Circle of Immortals

First in the Colinia Series By Emiko Cothran

Demmy swished her short, reptilian tail across the water like a paddle. Her glossy blue scales reflecting the sun's golden light as a fish's tail would. "How long!" she demanded in an impatient, child's voice. "Mommy! Hurry up!" Illutiana did not see her child's rush, for she her self was immortal, and to her the passing of time meant no more then the passing form day to night, and the bright return of the sun in the morning. But to her daughter it meant everything. She sat, squirming and twisting like a little worm trapped on hard land. "Moooooom! Let's go now!" "What's your hurry, Dear?" Illutiana purred in a sweet voice, soft, like the fluttering of a butterfly's wings. "They'll wait. The assembly meets once a year and will wait. They sit upon the rocks of Rivian all of the bright season, and they will wait." by 'the bight season' Illutiana meant summer, but because immortals had no care of time they had no need to name the stages of it's passing. "The sooner we get there the soon we can go!" Demmy pouted, and she stamped her foot hard on the moist muddy bank of the stream. Illutiana looked to her daughter sympathetically. Another thing she never understood about mortals was that everything they did they felt the need to rush threw so that they could do something else, only in turn to be hurried along so that they could pursue anther venture. Demmy was no exception. She was always saying thing's like: "After we go to swimming can we go collect flowers down by riverbank?" or "Let's watch the sun rise after we play sticks?". And she was never content to sit, or to wait, or to except something that she couldn't see with her eyes. And tho Illutiana had never told her that she was a mortal, for the thought that no one who knew for certainty all they're life that they were going to die could ever be happy, Demmy showed all the symtoms of being mortal. And so, Illutiana decided that it was not the knowledge of dieing, but mortality it's self, that caused the burning rush in all mortal creatures. Illutiana stood to leave, her sleek white coat picking up all the colors of light, in the bright morning rays. "Let's go." She purred. And Demmy jumped up and began to run in circles about Illutiana's feet. "'bout time! 'bout time!" she shouted with glee. And Illutiana felt a sharp pain in her heart. It was all about time. And in time she would watch the child she had grown to love grow old and die, before her eyes, and there would be nothing she could do to stop it. When they got to the assembly all the immortals of Calinia were gathered at Rivien. Some lay stretched out on warm rocks, some sat and chatted, and some just dozed wrapped in the soft green moss that grew among the rocks in warm damp places. "Welcome Illutiana!" A formilure voice called, "good tides be with you!" It was Meristide the half elf half gargoyle that dwelt amongst the mountain top of Sria. She was the last of her kind. The last elf or gargoyle alive in Calinia. Meristide had made it her business to mate with mortals, producing mortal children that could carry out her blood line, however thin. Illutiana hugged her and kissed her on the cheek, as was the tradition of all immortals, and had been sense the beginning of time. They touched hands and smiled, for immortal hands seldom touch save for the gathering of Rivian and on uncommon occasion, a disaster, for example. "Tidings Illutiana!" Called Stacie, the phinex. "How fares your little one?" "Sweet and bright as silver moonlight, warm as summer's breeze. Lovely as the blooming flowers sprinkled threw the trees." Answered Demmy. Quiet proud of herself and the response that she'd given. "You grow a little more every time I see you!" Exclaimed Stacie. And that made Demmy happy, for young mortals love to be told that they're growing. This too baffled Illutiana because she would think that the thought of growing ever closer to the end would bring what mortals called tears. "Tell me, soft one, how an immortal, especially one that had never touched, can bare a mortal child?" Illutiana looked around. It was Crysta. The human. The unluckiest of all mortal creatures because humans unlike the animals are aware of they're mortality, and compared to the mortal troll, and the gnome, and the dwarves that dwell in the caves, have very short lives, only about a hundred years or less. Humans were the only mortal things allowed at the gathering of Rivian. Humans had always dwelt there and had made it there home long before the immortals chose it for they're gathering place, and so humans were allowed to come and to go as they pleased, and to partake in the bread of the gathering, and listen to the stories. Human children sit on the rocks and pretend that they are kings, or they listen to the fabulous tales the immortals weave, or the watch the beautiful daces that the immortals do after dark. And because of this Crysta knew of the law in the baring of immortal children. First off, there is only one immortal child bore to ever set of parents. This makes sense, for if immortals were left to breed like humans all too soon there would be too many of them and they would crowd the level land of Calinia. Second they were only allowed to bare one child when one immortal dies. Now immortals do die. They're ageless, timeless, but their bones are no less fragile them ours. They would not be impervious to lead bullets, if any had existed on Calinia, and they are certainly subjected to being trampled by run away herds of animals, and killed by trolls, or drowned in the winding river bottom. So the balance id always perfectly kept. And the right to bare children is given according to age. Those fist born are first to receive the right of parenthood, and Illutiana was the youngest immortal. Demmy had run off to play with the human children and so Illutiana sat upon the highest rock, the one that the story teller always sits upon and began to tell the story of her child's birth. Listen closely, my friends, I have been asked to share with you the birth of a miracle. Of my daughter. Half gargoyle, half human, to an immortal Tei. Not just any Tei, but as you all know, the youngest of my people. Demmy is not the daughter of my body, but she is of my