8. Dividing Blood: Opposing Tales

(Warning: this chapter does allude to Podo's former immoral life as a Strander.)

This chapter is long! I couldn’t fit it into a keep document, so it turned into a six-page Google Docs… enjoy over 4000 words! I hope this atones for my utter lack of postages!!!

@Lili the Shakespeare Nerd (FF, FAR, TW, TC, SS, NoMS, CL, DK, AaPK(S), CE, CM, D)

@Batwhacker the Freedom Fighter !!!!!!!!!

@modsIhopethewarningissufficient

The Wingfeathers silently crunched through the forest surrounded by the muddiest, meanest people they had ever encountered. The still unnamed female in charge had sent two Stranders off to hunt for their cow. The other dozen now stalked beside them, never completely in view, but always there. They had taken the Wingfeather's things, including all their weapons. They came in view of the camp. The camp was a chaotic sprawl of tattered tents and makeshift lean-tos, strung together with frayed ropes and scraps of cloth—a rancid smell hanging in the air—rotting meat, damp mud, and unwashed bodies. Smoke rose from several fire pits, where food scraps roasted on crude spits. The ground was churned to muck by dozens of boots, and knives gleamed everywhere, from belts to hands to stumps driven into the earth. The leader stopped them with a threatening glance and a wave of the ever-threatening knife. She stomped up to the edge of a wide circle of Stranders and cleared her throat.

"Permis to come near?"

A guttural voice, more fit for a Fang, responded, "Wheres th' meat?"

"I sent Bannikin and Jontin to fetch it."

The voice didn't change an iota as a large Strander (whom everyone was staying clear of, resulting in the aforesaid circle) heavily, but agilely, twisted up from off the stump. "Aye, come naer. Who ya got?" The leader stumped over to the giant Strander and answered his question. "They say the're from Glipwood. Not sure how they crossed th' Blapp though. Had weapons."

Podo stepped forward and interrupted the girl, "We don't aim ta stay long. We'll get outer yer hair quicker than..."

"I'll say when ya leave, ya hear?" interrupted the Strander. Moving with the suddenness of a cat, he leaped onto his stump and called to the other Stranders.

"Mi Stranders!"

They responded with wild, jeering unity. "Of the Eastest Bend!"

Grinning, the apparent leader continued this rallying cry.

"Sharp knives, quick hands, and NO LAW!"

"Aye!" the others responded.

"Mi name? Claxton Weaver. I don't like Fangs. I don't like rules. but most of all, I don't like strangers wandring through mi land. I dunno how ya could have snuck'n through my land already...* but it ain't matter. You'd better talk before ya end up in the Blapp!"

Podo responded, "Save yer Blapp for real strangers, cause I am not one of those. I'm just as Strander as you. I ran with the Pounders in the glory days before you were born youngin. Let us pass!"

Claxton sneered, obviously not appreciating Podo's reply. “The Pounders?” He narrowed his eyes at Podo. Suddenly his face relaxed, but it wasn't relieving to the seven captives. "The Pounder's eh? Well then you'll tell us a tale tonight, and we'll decide then whether you c'n live."

The night passed quickly and yet seemed to drag on into eternity. The Stranders always were there, there wouldn't be any premature leaving, but they seemed to ignore the Wingfeathers and continue in their everyday activities. These included slurping up any food available, burping, sneering, and getting into fights, among other crude things. The girl who had brought them there seemed to have been assigned to take care of them, and she was pretty good at it too. She walked over to the firepit, grabbed a few skewers full of some meat, and passed them around. Janner found the mystery meat was pretty tasty, greasy, and stringy. He ate it all, and before he could wonder if seconds were allowed, she was back, handing him another. "Thanks!" he ventured, half wondering if she'd take it as an insult. She didn't. For a second she looked mildly surprised, but then she loudly snorted and walked off. He still hadn't caught her name. Glancing over at his siblings, he noted how each seemed to be doing. Tink seemed enraptured by his surroundings and was on his fourth skewer. Worrisome. Leeli seemed frightened, barely eating anything, but she bravely was smiling at those around her. Okay. Bekah, the youngest, looked agitated, her unusual hazel** eyes dark and brooding and leg jittering, and Janner wondered what was going on behind her eyes.

