Constellations

Today I stole the stars away.

-

There are three families of gods upon our world today. Each of them are led by a Matriarch and Patriarch; each possess incredible power; and each are engaged in a bitter rivalry with the other two families. From what they have told us, they are on this world to create it: though whether they were set to the purpose by some superior being or came to it of their own accord is a point which they refuse to clarify. The Creation is well begun, as the gods have shaped the land into continents, brought forth water in the form of rivers and seas, and even created all the creatures of air, land and sea - humans being the 'lucky' species shaped in their own image.

Sadly, though, their rivalry has done great damage to their cause. The earth, which was meant to be in one great mass (that all beings could co-exist easily upon it), was split into several continents and countless islands as the gods fought over pieces of land. The sea, meant to be fresh and drinkable, was spoiled in a fools contest which culminated in two gigantic ziggurats of salt dissolving into the ocean and forever spoiling it. But the worst sin of the gods' rivalry is not that they have corrupted what they have created, but that they have been distracted from their true purpose - to complete Creation. To lift the stars themselves into the pitch-black sky.

When the gods began the work of Creation, each family was apportioned a third of all the stars in the sky. Their task was simple: to take the stars from the bags in which they were kept, and to sprinkle them evenly across the sky. They were about to begin, each family eying the others, when (as the tale goes) Osea the Innocent had an idea. Brightly, he suggested, "There's no need for us to sprinkle the stars all at random! Why, we can make shapes out of them! Constellations, to celebrate the glory of Creation and, of course, the gods!"

At once, all the gods stopped. At Osea's suggestion, they all began to plan the skies together - to create a great painting of sorts, a masterpiece, worked in the very stars. But dissension, predictably, broke out immediately - each family wished to emphasize its own accomplishments and diminish the others. Paiara of the Thorny Rose exchanged blows with Westre the Passionate over their respective positions in the constellations; when Thol Peacemaker attempted to intervene, he was struck a blow that left marks upon the very ground he stood on, still easily seen today. And so the stars do not light our skies today.

-

My name is Isaac of Numia. I am known in the land of my birth as a warrior, and a leader of men. I have slain over eight hands of men in single combat, and nearly fourteen hands in pitched battle. I am a pragmatic man. But when I heard the tale I have just told you, from a storyteller in an inn, and looked at the black sky above, something within me was touched. I am not overly imaginative, but to think of the wealth of the very stars, wasted by squabbling gods, was more than even my heart could bear. By the morning following, I had a plan. Trading away one of my horses, I acquired a spade, a ball of cotton thread, and a piece of glass, which I wrapped carefully in cloth before traveling west, to the gods' realm.

It is well known that the gods reside in the hidden valley of Kavaria, somewhere from five to twenty days ride from the city of Numia, depending on who you ask. For my own part, it took just over a week to reach the valley, hidden behind thick aspens and guarded by the legendary Hydralisk: the horse-sized, snake-bodied, acid-tongued monstrosity that Ivar the Red created to deter unwanted guests. I approached it with some caution, camping just out of sight the night before I planned to enter Kavaria. To my surprise, however, I discovered that the scent of mutton roasted with sagebrush was enough to both attract and distract the Hydralisk, allowing me to enter Kavaria without fear.

On my first day's journey in Kavaria, I entered the home of the strongest family of the gods, led by the reclusive Ivar the Red. When the gods noticed my approach, they seemed ready to crush me without a word of introduction. To my great relief, Karlova, wife of Ivar, stopped her children from wreaking my destruction, speaking in an ordinary tone that could nonetheless be heard from a quarter-mile away: "Stop. I wish to hear what this man has to say."

When I arrived at the doorstep of Ivar, all of his three sons and two daughters had gathered to see what I had to say. Humbly, but without apparent fear, I bowed to each of the gods and explained my purpose: "I wish the stars, that I may use them against your enemies." The gods looked rather startled, and before they could grow angered, I continued, "To prove my good intent, I present you with this gift."

The gods remained startled. Ivar the Red knelt down to look, curiously taking the gift from my outstretched hand. "What's this? A... spade?" I could see anger begin to furrow his brows, and before he could unleash his mighty wrath upon me, I explained further. "This is no spade. This is a wedge - that which divides one thing from the next. If a man may take it in hand, he may cleave anything in two which his strength allows - a clump of dirt, a tree's roots, perhaps a foe's flesh. Does he apply himself, he can turn excavate great pits and build mighty hills within weeks. In the hands of one so mighty as you..." I trailed off.