heart. She's as much my daughter as any child could ever belong to anyone. All my life I have wanted children, but I would have to say that for that to happen some of you would have to die. Quite a few actually, because I am the youngest of us all, and that is a mixed blessing. This is the story as best as I can remember it: It was a hot morning, in the bright season, and the ground was dusty and dry form thirst. All the creatures that normally dwell in the valley where I live had fled long ago, and crept into dark hiding, and so along with nothing to drink there, too, was nothing to eat. No plants can grow in the thirsty times. I was going to leave the valley that was, and had been my home for more then a hundred years, when something caught my eye. A speck of color amongst the dry brown leaves, and earth. Curiosity over took me and I ventured forward to see what it was. There, laying on the ground, naked and half covered with dry leaves was a crying infant. I had seen human infants cared for by they're mothers. They were fed from they're breasts, and rocked in they're arms. But being the youngest I had never seen any of us do it. And I had no milk to give her. So I took the hungry child to a human village, just a little way towards the direction the sunsets near Rivian. There I found a mother with a young boy in her arms who's mate had left her, and if I promised food, and water, during the season of thirst, she would feed my child with her milk, and teach me the gentleness of caring for the young. Day by day I hunted for two. I traveled deep into the forest where the animals had fled, and carried back berries and leaves and small lizards and things that I could catch, and gave them to the human mother. And she showed me how to hold a baby so that it's head dose not fall back, and how to move it in your arms so that it will go to sleep, and how to say nice things to it so that it would giggle and smile and close it's chubby fingers around your hair. I collected water from the large leaves of plants in the forest, and dug in the ground until my hands hurt. But it was all worth it, just to see Demmy smile. Just to hear her laugh. With in only a few years Demmy was eating real food, and I thanked the mother for her help. And ever sense then I brought her to the assembly every year. And because she was saved on the milk of a human she gets along well with the children here, and I am glad, because she had some one her age to play with. "What a wonderful story." Crysta said. Not really paying her any attention. That was like humans. To ask for something and not appreciate it. Or to forget things they chose not to hear, in fact they had become so good at forgetting that they sometimes forgot things they did want to hear. That was why Illutiana liked the little humans best. They enjoyed what you gave them. And would listen with wide-eyes at what ever you had to say. Meristide had been listening intently. "I know of children more then anyone else." She spoke and she did so in a loud booming voice so that all could hear. "I have escaped the laws of the immortals! I bare children freely!" "Tell us!" cried the children of the human village. "We love stories!" "This is not a story but a song, and it dates back to far before any of you were born." For Meristide was the oldest of the immortals. As far as any one could tell she had always been there, like the sea, or the mountains, or like Cailinia it's self. Meristide never told stories unless they were in a song she hummed out in a deep voice with little if any tune, but the stories always told of a time when no one at the gathering of Rivian, not even the immortals, had ever been. Meristide was the last strain of gargoyle-elf blood, and had made herself Eve. "Then gather 'round my children. For to me you are all children. And most to me are some how related." Gather around my children. For all of the, my children ye are. I was born to give life to the lifeless, to the planet three moons from the star. It happened far too long ago to remember. Even the wild pools of Rivian were far too young to recall my life's tale in it's purity from the moment where it had begun. My mother was last of the elf folk. This she knew to be true. To continue the blood of my people She knew what she had to do. Tho no life was lost in the giving this sacrifice my mother would make so that I could mate with the mortals and survive for my peoples' sake. She begged the creator for a gift a child to carry on who's blood could be spread out thinly threw the mortals of Rivian. She said that tho no life was given, one she would give in return. The life that she gave to me she would with her own life earn. My father was last of the Gargoyles. A strong and noble breed. In who's honor the statues were carved, but who's children were killed of by the greed. A gargoyle's skin is priceless. No harder shield exists, so my father was last of his species and the statement he made was this: Carry on in blood, live for today, and thrive, but should the time ever come that it is your turn to die, you are to have children of mortals, and for me they'll shed tears in strife. And never you forget the reason that your father gave up his life. Then I was given my mother's breath and my father's will to live. And the right to bare mortal children in exchange for my parent's gift. The life of a mortal is worth little for all mortals are doomed to die. But the price of my parents was great for mortals they became and as mortals they did die. The children sat in awe around the circle of the immortals as Meristide stepped off the elevated rock. Her songs had the power to hold a listener spellbound, and all around faces blinked at the sun like children awaking from a dream. "Meristide," Stace began, but stopped. There was nothing to say. No one could ever know just what it was like so many many turns ago, long before the mountains were stone and the river was blue. "May I speak, my lady?" Asked a tall, slender centaur, bowing his heavy head before Meristide's slender figure. "Karn, go with my blessing." "You have something to say?" Asked Illutiana, cocking her head. Karn half galloped, half trotted to the speaking stone. "Mortal's, I will treat you!" he said in a deep voice full of power and