»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
The questing Heart, Chapter 2 - The Methmakers
| Passions in Prose |
|
The questing Heart, Chapter 2 - The Methmakers |
|
|
Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia 
|
** Author's note. This is a story set in a fantasy world, the language is different and is softer. The people are called Meth-makers (with a short e) for their main trade and skill is in making distilled spirits for herbal remedies and alcoholic celebration. Kari pointed out rightfully, that in America there is a substance called Methylamphetamine and it is used for as a base for drug making. It was not my intention to suggest I condone drug making or taking and I apologise to anyone who thought that. I am trying to find another name for the tribe that is a suitable but it is hard. Please be patient with me while I stretch my brain. Hugs to all who read. KethAnd you shall be a people set apart, called by the name your God has given, and you shall commune with your God through sight and sense and you shall rejoice in the fellowship of the sense and grow in the ways of the word. Each day shall you offer a sacrifice of praise for the word and way shall be your path. Once a season when the sun has circled the world and the earth begins to blossom you shall gather together in the place of my calling and in this shall you be renewed. Book 1 Sense of Sundering - Laws and edicts The Meth-makers were preparing for their season pilgrimage. Each sun's turn they swaddled the decreasing number of babies against the fierce but loving touch of the sun, gathered their goods and chattels together, collected and packed their lives and prepared to move from their resting place to brave the ferocity of the desert. They travelled to origin site - as they had done once every sun's turning since they were formed, as had been decreed by the sacred books of the word and the way. They were travelling to origin site to meet with the eleven other sundered tribes in a time of renewal, faith and bonding. Anuk-au-Faye shaded his eyes against the harsh desert glare and looked to the west to the rising of the sun. Father Sun himself - the God of their fathers', would soon be rising to give blessing to the journey. He looked all around him; his brown skin reflected the sun's glow and as the suns rays kissed the desert rim he shone with the glory of their God. Anuk kneeled and prepared himself to give the blessing to the tribe as the dingos - creatures descended from wolves and now domesticated by the tribes, snapped, fought and snarled from the ends of their tethers. The still morning air carried the sounds of the gathering on the wind and the scent of the herbs, sage and coriander and the like - grown for medicinals in the still room, wafted on the breeze as they were packed up for travel. The gaudy tents of flax and silk were stowed and packed tightly onto the bassites that were impatiently pawing the sand as the banners of the tribes were furled for travel. The Bassites are ugly creatures, Anuk thought to himself, sand coloured and shaggy, ideally suited to the harsh desert. Their three-toed feet stirred up tiny dust devils as they pawed the ground impatiently. The jingle of the harnesses tied to saddles set high above the ground seemed to irritate them further and they spat and snorted in the morning air. Their tempers were short as usual and their ugly visages sneered in a lip curling display that released their foul breath to the early morning air. Bassites were the main beasts of burden for the tribe, although difficult to manage they were ideally suited for desert travel as they could store water in the ridges of their malformed spines and their three toed padded feet allowed grip in the treacherous desert wasteland where sand plains became like glass or moved with a suddenness that swallowed up man and beast alike in the space of sun gleams. Now they were saddled and harnessed and the beast master - the only one, who could control them, was preparing them for the journey. He drew close to them and whispered in their ears one by one and the bassites - being bassites, merely snorted in derision. The crowd too had begun to appear and gather for the final blessing before the pilgrimage began in earnest. Anuk rose from his knees and went to the altar of sacrifice where at every sun's rising the sacrifice of praise would be given. The stone altar was covered with the sacred cloths and scented oil was being burnt. The trappings of their religion had not yet been prepared for travel as its sacred cloths in maroon and gold, the colours of the dragons - the tribe sigil would be blessed before it could be stowed with the elders, according to custom. Anuk's thought of the blessing drew the elders to him and he looked upon them with pride. The Meth-makers were a dark nomadic tribe, dark of eye, dark of hair, dark of skin and sometimes dark of soul. The elders did not show many signs of age on their craggy faces that had been toughened by the sun, but then Anuk thought many of them did not live beyond fifty sun turns. The elders were the decision makers for the tribes and many of them took to smoking the weed pipes that shortened life as it dyed teeth and gums in blood red. The elders were reluctant to undertake the journey, knowing the hardships they would face along the way and the role they would have in judgement of those deemed unworthy once they gathered at the origin site. Anuk raised the horn of gathering to his lips and the sounds of its summoning carried across the tribes and into the desert. The horn was made from the finest ivory taken from the gorunds - creatures who were as sure footed as the bassites and just as suited for desert life. The gorunds provided pure white milk that ran as clear as oasis water and their long shaggy coats were clipped and were used in the weaving of flax that was dyed in the hues of the rainbow. Flaxen weaves covered the inside of the tents with the bright colours the tribes were so fond of. The younglings, who still had the spirit of adventure blossoming in them - eager for a taste of the wilderness experience, were impatient to be off. The sick had been placed on the travel wagons that had been designed to carry them during times