Legends of Airthai – The Tellerassar’s Cry

Welcome to the first Worldbuilding Wednesday of 2013. This legend from the world of Airthai is about the race of shape-shifters called the Tellerassar. To read more about the Tellerassar, the kingdom of Guldargan, and king Markus, follow the links at the bottom of the post.

Why the Tellerassar’s Cry is so Mournful

Photo by Sias van Schalkwyk

It all happened on the day on which Ikaira, fleeing the Kingdom of Guldargan with his people, was trapped in a gorge near the Great River, which flows across the breadth of the Midlands of Airthai. A clear river flowed from crevices at the far end of the gorge, the water cutting deep into the light coloured rock as it rushed towards the Great River. Ikaira realized that there was no way for his followers to escape and that they would all surely perish at the hand of King Markus’ soldiers who were by this time driven mad with bloodlust for their hunted quarry. He called out to the Creator, begging him to save his people from Markus’ wrath.

They watched with horror as the soldiers approached, and some of Ikaira’s followers tried to climb up the steep sides of the gorge, but all slid on smooth boulders or loose rocks and fell to the bottom with horrible cries. Again Ikaira prayed and begged, joined by his people, for they saw their deaths approach.

Even as they pushed the women and children to the back of the group a mist began to form around them. The strange mist rose from the deep waters, becoming thicker and thicker as it rose until the group was hidden from sight. Each of Ikaira’s followers felt a strangeness overcome them as their bodies changed and moulded to the forms of eagles.  

"Morning Mist" by Cbcs

Ikaira and his followers beat their wings and soared into the sky. But the archers among the soldiers of Markus nocked their barbed arrows and shot a volley towards the mist and, when the eagles rose above the mist, another volley was ordered.

Only six of Ikaira’s followers were hit, but among them was Alaila – the young woman Ikaira dearly loved and to whom he was engaged. With a shriek she fell from the sky, turning back into her human form. Ikaira saw her blue-clothed form disappear into the fog above the river.

Driven back from the river by the soldier’s arrows, Ikaira’s followers headed north at the command of his call – the language that they all could now understand. But Ikaira stayed behind, landing on a tree on the edge of the cliff, his heart broken in countless pieces and unable to understand why he had been saved and Alaila had not. When his breast could contain the grief no longer, he threw his head back and shouted her name to the heavens even as his voice was wrecked with sobs. This mournful call became the cry of all Tellerassar.

"Water and Rocks" by Stephen O'Neill

And to this day the Tellerassar’s cry as it flies above rivers and lakes haunts all those who hear it. It is even said by some that Ikaira still lives on in a ghostly form, always returning to the gorge and the river where Alaila perished, still seeker his love. Only when he at last finds her would his soul finally be at rest.

A real fish eagle Tellerassar...

In the next Worldbuilding Wednesday: The Daughters of Alaila

More Worldbuilding:

• The Tellerassar
• Guldargan and the Shape-shifters

Durf die die Nuwe Jaar aan (Met musiek en baie koffie)

Welkom by die eerste inskrywing vir 2013! Soos ander jare het die feesseisoen te vining verby gevlieg en is die Nuwe Jaar goed opdreef. Die eerste paar dae voel in elk geval vreeslik vreemd – mens eet nog kerskoekies, daar is byna niemand by die kantoor nie en mens skryf of tik aanhoudend die datum verkeerd.

"Love and Coffee" deur Luca Baroncini

Nadat 2012 so ’n tuimeltrein jaar was – met meeste van die “af” dinge wat gebeur het goed was wat ek nooit so raai oor my pad sou kom nie – het ek besluit om nie ’n Groot Plan vir die jaar saam te stel nie. Jon Acuff se idees oor nuwejaarsvoorneme blyk ’n baie beter manier te wees om die volgende twaalf maande aan te pak.

Die bloginskrywings wat ek sover vir die jaar beplan het bevat nogal heelwat verrassings en ook meer “ander goed” en oordenkinge. Ek gaan steeds twee keer per week ’n inskrywings plaas – dalk meer gedurende sommige weke. Maar, voordat ek begin gorrel, laat ek eerder net sê – hoop jy het die nuwe Josh Groban liedjie geniet! Mag jou jaar gevul wees met seëninge, wonderlike leesstof, lekker musiek en baie koffie!

Braving a New Year (With music and much coffee)

Welcome to the first post for 2013! As always, the festive season has simply flown by and the New Year is well under way. Those first few days of the year are always a kind of “limbo” anyway – barely anyone is at the office, you’re still eating Christmas cookies and nearly all the dates you type or write down is wrong.

"Love and Coffee" by Luca Baroncini

After 2012 was such a rollercoaster of a year – with most of the downs being things I would never have guessed at to happen – I have decided not to put to paper a grand plan for the year. Indeed, Jon Acuff’s approach to resolutions for the year sounds a lot better way to approach the next twelve months.

