The Book of Mortals

Kassakhia

An Autobiography

The Spirit-Daemon

The eerie hum of myriad of whispers echoed through the great hall of the Lord. The typically reserved and elegant avariel nobles clustered high in the surrounding galleries fluttered back and forth sharing hurried whispers and questions. In stark contrast, the clustered common people stood in silence at the back of the hall, kept back by the presense of menacing guards. The object of the curious stares and frightened whispers lay prostate on the floor before the great throne of the Lord. The figure was a small, female child, her face buried in her arms. Her long blonde hair was strewn about her and looked to have an odd tint to it, as though it were beginning to mold. Her tiny body shivered every now and then, yet appeared oblivious to the two massive guards crouched at a ready stance with spears pointed above her.

At one instant the voices stopped and the hush became a physical presense like that of a dam about to burst. A magical hum preceded the opening of a gate and through it stepped the Lord's councelors who entered the Hall and quietly took their seats at either side of the great throne. After a few eternal moments, the Lord Darmantis stepped through the magical gate, followed by his giant bodyguard. Gracefully Darmantis took his seat on the intricately carved wooden throne and his bodyguard crouched below him, one eye on the silent crowd of commoners, another on the small child shivering on the floor.

The Lord gave a slight nod and Counselor Zientris stood to speak. He rapped his heavy oaken staff thrice upon the floor andaddressed the Hall in his deep voice. 'My people, we have been gathered here before our Lord and the Spirits of the Forest that we might look to a threat which brews from within our community. We face at this crucial hour the visage of Evil itself. This being before you has been Taken by forces which can only be described as pure Evil.' Gasps interrupted Zientris' speech and a confident smirk crept across his lips as he tugged at his long beard. 'The Wildness of this Evil can be seen in her very appearance, and the rampant behaviour she has exhibited these past months only confirm that action is required now in order to preserve the physical and spiritual health of our people. I urge our Lord to take permanent defense against this unholy threat to our people.' With a bow in the direction of the throne, Zientris resumed his seat.

After the small surge of whisper quieted, the Lord nodded again and the Lady Soriana stood to address her Lord and people. 'The situation before us is indeed of great concern to us all. But most importantly, it is of great concern to this young child before us. Her name is Kassakhia, daughter of our esteemed Liatania and Aleicsandre. She passed her tenth summer only recently when certain changes in the child became noticable. Most physically noticable are the changes in her colouring, and her behaviour has become wild and mischievious, beyond that of a normal child her age. It has become apparent that some spirit has inhabited her. From my studies of her, I would believe this to be a chaotic forest spirit. It is not yet apparent whether this spirit is Evil. I think it deserves futher study before we simply destroy the life of this young child.' She sank into a low curtsey and returned to her seat.

A noise from the back of the room began to boil as an old man stepped up to the guards and said in a loud voice, 'I seek permission to speak.'

The Lord said in a soft voice, 'We have ever listened to the voices of our people, please come forward.' The old man walked steadily the vast length of the hall to stand behind the child. 'My Lord, this child is my granddaughter. I am Deisandre, father to her father, Aleicsandre. Many years ago my wife passed away, but I think it is in her life that we might make sense of the affliction fallen upon my sweet child. My wife Jassilara was of Romany blood. She fled her homelands when they were destroyed by a usurping general and I met and fell in love with her. But our time was not long, for she was afflicted with a similar problem as my granddaughter. At an early age, one of the forest spirits entered her body and essentially became her.'

'BLASPHEMY!' came the cry from the frothing lips of Counselor Zientris. He speaks of the most Holy of events bestowed only upon the Great Lord. For such a blessed event to occur to a Gypsy,' he fairly spat, 'is of the highest heresies.' A low murmur of assent echoed through the galleries of the nobles and an uncomfortable silence from the commons. Deisandre bowed his head and said softly, 'I mean no heresy, only to say that this child has been gifted. She is possessed of Chaos, yes, and in time, the two shall meld so that girl and spirit-daemon are one. She shall hold great powers and be gifted beyond that of other children, yet the strength of that in her will wear her, and destroy her body, long before its time. I implore you, my Lord, to see this as a gift and a blessing. She is no more Evil than you yourself.'

