The First Book of Cullus

This week sees the arrival of the second instalment of the Creation Myth of Doranath. In it we see the first fall of the Elves, and the Creation of Cullus - First amongst the Gods. I hope you enjoy.

The First Book of Cullus

The Three having ventured through the Universe that was their realm, did return to the World, which they had left in the care of the Elven kind. The World, to both their pride and dismay, had changed. A natural order had been established with their Custodians, the Elves, at the pinnacle of it.

The Elven longevity, and deep understanding of the magics of their Creators, placed them well above the beasts and plants of the World, which they called Ealdcýðð. They took it upon themselves to shape the World to suit their ends, and to carve the mountains into homes for themselves.

Whilst the initiative shown by the Elves did greatly please the Three, they wished to experience their World in a truer sense. To this end, they took on material forms, and each wandered the World alone, experiencing for the first time the pleasures of the physical, and the limitations that were bound to it. Sanas was drawn to the oceans, and spoke with the fish and corals, learning more of the world. Henas travelled the forests and jungles and did take great pleasure in the abundance of life. Goras, so driven by destruction, lifted a new mountain from the soils of the North, causing the World to spew forth its molten blood, and formed with this blood the greatest of mounts: Drael.

No matter where they went, however, the Three did learn the same things. The Elves had become aloof, and shirked their duties as Custodians, instead isolating themselves and caring only for their own. The beasts brought grievances against the Custodians, and begged for some new protectors that would better serve the World.

Upon leaving the World once more, the Three did hatch a new plan. First, they selected the greatest spirits that had formed throughout the world – those which were purest in their essence - and uplifted them, creating the first Gods. These beings had no identities, being simply forces of nature. With such greatly heightened strengths, and consciousness, they did battle furiously amongst themselves and did lay waste to many parts of the World. Appalled, the Three did quell these disputes, and decided upon an even greater endeavour. To guide these new Gods, the Three did sacrifice a small amount of their essences, fusing them into a new being – unique amongst all their creations.

This Being they gave all the knowledge of their creations, and power over all things living. However, having observed the savageness the Lesser Gods, the Three agreed to give more of Henas’ essence – the Essence of Preservation – to this new Being, in the hope that it would seek to preserve the World and all within it. This Being then wandered the World unbidden, learning of its charges, and watching the first Custodians. Then, the Being returned to the Three and accepted its charge, and gave itself identity. It named itself Cullus – using the tongue of the Elves to choose the name -  and did declare that it would be as a Father to the Gods, and to all the creations of the Three.

For a time, the Three observed Cullus and his actions around the World. First, he spoke with all the beasts of the World, listening to their grievances and resolving disputes. Then, he spoke with trees and plants, and found them calm. Moving on, he consulted even the stones, coming to understand their nature. At last he gathered together the Gods and did give them order. He formed them into Three Orders, and did give them each their duties within the World, bringing order from the chaos.

His first duties done, he did rest awhile, observing the goings on of his new Order, and consulting often with both his charges and the Three. Still, he felt an imbalance in the World, a lack of respect for his Order, and an irreverence towards the Three that made him ill at ease. He sought out the heart of this imbalance, and appeared before it. The Elves, offended by Cullus’ creation, and arrogant beyond compare, had raised a great temple to their leader - praying to him rather than to Cullus, the Gods, or the Three.

In a fury that revealed the nature of Cullus - The Storm – he did tear the temple asunder, shattering every stone and grinding it to dust. The Elves he did strip of many of their gifts, so as to punish them for their irreverence. He banished them from their cities, to return only once they had proven willing to serve their original duties as Custodians. He allowed them to retain their longevity, but did curb their powers, bringing them into closer harmony with the World.

In terror and despair the Elven arrogance fled, and they did kneel before Cullus. They begged him for reprieve, forgiveness, and guidance. Merciful but stern, he did give them all three. As Reprieve, he did grant them their own Gods, who answered only to him. As Forgiveness, he did grant them pardon for their past crimes, allowing them a new beginning. For Guidance, he granted them the gift to speak with the beasts and trees as he did, so the World might better communicate its needs to the Custodians. Grateful, the Elves departed their cities, and took up new homes across the World.

Pleased, Cullus rested, planning his next move as Father to the World. Relieved by the success of their Scion, the Three returned once more to Aether and Void, to explore and experiment further. It would take a cataclysm beyond the imagining of even Cullus to bring them once more to the World.

That is all for this week. I hope you enjoyed the First Book of Cullus.
Until next week,
N N B Clarke.

