke too late from his slumber, and rushed with his waters to her aid. Ruha, also rode her molten flames to see to her mother.
“The molten rock and seawater caused the land to explode when they met, causing the cracks to spread further, finally breaking the land mass into pieces. Horrified, Alar and Ruha fought to contain the damage as Tai thrashed in pain, pushing up new land and submerging other large swaths of forest in with each shudder.
When it was over, what was once one, was now hundreds of islands and continents. Narsen fed well that day. Tai fell into a coma never to awaken, and her daughters spirited her away from the eyes of all gods to heal.
“From that day, Kor and Alar have blamed each other for what happened, and Sarsess and her daughters have the difficult job of placating them. Their quarrelling is what causes the fierce hurricanes as the time of Tai’s wounding approaches each year.
"Ruha, despite the best efforts of her half brother and sister also blames herself. Even to this day she when she remembers the incident, the volcanoes of Valin where she now lives erupt with her rage, sending her people scampering for cover.
Xylia tugged on the empty sleeve of Kantor’s shirt.
“What happened to Mir-Amat?”
Kantor looked off into the distance, idly noting the fingers of Rihos’ light working its way through the cracks of the shutters.
“Only Narsen knows. The other gods think he died in the explosion.”
Kantor sat, looking at the play of light and shadow on the ground, long after the children had gone out to play.
“And maybe,” he whispered to himself, “Mir-Amat roams the world trying to find ways make up for the wrong he has done…the selfish brat he was.” He drew his remaining hand over the moisture in his eyes.
“I’m sorry...Mother.”