Kanner's Story

The star fall lit the sky with its stunning brilliance as the small group huddled together at the fire for warmth. Burning ash mingled with the sage they had used as kindling. The only noises that interrupted their quiet voices were the crackling of their fire and the soft hissing sounds coming from their steeds. These large reptilian beasts lie low against the ground to stay warm in the arctic-like terrain. The wind, laden with the chill of fresh snow, blew mercilessly against them and the lights from the falling stars sent their light dancing across the beast’s features menacingly.

“…and that is why we are thankful each year at the end of the Season of Dread.” Harmandir said softly, ending his story. He looked over at the group of young boys with a soft, yet wizened look in his eyes. He was no longer a young man, but tonight, after recounting the tale of Nasihdakymari, he felt renewed and in his prime again. It was as if the last 40 cycles of his life had not left their mark on his form.

“But that still doesn’t explain why there is snow instead of rain during the Season of Dread.” Kalta said obstinately. His young tenor voice pierced the sounds of the fire easily.

“Doesn’t it?” Harmandir asked, somewhat bewildered, as he stroked his full white beard. He looked across the faces of his young pupils and saw that they all agreed with Kalta. Even Daffer, who usually sided against his younger brother Kalta out of brotherly spite, seemed to yearn for more. Harmandir took his time reflecting on all the aspects of his story as he looked from the eyes of one freezing youngling to the next. Each one seemed more than eager to understand, with only a few exceptions. Never in the last 20 cycles had there been so many younglings on the annual Nuinasihda vision quest, let alone so many that were genuinely eager to understand the stories of Ea and the origins of humanity.

As the icy winds howled against them, Harmandir took in each of his young pupils one more time in an attempt to decide where he should start his explanation. Before him sat seven younglings, most of which seemed intent on his every word. Only Daffer, with his stocky frame slumped in an expression of boredom, and Carness, whose stocky build was almost mirrored Daffer’s posture perfectly, seemed to be anything but riveted on the next story that their master was about to launch into. The other children, each of them about ready to pass into adulthood, sat at attention and harkened to the slightest cue that Harmandir might give. Harmandir let their names filter into his mind easily as he drifted through the many stories that he had harvested from his own youth spent in Jarstil. Kalta, Armani, Allair, Saril, Cerona, Daffer and Carness, what an odd bunch of children and such an unlikely group at that.

Before Harmandir could reflect any longer on what this particular group might bring with them into the world, Saril’s baritone voice brought Harmandir’s attention back to them with a simple question. ”Master, are you planning to answer Kalta’s question directly, or are you planning on telling us another story?” As Saril asked it, the wind whipped his long ashen hair across his frail features and into his light blue eyes.

Harmandir smiled at Saril’s question. ”I am going to answer it with another story, of course!” Harmandir’s voice filled his pupils’ ears as he spoke, forcing each of them to pay close attention through its sheer force.

”This one is not about the God’s themselves, at least not directly. Instead, it is about a youth born in the far-off village of Mesan. This village lies on the border of the Scorching Wastes and was frequently subject to raids by the unholy inhabitants of the desert. This land belonged to the unholy deity, Anasir, and His treatment of us, the mortal race, was dismal indeed. All that lived in that forsaken land were marked by burns and over the years their skin was turned red from the exposure to Anasir’s unholy flames.

It was to the populace of Mesan that the God Ea first made His appearance known. Ea, as you all know, was the child of the unholy Anasir and the Angel Kinsara. It was through Him and His benevolence that the Ancient Gods made Their presence known unto mortals again after such a long absence. Ea was the first of the Young Ones and His will became sacrosanct.

The Elder gods gave Ea, the god of the sweet waters, dominion over all of humanity and also the responsibility for separating the elements in order to relieve strife from the mortal realms. He did this by enlisting the other Young Ones, but they proved jealous and would take from Ea all that He had. This tale is about how Ea found a way around Their ploys.

Ea had fled to the city of Mesan and borrowed a human guise so he could pass undetected by His rival Damakinsa, the mother of darkness. He had learned from His knowledge of the Skill that Mesan was to be the place that He could finally turn the tides against His rivals.

