Chapter 1, The Beginning

I'm awake…should I open my eyes?  Something is on me, it's heavy, and the weight makes it hard to breath; though I smell smoke, and something... else.  It is a cloying scent, metallic, it is the smell of death; a lot of death.  I taste sand, which is not an unfamiliar taste, since I am Tehir and this is, after all, the Sea of Fire, my home, my people, and my life.  I feel wetness on my back; it's sticky and smells of copper.  It's day; I know this because I can feel the heat of the sun on my exposed arm.  I open my eyes, feeling fear and doing my best to choke it down, very hard to do for a seven-year-old boy.  I see crimson before my eyes, crimson muslin.  My mother wears crimson, which, as a Seer, is her right to do so.  

I am confused and afraid.  Why do I see this?  I have to get up, I'm beginning to panic, and I can't breath!  What is this weight holding me down?  I wriggle and squirm... the weight rolls off my back and I'm free.  Panting, drawing the searing air of the rapidly warming dawn into my lungs, I stand.  I look down at my feet and see my mother looking back at me, staring right through me; and her eyes are... wrong.  She's not squinting against the sun.  I have seen death before and deep down in my heart I know that death is what is looking back at me.  The Tehir know death and understand it for what it is, the end of all.  It is not to be feared and there are those who seek it, willingly.  My mother is dead.  I know this to be true, the broken lance I see sticking from her belly is simply another means of confirmation.

I will not cry....  I will not show that weakness.  I am of the people, I am Tehir.  I am Radeek Andoran, son of Q'atild, first seer among the Mir'sheq, she who has foreseen my destiny.  This... this is not it. 

I...will...not...cry.  I hold back my tears.  I look around and I see nothing but destruction; wanton and total.  I hear nothing except the slight wind that will soon disappear as the heat rises.  Only silence greets my ears.  This seems odd to me, as Tehir camps are normally rather loud places.  I see, as I have been taught to see.  The details, the nuances, the carnage. I see the dead Imperial knight, crushed under the weight of his warhorse.  I see my people, massacred; the sand is stained with the blood of Tehir and Imperial.  My camp, my home, my people, all is gone.  My life is over.  I will die here, but I know and accept this, no one my age survives the Sea of Fire alone.  I have not undergone the Trials; I am not yet a man.  I have not learned how to survive alone here; I am as dead as if I were struck down with a sword.  Would that I had been, death would be much quicker.  But I am Tehir; death comes to us all in our time, as it shall come for me.  Soon.  I am Tehir.

Wait!  I hear something... a sound.  Listen... there it is again!  Perhaps I am not alone.  I stalk the camp, slowly, silently, as I have been taught to move.  I hear it again, closer this time.  It's coming from inside what is left of a burned tent.  Quiet as a shadow I inch closer to the remains of the tent.  I see her.  It's Va'mek, a young woman of thirteen years.  Our eyes meet.  Hers so very green and full of pain, mine are grey and full of fear.  I go to her and kneel at her side.  She is so badly burned, the smell of her blackened flesh makes my stomach rise into my throat, but I do not look away.  I am Tehir. 

She cannot speak, her pain so intense that it is all encompassing as her eyes plead with me.  She glances at the Yierka spur on my belt and back to my eyes.  It's not a full sized mans weapon, just a child's tool, but sharp nonetheless and it is enough.  She whimpers, in such pain and agony and looks again from my belt to my eyes.  I know what she wants.  I know what she desires.  Slowly, I draw my weapon.  I am Tehir. 

Her eyes show understanding, and acceptance of fate.  I close my eyes for a moment, drawing the courage to do what must be done.  I have never killed before; I have not undergone the Trials.  I am not a man; I have not earned the right to kill.  Quickly, before I lose what little nerve I have, I open her wrists with my blade.  I am Tehir. 

She utters no sound.  My eyes are locked with hers.  I see gratitude there, and a solemn grace, as she knows the end is near.  Our eyes are one and we see each other as we are, in a moment that seems to last for an eternity.  I see her, brave, nearing death.  She sees me, young, alone, afraid.  I see her end.  She sees and feels no more.  My last act is to close her eyes against the rapidly warming sun.  I will not cry.  I am Tehir.

