Letters to Eksovaham, Chapter 4
Stories told, and oaths forced.
IV. Iva
The sun had set, the anxiety brought on by the Western threat still lingered, although it had faded, and Pa Iva offered her herb to the fire. She inhaled the smoke through her nostrils, allowed the calm warmth to come to the forefront of her emotion, and went to sit in the circle that was being formed around the fire. It was the tenth day, and stories were to be told.
She looked around for Thira, but she had not arrived yet. But she spotted Pa Pevro and Pa Avram already sitting. When she spotted them, Avram waved her over. As she went to them, they could not see her smile as she was facing away from the light, but they knew it was there all the same. She quickly gave a bow of familiarity and sat down next to Avram. The was an adolescent boy who shifted to make room for Iva, he must have been intimidated by her pakt marks.
“How’s Esmar doing?” Iva asked Avram.
“She’s doing better,” Avram said, “I don’t think I’ll ever get her to come to the port again.” He smiled, and Iva and Pa Pevro chuckled.
Thira walked into the circle and placed her offering into the flame. As she began looking around for her companions, Iva nudged Avram, and the three Paktevtas who had already sat began waving their arms in unison. Thira spotted them and covered her face with her hands in embarrassment as she walked over to the group. She sat next to Iva and gave a large sigh.
“Long day?” Iva asked.
Thira smiled as she said, “You have no idea.”
They continued small talk for a short while before the circle grew quieter. More than twenty, but fewer than fifty sat around the flame. Its flickering light illuminated the pillar of smoke that rose straight up into the air, undisturbed, and peaceful, toward the empty black sky above them.
Iva felt the shieth of her blade on her leg. Her fingers had mostly healed. She hadn’t explored her past in the past few days, the threat of the army replaced any boredom that might have arisen.
Pa Pevro stood. “Tonight,” He began, “I tell you the tale of Vte and his chosen people.”
The crowd went silent. Pevro had their full attention. Iva and Avram looked up at Avram as he spoke, even though he was so near.
Among the divine, Vte was surely the most powerful and righteous. This power manifested as his great oceanic kingdom, Vtekalan, the underwater kingdom of our ancestors. Such a wondrous domain brought a joy so great upon its citizens, that it has become unknowable in the present age. We slept away, living life's greatest pleasures with a new dream in each moment.
But the sun does not let peace last.
Pvesota’a knows only movement and chaos. He observed the calm of the sea with each day that passed, and he knew it needed ending. So, on the longest day of the year, when the sun demon was most powerful, he shed his own body upon the land. And with each drop of golden power that hit the ground, a terrible creature emerged. Monsters of sky and sea, these serpents stretched for kilocandles! The Trakovs were born. These creatures breathed the power of their father upon the water, boiling it, and casting the waterfolk onto the land between sea and mountain.
Our connection to our home was ripped from us, and we are no longer able to sustain ourselves within our true domain. But our true form cannot be fully altered, our aquatic-natured spirit manifests within us as thirst that forces us to return to the ancestral kingdom each day.
We would still worship the one who granted us life everlasting. But as the responsible teacher is to the child, the Waterlord was wise in providing rules to guide us. The life of simple seaweed farming of our ancestors was no longer an option. The shift to land brought about famine, for too few among the tribe would hunt, and the meat was divided too thin.
So in his wisdom, Vte, the lord of the Sea had many among his folk make a promise. A promise to not partake of any meat from a creature which they did not kill. As a result, more of the Waterfolk took up the hunt, and they became a people well-fed.
But the sun does not let peace last.
Pvesota’a used his wicked sorcery to infect the new plants and animals the Waterfolk subsisted on, bringing upon strange effects to any who would eat it.
So in his wisdom, Vte, the lord of the Sea had another promise made. A promise to kill anyone marked with the magic of the demons. And his chosen people learned better to protect themselves, and the curses upon the food were broken.
But the sun does not let peace rest.
Pvesota’a brought upon a long and warm summer, letting the plants thrive and animals breed. The Waterfolk developed a culture of rampant sex and agriculture. And with insufficient diversity in the labours of the waterfolk, their population grew far too quickly. And the looming threat of famine was made clear once again.
So in his wisdom, Vte, the lord of the Sea had another promise made. A promise to never plant the seeds of food nor of flesh. And the population grew stable.
But the sun does not let peace rest.
Pvesota’a knew the Waterfolk had been moved by the Sea in their infancy, pushed across the world like drops in a wave. But upon land, this was not possible. Few among the waterfolk travelled, and they were left vulnerable to attacks by Trakovs when their towns grew too developed.
But Vte had had enough. If the sun would not let peace rest, then the sun must be made to rest. Too many children of the sea had been lost to the demons. So in his wisdom, Vte, the lord of the Sea had a promise made. A promise to pursue any Trakov of a known location. And the Paktevetas moved, and the Trakovs diminished.
These promises had restored order to the world, ending the threat of the snake, and expanding the land of the children of Vte.
But the sun does not let peace rest.
