… with apologies to Orhan Pamuk.
I am Red
“I am Red. I am proud to be red. Red is powerful. It is fury and passion, fire and energy. It is also life. Today my vital color, my essence, will darken and turn russet and by tomorrow’s sunrise, I will be no more, only a blackened stain and flies laying eggs to borrow in my once-proud vitality.
“But for 42 years I was life, I was passion, I was fire and energy and even, for the briefest of moments, I was love.
“How does that expression go again? Nature is red in tooth and claw? In retrospect, it seems so apt.
I am Ghost
“I am ghost. I wasn’t always a ghost. Once I was a man. I had a name. I don’t remember my real name anymore. Some things you don’t remember on this side; being dead is strange that way. I remember people used to call me Timez, on account of my obsession with cleanliness I guess. I didn’t mind; it was a good name and now that I am dead, it’s the only name I can remember. I remember I was a large man. Men were drawn to me and I lead them. Women were drawn to me and I bed them. I think. I had a thick beard and in my latter years it turned from the color of the rich dark earth of my parent’s farm near Cevedes to the dirty white color of last week’s snow. I remember I kept it very tidy and trimmed neatly; my lieutenant would tease me I recall. I remember I had a stout cudgel that I called ‘Omen’. I don’t recollect where the name came from, but I remember the feel of its handle in my hand, even now that I don’t have a hand to feel with anymore. That handle had been worn smooth. Or had my weapon-hand worn rough? That cudgel had taken many lives and there were times when I thought it might have to take a human life but fortunately it never did. I think.
“Enough of all this talk about myself. My vanity is obvious. You sought me to hear a story- a story about my people, the Amurites. Where do I begin? I could start with the moment of my death, but then you would have no concept of the life I lead and the people I belonged to. That would be a shame and it would make for a very poor tale. I could start with the age of ice and the great hardship, but that was my parent’s tale and I am ill-equipped to tell it. I could begin with the founding of Cevedes and the leadership of Valendia. It seems appropriate, and I am tempted to do so, but others have told this tale already and they have told it better then most, certainly better then I. I could tell you about my family, of life as the oldest of 5 siblings. I have 3 brothers and two sisters. Had. That’s another story.
“No, I believe I will begin where others have ended.
“As others before me have said, the wilds of Erebus are a very dangerous place, full of wolves and bears and hidden spiders. Not all who hunt man are animals; there are two-footed predators amongst the wilds as well, men with pig faces and mishapen, loping strides who fight with spears and clubs, and smaller men, barely more then animals, half our size, but no less ferocious. These vicious creatures use cunning and trickery to attack from ambush. My cudgel had tasted all their blood over the years and my body had the scars to prove it. I think. At the time it seemed so important, a matter of life and death as they say… but now… now that life is not a matter of importance… its hard to see the value of life and death situations; my memory fades. Ironic really.
“The harshness of the wildlands was first established for me, not when my troupe and I first fought wolves or the strange half-man, half-beast creatures we would later call gorillas, but when I saw an entire group of armed soldiers swallowed up by the forests. Our group and theirs had camped together for several weeks while we had recovered from wounds previously inflicted. At the end of our time together, it was decided that they would travel north and west to discover new lands and that we would travel south to explore the edge of Balseraph territory. The night we parted was the last time we ever saw them alive but the next morning we spotted their bodies at a distance. All we could see was their desiccated husks. Closer examination revealed that they had been ambushed by spiders and their fluids completely drained.
“The experience made me worry for my brothers who, like me, have chosen to brave the wildlands. How had they fared? I could only hope that they had done better then the poor souls who had met their kismet amongst these wooded hills."
I am a foetus
“I am a foetus. One day I will have a name. That day is not today. A foetus is a person in a very special ‘place’. We are beginning to form and become the people we will one day be. But we are still very much the spirits we so recently were. We have memories of a greater truth but we are forgetful and our minds are simplifying in preparation for understanding a much cruder reality. This connection to a greater truth allows us an awareness of things beyond our reach, but physically, we will be unable to change the course of being for a long long time.