The night grew dark, and more and more Stranders gathered around the fires, obviously there for the story forthcoming. Janner could only hope it was good enough for them. Claxton stood up, belched the loudest burp Janner had ever heard, and bellowed out, "Now's th' time fer yer story, old man!"

Podo stood and stretched, and the fire flickered in his eyes, reflecting off something dangerous and humorous Janner had only seen when Podo was telling a tale.

"Strander's! I've et your meat, smoked yer weed***, and at your leave, I'll tell ye a fine tale." The Stranders cheered, and Podo continued. "When I was a wee lad, about yer age girly," and he gestured with his pipe at the young girl who had brought them here, "I was fish'n in the Blapp, and contrar to what I'd been told to do, I rowed east, past all the other scared kitt'n kids who had ventured close to Strander waters."

Chuckles ran throughout the crowd, and Janner's heart leaped. "Brave, or perhaps foolish I rowed a wee bit farther than should've. And that's when I saw them! The meanest, dirtiest (this gathered a chuckle), largest Strander I'd ever laid me young eyes on!" The Stranders cheered, and Podo paused for a second and took a pull on his pipe, clearly enjoying the attention (or pretending to). "Well?" demanded a Strander, and Podo continued, “Growlfist he was, and I knew I was up to me ears in trouble the second I saw him. They said he once wrestled a bomnubble to the ground with nothin’ but his bare hands. They said his roar could crack a tree clean in half—and as fer his glare, well, I wasn’t about to test whether it could cook a fish or not." More approval came from the Stranders. "He called, no, he bellowed, 'Com' ere" and me boat itself paddled to the shore faster than anything I'd ever seen. I was quiv'ring in me boots."

More cheers and Claxton grinned, anticipating the climax of the story. Janner wanted to believe the laughter meant they were safe, but every time Claxton grinned, it sent a chill down his spine—like the grin of a wolf, all teeth and no warmth. Rebekah was still lost in thought, and something about her eyes made Janner feel like she was formulating some plan. Tink was leaning forward, meat forgotten, absorbing every word. Podo grinned, looked around, and continued. "He picked me up by me neck, pulled me murderously close, and asked me by whose permis I'd been sailing in his waters. I told 'im straight. Nobody." Laughs. "He pulled me nearer, and I felt me air start to leave me, so I did somethin' ne'er done before nor since."

The tension around the forest heightened, and Stranders leaned forward in anticipation of what the foolish young Podo had done. Podo held out, waiting until he was sure everyone was listening. "I picked his pocket!" Claxton leaned back skeptically as the Stranders all collectively gasped, "You what?" he grumphed. "I picked his pocket." Podo restated. The Strander girl laughed merrily, "What'd ya pick?" Podo grinned, "The only thing I could g't me paws on. His pone!"

That one word sent all the Stranders silent as ghosts. Most looked to Claxton to see how they should react. Janner was confused, what was a pone, and why would it cause such a reaction? Claxton snorted, "Well? Finish yer tale." Podo took a deep breath. "I swiped his pone, a wee golden bird, and as he started to strangle me, I managed to croak out one word. 'Wait!' He stopped, and asked me, 'Why shouldn't I toss ye in th' river, runt?' with my neck still in his hand. I'd only a few seconds to answer. I told him straight, just like before. 'If you toss me in the river, you'd lose yer wee birdy!' and I held it up in his face. He stared at it eye's buggin' out further than a Plurp bird's beak. Growlfist swiped it back of course, and punched me on the jaw I still have a scar," Podo showed an ancient mark on his jawline beneath his beard, "but he welcomed me in, and from then on, I ran with the Pounders."

Silence.

Janner's hopes rose, but then his heart sank as he saw Claxton grin. "You tell a good tale, but no one could 'ave stolen me pocket, let alone Growlfist's pone! Stranders! The men and the lady will sleep on the bottom of the Blapp tonight! We'll keep the little un's of course!"

Janner's heart sunk lower than his toes, but he was surprised when Podo let out a full-on belly laugh, which unnerved Claxton.