Pvesota’a saw what the Waterfolk had done. He saw the importance of their sacred promises in maintaining a functional society. So the sun demon corrupted the promise makers, the holiest of the Waterfolk, into betraying what they had sworn.
And promises were broken, and the Waterfolk starved, and the dark magic returned.
So in his wisdom, Vte had a final promise made. A promise of greatest importance. One to be made first by any who took up the oaths. The Waterlord had them promise to never break their vows and to mark the faces of any who do, so that they may be brought to execution.
And the traitors were cleansed. And the Waterfolk thrived once more.
King in the Sea, forgive us. May you keep our promises pure, our stomachs full, and our lives fulfilled.
Pa Pevro sat again. Some among the listeners took Karson’s bow. His paktmarks had been powdered with charcoal, bringing attention to the fact that he and his fellow paktevtas had sworn the first five. The five promises of the tale he had just told. The promise to never break their oaths. The promise to only partake of meat own-killed. The promise to slay the users of the sun’s magic. The promise to never plant seeds of plant or flesh. And the promise to hunt after any known Trakov.
He would not tell the tale of Soveta, and the final five oaths tonight. But he would not need to. Iva looked at the faces of the people who sat around the fire. They were awed. She yearned to have that effect. Some even rose to give another offering into the flames, aiming to ward off the demon who controlled them.
Iva prepared herself. She would stand. She would tell Soveta’s story. And they would all be awed moreso than they were for Pevro. She breathed in. Avram looked at her to see she had positioned her arms to push herself up. He smiled at her, amused.
“Do you have a story for us Pa?” He asked.
Iva went red, but she ignored it. “Yes, I do actually.”
But before Iva could stand, a newcomer joined the group. Based on his outfit, he looked to be a foreigner. Even worse, a Iepan. His shoulders were cuffed with cloth. And he wore proper garments around only his waist. He looked around the group and bowed. It wasn’t any specific bow, and it confused the crowd more than anything else. He began speaking.
“Good night. I am called Aimir. And I have one greatest tale ever told for you all tonight. It is a tale of my journey to this strange land, and my many obstacles along the way. You love.”
Aimir had quite an enjoyable life sailing on the Iepan with his cousin. But while trading allowed him to live, gathering stories brought meaning to his life. It had always been his goal to travel the world, visit each sea, and return with a head full of great wisdom.
So, one day, when his cousin’s ship was anchored at the port of Kaornest, Aimir hopped off. If he was being honest, the sailor’s diet was getting to him more than anything else. He had had enough of cheap bread and fish, he yearned for a good fruit. But although he did try for a candle or so, he was not able to find any fresh vegetation at the port.
Not to worry, he had heard tales of the great jungles of Kaornest, with ground so soft, and streams so split, that fruit grew out of every leaf. He would search for the heart of these lands, and document it. Aimir began trekking through the wetlands, soaking his feet, and dirtying his garments. On him, he carried only an empty waterskin, a necklace of precious sun metal, and his mighty sword.
His legs tired as he journeyed, as did his back. But the worst of all was his stomach. He considered eating of the soil, or weeds but decided to hold off until he came across tasty enough rations. But he came across no such thing. And that night, as he searched for a good place to sleep, he tripped over a root, and broke his arm!
He slept in the mud and awoke to a glorious sight. A tree, ripe with fruit! The plant was covered in bulbous red berries the size of his head. He grabbed one with his unbroken arm, and bit into one. It had been the greatest-tasting fruit he had ever partaken of. And as he bit into it, something miraculous happened. His arm healed the bone was put back into proper shape, and the flesh was relieved of all pain.
Aimir gathered three more fruits to take with him on his journey. But not a candle’s time later, he was ambushed! An evil wizard wielding a floating sword began using her magic to attack him. The floating blade swooshed toward his legs, but he jumped over it. He grabbed the magic blade to try to disarm the wizard, but when his hand wrapped around the handle, he was carried by the blade straight towards the sorceress! The blade broke off and began attacking, while Aimir parried with his own sword. When the wizard’s blade smashed down for a killing blow, Aimir swung his sword through it, shattering it. The arc of his blade continued forward but stopped just before the wizard’s neck.
“Bring me to your master,” Aimir said.
The wizard was so cowardly, she obeyed his command without a second thought, bringing him down the hill, and to a blue stream.
“Where is he?” Aimir said.
The wizard touched the stream. Its weaving shape stretched, before shooting out of the water. Aimir found himself in front of a great creature. It was covered in scales of bright blue. Vas Kostep, the Trakov–
The crowd was horrified. Iva hyperventilated. Pa Pevro and Thira wasted no time. They stood up and grabbed the Iepan man. His face was sad. Confused. The smell of the campfire filled all their noses. Iva squeezed the grip of her blade, held her breath, and forced herself to stand.
It was supposed to be a calm evening. Avram approached the man with her. Pevro and Thira had grabbed his arms and were holding a blade against his neck. Iva felt as though everyone's eyes had fallen on her, and her paktmarks. She made her way in front of the restrained man. He locked eyes with her. She unsheathed Lifereader.
Aimir is just out here making everyone mad.