Chapter Three
Taking a seat near the stage, I looked around. "I wonder where Gramps is." I said.
"Isn't he meeting with the Elders?" Cid asked.
"Yeah, but he's usually done by now. He always joins me when the stories are about to start." Still looking around, I noticed an extremely old man near the stairs leading up to the stage. I pointed at him and said, "See that man there? He's the Eldest of the Tribes. Their leader and greatest of their Shaman. If he's here, their meeting is over. I wonder what's keeping the Old Wizard."
Searching the crowd, hoping to spot Gramps, I saw a middle aged Native woman I recognized coming towards our group. Her dark hair, speckled with gray, shone in the light of the many torches around us. Like all her people, she wore clothing traditional to her tribe, though made from more modern materials.
"Dichalea," I greeted her as she approached. I rose to give her a hug. "Are you not here as a translator tonight? I expected to find you with my friends. Oh, let me introduce you. This is Ma—"
"Malia, Remi, and of course Cid," she interrupted me with a smile. "Yes yes, we've met already. And I am translating tonight, but I had to rush off earlier. I left your friends in the capable paws of Innissko, oh—" she broke off to laugh at herself. "Some translator I am. In the capable hands of Chase here." Her voice had a musical quality to it, as if she were on the verge of singing every word. She had only the smallest hint of an accent. "No rest for the weary, even during a festival it would seem. Oh but ignore me, dear, I do love my work. Just that if its not one thing, its ten others. One tribe squabbling with another, each with conflicting stories, both with outrageous demands and zero willingness to compromise. I suppose it's human nature, as we grow and the world stays the same, we cling to what is ours and reach for what isn't. Ah, there I go again. How I must sound to you youngsters. I just wish people would remember that the festival isn't the time to bring up their petty quarrels. There's a time and a place for such matters, and it is most certainly not during a celebration." She continued, seeming to not need to breath. This was normal, and why I had always thought that she must be an excellent diplomat as well as a translator. I always assumed people would agree to terms just to get her to stop talking for a second. She was still talking, when the sound of steadily rising drumbeats began, and she fell silent. But only for a moment.
"Story time, boys and girls, settle down, settle down," Dichalea said. Malia gave me an incredulous look. I could almost hear her asking me, is this woman for real? I could hardly hold back a grin, and only halfway succeeded. Dichalea continued, "I will be interpreting for you again, so nothing to worry about, you wont miss a thing. You are all in for quite a treat tonight," she said eagerly. "In fact, I had to prepare this translation in advance. Wasn't an easy one, I can tell you. I sure did have fun with it though. I just hope I didn't have too much fun," she tittered to herself before settling down on a short stool in front of us. I was actually quite glade she was interpreting for us tonight. She had a knack for getting the tone and inflection exactly how the storyteller intended. I did wonder why she'd needed to prepare for this one in advance though.
No one else was near us, other groups preferring to keep enough distance so the translation didn't interrupt their experience. The tribes were around us in separate groups, each a little apart from the other. Everyone was gathered around one side, more like you would at a play or concert. Which was strange, since the stage was one big circular platform open on all sides. Normally people would gather all around it for the stories.
The only people in our group besides my human friends and Dichalea were Chase, Peeps, and his Crew. The little birds all settled down on an interesting perch designed for them. It looked mostly like a coat rack, except there were hooks up and down the length of it. Each curved upwards, ending in a little cushioned pedestal where the little birds could lay comfortably. They'd been chirping quietly to each other in their own language, but had quieted down now that the show was about to begin.
