Chapter four: Birth

Vola Ulfhedin’s knowledge became sketchy after the Nameless One’s departing. He spoke of the gods we know and called them children. He said that as we are to them, so are they to the Nameless One. He had given me much of the knowledge I needed for this treatise, but it was not enough. I asked how the gods were born. Ulfhedin told me to look no further than my own birth. The Volas of the Nameless One had always denied the worship of our gods, he said, because the gods were our siblings, not our parents. He knew no more than that, but that was enough. I knew exactly what it meant. From his words, simple as they were, I had learned the history of the gods’ birth.
I needed only evidence. The journey south from the frozen waste was, of course, arduous. I was driven, though, by the thirst for knowledge. For me, knowledge is sustenance. When a man dying of thirst in the desert happens upon a caravan of strangely dressed people, he asks them for water, but I would ask them about the function of their clothing, the stories of their people, and the constellations they use to guide themselves through the wastes. It is my nature.
Rather than return home, I set out for an ancient foundation of Grandmother Rontra, the Earth. The Temple of Rebirth, as it has been known for a thousand years, is a storehouse of artifacts. It is the location of one of the oldest libraries I know and more importantly, one containing a book I now desired very much to read. I believed this book might support my burgeoning theory. Of course, you are wondering what my theory was. If the gods were not our “parents” as we have always believed, but our siblings, they too must have been born of Eliwyn, the Tree of Life. It seemed inconceivable. There had been five fruits, from which sprang the five mortal races.
I knew that. Everyone knows that. What I found at the Temple of Rebirth proved that to be mostly true, but there was so much more we had not realized. Buried in the library, I found what I was looking for. I had heard of a preposterous text shelved therein, that espoused heretical beliefs. A crumbling tome called A Treatise on the Divine, by an anonymous author, the book was known for its theory that the gods were born from Eliwyn. As tribute to the long-dead anonym, I have used that title for my own work.
The Treatise is written in a dead language. Because it was considered heretical, only choice passages had ever been translated. My efforts to translate were hindered because the author, bless his soul, had different names for all the gods, and knew nothing of the Nameless One. It was difficult to tell where the Treatise ceased to be fanciful imagination and started to be useful history. I did the best I could and assembled, from the Treatise and other sources in the library, this complete history of our gods. The story of the birth of the gods begins simply enough. Having overheard the Nameless One’s first prophecy, all the world knew that others like Kador would be born. Each part, in its vanity, wished to be solely responsible for that birth. The mountains tried to create life, and made only rocks. The rivers tried, and made only ponds. The stars tried, and made only comets. Alone, none of them could create, though they strove for eons.
Kador watched their efforts from his seat in the Nameless One’s castle in the sky. At last, he too grew restless. He traveled down to the land, and spoke to the mountains, hills, valleys, plains, and cliffs. He used a conspiratorial tone, telling them that the skies and the waters were close to creating life. He whispered that they must unite or lose in the struggle. At first, they resisted. “I will create life myself,” cried the valleys, and all the others echoed their cries. Kador insisted, though, that life would never be born of any one of them alone. He said that only the united lands could defeat the upstart skies and waters. And so, the parts of the land became one, and was called Rontra, the Earth, mother of gems and living plants both. Seeing the land united and alive, the skies became jealous. The suns, moons, stars, winds, and air became one, and was called Urian, the Sky, whose lights spin and array themselves in prophecy, to the rhythm of time, and whose winds are the breath of all beasts and birds. Thus, seeing the land and sky become gods, the oceans, seas, lakes, rivers, and streams united and became Shalimyr, the Water, who all life drinks from for sustenance, and who is the source of all living blood.
Kador smiled. Surely, he was as responsible for the birth of these new lives as the Nameless One had been. He gave each of them his Fire, saying, “I grant you this gift, my children.” Rontra put the flame in her soils, making them fertile. Shalimyr used the flame to rise and create nourishing rain, and crawl across the world as rivers. Urian united the cold, small spinning suns in flame, and created the One Sun, giver of day and warmth. Kador was pleased.
It is here that the Treatise speaks of the birth of the Tree of Life. On the shore where Shalimyr and Rontra met, Shalimyr impregnated Rontra with his waves. From Shalimyr’s seed planted deep in Rontra’s womb grew a tree they called Eliwyn. With Rontra’s fertile soil, Shalimyr’s nourishing rains, and Urian’s warming sun, Eliwyn grew. Urian took the responsibility of tending Eliwyn. As the tree grew, Urian noticed it bore five fruits. Seeing this, Kador came down from his castle. He proclaimed that the largest fruit on the tree belonged to him, and he meant to take it.
It is here that we begin to see Kador’s evil. Of course, I have discovered the reason for his madness, but never why he was obsessed with the fifth fruit. In all my research, I can find no explanation, though I have searched for years. It is here that I must apologize to you, dear reader, for here my history is incomplete.
Kador told Urian, Rontra, and Shalimyr that he would pluck the fruit and tend to it himself, but they would not allow it. As he moved to take it, Urian blew him back with fierce winds. Shalimyr lashed at him with a great storm. Rontra opened a fissure a hundred leagues deep beneath his feet. Defeated, Kador shook his head in disgust, and turned to leave. But before he did he spoke these words, writ quite clearly in the old Treatise on the Divine.

