Chapter II:
Of Mankind
Man
The goblins that had once dominated the whole earth were now leaderless. In the absence of their Dragon-lord, the Hobgoblins appeared, dividing the races of goblins according to the happenstance of war. These creatures carried on the work of their former master by instinct now, though the terror of their lord had passed away. They made war against one another, they befouled the waters they drank, they trampled the earth beneath them, and devoured the living creatures of the world. And for all this they suffered in proportion to their ignorance.
But among them arose a tribe of goblins more noble and more powerful in battle than any other. The reason of their sudden ascendance lay as much in their strength as it did in their intelligence. They devised an elegant but simple system of speech and they built sturdy homes and strong weapons. Independently of the dwarves they explored the deeps and made use of the strong metals they found therein, though never with the same level of skill. These, properly speaking, were the first human beings, though the elvish histories deny their existence altogether. The elvish historians, having inverted consciences, have always found it necessary to invert their histories, making what clearly was truth into myth and making what was clearly myth into their history. This act of theirs, this falsification of history, more than anything else, is the cause of the deep hatred our people have always borne toward their kind. I trust that I do not need to cite any source to prove that this is the case.
These men spread out all over the ancient world, founding societies on every continent. In the south they encountered the dwarves, and established a tenuous friendship, broken here and there by petty skirmishes and wars, but for the most part profitable for all parties. But it was not in the south that mankind was to meet its destiny. In the North they encountered the Dragon; and in the North they finally overcame him and from the North has come the means by which we also might escape the Dragon's evil.
The wars of man drove many of the weaker tribes, both of goblins and humans, into hiding. One such tribe was the Yuhma, which had a man named Athann for its lord. They made their way little by little into the north, hiding in caves and behind waterfalls to escape the perils of the wild.
After many years of wandering, they came to a land of such abundance that they were collectively stricken with dumbness as they wandered through natural orchards and waded across the crystal rivers of the Far North.
The word they devised for this place was 'Iha', which the traditions of the Nihlion suggest is derived from the sound of a man gasping, as if his breath had been taken away by the sight of something beautiful.
In this place they encountered that being the Nihlion call Daryas, but whose real name is unknown to the modern world. He said to them, 'It was not chance alone that led you into this land. You have been led here by the will of the Almighty King. It is time for your kind to take its place in the world, and restore it to its ancient luster. To this end has your tribe been preserved from perils, and for this task they shall receive blessing such as has not been bestowed upon any other creature. Life unending shall be given into your left hand, and wisdom unlimited shall rest in the palm of your right hand. Walk in the blessing of the Almighty, and your righteousness will shine like the immortal stars of heaven.'
To this the lord of men readily agreed, and he relayed the words of Daryas to his tribesmen, who, being refreshed and strengthened against their sufferings, were greatly encouraged. 'A new name I give to you,' Daryas told them all, 'You shall from henceforth be called by the name, 'Man', and it is your destiny to restore the world.'
There is nothing that happens upon the land that does not affect the waters, and the signs of this new commission soon reached the Maja, who had spent the past age doing to the inhabitants of the sea what he had done first to the inhabitants of the land. It was through his work below the surface that the great monsters of the deep were created. Galmod, the sea monsters, and the Aguians alike were shaped and formed by his wicked deeds, and for the most part subjugated to his purposes. The dolphins alone, it is said, resisted him, and for this they are revered by the holy men of every age.
But when he heard about mankind and the task for which he had been elected, he rose from the abyss and crawled out upon the shores of Bel Albor. No longer had he the strength or the will to fight, and since his defeat by the dwarves, he was fearful of any creature in possession of wisdom.
When at last he made his appearance among mankind, he made no effort to terrorize them, or to demonstrate his great might. He seemed, to them, like some ancient beast, weary, and ready to die at any moment. For several years he haunted their gardens and on occasion, when they were not frightened away, he would speak to them with soft words, calling them each by name, and sounding, by all accounts, like a caring kinsman rather than the dread Lord-Dragon.
After he had gained their trust he approached the Lord Athann, who had been given rule over all the people of Iha.