"If ye are sendin' me to the Blapps mucky bottom, tis kind of you to weigh me down for a quick trip there!" He grinned and then pulled out a pot from in his shirt, which had been mysteriously hidden there. He tossed it to a lady and then reached into a pocket for another item. Thing after thing appeared from the depths of his pockets, and as soon as the flow of items tapered off, it began again with renewed vigor, stronger than before. All the Stranders mouths hung agape, and it was clear the balance had shifted. Once Podo finally stopped, Claxton sneered, clearly not impressed. "All right, so maybe you are a good pickpocket. But Stranders! No one could have picked the pocket of Growlfist! In the river they go!" Many of the Stranders looked a little crestfallen. One spoke up, "Maybe we can let 'im live, and just toss in the other two!" Claxton spun around, sneering at the assault on his authority. "He may look tough, but he's too good for the likes of us East Benders, I've look'd in his eyes, and there ain't no darkness in 'im. Nay, let them all sleep sound in a wat'ry bed." Claxton obviously knew how to stir the muck in his clan's hearts. They began cheering, and Podo's face went ashen.

Janner looked at his siblings panicked. Leeli looked frightened but ready to whack Claxton over the head. Rebekah glanced around quickly. And Tink—Tink! Janner saw him tracing circles on the ground. He was going to run! Janner was about to whisper for Kalmar to stay put, but...

"Wait!"

Tink jerked his head in surprise. Relieved, Janner looked up and saw everyone staring around in confusion. "Who said that?" Claxton barked. Was it one of your party?" he asked, looking at Podo. Podo, confused, replied, "Ne'er heard that voice before."

"Twas me!" said an arrestingly light and airy voice. Janner, confused spun around, and his jaw dropped when he saw the source of the attention-grabbing voice, and he half couldn't believe who was speaking. But then, he couldn't imagine any Strander with such a beautiful voice. Kalmar's eyes bugged out, and Leeli looked stunned like she had just received good news.

Rebekah stood, chin up, lightly staring past Janner at Claxton.

"So tis one of your party. You lied old man!" Claxton growled, and the sound of his voice by comparison was harsh and dissonant, even the Stranders winced.

"Nay, he didn't lie." Rebekah strode forward voice refreshing, Podo stepping back so she had room in front of the fire. "He has never heard my voice before. None of you have." Claxton raised an eyebrow, but there was a commanding quality in her voice that kept him silent. "He told you a tale of a bad man. Probably the worst man in the history of Aerwiar. I would tell you a tale from another land, but you wouldn't be able to stand up against it."

Claxton snorted, suddenly finding his voice again. "Ne'er have I heard a tale I couldn't stand hearing. What makes ye think this tale would be any different?"

Rebekah seemed to think for a few seconds, and then she answered, "because my story is of good, and you stranders are evil. Evil can't stand hearing of good. You wouldn't appreciate my tale." Claxton took that as a challenge. "Tell us the story. If it is as you say, ye can all leave."

Rebekah nodded, and all the Stranders settled in for the second tale of the night, eager to hear this "tale of good".

Rebekah stood in front of the fire, she bowed her head for a few seconds, thinking or praying, and then, without any clearing of the throat, she began.

"My tale is of the greatest and goodest man who ever walked the face of Origin. My tale begins at the beginning, and though it be lengthy, it is a saga to be heard, not to be interrupted. In the beginning, the Maker created Heaven and Earth. They were perfect, and nothing was bad in or around them. He created servants to help him, these were called angels. He created the Earth, Heaven, Seas and Sky, Birds, Beasts, and Fish all with nothing but his voice. The last thing He created was a man and his wife. They were blameless and pure, and had no knowledge of evil. He placed them in a garden, and gave them orders. To tend to the garden, to have many children, and lastly, to never eat from a specific tree. If they ate, it would become certain that they would die. He named the man Adam."

She paused, and Janner's heart, which had been enraptured by her tale, gave way to his thoughts. Where have I heard this tale before? Is Origin the name of the land she and Gracie... come from? I thought it was named Earth. Aerwiar has no tale like this of Creation! His thoughts paused as he saw Rebekah inhale, about to continue her tale.

"Now, at some time, in Heaven, evil brewed for the first time in history. One of the chief angels, one named Morning Star, had thoughts of self conceit. He envied the Maker, believing that he was better suited for the task. He lied to himself, saying he hadn't been created for a specific purpose, but had evolved, or had been around for forever, and that he could choose his own destiny. He challenged the Maker, and was thrown from the starry city, along with a third of the angels whom he had corrupted. And he crept upon the earth." Rebekah paused again.

