Story Vault -- "Children of Tuot"

Happy New Year from J. Leigh and Mac! As a gigantic *thank you* for joining us as we continue our writing journey in 2021, we brought out this additional content short story from the archives to share with all our patrons! Mac is particularly fond of this one as it includes one of the founding myths of the Okten people. We hope you enjoy this StoryVault feature!

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Damn this tense shift!

The dim light of her desk lamp did not make the archaic scratches of the Old Kinawan script on the scroll any more intelligible. Kekaem stretched her cramped wingtips and talons in irritation as she re-read what she had translated for what felt like the thousandth time:

In the time before time, in the earth that was, monsters damned Tuot's children to the dark. When the monsters drowned the world-that-was, Tuot the Fiery One cracked the sky in two and kindled the earth with starfire to warm his firstborn creatures. In the dark days of Tall Snow, great monsters prowled in the dark: great scaled beasts whose wings shook the air, shape-shifters, and foul shadows made flesh that walked through walls to steal babes fresh born, and burning-eyed demons who killed with a fanged smile.

"Why do they call Clan demons?"

Kekaem nearly jumped out of her seat-- as it were, she sent more than a few of her molting feathers in tufts into the air -- before spinning her head around to catch Haan standing behind her. He was on the very tips of his toe-talons, large pumpkin-colored eyes curiously scanning Kekaem's pages of translation notes. He blinked twice at her when she didn't respond past her sputtering. "That's what it means, right? When it says 'fanged smile'-- why not just say 'Clan'? And I thought it was pred-i-juicy to call other races mean names."

Kekaem huffed once at the eight year old. She had not expected Haan to not be very interested in her work when she agreed to take him in for the season, while her brother and his partner surveyed a potential new mine in the southern tuyas*. Children rarely appreciate the finer points of pre-rebellion Kinawan history in her, admittedly limited, experience. Yet the boy leaned on her desk, squinting curiously at the scroll of Old Kinawan and her own half-finished translation, heedless of the inkpot he was about to hit with his elbow. He's brilliant, but not worldwise, that's for damn sure.

"Firstly, it's 'prejudiced', not 'pred-i-juicy', and second, this was explicitly written to be prejudicial, and third," Kekaem huffed, while evacuating the endangered ink pot from Haan’s sphere of potential destruction. "Why are you even down here? You should be in bed!"

He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep." His neck feathers ruffled. "Why would someone write something to be mean?"

"Because the myth was written, or at least heavily encouraged, by Prothidian Altar," Kekaem explained. "It was meant to explain to the first Okten why they needed to fight for him against the Children. So, the story lies and says some of the first races, like the Clan and the Tazu, are monsters."

"Oh." Haan looked a touch bewildered, then his crown feather arched up as he asked, "Can I hear the rest of it?"

"No," Kekaem proclaimed, equally amused and irritated at the lengths Haan would go in a bid to avoid a rational bedtime. "You need to go to bed!"

"But I'm not sleepy," Haan replied, crown feathers falling with his shoulderline. He clutched his claws together, big eyes all round and chick-like in their wonton cuteness. "I promise I'll go to bed right after. Otherwise, I'll just get up again and you know it."

Kekaem groaned with the full force of her soul. He is literally Grandparent Yzbet reincarnate, I swear to Spirit. "Fine," she proclaimed, holding up a longer flight feather for emphasis. "But right to bed after. And remember, this is my translation, so it's not perfect, but I don't need you pecking at it with questions, got it?"

He nodded solemnly, and Kekaem turned back to her work. Finding the next passage, she read aloud this time, "When monsters stole his firstborn children in the first days of the Tall Snow, Tuot left his Hot Hearth to search the frozen lands. In the Tall Snow, he found only death and betrayal…."

"Who were his first children?"

"What did I just say?"

"Not to peck at translation stuff, but you didn't specify I couldn't ask a clarifying question regarding the characters."

Kekaem squinted at him, then sighed. "Tuot is the Okten’s first name for Prothidian Altar. His 'first children' are the first races he created before the Fall destroyed the Old World."

"But…I thought you said the 'monsters' in the myth were Clan, and like other early races? Why would they steal themselves?"

"They didn't...Prothdian lied to the Okten and the other newer creatures he created,”  Kekaem explained, “so they would not believe the truth if they ever met the Children, so that the thought of rebellion would seem impossible."

"Oh. Well, that's mean of him."

"Well, he is the Mad Mage," Kekaem retorted. "Can I finish now, or you want to go to bed?"

He leaned against her, snuggling his head against her shoulder. "You can keep going."