'For what,' he asked, 'do the men and women of your clan labor?'
'We labor for the Almighty King,' he replied, taking a break from his labors as one who pauses to greet an old friend.
'But, for what do YOU labor?'
'What do you mean?' Athann said, 'We labor for the Restoration.'
'And is that Restoration for you also?' the dragon asked. After the man made no reply, the dragon turned and left him. 'I must find my way back to the shade; the noon sun is too strong for me these days.' He slowly wandered away, breathing heavily and dragging his tail upon the ground.
Some time later, the dragon, having already planted his seed, and given it time to germinate, thought to himself that the time had come to water it, and hopefully, to bring to fruition his subtle assault upon this race of men. But he went not to Athann again, for he knew the man must hold him in suspicion from their previous encounter. Instead, he went to Lady Mainalann, Athann's beloved wife, and, struggling with each step, he crawled to her feet.
'Dear friend,' she said to him, 'why do you struggle so?'
'It is because death is near, and my old bones pierce me from within.'
'Is it so dreadful,' she asked, with tears forming in her eyes, 'to die?'
'Who am I?' the dragon asked, 'to answer such a question?'
'Then whom shall I ask?' she said, 'You are the wisest of all creatures.'
At this the dragon laughed gently, 'Nay, daughter, I am but a child of the world as well. Look to the earth, to the sky, and to the great waters, and there you will find wisdom.'
'I have lived my whole life amongst these three, yet I still understand nothing,' the woman said.
'Come, then,' the dragon said abruptly, suddenly seeming to grow in strength and vigor. 'I will show unto you the world and its wisdom.'
Sorrows
First the dragon brought her to a land of great beauty, a land in which living things of all kinds thrived. There he led her through fields of green plants and over bubbling brooks of crystal water. 'Is it not beautiful,' he asked her.
'It is beautiful,' she responded. 'It steals the very air from my lungs.'
'Then would it surprise you to know how much suffering lies beneath your feet?'
'Say on,' she said, suddenly feeling a sickness come over her.
'Dig into the mud, daughter of earth,' he said, almost in an imperious tone.
She immediately complied, scratching at the ground with her fingers until she revealed a nest full of shattered eggs. 'What is this?' she said, puzzled.
'It was the nest of a certain bird, that which your people call a 'groundling'.'
'But what happened to the eggs - to the chicks?'
'Look there,' the dragon said, lifting his nose toward the east. Lady Mainalann made her way slowly in the direction the dragon had indicated, feeling a greater uneasiness with every step. There she saw another nest. But here she saw a rat also, cracking the eggs one by one and devouring the chicks ere
they hatched.
'Now, daughter of earth,' the dragon said, 'Look at all this beauty with fresh eyes - and see that even as all living things have a kind to which they belong - even so, life itself is but a kind of the dead.'
Those words went deep into her soul and began to work within her a sorrow and a hatred of all the suffering she beheld. She chased the rat away, and wept over the broken eggs.
'Hmph,' the dragon snorted, 'it is a pity.'
'What?' she asked,' wiping the tears from her face.'
'The rat,' Thaeton said, 'it will have a hard time feeding its young. You see, if you save the eggs, then the rat must perish, for what else shall it eat?'
'There are the green things, which we also eat.'
The dragon laughed. 'Come,' he commanded.
He brought her to an old forest and led her deep within where the light of the heavens is very faint. There she was shown a great many rotted limbs and fallen trees, many of which were now home to rats, serpents and spiders. 'How lovely is all this rot?' he said to her, showing her how everything that lives, even the trees, must be brought to nothing.
'See how the insects devour the bark of the tree, and how the moss covers it and rots it away. Then look at these saplings, and how they, like all of these trees, struggle every day for their lives.'
'I see them,' she affirmed.
'These trees, these little trees,' he said sorrowfully, 'Do you not see how with every power they possess they struggle for life? And do you not see how, in blindness their very parents shut them out, and snuff them out, blocking the light of the sun from their leaves?'
'I see it all,' she wept, putting her hand upon the rotted trunk of a dead tree.