Janner was shocked and slightly horrified. She had mentioned the evil every person on Aerwiar knew existed... out loud. The people of Aerwiar knew there was an evil out there, but they refused to give it glory by mentioning it except if necessary on the gravest of occasions.**** The Stranders didn't seem bothered that she had mentioned evil... or given it a name, but they seemed invested, intrigued. Rebekah looked around, gathering her thoughts, and noticing Janner, shot him a look. I'm not afraid to mention evil. And this situation is grave. Janner nodded, and she continued, smirking a little at him.

"Now, some time later, Adam and his wife were walking in the garden, and as they passed the forbidden tree, a voice, sweet as honey, and dripping with evil, addressed them. Now they had no idea the voice was evil, remember, they had no knowledge of evil or death. So they listened to the voice, which was uttered by the mouth of a snake. I will tell the tale straight from the book of Histories written by the Maker."

Now her voice changed, and the style of words changed, seeming more rich and full. "He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You are not to eat from any tree in the garden’?” The woman answered the serpent, “We may eat from the fruit of the trees of the garden, but about the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden God said, ‘You are neither to eat from it nor touch it, or you will die.’” The serpent said to the woman, “It is not true that you will surely die; because God knows that on the day you eat from it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, that it had a pleasing appearance and that the tree was desirable for making one wise, she took some of its fruit and ate. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her; and he ate."

Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper at the end, making all around lean forward and strain to listen. Janner felt anger and pity towards the deceived husband and wife. How could they disobey the Maker? Why? And what would the Maker do? The Stranders around the fire seemed crestfallen, against their very nature wishing the two hadn't succumbed to the temptation.

Rebekah continued, "Yes, they listened to the voice of evil, and as a result, their eyes were opened, they found they could decide what they wished to be right or wrong, but what they most noticed was that they were naked. They were ashamed, and trying to cover themselves with leaves, they hid. When the Maker found them, He was angry, but still treated them kindly. Fairly, he pronounced the doom that would come from their disobedience. 'To the woman he said, “I will greatly increase your pain in childbirth. You will bring forth children in pain. Your desire will be toward your husband, but he will rule over you.” To Adam he said, “Because you listened to what your wife said and ate from the tree about which I gave you the order, ‘You are not to eat from it,’ the ground is cursed on your account; you will work hard to eat from it as long as you live. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat field plants. You will eat bread by the sweat of your forehead till you return to the ground — for you were taken out of it: you are dust, and you will return to dust.”' The evil serpent received no grace. It was condemned to a life of eating dust, and the Maker told it that there was to be war between it and the woman's seed from then on. The Maker didn't leave Adam and his wife without hope, however, he gave them a promise, that one day, one of their descendants would crush the serpents head, even though he would be bruised on the heel in return. Adam then named his wife Havah, which means life, because she was the mother of all of the race of Men. Adam and Havah were then ordered out of the lovely garden they were in, and began a new, hard life. For they now knew evil, and the wages of sin is death."

Rebekah's words grew more eloquent with every sentence. She seemed to be pulling on threads she had been told all her life, and weaving stories she had been told into her tale. Her eyes were alight, and in them burned a quiet fire that made anyone doubtful of her tale know of its veracity. Her voice carried far, frail though it was, and Janner knew she considered this tale to be of utmost importance. She had paused, and all who heard ached in their heart at what she said. Even Claxton felt strange, but, afraid of the feelings her story aroused, squelched them down.

"The line of Adam and Havah, though she is usually called Eve nowadays, grew, evil flourished, and no matter how hard the Maker tried, bringing them home seemed a lost cause. #He began new worlds, Aerwiar one of them, and seeded them with their children. He named the first world Origin, for all men came from it. This name is mostly forgotten, tis called Earth nowadays, probably to reflect how we are made, and to where we will return.# However dire the situation seemed, the Maker had a plan to redeem men. He hinted at it through prophecies, chose a specific family and then the nation that grew from it through which to work His plan. Finally, when the world seemed darkest, He began the greatest part of His plan. He sent Himself as His son to be born into the world as a baby. He grew up as a poor carpenter, and then, at the age of thirty, began proclaiming that the time of renewal was at hand, and that all who trusted in His, the Makers, plan, would be saved from the wages of sin they deserved. Many followed Him, but many, corrupted by the adversary, hated Him. They hated His popularity and His goodness. They were afraid He would overthrow them. So, they killed Him."

