The Birth of the Moon

In this time, there lived a witch called Luna, who travelled from people to people, bartering her little magics for food and shelter. An hour or two before sunset one day she came upon the camp of a powerful man known as Jespar, who ruled over a nomadic community calling themselves the Senti. When Jespar heard of the arrival of Luna at their nightly camp, he cursed softly to himself.

Jespar did not like anyone who possessed secrets he did not, especially if that person were a woman, but Luna's reputation for wisdom was already well established. He had been troubled of late, and perhaps this witch could provide the answers he sought. All the better if she could be put back in her place at the same time. His people would understand that his was the only power that mattered. He ordered the Senti to gather, and had Luna brought into the middle of the circle of people.

"Tell me, witch, caster of curses and dabbler in things best left alone," said Jespar contemptuously, "which of my three sons I should make my heir. Jenall, my eldest son, is fast as a jaguar, and none can beat him in a race. Jereth, my next son, is strong as a lion, and none can best him in a fight. Jemath, my youngest son, is as hardy as a camel, and none can walk the trail for longer than he. All are worthy, and I am unable to choose between them."

"You mock my magic, yet you would seek my counsel," Luna replied. "Is there not a contradiction there? It is of no matter. I will give you what advice I can, in return for a meal for the night, and a place to sleep near your campfire."

Jespar was angered by the witch's disrespectful words. "Look around you, witch, at those who sit nearby. One word from me, and all of them would descend on you with sticks, and your petty magics will be of little use against the strength of my tribe. Give your counsel then, and make it wise, for I am not a patient man. Your payment, should I be satisfied with your answer, is that you will leave this place unmolested. Be grateful for my forbearance. I have had others put to death for less than the insult you have offered me tonight."

Luna looked back at the chief, her expression unreadable. The magics she knew took time in preparation and for the gathering of ingredients, and would not aid her in her present difficulties. She had little choice but to do as Jespar had commanded, if she wished to see another sunrise. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, she closed her eyes and thought. At first, she was at a loss, but just as the chief was about to lose patience with her, she came up with a solution.

"All of the qualities that you have mentioned would be useful in a leader. It is not clear that any son is better qualified than the other to rule. The solution would then be for one of the three to prove their worth in a contest of skill, a task that would test strength and speed and hardiness - a hunt, perhaps."

The chief smiled toothily. "Well spoken indeed. You have earned your reward and may leave my camp unmolested. As to the hunt - that will begin at sunset. Whichever of my sons can bring me your dead body will be appointed my successor. Perhaps that will teach you to be more civil in the afterlife." Laughter echoed around the camp - Jespar's harsh sense of humour was often a cause for mirth among the Senti, who were styled after the manner of their leader, and cruel in nature.

Luna scowled at the chief, but made no reply. She had done the chief no harm, and offered him counsel, and now she was to be the victim of her own advice. The witch supposed that she could have railed at her fate, and cursed Jespar to his face, but that would be a waste of what little time she had left to get away from her pursuers. She turned without a word, and hurried from the camp, pursued by the jeers of the people about her ringing in her ears.

Luna knew that her situation was not a hopeful one, and as she ran and the sun set in the sky, she offered up a prayer to Destia, goddess of night, to protect her. It was true that she was neither fast, nor strong, nor hardy, but she was wily. She had left out the most important part of her advice, knowing that the chief would not wish to hear it. It is also important for a ruler to be clever, and if there is one thing that the life of an itinerant witch teaches, it is cleverness in abundance.

Luna's only ally in her fight for survival was the very darkness that also indered her flight. As dusk fell, and the last rays of light disappeared over the horizon, she heard a hissing noise before her. Coming to a hurried stop, she realised that she had almost fallen into a channel that cut its way across the floor of the forest that she was now deep within. Leaping across the gap, she smiled to herself, for already she heard behind her the swift pursuit of Jenall, the chief's oldest son.

Hurling herself to the ground, Luna landed with a large crash. Jenall laughed loudly as the witch gave her position away and put on a final burst of speed to close upon his prize. With a shock, Jenall fell down as the ground disappeared from beneath his trail, and he fell into the channel that Luna had avoided.

Jenall cursed noisily as he landed, for in doing so he had twisted his ankle. However, he was not to be distracted from his goal. Climbing out of the ditch would be the work of a few moments, and even with his injury, he knew he could still outdistance both the witch and his brothers. It was then that he heard the same slithering sound that had alerted Luna to the presence of the channel, and he screamed in fear as the giant snake that made its home there closed its mighty jaws about his head. In the distance, his two brothers heard the distant echoes of his terrible cry and shivered, but still they continued onwards.

Luna picked herself up off the ground, and continued steadily on her way. Again she prayed to Destia that she would survive the night. The sound of her breathing grew heavy in her ears as she moved on, as fast as she dared in the now pitch black forest. Realising she would no longer be able to hear her pursuers approach, she paused for a moment to catch her breath and listen. In the forest in front of her, she felt a disturbance in the air above her, the spatter of a couple of drops of sticky liquid on her cheek, followed by the sound of beating wings in a confined space. Smiling to herself again, she picked a few small pebbles from the ground beneath her, and headed towards the cave riddled stone bluff that she knew would be nearby. Hiding herself, she waited.

