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Clyra Mercenweld sat on the fountain at the heart of the grey village. The sun was warm and shining, but little of this daylight could pass through the grey fog that clung to the buildings and hung over the entire village, coursing through the tight alleys and pathways, making a dazzling and glittering day seem as gloomy and as sombre as the night. Occasionally little rays of sun would find their way through the fog and dance on the rocky ground, only just for half a second, and the villagers would welcome the light’s appearance, before it would be taken away by the dreary hands of the charcoal-fog. Very rarely, a beam of light would shine on Clyra, and it would make her silver hair shimmer as if it were made of jewels. Clyra began to swing her legs back and forth as she sat, seeing wisps of grey cloud swirl over her feet and lick her calves and ankles, and when she breathed she felt the rancid air fill up her lungs, intoxicating them, and then she would exhale, and see a cloud of grey dust escape from her mouth and mingle with the rest of the filthy air. Although she could not see the sun’s light, she could feel its sweltering heat, and she wiped her brow before standing up and starting to walk.

Clyra had never liked to stay put in one place for too long, so you can imagine that being trapped in a large blackened and smelling village for her whole life had nearly driven her insane. She lived in the Grey Village. It lay past the outskirts of the Kingdom of Eryn, past the long grass and the thin forest, and surrounding it was a large stone wall to keep the villagers locked inside. It was not known when the slavery began, but for as long as even Clyra’s grandmother’s grandmother could remember, the Kingdom of Eryn had been using the village for its own advantage.

Now, calling the Grey Village a ‘village’ was an understatement, for the place was quite bigger than two, possibly three cities, and hundreds and thousands of people were trapped inside its walls, slaving away day-to-day to deliver the kingdom and palace food, wood, stone, clothing, and perhaps most importantly, gold. Clyra herself worked in the sewery, making fancy garments and fabric-made items for the kingdom. Every week reams and reams of horse-drawn carts would pull up to the village gates, and after being let in by the numerous guards defending the entrance, would take all the items, materials and food made, collected or grown (or killed, for chickens, cattle and pigs were also kept in the village’s farms) to the kingdom for their people. The villagers did nothing. The villagers worked until late each night and proceeded to go home, sleep, wake up, and work once more. They lived in fear that they may get beaten by a guard (for guards always patrolled the work zones), or get taken away with the hundred. Every year, a little less than a hundred village residents would be taken from their homes and past the wall. The guards called it ‘exterior work’, but the villagers still feared that it meant something very bad indeed, and dread would be felt when guards would pick eighty-odd people to march out of the village.

Clyra turned a corner – the houses were so tightly packed together, apart from in the main square, that she had to keep her arms in so they did not scrape across the buildings that were either side of her. All the homes were stone buildings with two small rooms and a roof made from wooden planks, and they all looked exactly the same from outside. Clyra turned another sharp corner and began to walk down a row of homes. Before long she came to a home that looked just the same as the rest, turned to it, and slipped inside.

