The Tanah–Migrations, Chapter Three

[The following is the fifteenth of many posts–here is the first, here is the second, here is the third, here is the fourth, here is the fifth, here is the sixth, here is the seventh, here is the eighth, here is the ninth, here is the tenth, here is the eleventh, here is the twelfth, here is the thirteenth, and here is the fourteenth–about a fictitious discovery of ancient manuscripts of a religious text of narratives and magic spells. Its purpose for my readers and me is to provide a cosmology and mythography on which I am basing much, if not most, of my fiction–short stories and novels. If anyone is interested in reading this fiction, he or she can use these blog posts as references to explain the nature of the magic and universe in my fiction.]

The Luminosian practitioners of magic began their ritual by collecting twigs and piling them on a small hill of dirt. They did this by the edge of the cliff over which they could see the city, named Zaga, which they wanted to invade, settle in, and colonize.

When the wind was blowing unswervingly in the direction of Zaga, they lit the twigs and began their incantation to the beat of a drum: “Fly to Zaga! Fly to Zaga!”

Drofurb, Weleb, and Nevil were the Crims appealed to in this endeavour to take the city. Priff was left out since it was felt that water would weaken the power of Nevil’s fire. Apart from the evil that the elders decried in this taking of a city that didn’t belong to the Luminosian invaders-to-be, the elders also noted how the neglect of Priff in the ritual would throw the four elements of air, fire, earth, and water out of balance.

“Throwing fire over there will send a flood of water back to us, I prophesy!” one of the elders warned. “A lack of Priff will bring Priff to us in an unwelcome manner!”

“Hear, hear!” the other elders shouted in agreement.

“Silence!” one of the supporters of the ritual shouted back. “You’re diluting the effectiveness of the ritual!”

“Good!” that first elder said. “You are all doing evil!”

“Silence!” more supporters of the ritual shouted.

“Fly to Zaga!” continued the chanters of the ritual. “Fly to Zaga!”

From the burning pile of twigs on the hill of Drofurb’s dirt flew a few sparks at first. Then, after the chant had been repeated enough times, louder and louder, those sparks were getting bigger, growing into small balls of flying fire. These were now being blown by the wind, Weleb’s air, over the cliff and towards Zaga.

“It’s working!” one of the supporters of the ritual shouted, then he pointed over the cliff at Zaga. “Look! Nevil’s fire is flying over to the city! Zaga will soon be ours!”

“No, no,” the elders moaned. “Not like this. No!”

The rest of the Luminosians cheered as the balls of fire flew in a swarm closer and closer to Zaga.

Some of the people of the city looked up at the sky and noticed the flock of lights coming to them.

“Look,” a Zagan man said to his wife, pointing at the distant lights. “What is that up there?”

His wife looked at the coming balls of light with fear. She pulled their son and daughter close to her waist.

More Zagans noticed the nearing lights. Eyes and mouths widened.

“Fireflies?” a Zagan woman asked.

The Luminosians cheered and chanted “Victory!” as the elders held their heads in their hands.

The Zagans could hear the Luminosians cheering in the distance. A few Zagans saw them on the cliff and pointed up at them.

“Who are they?” a man pointing up at the Luminosians asked. “Did they send those lights?”

Soon, it became clear to the Zagans that the approaching glowing balls were not mere lights. They were not fireflies. They were a danger.

“Balls of fire!” a Zagan woman screamed. “A weapon!”

“They’re coming to kill us all!” a Zagan man yelled.

All the Zagans started to run and scream.

The balls of fire were about the size of rocks put in slings and shot thus. They penetrated the backs of most of the running and screaming Zagans, exiting through their chests and leaving holes in their torsos. The victims, men, women, and children, fell down with their faces hitting the dirt.

Those few Zagans who weren’t hit managed to get outside of the city or hide in their houses or shops. They all wept, wondering what they had done to deserve such a cruel fate. How had they angered the gods?

The triumphant Luminosians descended from the cliff down a grassy incline to the side of the cliff, all cheering, singing, and dancing in praise of the Crims. The mass of them entered the city of Zaga, looked around all of the buildings, and took control of everything.

They went into the houses and claimed them for themselves. Any Zagan families hiding in them were given a choice: leave the city, or become slaves. The few who stayed, out of a wish never to leave the homes they loved, were heartbroken to see these others taking their homes and forcing them to do slave labour in them.

Again, the elders denounced their fellow Luminosians for doing such evil.

“You may enjoy this crest of good luck now,” one of the elders warned. “But we will all suffer a terrible trough for your sin. Perhaps not soon, but it will come. You will see!”

“Oh, do be quiet!” the new Luminosian owner of a Zagan house said. “Our trough was slavery under the Tenebrosians! This, now, is our crest, to be enjoyed forever!”

The other Luminosians cheered at these words.

“Oh, you fools,” another elder said. “Crests never last forever. You have no understanding of the old teachings.”

“We have no use for the old teachings!” said the wife of the Luminosian who took possession of the Zagan house.

The Zagan family who chose to stay in their house, and become the slaves of its new Luminosian owner, could only weep.

The other surviving Zagans–who were outside the city and left in the surrounding wilderness, not even allowed to fish in the lake or eat the fruit of the trees around Zaga–were forced to migrate as the Luminosians had had to do. They were starving.

Commentary

This narrative demonstrates how religious or philosophical ideas can be misused to justify acts of cruelty and injustice. Others have hurt us, so we ‘have the right’ to hurt others, even when those others we’re hurting aren’t the same as those who hurt us, or who hurt our ancestors.

It’s haunting how this ancient narrative is still relevant to events contemporary with the publication of these translations…and especially relevant to them.