Rannveig and her Sisters: Ignition

The vision that comes when you’re dying, cannot be forgotten, because it’s the last one. Rannveig saw something in the glare of light, yes. It occupied her thoughts along with the water that filled her lungs. With all the clarity of which a sentient being is capable. The desire for power and the envy that has doomed the world to endless bloodshed and inequality. That hole could not be patched, nor could the one that gaped in her drowned body. She’d seen it happen. That terrible dream. *** Once there was neither light nor darkness, only the Great Nothing. And she was not happy in her loneliness. Only sorrow she felt. The void she was was infinite, all-encompassing, devouring. Another eternity had passed, but she did not know what to do or how to handle herself. For a long time she mourned, languishing with longing and loneliness. Somewhere in the depths of what was her body, her heart could no longer bear the suffering and burst, and she began to crumble into dust from which the new gods were born. From the dust of the void were born many gods, whose names we can no longer recall. They were the Earth gods, the Air gods and the Water gods. They did not like the nothing that surrounded them and the darkness that made them unable to see each other’s faces. And then they all merged into one, gods and goddesses, in a dance full of desire to fill the world with something that would give them the ability to see. Their passionate dance lasted for another eternity, and from touching each other, laughter, joy and hope, a spark was born, and out of it came a child that burned with its whole body. It was the Fire. And the first and only Goddess of Fire. In the glow of her beautiful body, the gods saw each other’s faces. As a gift to their lovely child, they created a world in a now familiar form, but it had neither name nor meaning, for it was just a piece of land on which water ran and free wind walked. That world was boring to the Fire, and the Elder Gods decided to please their child again, making her new gifts. The first were the Earth Gods. They populated the world with beautiful statues of animals and plants made of shining crystals, and deep in the earth they hid beautiful metals, touching which their Fire Daughter could mold anything for herself. But this did not please the Flame. And then the Gods joined forces again to give the Fire Goddess something that would please her, a worthy Husband. And they created the First Man out of sand, the warm south wind, and scarlet hot blood. They named him Ferranel and let him go forth into the world they had created. And at last the Flame rejoiced, and the first sprouts of what is now called love were born. And when the time came, the Goddess of Fire lay on the marriage bed, and in the moment of passion she did not hold back her Flame and burned her betrothed, leaving only scarlet glass like blood, though he was not dead, but only incorporeal. Bitterness From her fiery tears came to earth creatures that were intelligent and similar to the Ancient Gods that now roam this lost land, from the terrible creatures that saturate the depths of the darkest caves to the beautiful creatures that live in the forests and mountains. From her womb came two brothers. From her blood she created children like those brothers, so that they would not be lonely to rule and live in this world. One she named Harrad and gave him a wife named Keivir. The other she named Uriah and gave him the beautiful Calandra. Harrad ruled the south and Uriah the north, and the Gray Sea separated them. Harrad was called the Beast King for his strength and will. Uriah became the Bird King, graceful and wise. The second gift came from the Wind Gods. They filled the beasts with breath and created birds that fluttered high in the sky. They brought fragrances to the new world, sweet and delicate, so that every breath would bring happiness. But not even this pleased the Flame. The third gift was prepared by the Water Gods. They released slippery silver fish and clawing crayfish into the rivers, gave sweet sap to the plants and blood to the beasts to keep them warm and to warm their sweet Child. But not even this pleased the Flame. The world did not know death then, even the Gods did not know that there was a power that could crush all that they had created, and not only that. Life went on, the Bird King had children, and Harrad traveled his lands, leaving his wife at home. One day, in the forest that is now flooded by the waters of Naesh Jamoril, he saw a house made of the trunks and branches of weeping willows. There, among the greenery, lived a funny little man. He was a gray-haired, hook-like old man. The world knew neither old age nor death, so Harrad was curious as to what this creature was and why he lived in such a quaint place. The old man smiled with a toothless mouth at the Beast King and bowed. He called himself Za’Ahash and said that he had learned magic, and that was why he lived far away from everyone else, learning how the world worked. The wizard sang sweet songs to Harrad, told him how well he was doing in the world created by the Fire Goddess, told him of the north where the Bird King ruled, of the power and wisdom that Uriah had achieved there across the sea. That very ahsh, the seeds of evil doom were sown in the heart of young Harrad. He began to go to the wizard and talked with him for days and nights, and each such conversation corrupted his heart more and more. Malice and envy grew in the heart of the Beast King, and one day, when Harrad came to the Willow House, the Old Man asked if he would like to taste the power that would make him Lord of All Things. And the foolish King agreed. Then the Wizard told him that he had learned from the movement of the celestial lights and the whispering of the wind that there was a fish in the Gray Sea whose face was like a man’s, and whose flesh hid beneath it a Power that the world had never known, and even the Ancient Gods could not defeat Harrad. At that very moment, the