Ea had appeared as a merchant unto the city, however after He had been there for only one day, He witnessed firsthand the countless torments that took place in His father’s lands. This changed His heart and instead He became a healer and a carpenter instead, both occupations being scarce due to the violent raids and burnings conducted in Anasir’s foul name.

Hundreds of cycles passed and Ea had all but forgotten His purpose in the mortal realm. He was so busy taking care of His father’s people and trying to ensure that none could guess His true identity, that all else slipped from his thoughts. He had established himself as Jarsef, a humble carpenter and maker of casks, and allowed himself to become a mortal man. Although He still held much power, Jarsef was not nearly as powerful as Ea had been. Ea chose to limit himself so much that the only Skill usage that Jarsef could maintain was through the fashioning of casks and the usage of water in all of its forms.

Thus, when He fashioned the casks, Jarsef made it so that any time liquid was poured into the casks it was instantly cleansed of all impurities. This new liquid would heal any wound and cure any disease. His fame quickly spread throughout the city he was in, but, being the wise and skilled god that He was, Jarsef moved about frequently in order to avoid too much gossip.” Harmandir cleared his throat and took a long drink of water before he continued. He noticed, slightly amused, that Carness and Daffer had moved a little farther away from the others so that they would not have to listen to his story.

“It was during one of these frequent moves into the Scorching Wastes he came across a caravan surrounded by a unit of forty bandits. The caravan consisted of one completely enclosed wagon of ornamental design and ten soldiers. The bandits had pulled the driver of the carriage down from its boards and had slain all of ten of the guards. Jarsef had become so accustomed to seeing this sort of sight that his step did not falter until he saw them pull a fair skinned screaming woman out of the carriage. She was a vixen to be sure and her image was the most bewitching one that Jarsef had ever seen. Her eyes flashed bright blue and contrasted starkly against the paleness of her lily-white skin. Her black hair fell in ringlets around her delicate features and cascaded around her full figure as she fought against her assailants.

Jarsef was instantly enraptured, and He knew He must save this beauty from the ravages of these heathen dogs. So He quickly devised a plan and slowly walked past the outer ring of bandits. As Jarsef passed each brigand, he wove a spell of peace and compliance by using His Skill over the water that he carried in his watering bag. This usage of Skill was so complete that when He finally reached the leader, who had seized the maiden by her delicate arm, none of the bandits could move against Jarsef.” Harmandir noticed that, at this point, Carness had slid closer and was completely enrapt in the story. “There may be some hope for the boy yet,” he thought quickly to himself as he easily picked up where he left off.

“Jarsef then turned to the bandit leader and spoke softly, saying, ‘If you were wise, you would let her go and take your men to the nearest lake to beg forgiveness from Ea for your sins.’ There was a gleam of authority and daring in Jarsef’s eyes as he confronted the towering brigand.

The brigand was not only surprised to see a man of average stature standing in front of him, but amazed at this small man’s daring words. ‘What makes you so bold and secure? Why do you think my men and I will let you live after an affront such as this?’ The brigand’s deep voice rumbled around them, causing the ground to vibrate with its menace.” Even Daffer snapped to attention as Harmandir’s voice took on the brigand’s aspect and feel. Harmandir let the words sink into his pupils’ minds as he continued.

“‘Can you not see that your men are as statues?’ Jarsef replied evenly with naught to betray His dread of the man’s power.

The brigand looked slowly around to his men and slowly realized that they were indeed as still as statues. He then looked back at Jarsef and replied as he gripped the woman’s arm tighter, ‘So they are. But what makes you think that I cannot destroy you easily without their aid? Why do you assume I would need their help to kill an insect like yourself?’ The brigand loomed a little taller as he made these statements, all but spitting on Jarsef as he did so.

‘I make no such assumptions.’ Jarsef assured him, ‘but I do know that you will not live if you dare attack me.’ Jarsef saw doubt play in the man’s eyes, so he continued. ‘Know that I am a man much like yourself, however, I am also more than that. I can command the water to do my biding and my bidding will be your death if you continue to harm her!’ With each word, Jarsef’s body became a little larger and a feeling of dread slowly passed through the brigand.