confidence. "Immortal's I will enrage you! Little children of Rivian I will frighten you! I tell of a story of blood and battle. I tell of tall men on horses, like me, but with two separate minds, trying to work as one, but failing..." I am sure that you all are familiar with the ruins on the other side of the lake. I once lived there, during a kinder time, during a time of life, and growth. When I lived there the flowers were blooming, and the grass was sweet, for as you all should know centaurs my eat either as a horse or as a man. The clean waters of Rivian fell in a trickle into the thicket that is now ash and gave it life. My home was also near a village of mortal men, and they grew things in that ground, they planted sweet things to eat, like orange roots and spices, and sweet berries that grown on a vine. They grew food where rocks once were and gave life to the dead lands. At night I would sneak into they're village and try out the sweet fruits of they're gardens. That was when the thunder came. It came at night. Men ran out into dirt roads and threw stones and shot fire from sticks and shouted and stamped. The animals all excaped from they're cages and crushed the beautiful human gardens. Then men of a different color came into the village, they shot at my humans and dropped they're young into the sea. The streets ran red with blood and never in my life had I seen such meaningless death, for you remember: immortals do not kill they're own. It was then that I chose the dusty hill for my hiding and from there I saw a weathered old human beat to death with wooden sticks. She gasped for air and I could see the red seep from a gash across her tiered head. She gave up with merely a fight and it was plain to see that those doomed to die have little love of life. She looked up at me and for the first time I saw in her old, gray eyes the look of time. Those two staring, blank, glossy stones filled with the fear of her own kind. I fled the village. From that day on I do not venture into mortal lands. I do not eat of they're foods nor listen to they're assembly. I no longer trust the mortals as I once did, and no longer see the beauty in they're gardens and clay pots and tools. There was a quiet that fell over the assembly. The immortals shifted uneasily, for none save the elves who were slain by the hate of mortal trolls, had ever witnessed mass killing, and none wanted to. Some of the younger immortals shivered, and looked with distrust at the humans around them. Illutiana caught her knees with her hands and sighed. Somewhere in teh distence amist the mermer off comments were tossed around involing the words "mortals" and "I never"
A small boy who had been listoning to the storie stoop up. He was no more then four feet tall, his tasseled black hair in thich thath atop his perfectly round head.
"you have no right!" the tiny mortal exclaimed, and sevral immortal looked at him with lazy and disinterested glances.
"You all come here, and sit in your little circles, but you never do anything! You've only seen the owrst in people, how can you judge us?"
"Stop talking, child." Kela, the tree nymph, ordered. She was high strung, and thought the world revolved around her. She had lived threw war, plague, and famine, and was not about to let some insolent child back talk to her. "Let the boy speak." Cooed Stace. "What fear have you the convictions of a small child?" "Fear? I do not fear him Stace, he is but a trifle nuisance, and should not be allowed to speak." "If you do not fear him, then why dose your hair streak with green?" Even the phinex knew that a tree nymph's hair will turn green when one is intimidated. "Ha! It is not but the light reflecting off the green waters of the pool. He may speak, if you wish, tho do not blame me when the whole evening is ruined by his monkey's chattering." "We could all learn a lesson for this child." Stace said. "for I know what it is to be mortal. I die and am reborn in ash, speak, little one." The boy looked around. Even Demmy had come to the gathering after collecting little speckled butterflies, and was sitting with her legs crossed at the edge of the water. "May I take the story teller's place, upon the rock above the pool?" Asked the boy. "Or is it too sacred to be touched by the skin of a mortal child?" "I will fly you up to it myself." Said Stace. "And all the assembly will hear what you have to say." The boy climbed upon her back and Stace flew him to the peak of the rock. Her rainbow hued feathers glimmered in the suns light and the boy had never seen anything so wonderful in all his short life. "now tell your story," Stace said softly, "and all of us will listen." You immortals act as if you are better then us. You've been here forever, and you'll probably always be here. You sit on your rocks and tell stories, and lay in the sun never do anything! You live a million years and what do you have to show for it? We build houses! We build roads! We strive every day to accomplish something. We feel that we have to do something that no one else has ever done. We feel that we have to leave our mark in today, so that we'll matter to tomarro. We don't have forever, it is our mortality that pushes us on word! We can't just sit in the sun like you people, we have to do! We have to LIVE! What makes our lives so precious is that they don't last forever. Every second to us is worth more. Every minuet seems to last longer because of what WE put into it! We have to fill our lives. And most of us live more in a day then you do in all of your foreverness.
He began down the stair steps of the rock but Stace flew up to meet him. She carried him on her back down to the ground where the other children looked at him with wide eyed amazement. He had been brave, he had spoken his mind amongst the immortals, and had made an impact.
Illutiana looked down at her child with crescent moon eyes. It was all about time, only being mortal suddenly didn't look so dark. And she finally saw how it may not be unluckiest of all creatures to know your end is so near. She looked onto the assembly with new eyes, and onto her child's rushing, and for the first time in her life, understood. Even Kela was silent, and the assembly at Rivian was open to all creatures, mortal or immortal, of Cailinia.