Next the dragon brought her to the shore of the eastern ocean, and showed her the bones of a great fish that had landed there by some mishap. The sight of the bones terrified her, but the dragon bade her walk on, sounding more like a master than a friend with every step.
She came upon a sight that filled her with more horror than anything else. There was a great fish, the size of a large boat, lying upon the shore, hopelessly trapped and doomed. Above it circled many vultures and upon its wasted bulk there crawled scavengers and rats, each taking a piece of the great fish for its supper. She turned to leave, with tears streaming down her face, but the dragon compelled her to approach the fish. 'Do you see the pain in this great beast's eyes?'
But Mainlann could not answer; her heart grew so heavy that she thought she would faint.
Observe,' the dragon said, 'Can a fish again live, which has come onto land in such a way?'
'No,' she said through tears.
'And can such a fish receive any benefit from living at all?'
She could give no answer.
'Would not a shorter life better serve this great beast, and not a longer?'
'It would seem so,' she said with great sorrow.'
'You, oh stewardess of Bel Albor, into your hands has been placed the destiny of this world - into the hands of your tribe. What shall you do, then, to ease the sufferings of this creature?'
'There is nothing I can do,' she admitted.
'Can you not at least put an end to his suffering? Take a blade in your hand and snuff out his life,' the dragon commanded.
'It is too large,' she admitted, falling to her knees in the sand. 'There is nothing I can do,' she repeated.
The dragon took in a deep breath and then sighed. 'Very well, then, I shall do it. Leave this place now!'
In great fear she fled from that place, her tears raining upon the ground as she ran. Behind her she could hear the sound of bones cracking and flames leaping. The great fish bellowed, making such an awful sound that all the carrion fled away in an instant. But in that same instant, silence came, and Mainlann knew that the fish was now dead.
She continued running without looking back until she came at last, she knew not how, to the village of her tribe. She ran to her husband and fell at his feet, weeping uncontrollably. Her skin white as snow, her whole frame trembled with fear.
The mere sight of his beloved in such a state brought the ruler of men to tears himself, and he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their home.
When some time had passed, and her terror began to wane, she spoke to him of what she had seen. He listened to each word carefully, seeing in her face the deep agony that she had experienced.
'It is too grievous a task we have been given, and one filled with evil,' he said as he listened.
'But what can be done?' she said with tears. 'It is our destiny as well. We will fill this whole world with our children, and subject them as well to all this pain and horror. Shall our seed be scattered like the seeds of a tree, to be eaten in the wild? Shall our babes be devoured ere they are grown, by all the rats and hawks of this life? Shall our dear ones be cast along the road like the shells of so many eggs? What endless torment has been has devised for our children!'
'It shall not be so,' Athann said with sudden resolve.
The End of Mankind
Athann and his wife retired to their tent, and for seven days they did not come out. When at last they emerged, they found the whole tribe gathered around them, waiting as it were, for some new revelation. They were both very gaunt and frail, for they had taken no meat and drank only what water they were brought. In their eyes there was a glow, however, as if they had gained the very knowledge of heaven.
Despite the infirmity of his body, Athann's voice sounded strong and confident. Beside him stood his wife, Mainlann, with tears upon her cheeks no longer.
'Children,' he said with no sign of emotion, 'the world is evil. Look within yourselves and see. When the body is filled with desire, it is miserable for the lack of its fulfillment. When the desire is fulfilled, the body is miserable for the lack of desire. What is life without misery?
'He who can know suffering, suffers the greatest. The beast of the field is happy, even until the lion comes and tears at it, and even as it is torn limb from limb, it has only the pain to endure. But man has disappointment mingled with every grief, and fear with every new day. It is a sorrowful tale - the history of men, and a sorrowful story it will forever be. We, the wisest of all creatures, are cursed with the greatest possible sufferings.
'For what end? I ask, for what end? Look about you and behold how meaningless is every individual thing. Every creature comes and passes, suffering just long enough to pass its spirit into a new frame and then expire. The children do the same, and their grandchildren also, until what? What is it all for? What good shall it do for man to endure until the end of time? To survive is to magnify suffering, and therefore to magnify evil.