Ivar looked thoughtful. It was not often he had visitors of any sort. He looked at me - rather intimidating, even for me, to be stared at with those great blue eyes. "So you say that you will use our stars against our foes?" inquired he carefully. I nodded. "Well... then let it be so. But if you betray us, then ten thousand vultures will devour your carcass!"

On the second day of my journey, I arrived at the home of the most beautiful family of the gods, led by Paiara of the Thorny Rose. Again, as I approached, the gods seemed ready to smite me without a word spoken - though even the sight of them in this most warlike setting set my heart to racing with exhilaration at their beauty. I was spared again, though, by the imperious word of Paiara - "Enough" - who, nonetheless, wore a scowl on her astoundingly beautiful face. As I dismounted from my horse, she growled at me, "Why do you approach us so openly - you, who have sworn to the family of Ivar to destroy us?"

I bowed humbly, careful not to offend. "Why, I would never seek to destroy you - as though I could destroy those of your physical perfection! I come here for a boon - for I seek your portion of stars, that I might destroy that family - I shall not name it - which is your enemy and Ivar's both." Paiara's fury seemed to have eased somewhat, but I was still somewhat afraid that she would launch a blow like that which she delivered unto Thol Peacemaker. I continued, "To prove my sincerity, I offer you a gift."

Paiara took it from my hand, consternation on her face. "What? A ball of cotton? A gift for the gods?"

I explained. "That is no ball of cotton. That is a substance - created with careful labour from a hundred different threads - that can bind together that which is divided, which can make whole that which is separate. It can lift great weights, clothe the naked, and bind the wicked. Its strength is known across all the world."

Paiara still seemed uncertain, but announced, "Very well. You shall have our portion of stars. But know well, mortal Isaac - should you betray us, your death shall last a thousand years!" The look on her face left no doubt as to her meaning.

On the third day of my journey, I arrived at the house of the most clever family of the gods, led by Jordan Surnameless. As soon as I came into sight of the house, I felt myself falling - dropped into a clever snare. For some time, all was dark - the next thing I knew, I was trussed up before the throne of Jordan, left with nothing but what I'd carried on my person. Jordan intoned majestically, "You who have testified before all gods but we of your conspiracy against us, what reason do you have that you should not be destroyed even at this moment for your insolence?"

Shaking somewhat (for this was not a situation I had anticipated), I kowtowed to Jordan. "Why, O wisest of the gods, I have never conspired against you, but rather ever sought to help you."

Jordan appeared unconvinced.

"When I spoke to both of the gods, I spoke merely as would convince them to allow me on to you - for surely you recognize that, had I professed a desire to aid you, I would have been slain at once."

Jordan nodded slowly.

"It is said, in the books of the philosophers, that actions are ever weighted heavier than words. Observe: I have taken from both your rivals the very stars themselves, and am now in a perfect position to aid you."

Westre the Passionate, ever too swift to speak, inquired "What, then, would you do against our foes that you dared not before?" I answered easily, now that it seemed that the greatest danger had passed. "Why, I will use the stars against them - while one third, or even two-thirds of all the stars might not have sufficed (even against your lesser nemeses), surely all the stars in creation will destroy your loathsome opponents. To prove my intent, I came into your person with a gift."

Jordan accepted the gift, careful with the edges. "Why, it is a piece of glass - ordinary glass, blown in Ilya, just east of Numia." I explained, "That is no glass. That is the sharpest substance known to man - it can slice through things of substance and those without, being between the states itself, having weight and feel but no colour nor visible shape. It slices through the terrestrial with its edges, sharp enough to wound even a god, and through the ethereal with its sides, which distort even vision when properly employed."

Jordan considered the matter for some time, rocking the shard of glass back and forth on its protective cloth. For how long I cannot say, but before the sun's setting, he looked at me and said, "Very well. I, wisest of the gods, shall allow you possession of all the stars that are, that you may destroy our foes with them. But let it be known. Should you betray us, your death shall be a tale known to every storyteller who will ever live."

-

So it is that I ride out of Kavaria in possession of all the skies of existence. The threats of the gods do not faze me - for Ivar promised me no lack of food for the rest of my life (that I might attract ten thousand vultures at my death), Paiaria a thousand years of life (for my death began the moment I was born), and Jordan, wisest of the gods, promised me truest immortality in song. And now, with the stars in my hands, I look up at the black sky, and can see only light.