Kekaem continued, "Wounded and grieving, Tuot spoke to the spirits of empty land he walked in: Spirits of this empty loam! Home no more to wood and bone! Must we be alone? Why must only monsters walk you? Help me avenge my children! Spirits of mud, sand and stone! Snow, lava and bone! My heart cries out for my first begotten! Spirits of wood, sulphur and ice! How can I entice you? These monsters are rotten!'"

"So that's all just Prothdian lying?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, he's certainly dramatic."

Kekaem couldn't help but snort in agreement, then continued, "No answer was heard on the whistling wind. But when the monsters tried to steal his hope, Tuot remembered the fire in his heart. Tuot carved new children and laid them to rest in crystal eggs, nesting them in the stolen starfire of his hearth. First were born the children of mud and stone, ever persisting. Then were born the children of sand and snow, ever shifting. The Fiery One cracked the crystal eggs in two and brought forth all his creatures, yet none dared leave the nest. These new children could not leave the hot hearth, and brave the whistling wind. Next came lava heaving, and then came sulphur wheezing to animate again bone and wood. Ice came on a strange wind, leaving behind the children of death itself. These new children could leave the hot hearth, yet they could not conquer the whistling wind. Tuot prepared his crystal eggs and spoke to the whistling wind," Kekaem sighed upon reaching the most scribbled-upon part of her papers, paraphrasing, "Then Tuot said something persuasive to the spirit of the wind.'"

"Wait, what did he say?"

"I don't know yet, that was the part I was still working on." Haan looked defeated until Kekaem offered, "there's more that I translated after that part. Want to hear it?"

"Yes, please."

Kekaem continued, "The wind was charmed by his attentions and flattered that none could tame it. The wind agreed to breathe life into Tuot's final children. The Fiery One cracked the final crystal eggs in two and brought forth his newest creatures: Okten who dared to leave the nest, and play in the whistling wind."

“So, if Okten were the children of the wind, what are those other races Tuot hatched in his eggs?” Haan asked as soon as she finished. “Which one is the Solki?”

“They are the children of ice… though to be fair, that is a lie too. The Solki were not created the way the other races were, they just… fell through here.”

“From the other side of the Veil?” Haan asked.

Kek nudged him lightly. “You will have to ask one yourself. It is a mystery to me.”

Haan, to his credit, only gulped slightly at the thought of meeting one of the immortal Solki. “I will do that, then...when I meet one, someday.”

I bet you will, you stubborn little rascal. Kek managed to hide her smile and ask him a question, “So what do you think of the story?”

He paused, drawing his talon in lazy loops on the desk surface as he thought. Kek waited patiently, taking the time to cap her ink bottle and clean the nib of her pen. Stubborn, but thoughtful.

Haan pulled her neatly lettered translation closer, mouthing the words silently as he read. Then he jabbed a finger down. “These new children could leave the hot hearth, yet they could not conquer the whistling wind. One of these new children is a Ki’ra, right?” He waited for her nod of confirmation. “Well no Ki’ra can fly, but they sure don’t mind a cold wind with all that fur! So Tuot… Prothidian… he is lying about them too!”

Kek nodded. “Yes, Prothidian wanted every new race created after the Fall to feel special and better than the others, in order to keep them from working together, to keep them from being free. This is why Ulic’s best weapon was eternal truth, and Feator’s was old history." She puffed a little, prideful of her own path. "Not all the Children fight with giant swords.”

“I wonder what the Ki’ra’s old myths have to say about us Ok’ten?” Haan asked, still bright eyed, but steadily dreamier. “Is it sneaky-mean like this? Or...?” He interrupted himself with a long yawn.

“That’s a question for tomorrow.” Kek replied, tidying her notes and standing up from the desk. “We can go to the library together in the morning, before you are supposed to go to class, how does that sound?”

Haan nodded sleepily as she steered him out of the study. “Library sounds nice. I’ll help you…" he yawned deeply "...with you, if you like.”

“Thank you Haan,” she replied, amused at the slightly incoherent offer as they climbed the stairs.

“You tell good bedtime stories, Kek,” he told her when they reached the base of his bed.

Kekaem laughed as she straightened his bedcover and he flopped in bonelessly. “I do often put people to sleep talking about this kind of thing. Thank you for listening.” She noticed a small piece of paper clutched in his talons, but didn’t try to take it. Haan’s bright orange eyes had already slid closed.

Little thief, she thought fondly. Asleep, wings wrapped about him in a tight cocoon, Haan looked just the way her brother used to, when he was fresh from the egg. He’s not what I expected, she admitted to herself as she gently closed the door behind her.

He’s… better.

*Tuyas are flattop mountains formed by sub-glacial vulcanism... and the south-western tuyas of Kinawa are near their border with the Middle Lands, which is why Haan's parents would hesitate to bring him along on a several month long work trip (especially during the height of Northern Annarite "raiding season")