The Watcher Narrative

Introductory Text

Mother River
The Watcher Narrative Part 01 55th Post Posted 15 May 2016 at 21:04:25 EDT Link to original

The people were moving along the river, as the people do in the gentle days, moving from one fruitful place to another. Maed played the flute, first a river song, then a berry song, then both mixed together, and it was so flowing that the people began to laugh and shout. Resh slapped his chest and called out the names of the Fathers and the Deeds, and it all flowed so well that we almost didn't see the old woman in the thorn-flower bushes.

She was an old crone, huddled up in the bushes, naked and covered with cuts. All the music fell away at once, and the people gathered around to take a look. She was very old, far into the barren years, maybe even into the years of being carried. I did not like the look of her right away. She did not have a face of the Fathers and the people, but rather the hungry, untrusting face of one of the wandering strangers that we sometimes met along the river.

Even when strangers were friendly, they did not know the names of the Fathers or the Deeds, except for maybe a few, but they did not say them properly or with respect. Other times, they set upon the people, killing and raping and committing all manner of hideousness. I was always glad to see them go on their way, leaving us alone with the Mother River.

Some of the older people tried to talk to the crone. She knew some of the names of things, but said them wrong. I went away from the crowd and looked out into the rocky land. I had a feeling that maybe she was not alone, that there were other strangers with her, ready to set upon us. The land seemed to be empty. Some of our cats were with us, crouching and sniffing around, and they seemed unworried. Still, I showed my chest and made signs of war in case anybody was among the rocks, watching us.

Rima saw me making the signs and laughed at me, saying that she saw some lizards making signs of surrender. I made a few signs of courtship towards her, but with a snarling face, and she ran off giggling. Somebody called my name. I came back to where the people were gathered. Somebody had given the crone a cloth to cover herself, and some of the women were putting good, lucky mud on her cuts. I didn't like this. Why should we waste anything on a barren old woman?

Somebody had called me because I was the son of Araed, one of the great men of the people. The crone had called on all the great people, the leaders of the people. She wanted to show us something. I didn't like this either. Who was this useless crone to call on all the great people?

The crone was talking to the great people. The way she said the names was all wrong, but her voice was like a strong music, and her eyes were very large and powerful, and she moved her hands, making all sorts of unknown signs. The people listened to her closely, and I found myself listening with them. She said that she was the daughter of the river. She did not have a mother and father of the flesh, but her mother was the river alone. I scoffed at this. The stories of the Deeds tell us that the ancient people came from the river, but this was long ago, and they were not strangers, who came from the rocky lands alongside the lizards.

She went on talking, saying that she was living with the Painted Backs, a friendly group of strangers we had met before, but that they had all been set upon by another group of strangers. The other strangers were powerful and cruel, and they carried all the Painted Backs off except her. This was how she ended up naked in the thorn bush. The people murmured at this. When had it happened? Just the night before. This was worrying. Maybe the other strangers were still around, waiting to set upon us.

The crone asked the people to take her with us. This started more murmuring. She was a stranger, not a person, and she was an old crone. She could never become a person by birthing one of the people, nor could she work hard for the people. She was useless. Maed, the flute player, spoke up and said that we should show her the kindness of the people, the same kindness that Mother River shows to us. Are we not useless to the river who was here before us, and would be here forever?

I liked Maed, who was close kin, but he liked talking and impressing people too much. Now we were in the gentle days and things were easy, but what would happen in the dry days when everything needed to be saved? And who would carry the crone when she could no longer walk? The Fathers did not perform the Deeds so that we could carry old crones around. But I did not say this because I am not good at talking, and my words would seem weak compared to Maed's, which glittered and flowed.

The woman began talking in her strange way again, saying that we should take her with us because the Mother River would bless us with many things, as she was the Mother's daughter. Now some of the people began to scoff like I did, saying that this was not according to the Deeds. The crone agreed with this, calling these people wise, and saying that some of the Deeds were secret. This started more talk which started to lead toward argument, when the old crone suddenly strode right into the river and held her hands up and called for everybody to watch.

The people became silent. The woman reached into the river, searching for something. After a moment, she pulled her hands out and showed us, dripping and shining in the sun, three very large river clams. Waving the clams around for us to see, the old crone claimed that this was proof that she was the blessed daughter of Mother River. Many of the people snickered and muttered the names of the Fathers. Everyone knew that these were the gentle days, and it was easy enough to reach into the river and pull out clams. The woman was just a filthy old trickster. We should leave her and move on.

"Look!" the woman cried, and she handed the clams to the great men. "Look inside!"