He stepped back a moment, as though exhausted, and allowed the guards to pull him back to the crowd. His son came up behind him to support his father. Another stir came from the back of the room, this time, parting the crowd of the commons as the Lady Liatania stepped gracefully through the people. She paused beside her husband and touched his hand briefly, both giving and receiving strength. She passed a soft smile upon her father-in-law before turning a steel-eyed gaze upon the Lord. She held his stare for a long moment, then stepped back into the crowd.

The dam of silence burst and nobles and common alike errupted into vibrant conversation. A heated argument boiled from the counselors seated by the throne and the guards glances about with flashing eyes and ready weapons. And in as quick an instant, the noise evaporated as the Lord Darmantis stood from his throne and walked towards the child. He knelt before her and gently lifted her chin with a soft hand. For a long while, he knelt there, looking into her eyes, once blue eyes set in a ruddy face, now swirling green from the Chaos within her. The expression upon the Lord's face is a much debated topic amongst the commons. Some swear a moment of compassion reached his face as he looked into the innocent eyes of a child. Others vow that a great fear touched his heart as the child looked back into the eyes of a Lord. But it is generallly agreed by all that at some moment, the steel dropped over his eyes and his hand jerked back from her as though her skin were fire.

He walked calmly back to his throne and sat upon it firmly. His soft voice cut like swords through the Hall. 'The child is a danger to our people. She is most likely Taken by the forces of Evil. But due to her age, We command her removed from the Kingdom, never to return to plague our people. Her grandfather may escort her from the Lands.' A deep scream, torn from the heart of a mother, ripped through the crowd. The Lord raised a slender eyebrow and said, 'We will allow her parents to see the child once more before she is cast forever from their sight.'

Liatania and Aleicsandre were instantly at the side of their daughter who looked at them only in bewilderment. Aleicsandre knelt before her first and touched her cheek, 'My little one, be strong, our hearts are with you.' He pressed an object into her hand, stepped back, then turned away, wrenching pain more than visible in his face before he covered it with worn hands. Liatania clasped the child in her arms, then whispered, 'We will fight for you, my love. I promise.' She harshly wiped the tears from her eyes. The child looked at her with an odd look, one that belonged not to a child, but to the eternal spirit-daemon within her. She reached out a hand to touch the golden necklace at her mother's throat and the gold shimmered and shifted into a living rose leaf. The child smiled up at her mother in delighted innocence.

The Lord Darmantis nodded firmly to the guards who moved quickly to grab the child. Any eternal essense about the girl fled and it was a very young child who screamed at being torn from the arms of her mother. Her lost shrieks of 'Mama!' shattered any calm remaining in the Hall and Chaos broke loose. Shouting on every side deafened the guards attempting to control the masses. The parents fell sobbing to their knees upon the floor, Liatania's arms out- stretched towards her daughter. The girl continued to scream and wail as the guards dragged her to the door. A gigantic crack and roar pressed the heavy silence back on the people as they could only gape at the throne of the Lord before them, engulfed in dancing green flames. The child stood calmly staring at the Lord, surrounded in wildfire, yet unburnt. About her hands crackled the angry green flames, her long hair a vivid emerald. She hissed angrily, then turned and walked from the hall.

The Gift of Age

Confusion rampaged about the Hall. Some people rushed to leave and others attempted to put out the fires swirling around the Lord. I cast a glance back to my heart-broken son and his torn wife. Liatania looked up at me and nodded briefly. Quietly I slipped from the Hall and into the network of tree-branch streets. I found my granddaughter sitting cross-legged in a sunny plaza, her small hands caressing an object in her hands. She looks up at me with tears in her eyes and I moved as quickly as my old bones 'We must go now, my sweet. The confusion will not last long.' She nodded bravely and put her hand in mine as we stood to leave. I led her quietly through the hollow tree by the gate and left the city. We continued for as long as we could, traveling along the river, but it was not long before my aged body called for a rest. We stopped alongside a copse of berry bushes beside the river. Kassakhia looked up at me and held out the object in her hand. It was a flake of obsidian, roughly chipped into the shape of an oak leaf. 'Papa gave it to me,' she said solemnly, 'What is it?'

I smiled softly at her. 'It is a talisman of great power, child. Your father made it for you.' She turned it over in her hands, a small frown on her face, 'What does it do? How do I make it work?'