'Turn aside therefore, my children, from the way of life, and make no creature to suffer, whether for meat or for labor. Relinquish desire, and succumb to the sleep of time. Let us resist this world, and in resisting it find peace in the hands of death, where we may drink in the dreamless sleep of oblivion.'
To go along with these new doctrines, Athann and his wife devised new laws, and swore that they would usher their people gently across the threshold of death, where their suffering would come to an end. It was in those days that men and women first began to wear clothing, properly speaking. They had, of course, for the sake of warmth and to hide their skin from the blazing sun, created raiment for themselves in times prior. But now, to avoid the evils of life, and the travails of childbearing, Athann forbade his people, especially the women, from being seen unclothed, lest they should be tempted to extend mankind's suffering.
The Rebellion
There was a young man in the tribe by the name of Adapann, who was, prior to the new laws of Athann, betrothed to a young girl named Avann. But at the command of Athann all such betrothals and all marriage unions had been dissolved.
But it so happened that as Avann was bathing in the stream with some of the other women a great bear appeared, such as lived only in the ancient world. In a great fur
y this bear attacked the women, sending those who escaped into the wilds, wearing only what linens they wore for bathing.
Ignoring her companions altogether, the bear pursued Avann into the forest of Hunn, where she found refuge among the trees. The bear remained below her, circling the trunk and snorting with great frustration. From time to time the bear would lean its weight against the trunk of the tree and lift itself almost close enough to catch Avann by the ankles. She wept as her feet felt the hot breath of the monster below her.
Soon news of the attack reached the ears of Adapann, who rushed into the woods alone with his fishing spear. He was waylaid by Furann, the chief servant of Athann, who said to him, 'Why should you rush to save life? Do you not understand the ways of our people?'
Adapann said nothing, but pushed the man to the ground and rushed into the forest.
His contest with the bear was great, and he received many wounds. But in the end, with the shattered ends of a spear meant for river fish, Adapann, the Father of all Warriors, bled the monster to death, staining the forest red with blood.
He took Avann from the tree and embraced her, glad to see her safe from peril. But as they embraced, their old love was renewed, and they remembered the life they had envisioned ere the new doctrines of Athann had rent their destinies apart. 'It is evil,' she said to him, shuddering as his eyes were fixed upon her, 'to look upon me so.'
'Then it is an evil I must bear, for I could no sooner look away than I can fly up to the clouds and drink from the crystal skies above.'
'But shall we be found guilty of that evil, which Athann has expressly forbidden?'
Adapann sighed, and looked into his beloved's eyes. He put his hand to her face, and brushed the hair from her eyes. His bloodied hand left a streak of red upon her cheek, and he saw just how pale she had become. 'Athann would have us forgo love in order to abstain from suffering. But who ever said that suffering is an evil? And who ever said that sorrow ought to be avoided? Why should we let ourselves perish, and our work with us? If we choose to live, then perhaps our pain will be great, but so also will be our righteousness.
'Athann is wise to keep your beauty hidden away,' Adapann continued, 'if it is his intention to bring about the end of mankind. For having seen it unveiled, my will is taken captive, and I will choose every pain and every sorrow for the sake of your love.'
'And what of our children?' Avann said, with tears swelling in her eyes. 'Will you bring pain and suffering upon them as well?'
Adapann, with fire in his eyes, said, 'Yes! I shall bring suffering upon them! Do you not see, that the love that we share, is the root and beginning of life? The very passion that lies betwixt us is the will of those children, generation after generation calling out to us from the world that is to come. For my part, I shall no longer resist them. To live, to die, to suffer even as we do, is already the choice that they themselves have made. Mainlann has seen the death of many creatures, as the Old One has shown her, but did she not see that every one of those creatures desires life, and not death? We may escape sorrow by following Athann to death, but we shall also thereby escape goodness. Judge now, my love, which of these ought to be our master.'
She looked up at her beloved with tear filled eyes and, choosing the way of pain, said, 'I will follow you, my love, for the power that draws us together is irresistible.
With those words spoken they turned their backs toward the village, and, hand in hand, abandoned Athann's path and the tribe of mankind.