Worldbuilding Wednesday: Festivals, Fasts and Feasts

With the year galloping towards its end and various celebrations being held all over the world, I decided to do a worldbuilding post about some of Airthai’s festivals, focusing on those relating to the Sundering.

For a brilliant podcast about holidays in fiction – and especially in fictional worlds, I highly recommend listening to this one by the team ofWriting Excuses.

With the Sundering being such a big part of the history of Airthai, there are various festivals across the lands of Airthai which in some way commemorate this event.

The most wide-spread festivals or days which are commemorated at the time at which the Sundering happened, which touched everyone on Airthai. The Coastal Peoples have, for the most part, the most or the longest festivals that has to do with the Sundering. Different days are added or removed depending on what had happened during the Sundering in that specific part of the world. 

Festivals of the Sundering in the Eastern Lands

In the Eastern Lands some of the biggest festivals are held by the Saerímavolk and their neighbours and are set around the events of the Sundering and the events thereafter. The Saerímavolk holds the Festival of the Sundering at the end of summer every year. This festival incorporates the following: the Day of Sundering, the Night of Fire, the Week of the Lost and the Day of Thanks.

The Feast of the Sundering

The Feast of the Sundering is made up of four different holidays, starting with the Day of Sundering. The fourth month of the year, when the plants slowly recede and lose their leaves, is a month which includes a week of fasting - known as The Week of the Lost as the loss of the Sundered Lands to the Shadow is remembered. The month ends with a great feast on the Day of Thanks to give thanks that the Continent was saved through the Sundering. 

The Day of Sundering

The Day of Sundering is commemorated in the third month of the year, at the end of summer, on the day before the full moon. On this day a fest is eaten and the beaches are readied for the Night of Fire.  

The Night of Fire

The Night of Fire was the night on which the Flotaferan attacked the coast of the Eastern Lands after the Sundering. The Night of Fire is commemorated every year at the first new moon after The Day of Sundering, at the end of summer. This night is commemorated by the lighting of bonfires on the beaches and has come to include mock battles and feasting, where the first nights were held in austerity, recounting the tales of the Sundering around fires on the beaches over a simple meal. 

The Week of the Lost

The Week of the Lost is held during the week after the Night of Fire. During this week people fast to commemorate the loss of Sundered Lands as well as those who still live there.

Day of Thanks

The Day of Thanks is the last day of the Festival of the Sundering, where thanks are given that the Continent was spared the Shadow of the Sundered Lands. On this day the week-long fast is broken and a feast is held to end the Feast of the Sundering. 

The Lands of Airthai before the Sundering

The Continent and the Sundered Lands after the Sundering

Worldbuilding Wednesday - The Keepers: Their Beginning and Their Houses

The start of the Keepers was during the time of the Great Sundering, when there was a consensus that the knowledge of the peoples of Airthai must be kept in a safe place during the wars, attacks, earthquakes and floods across the lands of Airthai. At that time the greater libraries on the eastern coast of the newly formed Continent gathered together all the copies of books and annals and even artworks that they could. The people who gathered these books were called the Gatherers of the Keepers of Knowledge. Books and scholars even came from the Eastern Isles, brought on the trading ships for safe keeping.

When the Saerímavolk was attacked by the Flotaferan - which saw part of the Saerímavolk trek inland and form the Eargestreon - it was decided that a type of army should be formed from the surrounding peoples; who could be called upon immediately to keep their people safe. With them there would be scholars well-versed in the politics and the history of the peoples involved who could act as diplomats.

A fortress was built just north of the Saerímavolk lands and this was the first House of the Keepers. These Keepers later became known as the Eastern Keepers once other Houses were built.

The second House that was built was that of Holt Haliern, in the Midlands. The third and fourth houses, which were built nearly simultaneously, were the Houses of Théotriewe and Eamidtheo. These three Houses are all in the Midlands. Although the names of Holt Haliern and Théotriewe have stayed the same, that of Eamidtheo changed to Ameragh after the Lady Wíslic Ameragh's death. Because of this, and his great sorrow, Síldu did not return to this most southern House of the Keepers for many years, but stayed at Holt Haliern and Théotriewe.

In the Southern Lands, first the towers of the Khallahna and later the Khalné's Tower, along with the libraries of the countries of the Southern Lands, served as the repositories of the books and knowledge. Only after the Dragon Keepers had left the southern shores was a true House of Keepers, known as the Southern Keepers, started in the Southern Lands.