'It is not that kind of talisman,' I said with a gentle chuckle. 'It is of a simple magic. Your father is like that. He enjoys the simple things and expresses his thoughts in such a manner. He made it for love, and for remembrance. That you might hold it and always know that it was made for you alone. It is a very powerful kind of magic.'

Kassakhia nodded seriously and closed her hand over it again, clutching it fiercely. I reached over to touch her smooth cheek with my roughened hand. 'There is so much I would tell you, child, but I was not the one to do it. You are meant for great things. You have been chosen in a special way. But it was not fair for you to be Taken. You never asked for it, and sacrificed will be demanded of you constantly.' I sighed at my own inadequacy, 'Your grandmother would have known better what to tell you. But never mind that, now. We have a long journey ahead of us to see what this brings.'

I reached over to place my hand on a large boulder to aid my standing, but never touched the mottled grey surface. I stared at the rock not comprehending why my hand was not upon it and the rock turned blue with swirls of white. I saw my granddaughter's face over me and clarity settled over my mind. I felt her hand go to the arrow protruding from my side and I sighed softly. I tried to lift my hand to touch her, but my arm lay leaden wherever it had fallen. Kassakhia's soft whimpering escalated to a piercing shriek. I tried to reassure her with my eyes, to tell her not to fear, that I was fine, but all that escaped my lips was a helpless moan. She reached down to touch my face and I felt her warm tears on my skin. My sweet, I wanted to whisper, my beautiful child. My eyelids grew like stone and fell upon me, shutting away all life and tearing away forever her visage from me.

The Scar of Youth

You shy away from these memories, but it is time for you to accept. Of course it hurts you. Your heart flinches at the very thought. But you will see. You will suffer. You will scream. And you will remember. You covered your grandfather with rocks. You had no way to give him a proper burial, so you covered him with the scattered rocks by the river. You left a small daisy upon his cairn, a simple flower which still blooms even to this day. Clasping your little oak leave, you made your way through the forest and along a river until a vast city appeared before you.

The city was strange looking, and guarded by massive trolls. You climbed a tree and fell into soul-exhausted sleep until nightfall. Under the cover of darkness you slipped into the city and spent the moonlit hours in a fascinated discovery of a world of stone so different than that of the world of tree. Dogs barked at your passing, you hid as a cart rumbled by, and as the morning approached, you caught the scent of freshly baking bread. Drawn by a young girl's hunger, you cautiously approached the bakery. As you inhaled the invigorating aroma, you sensed a footstep behind you.

Turning, you saw seven human boys, hardly five years older than yourself, moving towards you with leers on their faces and cudgels in their hands. You tried to fly in fear, but a sharp stick slammed into your wing and forcing you back to the ground. Gasping in pain, you had no defense as you were grabbed and dragged into an alley. Your clothes were torn, your feathers trampled, your hair pulled. And then you were violated, one after another, they pinned you, beat you, and stole from you, touching you, forcing you.

Do the words bother you? Can you not even admit to yourself what happened? They raped you, child. They took what was yours to give, one after another, then laughing gave you a last kick and continued on about their day.

Thankfully, you lost consciousness and floated in a void where you no longer had to touch what had been done to your body. And here in this void were you able to sense the presence inside of you. A weak voice inside of yourself asks this presence - These then are the fruits of Chaos which you would have me inflict upon others to serve you?

No child, comes a whispered reply, no more than an echoed thought. This is what you will stop. Rape is the order of Men who would inflict their Order upon the Earth. It is through that rape that Men, and yes, Women too, seek to control and force Being into Order. Rape of Women, whose wisdom would be silenced. Rape of the Poor, whom the rich would suppress for their comfort from fear. Rape of the Earth, from which they would tear all the beauties from She Who Gives. Rape of the Blessed, out of envy in the name of God. Rape of the Law, until it becomes an Ordered tool to destroy those it would defend.

These rapes are the product of Man's forced Order, of he who would control all he might see, not the result of Chaos. You are the daemon, inhabited by the spirit. You will release the chains of Order and bring Freedom. Freedom is Chaos.

You struggle to raise your beaten body, bruised legs and broken wings. Your slow, trembling steps lead you to take your place in the world.