by Jake Yaniak
But they trouble us not. Indeed, we now find ourselves surrounded on all sides by the most hardy sentinels; Hobgoblins that know that they can count upon us to see to their needs in desperate hours, and who see nothing in our humble society worth plundering.
This land of ours is called by the Omnion, 'Brud-den', which, of course, simply means Kingdom of the Goblins. We, however, call our little encampment Thed-den, which signifies the Kingdom of the Eternal One. I say 'encampment' because our cities are little more than that to us. They are built upon foundations of stone with strong wood, fastened with tar and with nails, but they house only our flesh; our souls we expect will find a home someday perhaps among the stars or else wherever the Eternal sees fit to place us. But all of this is yet clouded in mystery, even to us.
Our little society, we believe, will be preserved until the world's ending. But that doesn't mean that each individual will. Death reigns over us even as it reigns over all other mortal men. Folly also has his part to play among us, for not every man of Thed-dun has always kept our laws.
Some have gone away alone to mingle their destinies with the Omnion, leaving behind their heritage altogether. Others have led away multitudes of our young people to go and fight for land and possessions in the outside world. Some of the greatest and cruelest lords of Solsis have been, it must be confessed, from our own race. We readily acknowledge the kinship of blood with such men, but we must disavow all kinship of spirit, for it is not permitted for us to march to war. By partaking in the world of the Omnion they become Omnion, and in so becoming they cease to be Nihlion, which is the name we give to those who maintain the traditions of our ancestors.
Such a sundering is more grevious to us than death, for it has long been believed among us that the great hope of Tel Arie is preserved within our traditions. We give great consideration not only to the lives that we live, but to matters hidden from men's eyes. In other words: the grave and what lies, if anything lies, beyond it.
My Journey
My own journey began on the second day of Frohest when we buried the elder of our village, Radathed, who had for nearly sixty years been our guide and teacher. When I was a child, my friend Ghenu and I were sent to this man to be taught the ways and laws of the Nihlion. There we sat long at the feet of this wise man, taking in every word and every turn of expression. When our lessons had finished we would often walk along the wooded lanes of our country and talk of the things which we had been taught. But a shadow passed between us, the source of which I have never fully comprehended. I learned, even as I yet grieved for the death of our elder, that my friend Ghenu had departed from our village, leaving behind the name Nihlion and, in fact, cursing the name of the Eternal, whom we are all taught to hold in reverence.
Greatly troubled and surprised by this I resolved to discover the cause of his departure and to see if I might not persuade him to return to our village, wherein we believe the destiny of the whole world to lay hidden.
There is a large plain just south of our village where we bury our dead. It is a rather beautiful place; the sort of place wherein we felt a soul would be content to spend its twilight. There were at least a thousand different wildflowers that bloom in the fields, making the landscape look bright and alive in every season except winter. It was watered by some small streams that flowed down from the Solsis Mountains, in the arms of which our village was nestled.
The children in our village had many legends about this somber plain. They would exchange songs and stories about spirits of the dead walking the grassy fields by moonlight and about the angry spirits of children who had perished at too young an age. In my youth, I too told my fair share of tales about the Spirit-Field, some of these were so untrue that I am almost ashamed of myself. But it is the prerogative of children to dance across the line that divides reality and imagination - and perhaps they are more wise in so doing than their unhappy guardians.
I only visited this field twice during my youth. Once to bury our family's patriarch, Koshathed, who had long guided and guarded us. The other visit was many years later when a young child in our village died from an unknown illness. I still remember the way the graves were laid out one next to the other; fathers next to sons, mothers next to husbands. As far as the eye could see there were stone markers set in rows according to each family's peculiar traditions. We could trace the history of our own family by following the graves south toward the River Setnan.
On my first visit I tried to follow my cousins to the southernmost edge of the field, just before the ground began to slope down toward the riverbed. But my small feet were too slow and I was forced to remain behind with my sisters while my cousins went on to discover our family's ancient heritage without me.
My second visit to the Spirit-Field was a bit different. I was much older, so I was able to participate in the solemn ceremonies of the dead. When these were finished I decided to make the journey to the field's end and see the beginnings of my family's story.
It took several hours on foot to reach the place where my first ancestors were laid to rest. Since it was sacred ground, no horse or cart was permitted to trample the grass. There was a large boulder at the edge of the field and a surprisingly steep ledge behind it, beyond which was the rushing waters of the Setnan, gorged with the waters of many mountain streams. This was the beginning of the land of the Omnion and the end of our territory. Just north of this boulder was a much smaller stone that bore some faint sign of having at one time been carved by human hands. On this stone was written the name, 'Yann'.
The letters themselves had been carved sometime in the last hundred years to replace the more ancient characters that had long since eroded and vanished. It occurred to me that it might very well be my own son, or perhaps my grandson, who will one day carve this ancient name once again on this weather-worn monument when time has again had its way.