In the Western Lands, the first House of Keepers built was the House of the Rún; situated on the west of the Ealdbergs. A second was built on the western coast of the Continent. In the Northern Lands only one House was built; known as the House of the White Dragon.

The Sign of the Keepers of Holt Haliern

Next week: The Keepers: The Wíslic and the Elders (And I’m hoping to have the pre-Sundering map finished by then as well.)

Worldbuilding Wednesday: A Map of Airthai

The following map of Airthai was inspired by T-O maps of Earth. It is not supposed to be a realistic representation of the world, but rather a symbolic one. It was only drawn and used after the Great Sundering of the Lands.

Just as there are four directions (north, south, east and west) and four seasons, there are also four stars that aid travellers in finding their direction and Airthai is divided into four parts. Three of these parts (the Continent and the Eastern and Western Isles) are placed against the fourth; which is the Sundered Lands. The map is therefore also used to show that the Sundered Lands are only a small part of the world and that its people would never be able to overrun and rule the whole of Airthai.

Much later, a similar map was drawn of the Continent as a form of protest by a scholar from Trelkanor after the Khalvér and their Nightwatchers had infiltrated the country. In this map he placed the “Southern Lands” – of which Trelkanor is the farthest south – in the place of the Sundered Lands. He had hoped to get some sense into the rulers of the country and its people, but was stricken by the Illness shortly after the map was made public and most copies of the map was destroyed out of fear.

Other fiction: For Part 12 of Virgin for Hire, click here.

Some Worldbuilding and a Flash of Fiction

The Battle of the Black Field has been fought. The Khallahna has split into the Khalvér – Servants of the Dark– and the Khalné – Servants of the Light. Now, three centuries have passed and the great cities of Trelkanor, including Ahrlea, are haunted at night by servants of the Khalvér who spread fear, death and the Illness that can take memories or even leave your mind an empty shell.

Uninvited Visitors

“Who was it that ratted me out?” Gretha glared at the dark clad Nightwatchers in front of her. “Tell me!”

The Nightwatchers remained silent. One of them moved. He was taller than the other Nightwatchers and towered over the short frame of Gretha.

“You can at least do me the favour of telling me who it was that ratted me out before you take my mind!” She bundled her wrinkled hands into her sides, glaring up at the masked man as if he was a boy caught stealing apples.

“Do you have a daughter?” The Nightwatcher’s voice was muffled under the black mask he wore over the lower half of his face. The embroidered, golden sigil he wore upon his heart caught the lamplight.

“She’s long dead, ask anyone.”

“A son?” He stepped closer, cutting her off from escape from the room.

“Dead the same year.” Gretha didn’t move.

“And do they –”

“Don’t waste my time blathering. My whole family died of the Fever not ten years ago.” She stepped up to the tall man. “Some say the Werlea made it and the Watchers brought it. Everyone agrees the Watchers know when anyone dies – or when they get ill.”

“The Illness is given to those deserving of the punishment,” the man said and drew himself up.

Gretha looked past the man to where one of the other Nightwatchers was lighting what seemed to be thin twigs wrapped in paper with the flame of one of the lamps in the room. It smoked heavily and Gretha pulled part of her scarf over her face, shielding her nose and mouth.

“Do you do it here or do you take me away?” Gretha asked and felt her mind getting fuzzier by the second as she inhaled the strange fumes.

“We’ll take you away. We won’t just leave you here with the Illness. You deserve far worse.” The watcher’s voice was only a rumble and he snatched the scarf from her face, forcing her to inhale the smoke. Within a few seconds it had done its work and she blacked out.

“Bind and take her outside. I will search the place again.”

The Nightwatchers bound the old woman and carried her to their horses while their leader walked slowly through the small house.

Beneath the floor, Leandré could hear the footsteps coming closer and closer to where she lay hidden beneath the crude floorboards. Her great aunt’s voice had been loud enough for her to hear everything. She crouched down further, her knees digging into the loose black soil. Beside her was a pack, filled with clothes, food and other necessities. In one hand she gripped a large kitchen knife, ready to put up a fight if the Nightwatcher found the trapdoor. Smoke started to seep through the cracks between the floorboards. The smoke smelled both sweet and sharp at the same time. She tried to hold her breath, keeping her lungs filled with clean air as she waited. She had heard that the Nightwatchers – servants of the Khalvér – can only be killed by a wound through the heart or head. Head or heart, she repeated in her head. Her hands began to shake and she could barely keep the knife from falling from her grip. Her vision began to blur and she shook her head, trying to clear it. She could not tell if the footsteps were moving towards her or away from her. She dared a shallow breath, her lungs burning with smoke. Then world turned to pitch and she heard and knew no more.