The Lost Vignette

This week, I wanted to do something a little different. I thought it would be nice to indulge both myself, and my audience, by making an as yet unseen vignette available here on The Narrative Within. As some of you would be aware, my first published work, An Introduction to Doranath, was a collection of vignettes that served to introduce readers to my fantasy universe. Today, I humbly present Jonathan's Creation.

Jonathan's Creation

A thought came into being in the void, lingering like a lone candle in the darkness. Gradually new thoughts, beliefs, images, and ideas gathered unto the first thought, tightly orbiting it, joining it. Soon voices began to speak, adding yet more to the thought.

Unshakeable justice.

Honesty.

Purity.

Fury.

After a time, the ideals became descriptions.

The strongest arm.

The keenest sight.

The swiftest feet.

A soft, female voice made itself heard: A kind heart.

Slowly the vortex of swirling thoughts began to spiral in new ways, gradually forming into a recognisable shape. Lines of fiery red defined the arms and legs, yellow the torso, and cold blue the head.

Give him Dreams.

And Hopes.

Give him clarity of thought.

Bestow a sense of Purpose.

Again the soft voice spoke: Give him a name.

Jonathan awoke screaming, his mind suddenly alive. He looked down at large hands that moved at his whim. He ran them over his muscled chest, and down his legs. His mind teemed with sensation, every touch fascinating him. Jonathan raised his hands to his face, fingernails scratching over his stubble; fingers running through his long, brown hair.

He breathed in and felt his lungs fill with cold air. He looked about, but saw nothing but a grey haze.

A voice filled his mind: You must know what it is to be.

Agony lanced through Jonathan. The dim light of the haze was suddenly brilliant, scorching his eyes, and his skin felt as though it was being pierced by a thousand icy needles. Blood pounded in his suddenly aching head as his stomach churned, and an ear splitting shriek tore through sensitive eardrums.

The voice spoke again, its soft tones soothing him and overcoming his pain: You must know death.

Before Jonathan's eyes, his hands began to wither, and he felt his body deteriorating as it aged rapidly. As his body died, he felt his consciousness separating from it, his mind fading as he drifted away from his mortal shell. The voice brought him back to being, his body revitalised.

You must know compassion.

A deep and abiding warmth, tinted with an inexplicable ache, filled Jonathan, who smiled as unbidden tears rolled down his face. The emotion was complete, filling him with both care and dread all at once, overcoming all his senses.

Now, go into the world.

Jonathan felt a rushing sensation overtake him, and the haze vanished, only to be replaced by a  mountainous vista populated by grey boulders, green pines, and distant peaks shrouded in thin clouds.

"At last," said a weary voice.

Jonathan turned to see an old man in a grey cloak. He was seated on a stump, absently plaiting his long grey beard, and tapping his foot to some tune unknown. The strange man ran his grey eyes over Jonathan and said dryly, "Why must they always forget the clothes?"

Jonathan opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the old man.

"Nevermind, here."

A brown rucksack was thrown to Jonathan, and he opened it. Inside was a homespun white tunic, brown trousers, and a pair of cracked leather boots. He fished all of the contents out and began to dress, his body completing the necessary movements automatically whilst his mind revelled in the fact that he had never done this before. As he pulled on his new trousers, he noticed for the first time the swirling, dark blue tattoos that covered his body.

The old man chuckled and said, "Pretty, aren't they? Marks you for what you are. Keep 'em covered round mortal folk, they draw plenty of attention. Yours are a bit different to the ones the others had. More of 'em, and different styles. Curious."

He walked up to the mystified, but dressed, Jonathan and pressed his forefinger to Jonathan's brow. Heat pulsed where he touched, and he frowned slightly.

The old man returned to his stump and sat, saying, "So you're it then. The final gambit."

"What?" asked Jonathan. His voice pleased him: it was deep and rich, filled with warm tones. He wondered how it sounded if he was to sing, or shout, or scream.

The old man waved the question away, "The understanding will come to you in due course, best I don't force it. Glad to see they have not compelled loyalty upon you though. Seems they listened to me for once."

Jonathan looked puzzled.

"Loyalty cuts both ways, boy. If it can be broken, it can be turned. Your older kin are proof of that. Now come, we have lots to do, and not half the time we need to do it!" 

Jonathan followed the old man down the mountainside, surprised that he was struggling to keep up with one so ancient. As he followed, more and more questions filled his mind. One, however, continually rose to the top.

Who was he?