The Eldest of the tribes had made his way onto the stage, and I wondered how that was going to work. He's crazy old. Well, maybe not as old as Gramps, but he certainly looks much older. Gramps seems to be blessed with an unnatural amount of vigor. Even the Old Wizard would have trouble reaching everyone here, unless he used magic. I'd be very surprised if the Eldest's voice could carry enough for all to hear. Though I guess he could use a spell to amplify his voice too. Then I saw a man join him, probably his apprentice. My guess was the Eldest would tell the tale, and his apprentice would repeat it for the audience. I'd seen them do it that way before. Good practice for the apprentice. Looked like this was going to be an important one. The Shaman only tell the most important and ancient of stories. Ones that have great meaning to all the tribes. I was getting really excited. I saw him begin to speak, and heard his apprentices booming voice. Then, Dichalea began the translation.
"Long ago our story starts. Of our Savior most dear to our hearts.
A tale of a maid both fair and true. The tale I tell today her due.
This story is hers it is her song. Of how she brought us to where we belong.
She saved us from a distant foe. Today you shall learn so that you will know.
Blessed with foresight was our maid. A gift who's price is dearly paid.
For with it she did see the change. People to come who's ways were strange.
Violence was their only way. To fight the cost our lives we would pay.
Long it would last this new bloody age. New weapons to come insure war will engage.
The long cruel cycle of the brave. To be ended by the great white wave.
She told our twelve tribes of this dire fate. We believed her words our esteem for her great.
She was mother sister daughter to all. Her deeds saved our tribes both big and small.
All life she loves and wasn't content. If she failed to tell all who would hear she'd lament.
Warning beasts who were our friends. To stay would bring about their ends.
The fae and small folk she forewarned too. Telling them not to listen would be to their rue.
All came to take council to find a solution. All desired a new home to avoid this pollution.
To alter fate we'd need some space. A new home our own safe place.
She searched long for such a home. Some tribes she asked those known to roam.
One tribe told her of their Sacred Wood. Though not all living there are good.
When she journeyed there she found. A portal leading to fae ground.
Amazed she wandered in to find. A magical place to even those blind.
Power she felt and power she saw. Perfect she deemed it but looked for the flaw.
Further she went and evil she felt. A being to whom even demons knelt.
Dismayed she fled back towards the gate. Praying to her gods she wasn't too late.
Then up ahead just as she feared. Some dire beast grew large as it neared.
But when she saw it then she knew. This being loved all things that grew.
No threat to her did this thing pose. For she too loves everything that grows.
It asked her and she told her fate. Her and her people seek a clean slate.
Long and hard it pondered this. So long she feared all was amiss.
But then it spoke its voice the earth. Frightened she calmed when hearing its mirth.
Land we have and much to spare. South past the river where the grass is fair.
Even there peace may leave your side. Many come from far and wide.
Over land its hard to reach. So through the Spirit World they breach.
Without help we cannot close. The Ways through which bodies transpose.
She knew that she must help this cause. Her gods she'd ask but feared their laws.
She told her fears to her new friend. So a token he gifted her to send.
Show that token to all you can. Even those with no love for man.
Again this made her start to fear. For surely her people would be near.
Fear not Here is bigger than you know. Filled with places you will never go.
To her friend she acquiesced. She turned to leave to set out on her quest.
Stay we must speak of what you felt before. A thing from long forgotten lore.
Skadegamutc(Skuh-deh-guh-mooch) of both spirit and flesh. Only flame can unravel such a mesh.
Immortal but does not truly live. It feasts on death and has nothing to give.
Slay it we must or peace cannot be. Upon your return will you answer my plea.
To join with our host is what I must ask. Add your power to ours to aid this grave task.
Agreed she to this for she had Seen. She vowed to return and bring the Thirteen.
She left and ventured far and wide. To the places her gods chose to reside.
To them she delivered the Forests petition. They argued their laws are not mere superstition.
The token to them she bestowed with a flourish. Its power her gods it could easily nourish.
Power they felt from such a small twig. With power like that their roots truly could dig.
This token did not only power disperse. It derived a divine role in which her gods could immerse.
With purpose like that laws could be superseded. For duty is all that her gods truly heeded.
To move to this place they all agreed. Quickly they went faster than any steed.
She journeyed again to find all her folk. When she reached them this she spoke.