Jereth, meanwhile, appeared to be having some difficulty. As far as he could tell, the witch had managed to vanish into thin air. Pausing to take account of his surroundings, he felt the craggy surface of the rock face in front of her. Listening carefully, he strained to make out a rattle of movement in one of the caves some distance above. So the witch had burrowed into the earth like the vermin that she was. Well, this time she had miscalculated - his strength would mean that the climb would be much easier for him than for her, and then she would have nowhere left to run.

Hauling himself casually up the rock face, following the occasional quiet scrapes of the witch's movement, he arrived at the mouth of the cave, and started to descend into the stone. A few meters in, he slipped on a loose pebble, tumbling over noisily and landing on several more. With a howl of frustration, he realised that the witch had tricked him - she was not in the cave, but had been throwing stones into the cave mouth from the branches of one of the nearby trees. He stood and turned to pursue her, but before he could take more than two steps, there was a blast of cold air from the cave behind him. With painful force, powerful claws bit into his flesh, and he was caught up and carried out of the cave.

Jereth had some small time to reflect on his fate. He had been captured by the giant black bird known as a Mute, so called because it never made a sound with its voice, and was a deadly silent night hunter. His strength would not avail him here because if he should fight free, he would fall to his death, as the Mute rose higher and higher away from the ground.

Mutes would not normally attack humans, preferring to prey on less intelligent creatures. Unfortunately for Jereth, Mutes are utterly ruthless in defending their nesting caves. Jereth screamed as the bird finally released her talons, and he plummeted to the ground, knowing that his broken body would be carried back to the nest he had foolishly violated in order to feed the Mute's chicks. In the distance, Jemath heard the cry and shivered again, but nonetheless continued his pursuit. For he was a man, and would not allow himself to be cowed in fear of a woman, witch or not.

Luna climbed tiredly down from the tree where she had been hiding. So far, she had been running half the night, and already she was beginning to flag. On and on she trudged, occasionally hearing sounds of Jermath's slow but unstoppable path behind her. Vainly she tried to think of a way to throw off her last tracker, but fatigue had sunk into her mind and it was all she could do to stumble forward.

A few hours before dawn, she stumbled into a clearing containing nothing but a rounded and weather-worn stone basin. Luna looked up at the stars that were revealed now that the canopy of the forest was broken above her. Their tiny lights were of no help in piercing the darkness of the night. The woods closed densely all around and she realised that there was no exit from the clearing, save for the one that she had entered by.

Knowing that her life was at an end, she prayed once more to the goddess of night. "Lady Destia, first star of the night, if now is my time to die, then I will try to face the end with dignity. I would beg that you grant a boon of one who is to die in your night. Do not let the rot at the heart of my killers, which makes them a dark and cruel people, continue unchallenged. Let them not be like me, lost and alone in the darkness."

Staring down into the water at her reflection, she saw a light reflected in the water behind her, and turned to see Destia standing behind her. She fell to her knees. "Stand, child," said Destia, "This place is holy to me, and I will not see the light of a life extinguished within it. Close your eyes." Walking over to the basin of water, Destia placed her hand into liquid and transformed it to a previously unknown liquid metal, quicksilver.

At that moment, Jemath entered the clearing. The brightness of the stars above was suddenly reflected strongly in the surface of the pool, as the starlight was concentrated and focused by Destia's powers into the eyes of Jemath, who fell to the ground, instantly blinded. Destia spoke harshly.

"You carry darkness in your heart, Jemath. You knew your brothers were dead, and could have spared this woman. Yet to chose to continue the hunt. For this, you are condemned to live in darkness, that you might better see the light and darkness in people's souls. Your father is a rot at the heart of the Senti, and that rot must not be allowed to destroy your people. For this reason, your life is spared. Learn well, and rule well when your time comes, for darkness breeds darkness, and your father's destruction is not far at hand."

Jemath fell to the ground weeping. "Your will, Lady Destia. Truly my pride has blinded me."

Then Destia reached down to the basin, picked it up and placed it in the sky, where it sits to this day, still reflecting the light of the stars down onto the earth. "This is my mirror," Destia proclaimed. "It is called the moon. Let it stand as a symbol that I watch over that darkness. May its brightness be comfort to those surrounded by the dark."

Turning back to Luna, Destia spoke again. "Luna, my child, it is my will that you bide a while with Jemath, and teach him what his father has not taught." Facing Jemath, she continued, her face stony. "Jemath, let all know that this woman is under my protection, and that any who does her harm will answer to me." Then without another word, she was gone from the glade.

In time, Luna became the first High Priestess of the Startouched, a cult of witches who worshipped Destia. Jemath did indeed inherit rule of the Senti from his father, and was a wise and noble ruler, to the extent that the Senti became a people for whom blindness was a mark of holy wisdom. The end of any story is the beginning of many others, but this story at least is at an end.