I will say about the blog posts I have planned so far that there are a few surprises, more “other stuff” and musings. I’ll still post twice a week – perhaps more during some weeks. But, before I start with unnecessary ramblings, I would rather say  - hope you enjoyed Josh Groban’s new single! May your year be filled with many blessings, great reads, awesome music and much coffee!

'n Kersfees Fees

Dit is al klaar daardie tyd van die jaar! Die boom is versier en die familie kom kuier. 'n Hoop Kersfees-flieks lê langs die DVD-speler (Hogfather, The Nightmare Before Christmas, The Nativity Story en Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe) en baie musiek - van Middeleeuse musiek tot Third Day se Kersfeesalbum - is reeds op die rekenaar gelaai.

Hier is 'n paar van my gunsteling Kersliedjies (en 'n nuwe een wat deur een van my vriende - Luan de Beer opgeneem is) om jou daardie feesgevoel te gee.

Mag almal wat hierdie blog lees en volg 'n wonderlike, geseënde Kersfees en nuwe jaar beleef!*

*Na 'n moeilike jaar het ek besluit om eerder 'n bietjie tyd af te vat - bloginskrywings sal weer in die tweede week van Januarie 2013 begin.

Celebrating Christmas

It's that time of the year! The tree is decorated and the family are almost on their way. A stack of Christmassy films are piled next to the DVD player (Hogfather, The Nightmare Before Christmas, The Nativity Story and Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe) and lots and lots of music - from Early Music to Third Day's Christmas album are lined up on a playlist.

And, as always, here are a few of my favourite Christmas songs (and a new one recorded by one of my friends - Luan de Beer) to get you into the spirit.

May everyone reading and following this blog have a wonderful, blessed Christmas and New Year!*

*After a very tough year I've decided to rather take a break during this time - normal blogging will resume in the second week of January 2013.

'n Kersfeesstorie - Koekies en Melk

“Dink jy ek’t gewig aangesit?” vra Klaas en kyk in die gang se spieël. Die groen mat op die vloer is deurgetrap op plekke. Dit is baie, baie ouer as die nuwe, boksagtige huisie waarin dit nou is. “Ek probeer om minder suiker en carbs te eet, weet jy. En net vetvrye melk te drink.”

Foto deur Subhadip Mukherjee

“’n Knertsie brandewyn?” vra Bob, die jonger van die twee, terwyl hy van die kombuis na die spaar slaap-studeer-kamer stap, verby die sitkamer waar ‘n stewel deur die TV se glas gegooi is. Hy wou liewer nie vra nie. “Hoekom nie? Die Boeing is lankal oor.”Hulle gaan sit in identiese leerstoele voor ‘n nagemaakte vuurmaakplek met nagemaakte stompe en vlamme. ‘n Klein uitbeelding van die geboorte van Jesus staan bo-op ‘n rakkie. Bob glimlag as hy dit raaksien. “Ek is bly om te sien jy het dit nog.”“Maar natuurlik – daar is niemand anders in die wêreld wat só hout kan kerf nie. En die verf? Perfek. Mens sien nie meer baie sulke goed nie.”Die jonger man bloos. Sy oë is steeds vol lewe al is sy gesig verfrommel met tyd. “Ek het nog ‘n skapie gemaak,” sê hy en haal ‘n klein, wit, hout skapie uit sy sak. “Mens het ‘n kudde nodig. Die herders kan nie net agter drie skape kyk nie. En jy’t nog ‘n paar engele nodig. Ek sal hulle volgende jaar maak.“Dankie,” sê die ou man en sit die skapie sagkens tussen die ander neer. Hulle teug hul drankies in stilte, dan: “Hoe maak die lewe nou met jou?” vra Bob.“Maar dieselfde as ander ou mense, Bob,” sê die ou man. “Hulle wil mens nie meer in die omtrek hê nie. Daar’s nie meer briewe nie. Klein huisie, baie mense. Die buurman se kind het my gister gevloek omdat ek te stadig loop en het my boonop vet genoem.” Hy sug. “Meeste is nou so. Ek verkies dit om hier te bly met my herinneringe en gedagtes.”‘n Dowwe stamp-stamp klink op van die huisie langsaan. “En my eie musiek. Nie hierdie geraas nie.”“Die TV?”“Hulle het Kersvader een of ander afgryslike voorafbereide soja kalkoen ete laat adverteer. Toe strompel hy rond so dronk soos ‘n matroos, in ‘n nagklub, saam met ‘n klomp tieners. Ek kon nie die afstandbeheer kry nie toe gooi ek maar die eerste ding. Ek het lanklaas so goed gevoel. Hou in elk geval nie van die dekselse TV nie.”Hulle sit weer in stilte.