Some Local Folklore and Writing News

I follow artist Andrew Baker’s RSS feed and received this stunning (but frightening) piece of a Tokoloshe last week.

"Tokolosh" by Andrew Baker

This reminded me of a story I did a while back. I tried my hand at a story incorporating local folklore and I used an amalgam of beliefs about the Tokoloshe and it turned out as quite a dark piece. But I guess it is a gory subject!

Doctor’s Visit

“You’ve come too late.”

The old woman who had spoken sat on a bed near the back of the hut. It was quite dark inside, but I could make out her deeply wrinkled face, faded red dress and that the bed she was sitting on was raised above the ground on a couple of bricks.

She sat with her legs stretched out in front of her, her feet bound in cloths that were once white. Her arms were folded beneath her breasts as she stared at us. I moved my first aid kit from one hand to the other and cleared my throat.

“Too late for what?” I enquired.

She squinted. “You haven’t been here before. Where’s the other doctor?”

“He went back home. I’m new at the clinic.” I held out my hand. “I’m doctor Smith.” She did not take it but her wrinkled face cracked into a smile. “New, eh? I hope you can do something better for my feet, they’re hurting something awfully.”

I looked at my partner, but he shook his head. “You do it.”

I placed my kit on the dirt floor and knelt down by her feet before asking my partner to get me some light.

“You have very good English,” I said, making small talk. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to speak to you.”

She harrumphed. “I finished school,” she said. “Worked all my life like an honest person in the city. I came back here to help my daughter look after her children. Her husband’s at the mines, you know, up north. She was left behind here.”

“Where is she now?”

“She passed on. A year ago now.”

“So you’re looking after your grandchildren?” It was a story I had become all too accustomed to.

“They also moved on.” She pointed a gnarled black finger at the far rounded wall where four identical pots stood. “Their dust,” she said.

“Ashes? You cremated them?” I wondered how far the closest funeral home was from this rural village.

“Dust,” she insisted and I left it there.

I started unwinding the blood-caked bandages from her feet and searched for something to say in the stillness while trying not to breathe through my nose. For a doctor I couldn’t handle the smell of blood that well.

“You said we are too late?”

She nodded and cringed as I touched her foot. “He took another one,” she said. “My neighbour only returned with the bricks. The ones we make here are not strong enough for the beds, you know.” She shook her head sadly. “No one cares about the rural people – if this happened in one of the cities the newspapers would be all over it, but here…”

I carefully unwrapped her foot. If she had been in one of the cities she wouldn’t have had to wait for us to travel nearly 100kms to give her new bandages and pain medication in a van that broke nearly every 10km.

At last the bandage came off and I stared in horror at her foot. Where five toes should have been, only three were left. The other two were ragged stumps, one partially healed, the other bleeding again after I had removed the bandage.

“What happened?” I asked, focusing on the wall so as not to gag in front of a patient.

“He came again last night and took another one.”

“He?” I stared at her other foot. “How many?”

“Also two gone,” she said and turned her face away from me.

“Who does this to you?”

“I can’t say or he’ll come back. Can’t say. She looked at my partner and said something I didn’t understand.

I looked at my partner, but he too turned his face away.

I cleaned and bound her feet as well as I could and gave her pain medicine.

“You could go back to the city,” I said, but she shook her head.

“He got what he wanted and I have the bricks now. Nothing can hurt me now.”

I said my goodbyes and stepped outside into the bright sunlight. Around the cluster of huts the hills seemed to undulate forever. Here and there in their green folds there were other settlements with a dozen or so huts. There were no electrical cables to be seen. Nothing modern but our van stood here.

I looked at my partner.

“What happened to her?” I asked, knowing that he had been there before.

He waited until we were locked in the car.

“Her daughter stood up to their healer after he mixed the wrong muti to give to someone. He wanted to keep her quiet so he made a Tokoloshe. She stood up to him and the grandmother told the others about the healer’s deeds.”

I looked back at the hut with unbelief.  “But it couldn’t- that’s just folk tales.“

“Where do you think the tales come from?” He sighed and started the car. “She stood up to him and died, that’s why her children turned to dust.” His voice sounded far-off. “That’s what happens.”