Something within me begs to be set free; I feel it smouldering within me.  My yierka spur is still in my hand; I find the body of a knight.  I will not describe what I did, for I remember little of it.  I do remember being covered in blood when I finished.  It was rage within me; a fiery need, primal and violent.  Vengeance.  It will remain with me, always, just beneath the surface, raging, carnal, and dangerous.  I am Tehir, and now I am something... more.

Dust on the horizon; they return.  My end has come but I do not fear this; I am Tehir.  But it is not Imperial knights, come to finish what they started.  These men are Tehir.  These men are Raiders.  They approach cautiously.  I stand, alone, putting my yierka spur into my belt, my arms at my side, palms facing them, empty, the traditional Tehir greeting of peace. 

The leader dismounts and approaches me as he surveys the area, a look of disgust on his face.  He approaches me and utters one word in Tehiri, "Alone?".  I nod, afraid to speak, afraid that maybe he's not real, but he is.  He beckons me to approach and when I do, he hands me a skin of water.  I drink, sparingly, as I have been taught.  I am Tehir.  Respectfully, I return the skin.  The Raider kneels before me and looks me up and down, then rises, turns, and nods to his men.  A rider-less horse is brought forward and I am told to mount.  This I do with ease.  I am Tehir.

We ride for many nights, resting by day.  I learn the names of the raiders.  The leader is called G'Arrone.  Normally his wife, K'miza, accompanies him, but she is recovering from giving birth to a third stillborn child.  G'Arrone's weapon of choice is the longbow and I later learn he is considered the best archer among the Tehir of the region, which is unusual in itself, since normally Tehir are not overly fond of bows.  There is also B'dur, the horsemaster.  Wovur and his sisters husband, Huwvid, both excellent with the Takouba.  Haszour, the silent one; he could stalk a shadow and kill it without making a sound.  Bophwaz, he is the master of the desert, and the one who determines when Tehir males are to take the Trials.  Others there are, of various skills and arts.

We reach their encampment, which is within an oasis, a place not unlike that which I knew... before.  I dismount and stand, motionless, afraid to draw attention to myself; I know what to expect.  I will be judged, and I will be found either worthy, or unworthy.  If I am deemed worthy I will be as a slave, but I will live.  If it is decided I am unworthy I will be marked and cast out.  If I survive, I will be forever outcast among the people.  At this point in my young mind, I am accepting of either verdict.  I see my life as already over.  G'Arrone bids me follow him. 

We enter a tent, which I recognize as a bathing tent.  Tehir regularly bathe when camping at an oasis.  Tehir are very clean people, which usually come as a surprise to most outsiders.  Two young girls are ordered to assist me.  The water is crisp and cool on my skin.  The soap from the roots of a desert plant has a clean and refreshing scent.  When I am clean, I am given new clothes to wear, all of earthy colours, various shades of grey and brown.  All rough linen.  I am accustomed to this attire.  I am Tehir.

I am then escorted to G'Arrone's tent, where six other men attend.  All are elders within this tribe of Tehir; their names for this telling are unimportant, although their decision is not.  I am ordered to sit, and I do, mustering as much dignity as a seven year old, newly orphaned boy can.  I am asked my name, which is the proper manner of introduction between Tehir; it is considered a slight if someone introduces you rather than naming yourself.  There are exceptions to this, especially when dealing with outsiders, but not within the Tehir community.  A man's name is his own to give, or not. 

This I give, along with my matronymic, my mothers lineage.  This raises a few eyebrows, as my mother is, was, very well known among the Tehir for her sight.  I am questioned about the attack on my camp, but I remembered very little that actually happened.  I have very clear memories of the time before that attack, and everything after, but nothing of it, except the sound of hooves, like thunder.  This, I have been told, is somewhat common in cases like this. A discussion begins, of which I am obviously the center of attention.  I feel fear.  I will not show it.  I am Tehir.

After what seemed like an eternity, the discussion dies down and G'Arrone stands and looks at me.  He draws a short, wicked dagger and beckons me to him.  I rise, slowly, and walk to stand before him.  He intones a Tehiri ritual, which I recognize as the Rite of Being.  "Eizh Toork Fiier, Biedi Fikim Gtiere Eord Hoerda, Ame Kua."  Translated into the common tongue, "By this rite I take this man-child to raise as my son into manhood, my blood."  He then takes the dagger, carves a small mark beside my left eye, and rubs a small amount of wood ashes into the wound.  The pain is intense, but I utter no sound.  My first scar, I belong again, I am no longer alone.  I am Tehir.