I walked the ancient path of my family and saw each link in the ongoing chain of life and death. Each son was laid to rest several yards to the north of his father with their wives at their sides. But as I gazed at this ancient stone I could not help but think about that river behind it and the southern lands beyond the mountain from which he had journeyed. Yann was a man, and he too had a father. The chain of life that connects me to him does not simply stop at him because he is our first ancestor with a name. It is a chain that extends to the very foundations of mankind.
With such a legacy behind me I was firmly convinced that when I reached adulthood I would live off the fat of the land as my fathers had before me. I would take a wife and raise a family in the peace and harmony that our village had enjoyed for so many ages. The causes that had brought me to live in this country were stretched out for miles across the Spirit-Field, buried under earth and stone. But into this chain from time to time appears, as if from nowhere, a new cause, altering the future in such a way that no amount of prudence could foresee it. My companion's departure was the beginning of that course of events that led me away from my home and into the chaos of the northern world.
From our most ancient days it had been common for rash young men to depart from us, finding our ways to be quaint or uncomfortable. Some went out to seek their own fates in the lands of the Omnion. A few of these returned, but most of them vanished from our knowledge forever. But that my dear friend would so depart, and depart in such haste, I could not have predicted, not were I one of the Star-Seers, whom the men of Lapulia believe to be infallible.
I came at last upon my dear friend, when I had crossed the Setnan River, having now gone further from my home than ever I had before traveled. 'Ghenu!' I called to him as I drew near to him.
'Do not waylay me, friend,' he said without turning. 'You have come far, but I must go farther, and I have no desire to turn back.'
'Farther you have gone, you say?' I said as I hurried along the road, hoping to come up alongside him. 'Farther from what? You have indeed come farther from Stelna than you have hitherto, but whether you are closer to your dest
ination than I, is more than either of us can say. Except that I have at last come to mine, for I have left our village behind to come to your side.' At that moment I finally overtook him and such was my haste that I passed him along the path he tread.
Quickening his pace he replied with a laugh, 'Then my goal must be loftier than yours.'
'Where will you go?' I asked when we were at last walking in step.
'Who knows?' he said quietly, 'Perhaps I will go only to die in the wild.'
'Then why go at all? I cannot imagine you would leave behind all you have known for nothing.'
To this my friend said nothing.
'To die in the wild? But what of your spirit, which the ancient ones say ascends to the judgment of the Eternal at the moment of death?'
'I do not fear death, for it is nothing to me.'
'Then it is true. You have indeed forsaken the ways of the Nihlion.'
'I do not know what ways I follow these days.'
'What is it, then, my friend, that I have not seen that you have. For the ways of the Nihlion are hard, and our hope lies beyond the shadow of the grave where no man can see or comprehend. If you have found a better way, then I would have you tell me.'
'I have no better way,' he answered.
'Then you must have discovered some truth, some ancient fact or secret that reveals our great hope to be a sad and vain fantasy. Tell me, my friend, what it is that you have found. For I am a man of little virtue according to the laws of our people, and it would lighten my load to know that the ways of the Eternal One are false.'
'I have not,' he answered quietly, 'But nonetheless I have found it impossible to believe the old stories.'
I stopped walking for a moment and thought on his words. He stopped as well, surprised by my sudden halting. 'It is said among our wise men that no change can take place without some cause attending it. Is that not so?'
'It is so,' he answered.
'It was once the case that you believed the old stories. This I know because on a great many occasions you elected to speak of their truth yourself. How then came you to walk away from the ways of the Nihlion if there is indeed, as you say, nothing that made you alter your opinions? You once said the old tales were true, which certainly, having been raised from a babe with them in your ears, it may be said that you believed them without reason, even as many children believe whatever it is that their parents see fit to teach them. But now you say that you believe not in the old stories. If you have no reason for this change of mind, then you are no better off than you were in your infancy, when you accepted the tales blindly in the first place. I apprehend, therefore, that there is some cause of which you will not here speak, not even to one who is your old friend. Ghenu, what made you disbelieve the old stories and doctrines of our elders?'
'There is nothing,' he insisted.
Undaunted I pressed him further, saying, 'You would abandon me to a life of servitude and humiliation then, though you could, by lending me a few wise words, lift me from the mire of our predecessors. You know as well as I that so long as I am bound by the ways of the Nihlion I must make payment to the elders, one fifth part of every crop. Moreover, I have already received that marring of the flesh, the mark of the Eternal, upon my left shoulder. In due time it will be placed upon my right as well. My children also, who you might free with your knowledge, will likewise be bound to carry out each of these rituals and fulfill all the laws of our people. If I needn't take knife and ink to my son's slender shoulder, then I would have you speak!'