Kersvader deur The Graphics Fairy

“Ek het ‘n speelding vir my susterskind gemaak; ‘n opwen trein. Ek het die hele ding met die hand gebou en geverf. En ek het tot die spore gemaak om soos dié buite die dorp te lyk. Bome, mense, geboue, alles.”“En?”“Hy het by die motorhuis ingekom terwyl ek besig was en gelag.” Bob vat ‘n teug brandewyn. “Later het hy en sy vriende dit aan die brand gesteek. Blykbaar wou hulle sien of geverfde hout vinniger brand as die wat nie geverf is nie.”“En het dit?”“Die lak was nog nat. Dit was soos om ‘n stompie op droë gras te gooi.”“Ek’s jammer.”“Ek moes dit in my kamer gehou het. Die verfwalms het net te veel geword.”Die ouer man glimlag. “Ventilasie is baie belangrik, jong.
Iemand hamer aan die voordeur.
Die mans kyk na hul horlosies. “Nog nie vieruur nie, hy kan maar wag.”“Ek klim nie in daai kar as hy dronk is nie.”“Dis Ou Kersdag, natuurlik is hy gesuip, die nuttelose –““Jy kan dit maar sê, ek dink dit ook.”“Die skapie is mooi, ek is bly jy’t dit gebring. Dit lyk meer eg met meer skape. Maar ek hou steeds die meeste van die donkie. Met daai hangoor lyk sy kompleet soos ou Daisy.”“Daai susterskind het my gevra waarvoor die skaap is.”“En toe?”“Toe sê ek vir hom dis vir ‘n uitstalling oor Jesus se geboorte. Hy’t nie geweet wat dit is nie.”“Sy ouers?”“Beide van hulle is heeltemal nutteloos.”
Iemand klop weer, harder. 
“Dis nog nie vieruur nie. En ons is dowe ou mans.”“’n Paar koekies? Hulle is tuisgebak.”“Ek sê nooit nee vir melk en koekies nie. Dis ook die beste tyd van die jaar daarvoor.”“En musiek? Ons sal dit hard moet sit as ons wil hoor met die dat ons half doof is…”Klaas sit die radio aan en ‘n kersliedjie begin speel. Die ander een gaan na die yskas om die melk te kry. Die yskas is gevul met drank en jelly shots.“En dié?”“Die bure het nie genoeg plek gehad in hul huis vir al hul drank nie. Die goed het dit seker nodig vir die droë Kersfees wat hulle gaan hê.” Nie een van die twee lag nie. Bob eet een van die Pfefferneuse en vat ‘n sluk melk terwyl die hamer aan die deur voortgaan. Hulle sit die radio harder. Come, they told me“Snaaks hoe dit skielik twee dae se binge drinking is. Of tot die dag na Nuwe Jaar, as hul lewers hou.”Our finest gifts we bring“En al wat almal nou wil hê is videospeletjies en duur gadgets. Niemand wens meer nie. Alles is ‘n moet-hê. Onthou jy die speelgoed wat ons gemaak het? So to honour Him“En die musiek. En die liggies. Die geluk op die kinders se gesigte? Nou is hulle almal hebsugtige brats.”I have no gift to bring“En daardie gevoel van vrede as jy by ‘n kerk instap? Wat jou hart kon kalm maak vir nog ‘n jaar, wat jou laat veilig voel.”Shall I play for you“En nou?” Hy hoef niks te sê nie. Hulle altwee het geweet. Die gehamer klink weer. “Ek gaan loop as jy nie nou uitkom nie!” Bob vat nog twee Pfefferneuse en doop hulle in die melk. The ox and lamb kept time“Klaas, dink jy hulle sal ooit die huise kry? Of die werkswinkel?”I played my drum for Him“Nee, nooit. Ons het seker gemaak. Niemand sal in elk geval daar gaan kyk nie. Dit was toe ‘n goeie idée – veral die storie van die elwe.”I played my best for Him“Hmf! Simpel Google Earth, dis die noordpool! Wie gaan krap rond in die noordpool?”Then He smiled at me“Nog melk? Ek dink daar’s nog ‘n blik Pfefferneuse hier iewers.” 

Kunswerk in 'n manuskrip

*Lirieke geneem uit "Carol of the Drum"/"Little Drummer Boy" deur Katherine Davis (1941).

A Christmas Story: Cookies and Milk

“Do you think I’ve lost some weight?” Nick asked, looking at himself in the hallway mirror. The green carpet beneath his feet was scuffed and threadbare in places. It was much, much older than the new, box-like house in which it now lay. “I’ve tried to cut down on sugar and carbs, you know. Only fat free milk as well.”