The years pass and I grow, both older and stronger.  I am twelve now.  My secondmother K'miza has been unable to bear any living children, so she dotes on me.  I am the apple of her eye.  My secondfather G'Arrone has been teaching me the bow.  He says I am a fine archer already and will rival and perhaps even surpass him one day.  I find this difficult to believe, he is just that good.  The years have been good to our clan, our wealth abounds, and there has been little need to raid.  The exception to this is the bride raid, but these are more for sport or to win the attentions of a woman.  As I have not been through the trials yet, I have not been allowed to participate, but I feel I am ready.  As each day passes, I think less and less of the past and look more to the days ahead of me.  Life here, while always difficult, has not been without pleasure and joy; I am content with my existence.  I am Tehir.

I am three months from fifteen now.  I have just been informed that tomorrow I will begin the first of my trials.  They will be ongoing and continuous for the next fifteen months.  If I fail, I will not receive all my scars and that will be the end of my progression through the trials; I will be forever at that level in Tehir society.  My secondmother is worried; I can tell, though she takes great pains to hide this fact from me.  I love her dearly and though she does not carry the status of my birthmother she has always done what is best for me to the utmost of her abilities, which in their own rights are considerable.  My secondfather has spent the morning with Bophwaz, having tea and a sometimes-heated discussion.  I have a feeling this is about my Trials, but I dare not interrupt.  This will be my last day as a child. Though I have received my scars for first kill and first night, I have always been a child in the eyes of the Tehir.  For better or worse, all this changes tomorrow.  Though I am apprehensive, I have no fear.  I am Tehir.

(For both secrecy about Tehir Tribal Ritual Trials and the length of this already long post I have elected to not divulge the Tehir Trials of Manhood)

It is now the day before my last trial.  I have been through so very much, and I proudly bear the scars to prove it.  Though not officially a man yet, I feel the looks upon me when I walk by, especially from the young women of marriage age.  It appears that I will have little trouble finding a mate.  Of course this is normally true in Tehir society; it has always been much easier to find a mate, quite another to keep one.  My secondfather has not spoken to me this day, which troubles me greatly.  This is most unlike him.  While men are not permitted to divulge anything about the Trials to one who either is going through, or has not yet undergone them, we've always managed some small talk on the first day of a Trial.  Something is different today.  My secondmother has been crying, and I don't know why.  She will not speak of it, but when I look at her she averts her eyes and begins to weep again.  I do not question her of this.  I am Tehir.

At dusk, Bophwaz comes to get me.  He takes me to the Elders Tent.  Once inside I am asked to sit, at the place of highest honor.  My secondfather is there, but he will not meet my eyes with his.  That is painful to me.  Have I done something to displease him?  I can think of nothing.  A drinking bowl is placed in front of me and I am told to drink deeply.  It has a strong flavour, not unpleasant, but not pleasing either.  I finish the entire bowl, knowing it is rude to not at least pretend to enjoy that which is offered you.  I immediately begin to feel a strange sense, as if I am no longer within my own body.  It is as if I am outside myself, looking in.  I feel strange sensations and hear strange sounds.  Battle sounds, thundering hooves, screams of the dying and the victorious battle cries, of both Tehir and Empire.  I hear the sharp crack of a breaking lance, and I suddenly feel a crushing weight upon me.

I hear my mothers voice in my ear.  Not my second mother, K'Miza, but my birthmother, the renowned seer, Q'atild.  She speaks, softly, the breathy whispers of the dying, "Radeek Andoran of the Mir'sheq, my son, death you shall become, and death shall follow you all your days.  Vengeance will be your calling, for only in this shall you find comfort.  Glory you shall neither seek nor find, for it is but a false calling, given to the undeserving and the vain.  Merciless destruction of your enemies, the Empire, will be your unending goal, and you will rain death upon them from afar, giving no quarter."