I swallowed hard a few times.

“How can she be sure it’s over – it’s just a couple of bricks!”

He shook his head and pointed to where two or three people stood at a new grave.

“The healer was not liked, he was evil. He is buried now. The bricks will keep it away from her.”

As we pulled away and I looked back to the road that would lead us back to the city, I could’ve sworn I saw a fleeting black shadow out of the corner of my eye, darting away from the houses, but when I looked again, there was nothing.

Some writing news

I’m working on a couple of fiction pieces some which just needs a bit of a spit and polish, but also one (The Dragon Seeker) that ended up needing almost an entire rewrite now that I’ve taken it out of the drawer again. I’ve also finished an Afrikaans translation and partial rewrite of one of the NaShoStoMo stories, now called “Sirenesang” (Siren’s Song). I’m hoping to get it in one of the local magazines, but will first send it to a Top Secret Reader...

I’ve also done a translation of part 1 of The Great Sundering – die vertaling, genaamd

“Die Groot Skeiding van die Lande, Deel 1” kan op my blad by www.woes.co.za gevind word.

The Great Sundering Part 3 – The Night of Fire

For your reading pleasure this week, is part three of “The Great Sundering”. Click here to read part 1 and part 2. Next week I’ll try to have something a bit more uplifting for the fiction Monday!

The Night of Fire

At the time of The Sundering, dragons still lived on the coast of the Eastern Lands. The Saerimavolk were their guardians and knew the Dragon Tongue and their kingdom was very great. At The Sundering, many of the Lewjan's servants, the forebears of the Flotaferan from the scattered trading islands, attacked first the islands not under their power, and then the coast of the Eastern Lands; as they thought that they would be spared death if they could claim the land for their own and their master. There was with the Flotaferan also a Lewjan Lord who wanted to claim and bind the Eastern Dragons to himself to gain more power.

But the dragons saw the ships approaching on the churning ocean and had time to warn their Guardians and the Saerímavolk of the impending attack. Some of the Guardians, who were not fit to fight, fled with some of the dragon eggs and younglings to the Blue Mountains; following the messengers who were to call the peoples there to arms.

The Flotaferan attacked at night, but the dragons were ready for them. They burnt most of the ships and slaughtered many of the Flotaferan, as did the warriors of the Saerímavolk. But the Flotaferan had used for the first time the deadly poison made from the Dragon’s Bane plant, with which they smeared their arrows and killed every last dragon and Guardian they could lay their hands on. The Lewjan Lord did not have the chance to bind one grown dragon to him and could find no younglings on the cliffs. The last dragon alive found the Lewjan Lord and slew him and threw his body from the cliff before he was slain by an arrow from the Flotaferan.

 This night was known as The Night of Fire, because of the many fires that lit the battlefield.

Reinforcements from the Blue Mountains also came to fight the Flotaferan. Together, they and the Saerímavolk overcame the Flotaferan and the remaining attackers fled in the boats that were still somewhat seaworthy. The slain of the Flotaferan were buried in one pit, while a mound was raised over those of the Saerímavolk who fell on that night. The blood ashes were thrown in the ocean and the Dragon Tears were used to cremate the fallen before the graves were covered and the mound constructed. As happens to the dragons when they died, the dragons’ bodies were turned to stone below the waves, or where they fell on the land, and their passing was greatly mourned.

And so, on one fateful night, the time of the dragons and the Dragon Guardians of the Eastern Lands came to an end.

(The Night of Fire is commemorated every year at the first new moon after The Day of Sundering, at the end of summer. The night is commemorated by the lighting of bonfires on the beaches and has come to include mock battles and feasting, where the first nights were held in austerity, recounting the tales of the Sundering around fires on the beaches over a simple meal.) 

Worldbuilding Wednesday: Good vs. Evil Part 2 - The Airus

This week I’m taking a look at the Airus and will leave the Aíhla and the Ahma for next week to keep the posts from getting too long.  

The Airus

The opposite of the Lewjan, the Airus are messengers and servants of the Light and are also sometimes sent to help the people of Airthai against the Lewjan and their followers. The Airus are those who did not betray the Creator and are the mortal enemies of the Lewjan Lords.

“And the Creator made the race of the Airus that may pass between his world and ours; the only race able to do so while still alive. And the Creator made the peoples that inhabit the lands of the world. And the race of the Airus received much Talent from their Creator, the most of the Talent that the Creator gave to all the races created.” (Taken from “The Creation of Airthai”.)

