From: John Hughes (nysalor@yahoo.com)
Date: Tue 27 Apr 1999 - 15:34:58 EEST
All this Humakti talk made me remember a fragment, from "Fires of Mist and
Wind-Blown Snow". I offer it here for the purposes of mood and atmosphere.
I no longer hold with some of it, but I'm sure you'll let me know what you
disagree with anyway :).
This early Runo finds the former Death Lord Helden alone and self-absorbed
(not to mention self-pitying), hiding in the gors of Far Point as he
muddles his way back to understanding Life and Death, attempting d&m
conversations with a spirit who's never had a body. Helden is a
sophisticated Ralian, I can not imagine any Sartarite Humakti thinking in
these sorts of terms.
(Next Runo he meets Cradledaughter, life-energy incarnate. He he he...)
John
FIRES OF MIST AND WIND BLOWN SNOW
RUNO II - SPIRIT
Lord of the Long Road, Humakt, Name-Quester
Cut short my days, destroy me.
Master of Silence, Bronze-Dyer, Illusion Render
Betray my hope, destroy me.
Wielder of the Truth that cuts
the pain that frees
Destroy me once, destroy me twice
till only you remain.
Great Ironbroker of corpses, StraightWill, Terrible Secret
I do not claim to judge you
to proclaim, 'this is just' or 'this is evil'
for you alone know Truth.
I know only to obey
surrender to your sharp command
that I may walk the long road, hear the silence
and free me from myself.
All I have is death, and company of swords
to lift the weight of falsehood from my soul.
May fierce fate's frenzy dye our blades blood red
that we may suffer, suffer into truth.
"The Dawn Muster."
A Ralian Cohort Chant
circa 1615.
Iphara and her mist children had fled before the fury of Elmal's Golden
Shield; the merest wisps now lingered along the ridge tops or curled about
the lower valleys. It was the way of things, first laid down in the
timelessness before the dawning. I still had not stirred from my place by
the lowfire. All around me the mountain landscape resonated with the
life-pulse of animals and elements and spirits; forces and powers, all the
magical possibilities of life and growth and change.
I ignored them.
Other matters occupied my attention. Karis - more correctly, the sword in
which she was bound - lay cradled in my arms.
"Were you born, Karis?"
* I was... conceived, yes. But not in a way that you could understand. I
am a spirit of iron, iron in essence and iron in purpose. *
"And will you die?"
* I will cease; perhaps by the action of another, or, if Will triumphs,
when the Thought becomes the Deed. But ceasing is different to dying. I
have died *many* times. *
At times like these, the gulf between us seemed insurmountable. The God
had gifted me with an ally who had never possessed a body, a spirit with
neither experience nor comprehension of the physical realm. Karis was a
spirit of iron, a living drop of Humakt's holy blood. The world in which I
suffered and toiled was something akin to a dream to her, while she
perceived obscure spiritual truths as shapes and sounds and movements,
mysteries I could not begin to comprehend. Only the God united us, the God
and our commitment to the twin mysteries of Truth and Death.
Yet whatever the truth in Karis' deceptively simple words, I could not
understand the meaning behind them. Why did I bother?
Because she was the only other voice in my universe.
"You... You truly have no emotions, no being?"
*I *am* an emotion, a sentient expression of the god, incarnate hope and
will. *
I'd do better talking to the firesnakes nesting in the yew, or to the
spirit of the yew itself. But there was something here I had to
understand, that I needed to grapple with.
"I'm lost. Utterly lost. You must know that."
* And the fish in the river is thirsty. You know the litany as well as I;
'Our lives are pain, what part not come from God?' The path that you have
chosen demands that you must suffer and endure into truth. *
"What do you know about suffering!"
* I stay with you. I am now a part of you. And the God knows. Humakt
knows. Humakt is the blade, the bearer, the victim. He is the act and the
essence. *
"But I'm no longer capable of following the god. My blade has rusted. I'm
trapped, paralysed. It's been four long seasons."
* The god has given you permission to be who you are. Only that is real. *
My ally, the temple catechist. These were the self-same words I might
mouth to a young initiate more interested in sword play than the demands
of the Long Path. Yet in Karis's toneless and unaffected delivery there
was no trace of irony. If I had still been capable, I might have laughed
aloud. Yet there was * something* in what she said. I knew the words by
rote, though it was obvious I still did not understand them.
"And why do you persist with me?"
* Because life and death are full of surprises. And you too are an
expression of the god. *
There was kindness in those words, and I dwelt upon them for a time in
silence. Karis did not further intrude on my reverie, even when I found
myself lost once again to memory and regret. The flames subsided to dull
red embers, unfed and unnoticed. I watched in idle fascination as a
mountain haggar despatched a hare on the open slopes below.
Proud-swept wings, a sudden darting dive, flash of blue light as
killing-magic rent the air, then a triumphant caw as death-sharp talons
grasped the prey. Despite the season, the hare was as black as the days
before the sun.
Another omen.
In the forest beneath the braich, a company of white necked ravens lifted
in great circles, disturbed by the passage of something large through the
undergrowth. Some horned boar, muddy and rooting in the beech wood? A roe
deer perhaps, a solitary wolf... or something else?
"Karis..."
* I sense it too. *
I waited long moments as her awareness lifted from my soul, focussing on
the disturbance below. I felt the subtle flow of energies, my backbone
tingling as she wove her spells, reaching across two worlds.
* A human I think... a woman. Power full. A train of horses... too many
for one rider. If there are others, they are prepared and hidden from my
touch. The woman moves directly up the allt.... And the messenger bears
two banners. *
This was temple slang; it meant that Karis had both bad news and good.
"The red?"
* She bears enough tempered iron to outfit a company. *
"And the white?"
* She's not wearing any of it.*
____________________________________
Cheers
John
===
john.hughes2@dva.gov.au nysalor@yahoo.com
"Out of the south she came, as mysterious and violent as the blessing winds of Sea Season, and just as beautiful. Out of the south, through gors deep and gallt wide, 'cross ice-shielded streams and shadow-dark valleys. Out of the south, till at last she came to the stead called Lagerwater, home to the Bluefoot Tovtaros, the true Orlanthi folk at the very centre of the world.."
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