"Accept and embrace this fate of which I speak," she continues, her whispers faint.  "For into greatness you were born, and in greatness you shall be known among your peers; grieve neither for me, nor your people, but avenge us.  You will seek the wild dog of the moon, and you will relish in her power and loyalty.  She will always be by your side, and she will never betray you."

"Become what you were born to be, the power lies within you, in your blood; it is your heritage, it is my legacy to you.  Let none turn you aside this path I have seen for you.  You will suffer great pain, both physical and spiritual, it is to be your crucible, and it is your fate.  You were born to walk with the sun, but you will stalk in shadow; you will travel in light and darkness, you will be neither, and yet, both."

"Your friends will be few and you are ordained to travel the path alone, in times of peace and many, many wars, killing with cunning and stealth, until you meet the raven-haired one who will see past the scars you shall receive.  She will bring to you a peace you have never known.  You must place your trust in this woman, love her for all time and then, and only then, will you find joy and happiness."

She draws a final, ragged, pain-filled breath and whispers her last words to me.  "Always remember, my son, you are, and always shall be, Tehir."  I am Tehir.

I woke late the next morning to sun and oppressive heat.  My head was spinning, and it hurt to sit up.  Silence greets my listening ears, a sound all too familiar to me.  Am I truly awake?  Or am I living a dream, a nightmare?  I rub my eyes.  Yes, I'm quite awake, but something is very wrong.  I rise and see nothing around me.  My clan has gone, without me; I have been abandoned.  I feel a slight sting on the left side of my face.  I reach up and touch... my last scar.

I have passed all my trials, and yet my people have abandoned me.  I hastily check to see if I have any mutilations or if any of my teeth have been removed, this is common practice for the Tehir when casting an individual out, it marks the person for all time as an outcast and no Tehir in their right mind will accept such a burden.  But no, I have all my teeth, and with the exception of my final scar, I have no other fresh marks.  But I am truly alone.  I am Tehir.

I see a bundle a short distance away.  I approach it and see it's a pack and supplies.  On top is a letter written in charcoal on a buttery soft Yierka hide, it is from my secondparents.  Only my secondmother could write, G'Aronne, my secondfather, never learned how.  The letter had these words written upon it, which I later paid a scribe to read to me, for I have only recently learned my letters:

My son, you know now what you are to become, this is a rare gift for one as young as you; most go through life's trials never knowing their purpose.  Your fathers' purpose and mine was to raise you to manhood and this we have done, the best that we knew how.  It grieves us both to leave you, but your path is no longer that of the clans, and we have left you everything you could need or want; your father demanded that we include his most powerful longbow and a good supply of his best arrows.  Use them well on your quest for vengeance.  He told me to tell you that you have become the better archer between yourselves.  Believe in yourself, for few will in your travels.  The path will be dark and forbidding, but it is yours to walk.  We know you will do what you feel is right. 

Radeek, my son, I know I am not your birth mother, but I have always loved you as my own.  I am proud of you, my son.  Know this as well... you are the first to pass all the Trials of Manhood in nine generations.  Carry your scars with pride, they are who you are.  You have earned them and brought great honour to your father and I by doing so.  Walk with the sun, and may you fare well Radeek Andoran of the Mir'sheq.  You are Tehir. 

K'Miza and G'Aronne

I am Tehir

During the rest of the travels of my youth I've done many things, most of which are not worth mentioning here.  All the while, I would kill the occasional Imperial.  I learned common, or what I use that passes for it, at the knee of a teamster who moved trade goods between the Tehir and the Empire.  I did not know until later that the man had been hit with a mace while a soldier, which shattered his jaw.  It affected his speech accordingly; hence my rather thick accent and subsequent butchering of the common language.  But he treated me well and I learned a lot of the ways of the Empire and beyond.  I learned and became more.  I am Tehir.

When I reached my late teens I yearned for more; I began travelling the lands.  I had heard of the free town of Wehnimer's Landing in a brothel in Talador so I decided to go there and try my luck.  I arrived in the Landing, as the locals call it, and immediately felt more at home than anywhere since my youth with the clan.  I traveled to Icemule Trace from there and joined a group called The Northern Fury, where I served with some excellent people, honed my martial skills and learned how to lead groups of people in combat.  I am content with my existence.  I am Tehir... and something more.