Though the Airus are seldom seen, it is said that they were at the great battle fought between the Lewjan and the Erewhar, where they kept the Erewhar safe from harm:

“On the last day of the hundredth year since the coming of the Lewjan to the Erewhar the soldiers of the Erewhar stood against the Lewjan. A fierce fight was fought on that day. The Lewjan attacked the Erewhar with fire, but not one hair on the heads of the Erewhar was singed. Some of the witnesses later said that they saw the Airus that fought on the field alongside the Erewhar and kept the fire from them. The Erewhar stood strong because they knew that this battle was not just for their freedom, but for their very souls.
Some of the Erewhar, however, were so drunk and blind with the power the Lewjan gave and promised them, that they still chose to go with the Lewjan even after the Erewhar had won and were taken away in a plume of smoke when the new day dawned. They were not seen again in their own human form, but were rumoured to dwell in the Death Plain seeking souls to twist as their own were twisted. They could take on any form that they wished, like the strongest of the Lewjan, and it is said that they often took the form of seductive women to seduce men with their looks and voices.
The Erewhar who stayed behind found the ground turned to ash where they stood and not one tree still stood on the burnt plain. Around them the earth was churned to  ash and mud. This land would become the Death Plain, greatly feared by all people of the Southern Lands. And so they trekked south to seek help from the neighbouring countries. Aleidys led the group that would later become the Whargahn clan.” (Taken from “The Fall of the Erewhar”.)

The Fiery Battlefield...."Veldfire" by JEA Volxchenk

The Ealda were also, after the Sundering, led to the Valley of the Ealda by seven of these Airus, who left after the mists and mountains hid the Ealda from their enemies. 

Some, especially the Aíhla and the Ahma, believed that Airus were the ones who spoke to them in dreams and, in this way, conveyed important information or messages to them.

The two Aíhla, Migael and Gabriel, said that they and Leshem were spoken to in a dream to go to the old well at the cross roads. It was when they got there that they found Aran close to death. This was told of in “A Drink of Water” and “Mercy Unlooked For”. 

And so it was that a war - sometimes unseen, sometimes painting the fields of Airthai red - started that would last through all the ages of the world. A war that would only end on the day the sun burned its last and all the life on Airthai pass to the other world where only the immortal soul can go. 

The Great Sundering Part 2 – The Flight of the Seafolk

Welcome to the first full week of June – can you believe how this year has flown? As promised, here is part 2 of The Great Sundering. Here the picture of the Seafolk, Dragon Guardians and their Eastern kin becomes more complete… Part 1 of the Sundering can be found here.

The Great Sundering Part 2 – The Flight of the Seafolk

After the Great Continent was split in two, the waters of the ocean churned and boiled for many days and none dared set sail upon it. Great mountains now rose above the water and great sea monsters were seen in the water. The waters around the Sundered Lands were especially rife with these beasts.

But some of the Seafolk, who now found themselves on the northern coast of the Sundered Lands, launched their ships and sailed for the Continent as they tried to flee from the Lewjan and the Wíkla. These folk included Dragon Guardians and Dragon Elders who knew that their dragons would also be blood-bound to the Lewjan if they should find them. They took all the eggs they could carry and young dragons on board the ships and some of the adult dragons flew along and with their fiery breaths scared away the sea monsters who churned the waters.

When the Seafolk fled with the dragons and dragon eggs to the Continent, some fled to the Southern Coast and Reiaghy, while others, who then became known as the Saerímavolk, fled to the Coast of the Eastern Lands, where they knew some of their kin already lived. This was before the House of the Eastern Keepers was built. Some of the Dragon Elders escaped last as the lands that would become the Northern Kingdoms in the Sundered Lands fell to the onslaught of the Werlea, Wíkla and High Wíkla. Some of the Dragons stayed to try and stem the carnage and the save the people that were fleeing across the new sea in what ships they could reach. But these Dragons all fell before the black fire of the Fallen Dragons. 

Next week, I will be posting part 3 of The Great Sundering, in which the Night of Fire will be told of.

I’m still working on a map to illustrate the “before” and “after” of the Sundering, but with all the studying I need to complete this month, I’ll probably only get it done in July… But watch this space; maybe I’ll get some time this month to at least finish one of the complete maps (properly drawn and not scribbled, that is!).