Ghenu then sighed and said frustratedly, 'Do you not see how the world is filled with evil? If there be any Eternal power at the root of this world, then it is he that must sit at the last judgment! Do you not see the death of innocents, of the Omnion and Nihlion alike? Do you not see that the cruel win for themselves lands, honor and wealth, while the good die in shame, diseased and empty. What power conceived this? Is it not he whom the songs call 'good'?'
'Are those not the very doctrines of our people that you speak?' I said in disbelief. 'Is it not taught by our elders that this world is full of evil? Is it not from our own traditions that you have learned this?'
To this he said, 'I need not such teachings to see that the world is full of evil.'
'But what of Theodysus?' I asked with much emotion in my voice.
'Too ancient is that name,' he responded, much to my horror and surprise. 'Too old are the stories, and I see not why they should have any hold upon us in an age so far removed.' He sighed and put his hand upon my shoulder with a look of pity in his eyes. 'My friend,' he said to me, 'I must go my own way and you must go yours, wherever your will takes you. But I will not go back to Stelna.'
With those words he turned and walked away from me, leaving behind all paths and roads, passing from my sight and from my knowledge. A lump of sorrow seemed to swell within my throat at that moment, a sorrow that has not hence departed from me, though many joys and many sorrows have since come upon me. I fell to the earth in tears, for to the Nihlion such partings represent a severance beyond the grave and beyond remedy.
The Beginning
Leaving the ancient road I once more turned my sad face toward Stelna. When once more I came to walk among the dead, I was met by an elderly man named Jaffathed. It was upon him that the leadership of our village was expected to fall. I was greatly surprised to see him approaching me, for it is not customary for the elder to approach a young man such as myself. Only at great need would they be seen traveling about. The elder greeted me with a warm embrace, saying, 'My son, I have come to you to bid you and your comrade farewell.'
'My comrade,' I said, surprised, 'Do you mean Ghenu?'
'Indeed, for you are both beloved of the Nihlion. I would not have you depart without a blessing.'
'Ghenu is no longer Nihlion,' I said downcast.
'Nonetheless, I would still give him a blessing.'
'I don't understand,' I said, 'why would you bless he who curses our people and abandons our ways without cause. Is it not said that all the wicked shall be cursed?'
'Indeed it is, and so they shall be,' he answered with a smile. 'But there are two ways in which a man can be good. One can be good in spirit and good in flesh; it is the latter that I wish upon him, if only for the sake of the former.'
Jaffathed took me by the arm and brought me to one of the stones which mark the graves of our sires. Here he sat and beckoned me to do likewise. 'It is not permitted,' I said, 'to sit upon the stones of the dead.'
'Would you accuse me, your elder?' he said with a lighthearted laugh. 'That custom is maintained for the sake of honor, which the dead need not. We do not defile them by making use of the stones for which they care nothing. 'Come, have a seat with an old man.'
I sat down, still very confused. I told him about how I chased after Ghenu, and how he had answered my queries.
'What do you see, my son? he asked me when I had finished speaking.
'What do I see? What do you mean?' I asked.
'Tell me what you see?'
'I see,' here I paused to take a look around, 'I see the graves of our forefathers, and I see the sky and the mountains.'
'You see the sky?' he said with great alarm.
'Why should that seem so strange?'
'Look again, my son, and tell me what you truly see.' He lifted his finger and pointed at one of the stone markers. 'What is that?' he asked.
'It is a grave marker.'
'And at the base of that marker is what?'
'A flower; the one they call galanas.'
You see a flower, then?'
'Yes.'
'But can it be a flower if it were made of stone?'
'No, it cannot,' I answered.
'Then it is not by sight alone that the flower is beheld. But how can the softness of the object be known to you?'
'By touch; a stone would prove itself to be hard to the fingers.'
'But what is it, then, that you see?' he asked again.
'I
see a certain shape,'
'A shape of color?' he asked.
'Yes,' I answered, growing somewhat impatient.
'What you see, then, is color, and if you had never touched anything, you would know only color, is that not so?'
'That is true,' I said.
'So your eyes are not sufficient to know the galanas,' he concluded.
'No, they are not, I suppose.'
'But if you were born a blind man, and had only your hands by which to know it, you would have a very poor understanding of its shape, and you would know nothing of its colors.'
I nodded.
'But tell me further, my son, if sight and touch are enough to know the flower? Do they not smell lovely? Are not, some of them, sweet to the tongue? But if you were lacking in any of these senses, how could you know all that could be known?'
'I could not,' I answered.
'Ask yourself this question, my son, and all the doubts of your friend will be taken away from you; for I apprehend that his words have caused you great anguish of mind. Ask yourself, "Why should I believe that my senses are sufficient to uncover all the secrets of the world, when each of them alone is insufficient?" Then you will understand that your own judgment is not sufficient to judge the world. This is the doctrine of Theodysus, as it has been passed down from Bel Albor to Jaffathed, and now to you. Meditate upon it, my son, and in due course it will bear fruit within your own soul, and, if it be the will of the Eternal One, it will bring comfort and peace to others.'