of travel and were even now being placed in the circle of blessing. The Meth-makers were nomads by necessity - travelling from resting place to nesting place to eke out an existence in the harsh desert but they travelled to the origin site by choice. They had been separated into twelve tribes at sundering and although this had been born of necessity for their survival, they shared a love for each other, a love and bond that allowed the joining at the origin site. As each sun's turn passed they travelled to be a part of rejoicing and blood exchange. This was the people called to survive through the blood covenant made to them at sundering - and survive they did despite the harshness of life and the death that was an ever constant companion. Their bleak lifestyle was compensated for by their use of gaudy clothing, woven in colours of the sun, sky, blood and earth. Clothing that flowed with the breeze - that caught the desert winds and made swirls of colour as the winds blew playfully around the weathered faces and wrinkled smiles. Although dark of visage there was a the sense of purpose that guided them and led them day by day for they were children of the sun called by Father Sun to wander in the desert and be redeemed. In consecration to their harsh yet loving God they abided by the rules and edicts set down in the book of the word and the way. It was for this purpose that the tribe was travelling towards the origin site to meet the eleven sundered tribes in pilgrimage. There they would unite with the other tribes called to be faithful to Father Sun. Although their life was grim in comparison, to the life lived in the domes, it was a life they preferred. They relished the freedom of being able to choose and bearing the consequences of the choices they made. It was those choices that led to their current pilgrimage and relative gaiety of heart and mind. The Meth-makers had been promised survival and culture, in the word and the way and little more than that. They travelled at sun's turning to the origin site, the place where the Meth-makers were formed and sent forth. Each tribe of the twelve had been named and had been given the books of life and the books of law that decreed they must meet once every sun's turning for dedication and renewal. At the origin site, the place of forming they met with the other eleven tribes who had been created with them. They came to worship, exchange blood and pray for prosperity. Their dark visages became joyful at this time, and their hair streamed behind them as the wind through the desert sands. Their braids flowed and moved in time with the gaudy rainbow silks they wore as they celebrated the dance of life. Usually the pilgrimage was a time of joy, re dedication and re-unification but this year there was sorrow mingled with anticipation, their prayers had fallen on deaf ears of late - the Meth-makers were dying. Children were few, planned with ferocity that did not often come to fruitition, more precious than the sparkling gemstones the Meth-makers used for trade and protected as fiercely - and still they died or disappeared before reaching adulthood. There were many who were taken by the peris' that haunted the desert regions, where they wasted away to nothing before they disappeared. Younglings were lost to their adult trials and became mindless as littles, needing to be cared for by the tribe. Old ones, who had previously been revered for their wisdom and knowledge, were now rejected, despised and on occasions reviled by the younglings who believed they had more to offer the tribe in the way of leadership. In desperation and despair the old ones turned to using the meths and the weed to dull their rising sense of panic. The time of the sun had come upon the people and change was as inevitable as the unending cycle of life and hardship in the desert. The younglings no longer believed in the pilgrimage as a way of renewal, instead they saw it as an opportunity to grasp power and take it, to control the decisions of the tribal rulings and oust the old ones of the twelve tribes. Indicators showed the day of the sun was coming to an end soon there would be bloodshed. In mirrored reflection the wealth of the tribe had diminished, prosperity also was not to be found. The gemstones used for trade had become harder to find and men had lost their lives searching for them. Food was scarce - scarcer than usual and men and womyn were required to work together to provide enough for the tribe to survive. The ravages of the change could be seen on the all the weathered faces of the tribe and sorrow haunted their eyes as the peri haunted the desert. Water has become even more scarce and if it were not for the water shapers, they would have perished and disappeared as a tribe long ago. Times were harsh and getting harsher. As the tribe waned Anuk-au-Faye, tribal leader of the fourth tribe, prayed for the coming of the Nexus to right the wrongs and unite the people to regain the lost power of Father Sun and the Earth Mother. The Nexus - who had been promised in prophecy, was their best hope a hope of redemption that all clung to as childer caught in the darkness of a night they did not understand. ~~~~~~~~ Obain, the chief's son, paced impatiently, his braids bound his night black hair from his face but moved in rhythm to his heartbeat and pacing steps. He had doubts about his ability to lead the revolution, he had retained his respect for his father and sire - and yet he knew the old ways were not working. It was time for youth to have the power and a voice whispered on the restless wind told him the time was now. The yearnings of his friends and in particular his friend Errant did not fall on deaf ears for he too yearned for change and a way to defy the elders and adults of the tribe. He knew from the wind's whispers that the youth of all twelve tribes were feeling the same restlessness and anger. It was as if the time of the sun was coming to an end and there was a need for bloodshed to renew. Although they were small in number they were each confident in their power and gifts. In addition to the need for change came increased rumours of the coming of the Nexus. It seemed since the dawn of time and the tribes rumours of the Nexus - the saviour