Her grandmother was there, waiting in the front room. Her siblings were already sat in front of her grandmother; they had been waiting patiently for Clyra to arrive. Without saying a single word, Clyra sat with them and waited for Grandmother Mae to start telling them a story. These stories had been passed down through generations and generations, before the Grey Village ever existed, and so Clyra and her two sisters (Mari and Jaila) and two brothers (Cyl and Paxen) would often listen enthusiastically and wide-eyed to Grandmother Mae’s tales. None of them were more passionate about the anecdotes than Clyra, the eldest, though. At eighteen years of age she still sat cross-legged and as mesmerized as she was ten years before, when Grandmother would tell her stories. “All there was at first was a sky,” Grandmother Mae spoke, her old wise voice captivating the audience of her grandchildren, for she was telling a new story; the creation of everything. “Not like the skies you see – grey and fading – skies of black with the stars shining bright and full of life. The stars would often speak to one another, their voices like bells in the sky. Many stars created our life. But in the very beginning, only Illuvia shone in the sky – the mother of all stars. During the first night she used her stardust to create thousands of other young stars in the sky. She called them her children, giving them all names. However, she created six stars with the most power; Lumelia the star of light; Tetrad the star of the earth; Iceriel the star of water; Aermon, the star of air; Igniseta, the star of fire; and Vitara the star of life. By the second night, all of Illuvia’s children were fully mature. “On the third night, change was to happen. Tetrad created a colossal mound of earth in the sky. Happy with his achievement, he ran to show his closest other sisters and brothers, and mother. Illuvia commended her son and from far and wide Tetrad’s other brothers and sisters came to witness his creation. Pleased with his work, Tetrad called the mound of earth Illuvad to honour his mother. “Igniseta became jealous, her power of fire was the most dangerous and she always felt undermined by her siblings. In an attempt to destroy her brother’s doing, she melted the rock at the centre of Illuvad, creating a core of molten rock. Iceriel saw her sister’s act of jealousy and filled all of Illuvad’s crevices and craters with water.” Mari gasped; “So our world Illuvad was made, Grandmother! Tetrad created the land, Igniseta the core, and Iceriel the seas!” “Yes, child,” Grandmother Mae smiled, “But the world was yet not quite made,” Grandmother Mae continued, “The water did not fully diminish the molten core, but it was kept at bay. Iceriel ran to Tetrad, who came with their mother Illuvia. She scolded Igniseta, and praised both Tetrad and Iceriel for what was their creation. “On the fourth night, Tetrad and Iceriel noticed that Illuvad was too quiet and still. Tetrad proceeded to make mountains and caves and hills as Iceriel made lakes and rivers but still Illuvad was so still. They called for their brother, Aermon. He made it snow on the mountain peaks and in the northernmost and southernmost points of Illuvad, he made it rain in other places, he made it windy in others. But they all felt it wasn’t enough. At this point they called for their sister Lumelia. With all her beauty and innocence she created Fairies. Called so by their fair hair, hair that was so fair it was white and shimmered, she created the race. Lumelia loved her children; they walked tall over the northern lands of Illuvad. She created them agile and able to jump to extreme heights so that they could easily travel over the lands. She also created them with voices and hearts and feelings – so that she could call to them and they would answer. “Illuvia was astounded at what her most favourite children had created, and granted them permission to leave the skies and enter Illuvad – even Igniseta as her molten rock had caused the land to create vast valleys and mountains and cliffs (much to Tetrad’s annoyance). Only Vitara was left. Before her sisters and brothers had agreed to leave for Illuvad, she attempted to create life. She would call this race Men, and Men would come in all different shapes and sizes as she believed truly that it didn’t take immense beauty to have kindness in a heart – she herself was regarded as less beautiful than her sister Lumelia and felt looks meant nothing. She went and created Men, but the race soon died. As she wept, Illuvia came to comfort her daughter. Vitara’s sadness was slowly destroying Illuvad, and a mound of rock broke off Illuvad and was left floating in the night. In her sadness her powers began to grow unpredictable, and during this time, as her brothers and sisters were trying their hardest to keep the world of Illuvad together, she gave life to the rock. She called it Moon, similar to the name Men, to honour her race that had not survived, and Moon was sweet and wise. Illuvia grew fond of moon, and Vitara suddenly realised what her race of Men needed: light. But not starlight, they needed something with much more life. Illuvia knew what she had to do for her daughter. She grew and grew until her starlight had drained but she kept hope, and eventually she turned into a great and burning star,” “The sun!” Clyra whispered, excitedly. “Yes dear,” Her grandmother chucked, “Illuvia became the sun!” She then proceeded with the story, “She also fell in love with Moon, and the two now live together in the sky, creating night and day, as Aermon controls the skies and clouds. Vitara created Men again and saw them flourish, but then they were starving. So Tetrad and Vitara created plants that the Men could eat, and Vitara also created animals in the sea and on land that they could use for food or to ride, and the Fairies and Men lived together on Illuvad. “Not wanting to disturb peace, the six stars created a city in the skies of Illuvad and lived there, watching over their beautiful creation,” Clyra came to another realisation, “You’ve spoken about them before haven’t you! The Sky Lords!” “Yes,” Grandmother Mae continued, “The six came to be known as the Sky Lords in their city of Skywell. Since then they have invited a couple thousand of their brothers and sisters from the skies to live in Skywell as Sky Folk. From coming down from the night into our skies their hair has turned to pale blue like the skies, and as I have once told you before, that they keep their eyes shut.” “How do they see Gran, how do the sky people see?” Jaila asked. Clyra spoke, “They see with their eyes shut. They just do. People say that they don’t have eyes like we do, behind their eyelids is pure sky, they say. They keep them shut to conserve their power, and when the time comes to help their people of Men and Fairies they will open them,” “That’s right,” Grandmother Mae smiled at Clyra, “Run along now, Clyra needs to get to the sewery,” Neither Cyl or Paxen had said anything for the entire story, but when they stood up Paxen said; “She should have been there hours ago.” Clyra laughed, “It’s the last day of the month, they let us have half a day off before they come to collect what we have sewn tomorrow. How could you forget? You should be at work by now as well, harvesting,” Paxen had never been too clever, but then again no one in the Grey Village ever was, as their only education came from their parents who taught them to speak. Clyra got her intelligence from Grandmother Mae, who was wise, and got this gift from her ancestors. 

Impressum

Texte: S White
Lektorat: S White
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 07.05.2014

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