“Spot of brandy?” Bob, the younger of the two asked as he made his way from the kitchen to the spare-bedroom-study, past the living room where a boot was thrown through the glass of the TV. He didn’t ask.

“Why not? Boeing's long gone.”

They sat down in identical leather chairs in front of a fake fireplace with fake logs and flames. A small nativity scene stood on a shelf. Bob looked at it and smiled. “I’m glad to see you still have it.”

“Of course, not another in the world that can craft wood like that. And the paint? Perfect. Don’t see much of them anymore.”

The younger blushed. Though wrinkled, his face and eyes still held youth pent up inside. “Made another sheep,” he said and took a small, white, wooden sheep from his pocket. “You need a flock. The shepherds can’t just watch three sheep. And you need a few more angels. I’ll make them next year.”

Nativity Scene by Subhadip Mukherjee

“Thank you.” The old man placed it reverentially on the mantle with the others.

They sat in silence sipping their drinks.

“How’s life treating you?” Bob asked.

“As it does all old people, Bob,” the man said. “They don’t want you around anymore. No more letters. Small house. Lots of people. The neighbour’s kid cursed at me yesterday for moving too slow and called me fat.” He sighed. “Most are like that now. I prefer to stay here with my memories and thoughts.”

A dull thumping sounded from the house next door.

“And my own music. Not this noise.”

“The TV?”

“They had Santa selling some awful pre-cooked soya turkey dinner. Then he strutted around drunk as sailor on leave, in a nightclub, with what looked like teenagers. I couldn’t find the remote, so I chucked the nearest thing. Let’s just say I’ve not felt that good in years. Didn’t like the damn TV anyway.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“I made a toy for my nephew. Wind up train. Built the whole thing by hand. Painted it. Made the tracks – a replica of the track outside town. Trees, people, buildings, you name it.”

“And?”

“He walked into the garage while I was busy. He laughed.” He took a swallow of brandy. “Later he and his friends set it alight. Apparently they wanted to see if painted wood burns faster than unpainted wood.”

“Did it?”

“The varnish wasn’t dry yet. It was like throwing a butt on dry grass.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Should’ve kept it in my room. The paint fumes just got too much.”

The older man grinned. “Ventilation’s the key, hey.”

Someone hammered on the front door.

The men looked at their watches. “Not four yet, he can wait.”

“I’m not getting in the car if he’s drunk.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, of course he’s drunk the useless –“

“O, say it. I’m thinking it too.”

Father Christmas image by The Graphics Fairy

“The sheep’s nice. I’m glad you brought it. Does look more real with more sheep. The donkey’s still my favourite, though. That hanging ear… the spitting image of old Daisy.”

“You know, my nephew asked me what the sheep was for,” he said.

“And?”

“I said for a nativity scene.”

“And?”

“He didn’t know what it was.”

“His parents?”

“Quite useless, the both of them.”

The knock on the door sounded again, loader this time.

“Not yet four. Anyway, we’re deaf old men.”

“Some cookies? Their home made.”

“Never say no to cookies and milk. Best time of the year for them as well.”

“And some music? We’ll have to put it loud if we want to hear it, what with being deaf and all…”

The eldest of the two turned the stereo on and a carol started to play.

The other went to the fridge to get the milk. It was filled with drinks and jelly shots.

“And this?”

“The neighbours didn’t have enough room in their house for all their liquor. They probably need it for the dry Christmas their having.” Neither of them laughed.

Bob ate another of the Pfefferneuse and took a gulp of milk while the hammering at the door continued. They turned the stereo up.

Come, they told me

“Funny how it’s suddenly two days of binge drinking. Or until the day after New Year’s if their livers last.”

Our finest gifts we bring

“And now all everyone’s wants is video games and expensive gadgets. Nobody even wishes anymore. Everything’s a have-to-have. Do you remember the gifts we made?”

So to honour Him

“And the music. And the lights. The joy of the children’s faces? Now their all greedy little buggers.”

I have no gift to bring

“And that feeling of peace when you walk into the church? That could calm your heart for another year, knowing you’re safe.”

Shall I play for you

“And now?” He didn’t have to say anything. They knew.

There was knocking again. “I’m leaving if you don’t come out now!”

Bob took another two Pfefferneuse and dipped them in the milk.

The ox and lamb kept time

“Do you think they’ll ever find the houses, Nick?”

I played my drum for Him

“No. Never. We made sure of that. Nobody will look there anyway. The whole story was a good idea after all, especially the bit about the elves.”

I played my best for Him

“Humph! Stupid Google Earth, it’s the North Pole! Who goes and searches the North Pole!”

Then He smiled at me

“More milk? There’s another tin Pfefferneuse here somewhere.”

Artwork from Illuminated Manuscript

*Lyrics taken from "Carol of the Drum"/"Little Drummer Boy" by Katherine Davis (1941).