Janner's heart sank. The words had rung true, every one of them, even the ones about the Maker's life, and death, as a mortal man. They rang clarion in his heart, and, searching, he found the story already etched in his heart. But, Janner realized, this wasn't the end of the tale. His heart told him that there was more. So, he listened to the silence, waiting for Rebekah to continue and give the ending to the tale, even though he somehow knew how it would end.

Rebekah had everyone's eyes and attention. She gathered herself, a tear on her face, and continued. "But that wasn't the end. Three days after His execution, His followers found His tomb empty, and soon after, He Himself appeared to them. He soon after ascended back into Heaven and promised that He would come again and that all who believed would forever live and break the chains of death. He is not dead. He is risen, just like He said He would!”

Rebekah’s last words rang like a bell in the silent forest. The Stranders seemed petrified by the absolute beauty of the story, the absolute opposite of them. Rebekah sat next to Leeli once more, and it was clear she wouldn’t say anything more. Claxton dragged himself up, and for a second looked vulnerable, but his eyes focused, the softness in his eyes left, and raggedly, he said, “I don’t like your tale. It doesn’t meet the qualifications. Stranders!” he bellowed, finally losing the rag in his voice. “Take the adults to the Blapp, and the children to the cages!” The Stranders slowly started to stir, but surprisingly, Janner wasn’t afraid. Whatever happened next would be the Maker's doing. 

Kalmar shot past him, and Janner’s eyes widened. He ran up to Claxton and grabbed his dagger. Claxton grabbed Kalmar by his shirt, and lifted him off the ground, reclaiming his dagger. Janner’s mouth went dry as Kalmar said out loud cheekily, “missing something?” as he held up a golden medallion. Claxton roared, grabbed the medallion, and punched Kalmar so hard he flew ten feet into the darkness surrounding the fire. He put the medallion in his pocket and looked around as if to assure himself his Stranders were not planning to revolt. Janner lurched forward, intending to get to Kalmar, when out of the darkness Claxton’s dagger, somehow again in Kalmar’s possession, came flying out handle first, knocking the leader out.

The girl who they knew the most about leapt forward, not concerned for the leader one iota, but worried pandemonium would break out. She called out loudly, “Stranders! Listen to your chief's daughter! While Claxton is out of it, I propose his mother lead.” A few Stranders booed, but the majority seemed glad to have something normal-ish. An old, disgusting-looking Strander lady hobbled out of the crowd and spoke. The Wingfeathers at this point were just waiting for whatever happened next. 

“Thank ye, dearie Maraly. Stranders! Claxton recently has been getting a little too big fer his boots, and I think it’s time he’s been dethroned. You all saw the boy! He got the pone, and if we can’t adhere to the one rule we have, there ain’t going to be any Stranders no more. I have only one condition for you Podo Helmer.” This last part was addressed to Janner’s grandfather, who looked suddenly devoid of color once more. “Yes, Nurgabog?” She cackled, “So he remembers me name! He should, seeing as he stole me away for ten years and fathered me son! My condition is a single kiss... To remember the old times we had together! Sailing the sea, a pirate and ‘is lass.” Podo acquiesced, kissing the elderly lady, shuddering the entire time. Janner couldn’t watch such a disgusting sight. He looked past to Nia, who also looked disgusted, and a wee bit angry. Janner then realized why. Claxton was what?***** He shook his head and decided he wouldn’t think of what that entailed family-wise. He didn’t want to think of these people as related in any way. At least he now knew that girl's name. Maraly.

*If you look at the map, when you cross the bridge, you end up east of Dugtown, and likely the Stranders were in between them and the ford.

**My headcanon is that Aerwiarian eyes, unless messed up somehow, are all shades of blue, some dark enough it can be mistaken for black.

***Pipeweed, not the modern connotation. It probably is addictive like nicotine tbh.

****Another of my headcanons. It’s how I explain why we never hear of an actual spiritual enemy in the stories but do hear of evil.

*****Yet another headcanon. I think that THAT actually happened. That would make Claxton Nia’s half-brother and Janner’s uncle. It also makes Maraly his cousin.

#This is my “theology stuff” I put it in brackets to make it clear it’s not part of the creation story, just my idea of how this world could fit into ours. Another Headcanon#