“Why are we discussing this? Why would a dead man’s story continue with mine? The Balseraphs have an expression, “The Amurites have an expression for everything,” and this is true. Our people say, and I will try to translate as best as I can because you obviously don’t speak our language, “When the tiger falls, the worms feast.” You have an expression very similar in meaning, “Out with the old and in with the new.” It seems that kismet has a certain sense of balance. When I will be born, my uncle will die, for you see, my father is the younger brother of the man who’s tale you have so recently heard.
“My father is a noble man. He does not have the ambition nor the charisma and stunning physique of my eldest uncle, but he has a different quality, a sense of caring and empathy that has made him a gentle and loving husband and will make him an excellent father. People call him Kaplumbal and this is because, when he was just a boy, he found a wounded tortoise and nursed it back to health. The boy that would become my father and the wounded tortoise became such inseparable comrades that the other children, and especially my uncles, took to calling him Kaplumbal. The name is appropriate; he is a natural protector. I am telling you all this because I feel a kinship with my uncle who will soon pass away. He has worried for his brothers and I want to put his mind and spirit to rest. Perhaps, when you meet him, you can tell him what I have told you.
“My father, like two of his brothers, is a military man. He served his nation as a scout and guardian. Shortly after I was conceived, he was sent to explore the dark and unexplored reaches of our valley. Soon he learned that the valley did not extend very far beyond what could be seen from Cevedes and he returned home.
“Upon his return, he learned that my mother was preparing for a journey. The elders of the village had decided that a settling party should be formed and sent south to claim fertile lands along the river there. My mother had been chosen. My father was able to speak with the elders and his troupe was sent to protect my mother and her fellow settlers. The lands were a dangerous place in those days, but the men and women chosen for the settler party were a courageous and hardy people, the pride of Amurite stock. They encountered prides of bears in their travels but by hiding from them and only returning to the open when the way was thought to be clear they were able to safely arrive at their destination. Upon their arrival, the village of Nimarail was founded.
This is where I will be born and become a great hope for our people. My name will be Nayla.
I am travel-worn boots
“I am travel-worn boots and in my long travels I have been further east of Cevedes then any Amurite save the man who’s feet I protect. You may pity me. I step in dirt and mud, trod through animal feces and blood. I am chilled by snow, baked by the sun, burned by camp-fire, cut by stones and sticks. But no, do not pity me. For mine is a life of adventure few have dared to dream of. The feet I protect belong to a man named Sabirsizl, the youngest brother of Timez and Kaplumbal. I have been cut by orcish spear points deflected away from the heart of my wearer, I have danced amongst the fangs of spiders larger then a Cevedes farmhouse. I have been massaged with oils to soften my leathers and extend my life by a man who appreciates my value. I have had hobbles replaced when they have come loose. No, my life as boots is good.
“Sabirsizl lives up to his name. He is always eager to find new places and explore new territory. He rarely tires and is an accomplished warrior. We have traveled far to the east and met many hardships, though none as great as the farmhouse-sized spider I have mentioned, and yet he persists. We continue our travels, determined to learn what lies beyond…
I am a dozen inkwells
“I am a dozen inkwells. From me, knowledge passes to hundreds of quills and from them it passes to thousands of scrolls. I am a scholar and there is nothing worth knowing that does not come from me.
“Accomplished elders of the Amurite people gather around me, dip their quills, and write the accumulated knowledge of generations in gentle curving Amurite script. They squabble and argue. They play backgammon and drink coffee (when Valendia is not about), but mostly they reminisce. These memories are not worthless. Some come to listen to the old ones and a rare few even learn something. Just last year we had an excellent student by the name of Menolly NuValle who breathed new vitality and a spark of fresh blood into the old bones that crowd around me. By her ambition and drive, more students were attracted to the cause of knowledge. Today the elders teach to a growing class at the ‘NuValle Academy in Cevedes’. And all the students take their ink and pass their knowledge from me.