Beast King swore with everything he had that he would procure and savor the flesh of this fish. But, as is always the case in such stories, -he was in a hasty hurry. The Old Wizard laughed and commanded that the bait for the fish should be the eyes of the Bird King, and only then would Harrad get what he craved so passionately. The old man gave Harrad two knives made of stone flint, and when the Beast-King had gone, the Wizard scattered in the wind. There was no more need to whisper in the Fire Goddess' son’s ear, for he would do everything himself. Harrad met his brother on a Cape by the Gray Sea. Uriah came at his brother’s cry, and they faced each other in battle. And then the first blood was shed. And then came the first death. The Bird King fell, and Harrad got what he wanted. He cut out his brother’s eyes, baited them on a simple hook that he had scraped out himself, and then cast them into the troubled waters. Fortune favored the brother-killer, and he did catch a fish with the face of a man out of the foaming sea. He tasted its flesh, chewed its bones, and drank its cold blood. Foolish Harrad. The deception behind this sinful deed was revealed. In the sky, along with birds from the clouds, two figures he did not know appeared to him. A man and a woman. They were Destiny and Death. Destiny had tricked the Beast King into waking Death, who lurked in the salt water. And he paid for his folly. Death condemned him to eternal life, and Fate decreed that the Brat King would never have a son, but only daughters, and they could never conceive a child. Death granted the Daughters of Harrad immortality, but not true one. If you plucked out their eyes and they would die, if you ate their eyes you could have their power. After bowing to the King, they disappeared, leaving him on a rock with the stiffened and bloody body of his brother. Death came into the world, and everything began to change: the sweetness of flowers was replaced by the tart smells of decay, warmth began to die with the green of trees, light began to fade, and with the winds came the first cold and the first nights in the history of living things. Thus came the first fall. Harrad gave the world Death and Destiny, becoming the Time that kills all that live. Harrad fled north, stole the widow of the Bird King, and raped her. From this bond, in one ahsh, three Sisters were born that shared power over this world: Deirdre, the Queen of Water, whose pupils were like hourglasses; Elaize, the Queen of Blood, with three pupils; and Ida, the Queen of Cruelty, blind from birth. The Beast King’s daughters grew and grew, and other daughters by other women also grew and grew. Each of his heiresses was given a gift, a power over something important in this world. And when the hour came, Kharrad and his Daughters declared war on the Ancient Gods and overthrew them, tearing their bodies and scattering the pieces all over the nameless land. Afterward, it was time for the Nation of Birds. Deirdre drained the Gray Sea, and the Daughters of Kharrad slaughtered all the people of the Bird King. Only the Youngest Prince, whose name is lost to history, is said to have survived, but no one has seen him since, and he must be dead. Harrad divided the lands among the Eldest Daughters and ordered them to rule the world, which had now the name, Ferranel. *** And after that, there was only fire and darkness. Rannveig realized she was alive when she felt unable to breathe; she began to cough, and water spurted out of her mouth with every attempt to draw breath. Wet and shivering, the Daughter of Kharrad was lying in the boat, leaning against the bow, undoubtedly alive. Across from her sat Birn, just as wet. He was still silent, but he looked no longer so sullen. His fine cloak lay crumpled beside his bags, drops of water glistening on his bone mask. Apparently he had dived into the water and dragged Kharrad’s Daughter’s body back to the boat. - Why? — Coughing at last, Rannveig said in a strangled voice. — Why did you do it? - 'Better me than one of your Sisters, ' Byrne replied calmly. — 'Lady Shandorna insisted on it. The girl lowered her head, looking at the lacerated hole in her chest. The flesh was tightening very quickly, turning pink with a fresh scar. Strangely, there was no pain, not at all. - Did you have a dream? When you were going down? — Birn looked at the shore on his left side and straightened the boat a little in the current. - 'Yes, ' Rannveig said after a moment’s hesitation. - 'So the Lady did not sacrifice her eye for nothing, ' he turned toward the girl. — Though it was clear without that. He waved his hand in the direction of Rannveig’s face. Now she understood what he was talking about. The dim eyes, specifically the four pupils in one of them were direct proof that he was right. - So why did you do it? — Rannveig asked again, pulling off the wet shirt clinging to her body. The wet garment offered no warmth and was stained with blood. - Truth is born in Death,” Birn said, not turning to look at Rannveig. — “When someone of your kind 'dies' for the first time, you have a dream. The same one, as far as I know. My lady insisted that I do it, and as soon as possible. He turned in her direction, sighed, and turned his attention back to the river. - The bag to your left holds a change of clothes and shoes. The journey will be long, I don’t promise it will be pleasant. So take this as an apology,” Birn removed a scabbard from his belt and handed it to Rannveig. — Better than fighting with your bare hands. - Thank you,” the girl replied clumsily, taking the knife. The daughter of Kharrad reached into her leather bag and pulled out what looked like a long cobalt-colored robe, pants of the same color, a long umber-colored belt, and a nice-looking gutals. Rannveig stood up, causing the boat to rock, and pulled off her wet and dirty pants. The girl hurried to cover her nakedness with her new clothes. The fabric clung slightly to her wet body, but that didn’t make it any worse. The feeling of dryness gave a cozy