of the tribes, had abounded but now they were everywhere. The Nexus would travel on the wind, the Nexus would be a great warrior, the Nexus would lead them to new life and liberty and the most outrageous promise of all the Nexus would make the old ways redundant as a new and everlasting order took its place. Obain did not believe in the Nexus legends but he believed in his father, his father was a strange mixture of courage and insecurity. He could be strong and had been strong enough to stand against the tribal elders when taking his mother as his only concubine and remaining faithful to her and when he would not allow either Patryce, his elder sister or himself to be fostered and kept them with the family. However that strength was matched by what Obain saw as weakness, he had no streak of ruthlessness that was needed in a ruler and often showed compassion in the place of justice thus setting many of the tribe against him. Obain wondered about his ability to rule and feared that although he desired this above all else he had too much of his father's blood in him to be the ruler his friends wanted and needed. Obain paced outwardly to hide his inner confusion and in his pacing he matched the mangy camp dingos, those born of the wolf, which also snapped and snarled at their tethers in their anxiety to be moving. They could smell the excitiement in the air and were eager to be off to a place where there was a prospect of daily food and shelter from the unforgiving desert sun. Anuk stood at the altar of gathering and looked upon his heir with anxiety. He was aware of the rumblings within his tribe and the sense that had awakened painfully and fully when he had taken his manhood initiation - before he had become leader, also made him acutely conscious of similar concerns within the other tribes. What he didn't know was - what to do about it. He loved his heir dearly and had gone against tradition by raising him in his tent rather than giving him to a sire to train. He admitted to himself that his son was an enigma, he had all the qualities of leadership but there were signs of selfishness that he hoped was because of immaturity and not some inherent throwback personality flaw, as had appeared in others. He raised his arms for silence and the crowd instantly stilled, quieted by his air of authority and control of the situation. Anuk was the epitome of a leader, calm, confident and outwardly clear about the direction the tribe would follow; his lithe body did not show the passing of the years. Inwardly however Anuk felt old - he doubted himself, he doubted his ability to maintain order and he had no confidence in his ability as a leader, if it were not for his gift he would give over his leadership to his heir. His heir, who seemed to have a better grasp on the needs of the childer and younglings than he ever felt he had. He had been a tribal leader since his sixteenth year and he was now approaching his thirty-fifth birthday. He had been fortunate to reign for so long, most other tribal chiefs had a twelve-year reign, 'a time of the Sun' they called it, then violence and bloodshed had made for new stronger leaders, the land was renewed and the tribes lived on. Ukh nana, Oppose! Anuk thought angrily to himself, this is not the time for thoughts of gloom or disaster this is a time of celebration and I owe it to my people to give the best omens possible. He slowly lowered his arms and threw the sacred bones in an arc that landed in a patterned display at his feet. Obain watched his father closely as his sire threw the bones to read the signs so only Obain saw the look of worry that flitted across Anuk's face as the omens were shown to him. When Anuk lifted his head he was smiling, "The omens are good," he said slowly. Let us pray to Father Sun that it may continue to be so. He lifted his hands in prayer to blessed Father Sun and asked for safety for his people on the journey. The crowd chanted the response, "Ahun nus a hai, ishom nus ka jhus, sou ax ne drus ano se dranana. Sun to our skin earth in our bones, may it be so now and forever." Finally the tribe was ready to move out. Anuk looked slowly back as the caravan moved on and he was filled with a sense of yearning, as if he was saying goodbye forever - as if he would never see this place again. A lump rose in his throat and there was a pain in his chest as he realised he might not. He was old and the time of the sun was coming. Soon the day of the sun would be here and he did not have the strength or inner resources to fight that which his son would bring about. He flung out his thoughts and as unshed tears were held in his eyelashes, he felt the comforting warmth of his beloved concubine - Allysn. Allysn sensed his anxiety and tenderly sent back thoughts of comfort and peace. Her earth sense grounded him and he breathed deeply taking in the essence of her. Her presence in his mind calmed him and he straightened his shoulders, gave up his sense of gloom - for what would be, would be and looked to the horizon where the sun was rising and a new era was beginning. Here in the midst of my lonely abyss, a single joy I find...your presence in my mind. Unknown [This message has been edited by Kethry (05-18-2002 07:13 PM).] |
||
| © Copyright 2002 Lynne Dale - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
This has all of the underpinings of Jean M. Auel's writings - particularly Clan of the Cave Bear. Ancient people, gatherings, societal rules and tradition... carry on, Kethry!  Applauding here! |
||
Marsha
since 2000-07-10
Posts 7423Maidstone Kent England |
Keth darling sister of my heart and singer of soul’s dreams This is utterly utterly delightful. YOU always manage to write such beautiful and smoothly flowing lines of pure wonder. You are shaping this story as skilfully as a master jeweller cuts and shapes a precious emerald. You are placing the story in its time and place, building the characterisation that is essential for a really stunning novel. I love it, as a reader it fulfils all needs for a brilliant story. Well written, beautifully formed and the continuity in it is excellent   Love and warm stuff As always slushy  Breathe through the heat of our desire |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