“Menolly had not been idle since the founding of the academy. Taken several inkwells with her, she immigrated to Udenarat and organized the elders there as well.
“With the establishment of the NuValle academy and the organized efforts of the elders, a race was declared. We wanted to be the first to develop translations of the ancient pre-ice age scripts, to understand the knowledge of generations past. We knew that there would be a great prize for the first nation to accomplish the task. Much ink was spent in those days, but such was the fervor and the drive of the Amurite scholars, that the I never ran dry- ink was constantly being replenished to fill me.
“A great scare came one day when word arrived from a distant land. A man named Ozziel, from a place unknown, had accomplished a great scholarly task. We knew few details but many thought that he had completed the translations we toiled away at. Some were discouraged by Menolly was not and we continued our task.
“Finally the great day arrived when one of the students declared that he had found the key to the translations. The task was complete. From that day, his name lived on in Amurite history forever.
“The scholars were not the only ones driven in their quest for knowledge. Some gifted individuals also sought to strengthen our people. These sought to organize their talents and to return the Amurite people to their former glory. Ink from my wells was drained, dripping nib by nib, day after day, night after night, by ambitious, driven young men and women who sought secrets hidden in the ‘aether’. Finally their basic forms and research was completed. The pentagrams had been drawn, the bat blood had been infused with strange ichors from the southern jungles, herbs and minerals had been burned. It was time to prepare the first of the chosen.
I am Ghost
“I am ghost. But even a ghost worries and it is with great relief that I thank you for what you have shared with me of my brothers Kaplumbal and Sabirsizl. I am also overjoyed by the news of my niece’s birth. The absence of news regarding my third brother frightens and worries me, but what can I do to change his fate? I am gone now.
“I am being called to another place and though the beckoning is tempting, I feel I owe you more of my tale before I slip into the great beyond.
“Where was I? Oh yes. My troupe had headed south to scout the borders of Balseraph territory.
“We quickly learned that the clown-prince’s spawling nation completely blocked further passage into the valleys beyond. None-the-less, he was willing to provide us with information of these forbidden lands in exchange for tales of our own lands.
“With our passage blocked, we turned about and headed towards the setting sun. Along the way we met bears and green-skinned humanoids of diminutive height. These were armed with spears and proved rather aggressive. In one encounter, we attempted to hail them in their village, but we were attacked and lost many of our soldiers. We buried our dead and looted the humanoid’s village before pressing on.
“The seasons passed and the leaves fell from the trees. We continued our trek westward. The further we went, the colder the winter’s chill became. Food became sparse and there was evidence of over-hunting. We found indication of other humanoid tribes who had hunted pheasant and deer in the area. We came to a clear running stream and made camp. It was our intention to fish and gather our strength and replenish our stocks before continuing, but apparently we were not the only ones to use this area to fish. White bears, the likes of which we never saw before crossed the river to where we were camping and, smelling the fish we were smoking over our campfires boldly strode into our camp and amongst our tents. The massive creatures were over 18’ tall when they reared up on their hind legs though leaner then we expected; we thought them hungry but essentially non-hostile. We were wrong. We were as insignificant to them as insects are to us. Casually they swatted at several of our troupe who happen to be between them and the fish before we even realized what sort of trouble they would be. We ordered a retreat and fled north just as we saw another group of bears appearing from the woods to the south. No, these rivers, and the fish therein, did not belong to us.
“We fled north, hungry and wounded, bleeding and scared, carrying our injured and dying with us. Hiding amongst the woods in the shadow of a great snow-capped peak, we needed time to recover. It was not to be. We had been spotted by sinister lizard-people armed with scimitars and wearing leather armor. They had smelled our blood and tracked us through the woods that were their territory. We were ambushed and although we fought valiantly and killed many of their numbers, we were wounded and unprepared.
“If Kismet wills it, you will return to our people and recall our tale. The warriors I led will, through your generosity, be known as Amurites, strong and true, glorious in battle, and noble in death.”
I am Red
“I am red. I drip from the flesh, am swallowed greedily by the cold dry earth, and fade”