feeling, and everything around her didn’t seem so gloomy now. It was almost fully dawn, the mysterious haze had loosened its grip, and now the forest around them seemed simple and quiet, hiding nothing strange behind its vast crowns and crooked trunks. Galn rose higher and higher, bringing light and warmth with her gaze. Rannveig had finally sorted out the clasps on the fancy robe her companion had given her, and was beginning to wrap the wide silk belt around her waist in several turns. She tucked the knife into a pocket formed between the folds of the belt. The gutals contained skeins of clean white cloth, with which Rannveig wrapped her feet, and slid her feet into the dry warmth of her boots. Birn steered the boat to the left downstream into a small channel, overgrown with reeds from the shore. The croaking of frogs, the splashing of the waves beneath their craft, and the soft warmth of the morning distracted them from important thoughts. Rannveig remained silent, finally giving herself a closer look at her companion. She had been a little uncomfortable with the sullen silence and stern look before, but now that tension was gone and nothing was bothering her now. There was not much to say. The face of the Servant of Shadows was hidden by a mask with a human face and hood, not even hair visible, darkness oozing from the slits of his eyes. He was tall and strong. A good fighter for sure, as evidenced by the calluses and scars on his hands, which were oddly graceful. The boat thudded against the sandy shore, the waves lapping merrily and rumbling, reflecting on the birch bark with iridescent reflections. Birn put on his cloak, which had not had time to dry, got out of the boat, took out his bag and spear, and walked a little farther out onto the land. Rannveig landed on the sand with a thud. She looked around. The thin sandbar was hidden behind reeds sticking out like tufts of hair. The scenery was different, too; the golden forest was behind, and all around were flood meadows that were beginning to lose their summer succulence. Beyond the green sea of brome, wheatgrass, and canarygrass, the hills were visible in the distance, with the first autumn trees showing their ochre scorch marks. - So where are we-” Rannveig began to say, but Birn interrupted her hastily. - Shall we go? You tell me now. This way,” he said, pointing toward a lone column in the distance. — Why, you ask, so I’ll explain later. For now, get used to what you did last night and what you saw in your dream. Birn walked in line with Rannveig, taking his time. The morning was in full swing, mice rustled in the grass, insects buzzing, already awake. A singing echoed from somewhere in the distance, long and cheerful. The column, which seemed small from afar, grew larger and larger as they approached it. It was a colossal structure, indeed. The fust, hewn from black granite, was decorated with ornate writing, like a fanciful ligature of circles, dots, and straight lines. A massive base, more like an enormous staircase, led up to the body. Small weeds had somehow managed to break through the granite and mottled green tufts in the gaps between the slabs. The capitol was of white marble, and on it, as on a pedestal, stood the statues of three women standing back to back. Whoever had created this miracle was a true master. One was dressed in a light dress, rather like a silk sheet, her hair was loose, and two huge aquamarines shone in her eyes. She stood with a goblet raised in her hand, facing east, where a thin, winding path led away from the column. The other was wearing a dress with sleeves so wide and long that they were tied in a knot, a long shawl wrapped around her neck and covering her entire head. Three spinel stones glittered in her stone eyes, her hands were upraised and pointed west and south, to the fields, forests and valleys spread around her. The third wore leather armor and pointed toward the north with an obsidian sword, where the humps of mountain ranges could be seen in the distance. Her eyes were covered with a blindfold. - The Pestilence Pillar,” said Birn when they were close enough. — Legends say that this is the place where Kharrad decided how to divide power in our world. - Who built it? — Rannveig asked, raising her head. — And why are we here? - I don’t think anyone remembers that,” Birn said. — Three great kingdoms border this place. Khoid, the land of Ida, Queen of Cruelty,” he pointed to the maiden with the sword, " Kilaraq, the land of Deirdre, Queen of Water,” to the maiden with the cup, “and Nazaliar, the domain of Elaize, Queen of Blood,” to the one standing with her arms outstretched. We need to visit all of them and introduce you to each of them. Birn nodded toward the sculptures. - But why? — Rannveig tensed. This idea seemed crazy to her. She was intimidated by the marble faces and their glittering eyes. Birn shook his head as if laughing. - 'Sei’Niin, ' he said with a chuckle. — When I threw you into the river, I thought you were going to die. You might say I hoped you would. But you’re alive, standing here asking amazingly stupid questions,” he turned to Rannveig and gripped her forearm painfully. — You are Rann’Vaegh, the Flame Bearer, Daughter of Kharrad. Every one of your Sisters will want to kill you, pluck out your eyes and eat them as if they were two juicy grapes. Meeting the Elders is an opportunity to be patronized by one of them, as much as it is an opportunity to take your place in this world. I only agreed to lead you forward because my Lady decided it was the right thing to do. Do not disappoint me, daughter of Kharrad. - I won’t disappoint,” Rannveig said, feeling anger flare up somewhere very deep inside her thoughts. She was not pleased to be treated like this, especially by this already sarcastic man. — We’re going east. For a moment Birn thought he saw an amber flame gleam in the girl’s empty gray irises, and Rannveig saw the shadow that oozed from the mask recede only for a moment, revealing the piercing stare of wormwood-colored eyes.