The brigand decided then that he must try to kill Jarsef or else his men would never accept him again as a leader. With this in mind, he slowly released the woman’s arm as he lowered his other hand to the hilt of his sword. ‘Fine, I’ll let you two be on your way.’ The brigand tried to sound defeated as he moved slightly closer to Jarsef.

Unfortunately for the brigand, Jarsef saw these movements and, as His would-be assailant was about to attack Him, Jarsef pulled the water from the man’s body. In a last attempt to kill Jarsef, the brigand thrashed, missing Jarsef by a goodly distance. It wasn’t until Jarsef turned to see where the brigand’s sword had scored that He felt his world collapse around Him. For the brigand’s sword that had so cleanly missed Himself, had easily freed the woman’s head from her shoulders, leaving her life’s blood to cascade down her collapsing body and pool in the sand at her feet.

Without hesitating a moment, Jarsef threw himself at the brigand and snapped his neck with His bare hands. Jarsef then flew to the woman’s side and quickly laid her body on her back. He then found her head and placed it carefully back onto her shoulders. Wasting no time, Jarsef next grabbed His watering bag and quickly blessed it as He would one of His casks. He waited no longer than needed to ensure that the Skill worked its way through the skin of the bag and into the water before He poured it slowly into her mouth and then onto her open wounds.

Thus, the resurrection of Marialta occurred and the first of the seven prophecies came to pass. The resurrection took three whole days to culminate in Marialta’s renewed health and Jarsef waited with her. All the while He ensured her safety from the elements as well as keeping the indigenous beasts from devouring her. Jarsef was rewarded for his efforts by Marialta’s undying love and gratitude and on the night of their wedding, during the first recorded star fall, they were blessed with a child to mark their union as a legitimate one. That night, they were visited by three profits that claimed their son’s birth was foretold eons ago.

The first prophet claimed that the child Kanner, their son, was to be born of Ea and Marialta’s union. This union would allow Kanner to be anointed the Holy One and allow him to be the vessel through which all humanity would be saved.

The second prophet foretold the coming of a dark age and that Marialta, who had died once, would be slain by the dark mother Damakinsa in an attempt to kill Ea. This second death would be reversed through her son’s grace and this would elevate Kanner to His rightful place as a Young One.

The third prophet bespoke of Marialta’s ultimate sacrifice for Ea so that He could grow fiery wings with which he would ascend to claim His throne as the King of the Young Ones.

Marialta attempted to deny these things, but Jarsef merely placed a hand on her shoulder and cried. As these tears, the first He had shed in mortal form, fell across His features, He was transformed into Ea once more. As the tears passed over his skin, they froze into small flakes. The coldness, born from His failure to tell His beloved of His true form, spread throughout the northern reaches of the world as these first flakes were carried to them on the winds that took them from the desert. When Marialta saw this transformation, she grew silent and the first seeds of Ea’s betrayal at Marialta’s hands were sown. But that story is for another time.”

Harmandir drew a deep breath as he shuddered in the cold air. He looked around him and noticed that the fire had died out and that the night was almost gone. A fresh powdering of snow had fallen during his story and it covered almost everything in his sight in its shimmering whiteness. He looked over his pupils once again and noticed, for the first time since he had finished his tale, that they had all drifted off to sleep.

“I wonder what dreams are filling their little heads?” He mused to himself as he reached into the bag that he had hidden in his deep burgundy cloak. “Probably of fame and fortune. That is all that the young wish for anymore.” He decided easily as he filled their boots with goodies and toys.

He knew this would be the last time that they received these things and it saddened him to do this to them, but it was tradition, after all. During the vision quest, the aspects of Ea, Marialta, and Kanner would visit each one in turn. Each aspect would be their guide showing them the fun times they had when they were younger, what the celebrations are like for adults presently and what they will need to know in order to deal with in their future. This will ensure their race’s survival. They would then awake and enjoy one last boot full of goodies as the children they had been. They have upheld this tradition for as long as Harmandir could remember and he was sure that it was going to continue well into the future.