She cried to all a home I have found. A place of our own where we can abound.
They shouted with joy their spirits elate. They left at once for the portals gate.
Our maiden had not forgotten her task. The Thirteen she must find so that she could ask.
Shaman of great power were the Thirteen. Their power could be clearly seen.
From twelve tribes they came one from each. Chief among them our Savior who came to beseech.
When all the Shaman gathered together she pleaded. Soon in the Forest their help would be needed.
The Thirteen were all exceedingly brave. Willing to risk life for the safety they crave.
They gathered their weapons for war they prepare. They swore on their power no evil they'd spare.
Ahead of the tribes they go to the fight. The Forest they must reach to assist in their plight.
Of their fight we sadly know naught. From that portal we were sent direct to this spot.
Here we now dwell in our new land. Never to learn of the hosts final stand.
Of the Thirteen only one did return. But it was for her we truly did yearn.
With that our story is nearing its end. Only a few things left to attend.
Our safety she won us for this land is our own. Never will others take what we have sown.
Had she not warned us had we failed to listen. Our divergent fate is quite dire to envision.
Our maiden our savior returned at last. Yet she never wanted to recall the past.
Of that battle she'd never disclose. But with her she had brought a man who'd proposed.
A great wizard a warrior mage. A man of great honor maybe even a sage.
They had taken up a noble endeavor. To guard this land against mortals forever.
She took his hand and a union they forged. Many days did we celebrate our bellies we gorged.
Their love for each other no one could deny. All could see they would soon multiply.
And it was true for they had been blessed. Long has their blood carried on since their last rest.
In this Sanctum her line still lives to this day. Listen close for our Saviors name shall I say.
Kanti Omo hear our voice hear our praise. Your story shall last till the end of our days,"
Dichalea finished grandly. Noise erupted as everyone showed their appreciation. Then, inevitably, Dichalea continued speaking.
"The story of how we first came to the Sanctum, though my translated version is not as eloquent as the original. Maybe I shouldn't have translated it right after reading that rhyming story to the kids during English Class," she tittered, "Oh well, too late now. You kids are lucky though, it's a story told only once every 50 years. I remember the first time I heard it, one of my first memories. For years after I was sure I would be a great shaman like her, going to the forbidden corners of the Sanctum to fight evils never before seen by man. I would save the Sanctum and all my people, and be a hero as great as she was. Unfortunately I was not blessed with the gift for magic, so I had to try to be a hero in my own way. Oh, but look who I'm talking too," she said with an adoring look at me. "In this Sanctum her line lives to this day," she quoted. "And there she sits, right in front of me. Isn't that right, Elizabeth?"
Since the end of the story, I had only been half listening to Dichalea. Kanti? My name is Elizabeth Kanti Teargwed... I know I'd had a distant ancestor with that name, and that I had been named for her. I knew she was one of the original Guardians. I just hadn't realized she was some kind of super shaman. The woman who had made the forming of the Sanctum possible? She had married a warrior mage, a man who guarded this land from mortals forever. That's what my family has done for centuries. We are the Guardians. So he must be Menw(Menoo)...
"Is it... is it true Liz? Your middle name is Kanti, right?" Cid asked hesitantly.
"Yeah..." I said, but I couldn't give my friends my full attention. They were all staring at me as if I'd preformed some kind of miracle. But I hadn't. I'd just been born. How could I possibly live up to such an amazing woman? She was still revered over a thousand years after she had died. And why was I just now hearing this? From the tribes instead of my family, too. On top of that, still other parts of the story were intruding into my mind. Like what was this friend she'd made when she entered the Portal? Even more daunting to think of, what the hell is a skagega-whats-it?
Before I could reply further, I felt someone else watching me, and I looked toward the stage. There, I saw the Old Wizard standing by the stairs. He smiled at me, and I realized something. The stories weren't over yet. Gramps gave me a wink, then climbed the stairs to take the stage.