First Sundering

Who am I?
A Doomed Pilgrim in the Ruins of the Future

I'm a warrior seeking peace and an end to bloodshed. I'm on pilgrimage to the Temple to No Gods in the distant City of Gulls. My pilgrimage has brought me to the Longmoor, inhabited by the singing hyenas of the waste. My goal is to pass safely through and continue my pilgrimage.

I have wealth hidden in my clothing, and very long hair, uncut, unbound --was it so at the start, or has it grown out over my journey? Time will tell.

I have been walking thought the Longmoor for less than a day, but I am tired and looking for a place to rest.

I was surprised to hear the the Singing Hyenas here in the moorland, and was concerned, not only that they were a threat, but as to why they had ventured so far from their normal habitat.

Their singing had allowed me to keep my distance, but now the silence worries me. I can't as easily track where they are to avoid them... but, and worse, has whatever drove them from their lands come here? Is is a bigger danger than the hyenas themself? Should we be looking at a truce between us --ancient enemies that we are-- to deal with something more?

Their silence can mean only one thing. That what they fear is coming!

Carefully I make my way in the direction of their earlier-song. I am not a tracker, but the gods are on my side and I find their pack. They are as hideous as I had been led to believe, but I steel myself and approach, weaponless, my soft hands held wide.

They let me approach and sit by their 'table'.

Rumors had it that they were dumb beasts, and could not speak, but I find I am able to make them understand me. They can not form words, as we do, but 'yes' and 'no' are well within their abilities.

They do not trust me. It seems they have similar stories about the villainy of us that we have about them --I had not expected my quest for peace to bring me revelations about the nature of conflict-- and only the facts that they outnumber me, and that I am unarmed, keep them negotiating.

I try to get an understanding of what they are running from but all I can get with yes/no answers is that they are, in fact, fleeing from an ancient enemy of theirs, and that their homes and homeland are forfeit.

I have little to offer them by way of safety, and they do not value the wealth I have brought with me.

Pulling up their noses at my wealth they make it clear they want something else from me. I can not understand what it is, but one of them 'offers' to guide me there.

The pup seems in no hurry --it almost appears it just wants to get me far away from the pack-- and frequently stops to sit and croon quietly, in an imitation of song, then shakes, looks around and heads in a different direction --but always putting distance from the pack.

I am growing tired, my feet hurt and I am thirsty, but my guide shows no signs that we are getting close... or getting anywhere! This random meandering is pointless and I almost decide they are playing me for a fool... but I need their help.

Eventually the sun is setting and I can't go on any more. I am about to quit when the pup sits. Instead of the subdued croon we have heard so far it sings. I am startled by the sound after so long in mostly-silence, and look down at the pup. The song is beautiful --sad but beautiful. It is like nothing we have back home.

I try to pretend it is just the glare of the setting sun in my eyes that makes them water, not emotions stirred by the song, but that is hard. I don't know if hyenas can cry, but if they can, this one would be beneath, the fur.

I look where the pup is looking, and see nothing by the shadow extending out from a lone tree. Like a cruel-fingered hand, reaching directly for me! I realise with a start, jumping back. But the pup sits and sings, just off to the side of where they tree-hand-shadow reaches...

I look down at it again, questioning. "Yes". I need to enter the shadow. What I seek is in there. I can not bring myself to step forward, instead I stand --transfixed-- as the shadow-hand takes me. I am transported!

They have brought me to the land of Death!

I don't feel dead, though. I look around for my target.

Of course! That is where the shadows spawn from. Without the light there can be no shadows. Just as without me, none of these shades would be.

They are my children, but my actions --my pride and hubris-- also directly lead to their deaths. This is why I now seek peace.

They turn their sad eyes towards me, there is no accusation there, but I feel enough for all of us. Their voices ring out in song, echoing that of the hyenas... or echoed by it. Either way, I find it more disturbing that the hyenas --our ancient enemy-- are conduits to --or connected with-- our dead than I do to find myself here, in their land. What does it mean that we have killed so many of them through that ages?

I make my way through the throngs of my children and my ancestors, towards the blazing sun. My mouth grows parched, I try to ask for water, but get no response from the dead. What need have they of water, there is none here.

I walk on. My skin becomes parched and dry, the sweat that used to drip now sublimating in the heat as the sun draws near.

Closer now. The heat is unbearable --were I not already in the land of the dead, I am sure I would have died from it.

As I reach the sun, I feel the drip of sweat again... But I have no water to give... it is the coins hidden under my clothing! Melting and scalding my skin.

I tear off my clothes --which turn to ash as I do-- and rip the sacks of coins away, the metal falling through my fingers in shining droplets of gold.

"Tears of the Sun"? Could these be? I don't know, nor do I know how I would bring them to the hyenas.

They burn my hands, and I have nothing on which to wipe them clean. I force my hurting hands through my loose hair --my pride in this endeavour of 'righteousness'-- leaving patches of gold in the dark-brown. Similar parches were burned into the skin of my body before I could act to rid myself of the useless burden of wealth.

Around me on the dark sand, flecks of gold spread in all directions. I look down at myself, mottled as I now am. Am I become Hyena?

What is that sound? Hyenas laughing? Gulls?

Overwhelmed. I fall.

But, instead of feeling the impact of the sand on my face I pass though the ground and feel... cool. The sun, so high and bright and harsh on the other side, has set hours ago and the shadows are all around.

Having completed a full (or was it half?) circle. I am, again, standing on 'the other side'. I am sure I should be dignified in this situation, but --tired and thirsty as I am-- the physical momentum of the (non-physical) transition carries me onward and I complete the circle, falling forward... into the ring of encircling hyenas.

I try to call out for water. But all that comes from my parched mouth and tongue are small yipping noises.

Their rough tongues start to tear at my soft-and-par-cooked flesh-covering. I am too weak to fight.

The last thing I hear is the hyenas... laughing.

I was told never to trust a hyena. They are tricksters.

No Gods watch over me...

I have failed in my quest for peace.

The End.