“Each of these fruits bears a new life. As I am the child of the Nameless One, so are you my children, and the children within the fruits are my progeny also. As your sire, I demand my right: the largest of these fruits. You oppose me in defiance of my right, so I lay a curse upon the fruit. Rather than bear a strong child, powerful like its siblings, this fruit will bear a thousand young in my image and, as you rebel against me, so shall they rebel against you. I lay this curse, and upon the Flame that is mine, you know it is so.”

his curse, and upon the Flame that is mine, you know it is so.” With that, he returned to his castle in the sky. After he left, four of the fruits ripened. They contained children who began to speak amongst themselves and to their parents through the fruits’ skins. The fifth fruit, the fruit cursed by Kador, remained silent. However, it began to bulge, growing much larger than the others. As the four children grew, they would ask their parents whether it was time to come out. Always, Rontra would tell them they were not yet ripe. Urian would rock them at night with a low wind, and Shalimyr would sing them to sleep with the sounds of waves crashing on the shore.
They gave the children names as they grew. One child, who would kick at the skin of his fruit with such force that all Eliwyn would shake, they called Terak. The child who always asked questions about the world outside of his fruit, they called Tinel. One of the children sang along with Shalimyr every night, and danced within her fruit; her they called Zheenkeef. And the quiet one who only commented on the beauty of her fruit, or the loveliness of Shalimyr’s song, they called Morwyn. The fifth fruit they did not name, for it looked ready to burst, and sound never issued from it.
Soon, the children were nearly fully grown. As Shalimyr sang them to sleep, Terak’s kicking became more violent, Tinel’s questions more insistent, and Zheenkeef’s singing and dancing more wild. As she danced and Terak kicked, Eliwyn began to shake, until Shalimyr stopped singing and Urian told them to be calm. But it was too late. Zheenkeef’s dancing did not stop, and Terak and Tinel’s fruits fell from the tree early, with Zheenkeef’s soon to follow. Tinel and Terak hit the ground and so were born at the same moment. Only Morwyn remained on the tree until her fruit was fully ripe, and then she fell, coming out of her fruit last. The fifth fruit remained, over-ripe. Kador saw all of this and was pleased. He came down to the tree from his castle for a third time and spoke to the four young ones. “Do not listen to him,” Rontra warned, but Terak and Tinel ignored her. They demanded to know who he was and what he wanted.

“You four shall be lords of this world, but you will need fire. I give it as a gift. Allow me to give it to the eldest first, and the youngest last.” “I am the eldest,” Terak and Tinel said in unison. “You cannot both be the eldest,” Kador said."

And with that seed planted, he gave fire to each of the four, starting with Tinel, and moved to depart. However, before he did so, he plucked the fifth fruit from the tree. As soon as he did, it burst open. Springing forth from the fruit came a thousand burning children, and they began to run all over Kador’s hand and arm. Terrified, Kador flailed about, hurling the children all over the earth. Against his will, though, these creatures took the Gift of Fire from Kador as they crawled over his arm, and thus won souls.
According to the Treatise, these children were the div, which means “bright ones.” As I discovered in later research, the div are known today mostly by many names: genie, jann, djinn, efreet and more. But when they were first born, they divided into other tribes. The greatest were the powerful but rare Marid, the less powerful but plentiful Shaitan, and the silent Shee. Instead of one god, they were born of Kador’s curse, as a multitude in his image. One part of the tale confuses me. Why was Kador terrified? The div had been cursed by his own lips and were like him. He was Lord of Fire, and yet frightened of a thousand fiery children? It is this mystery that I will research for my next work, though my heart tells me that his demand for the fifth fruit and his fear of its contents must come from the same source.
All the gods were astounded, as Kador fled the div, and retired to his castle. He scattered the div to the four corners of the world, where they began to grow and procreate. The Marid built huge cities and great palaces by the coasts, for they loved the water. The Shaitan wandered the deserts and the mountains. The Shee hid themselves in Rontra’s caves and deep in the waters of Shalimyr’s rivers and lakes. In fact, I will speak of the Shee very little from here, for they kept themselves secret, and were not involved in most of the events of the Third Epoch. But the Marid and Shaitan grew great and plentiful across the earth. The Treatise has this to say: “The bright ones were the first race of the world, but the gift of the world was not enough to satisfy their pride.”

Suns and Moons?

The Great Sage Matalou says that in ancient eons, Urian was made of many suns and moons, each possessed of a chill light. In this legend, he unites the suns, but not the moons. Yet one myth about Urian implies the existence of a single moon. We know that many folks like to have several moons in their fantasy worlds, so we haven’t mentioned how Urian made the Moon, or the many moons of your campaign. Just interpret the earlier myth so that it refers to the primary moon on your world. Urian made one or more moons in your setting just as he made the One Sun: by binding lesser bodies with the Fire of Kador. Yet after he had made the One Sun, Urian had little fire, and could not make his second creation as warm and bright. Thus we have cold nights, lit by a moon

(or moons) dimmer than the One Sun