The Price of Creation (The Historian Tales) by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0000000000000
Published: 2023-09-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Sometimes you find redemption for your sins... and sometimes you burn for them.

-Musings of the Historian

SADAVIR WAS AS EXCITED as I was when he heard about the books and he agreed that he would read them and tell me about them as he read.

This plan ended up being very good in theory and downright lousy in practice. As Sadavir started reading, he soon became so totally engrossed in what he was reading that he would hardly even break to eat.

Any questions I asked were answered with dark silence as Sadavir brooded over what he had read. This went on for days as book after book left the boxes in Sadavir’s hands. He would read from the morning until it became too dark to see in the night.

I could see that the men would have wanted to get more nuts since their supply was running low and their wives had returned to serving up pasty soup made from tubers. None would disturb him, however, as his mood was dark and troubled .

It was a common sight during those days to see a man's gaze wander up into the trees longingly. His eyes would then wander to Sadavir, he might even start forward to ask about a harvest. Usually, by then one of his companions with a bandaged arm or head would pull him back. There was a certain privilege associated with being a master of violence .

Only a week had passed, however, before Sadavir broke his trance-like study. After a quick foray into the trees after nuts, he asked to talk to me. We walked a distance into the forest before he finally got his thoughts together enough to speak .

“We were their slaves. Or they were ours, I’m not quite sure what I should be calling myself at the moment.”

“For the moment, let’s not call you anything, just tell me what you have learned.”

Sadavir spent the next several hours telling me the history of the Creators and Destroyers. He had to stop often as emotions overcame him or he became distracted and wandered off on tangents.

I claim a historian’s right at this point to tell the story of these peoples in my own words: In the beginning, there had been one great source of magic, one man. The history that described the man told it as a myth, as all histories eventually become. Nothing was said about how he gained his fantastic powers, but the reports of them were impressive, even for myths.

The man was a noble sorcerer who wielded almost god-like powers. The tale told of mountains moved, seas called up from the depths of the earth, even volcanic eruptions stopped mid-explosion by the man’s uttered command.

His name was Amel.

Amel brought all the people together under a gentle command. For all his impressive powers, he allowed none to worship him or pay him tribute. He said his powers and knowledge were the result of fate, not divinity.

He used his power to serve the people. Everywhere he went, the farms prospered, the wells ran sweet, and disease was cured.

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