Our uncle Kell slipped his thick yellow thumbnail into a clam's mouth and pulled it open. The people pressed around him to get a look. It was a nice clam with healthy meat, but clinging to the shell was a large, perfect pearl. The women all let out little sighs, and the men murmured. Other great men pulled open the other two clams, and they both held even larger pearls, all three perfectly round. At this, people gasped and shouted, and everybody began talking at once. A man might go a whole lifetime only seeing one perfect pearl pulled from the river. Three was a thing that had never happened before. Three was a thing which would live among the Deeds.

"Take her with us!" one of the women cried, and soon most of the people were saying this. I found myself saying it as well. The woman was surely part of a powerful flow, and it was best not to swim against her. But even as the great men agreed that this woman would become a part of the people, and we all cheered and shouted out the names of the Fathers and the Deeds, I found myself looking at her strange, hungry face and wondering if she had not somehow slipped those pearls into the clams herself.

The flow of the river was hard to know
The Watcher Narrative Part 02 63rd Post Posted 21 May 2016 at 04:13:16 EDT Link to original

The old crone became one of the people, and the people soon began to love her. After her bruises and cuts had healed, she became swirling and bubbly like a young woman. At any time, the people could hear her musical voice babbling on without end, telling stories from different bands of strangers she had met. It was a strong flow of words that could bring anybody into it, even me. She was also very lucky at finding clams, pulling them from the waters whenever she liked, and she sometimes snuck away from the river and came back with rare treats, like snake's eggs and red beetles.

The people did not like to go far from the waters of Mother River. Her protection stayed close to the banks, and the rocky land was known to be stalked by spirits of death, fanged evils which became wolves and lions. Even our little cats stayed close the alders and the rushes. But the crone had no fear of such spirits and wandered off among the rocks whenever she pleased. The people whispered about this, but it was known that the crone was once a stranger, so it expected that she would keep strange ways.

One day, near the end of the gentle season, the girl Rima disappeared. She was with us in the night and gone the next morning. We searched for her, going up and down the river and sneaking as far as we dared into the rocky lands, but there was no sign of her at all. Some of the women recalled that she had gone with the crone into the rocky lands that day, and at night she had slept near the crone with her two gray cats.

Now there was argument among the people. Some accused the crone of talking with the spirits of death. Some accused her of being a spirit herself. Others said she had at least been foolish in bringing Rima out to rocky lands.

I was undecided. I did not like the crone nor did I trust her, but people often talked about things they did not know anything about. The flute player Maed argued that the crone had been a great friend to the people, giving us three pearls and much food and telling us the stories and songs of the strangers. I knew that the stories and songs of strangers were worthless, but he spoke very beautifully.

As the people argued, the old crone simply watched us, her shriveled stranger's face making no sign at all, her eyes just as calm as the wide waters. Finally, one of the great men asked her to explain herself. She spoke slowly, in trickling words, and the people became silent as they listened. She said that the same thing had happened to the Painted Backs, who were the last group of strangers she lived with.

First, a few valuable young women had disappeared in the night, one by one. Then young men were taken. Finally, the Painted Backs were set upon by another group of strangers, monstrous men as white as cave fish, able to take the form of the eagle and the lion, powerful with evil and cruelty. There was much slaughter, and all were taken away except her, as she was protected by Mother River.

This brought great fear to the people. The women whispered and burbled while the men showed their chests to seem brave. One of the great men said that this crone was bad luck, that she was somehow muddied with evil spirits. She had brought disaster on the Painted Backs, and she would bring disaster on us. The people agreed. Her journeys into the rocky land had tainted her with evil, and we must get rid of her.

The crone said that the evil had not come from her and was not her fault. She said the evil came from Mother River herself. At this, the people became angry. Mother River did not bring evil. She brought the clams and the berries and the cleansing waters, but she did not bring evil.

One of the people's great men picked up a rock to brain the crone for speaking against Mother River. The crone showed no fear. She said that Mother River brought both luck and evil. If we were to accept Mother's luck, we would have to accept her evil. But there were ways to increase luck and lessen evil. She said that she had tried to teach these ways to the Painted Backs, but they had not listened and so were destroyed. Because they had not heeded her words, their lives and deeds ceased to flow and were dried up into dust.

We all scoffed at this nonsense. Nothing like this was mentioned in the Deeds of the Fathers. So we argued about whether to brain the crone or drown her. In the end, it was decided that we would simply leave her behind, but many of the people grumbled and were unhappy. We left her there at a bend in the river. As we walked away, she made a sign of respect. I expected that she would ask for her pearls back, but she did not. She stayed there by the river's bend, staring into the waters.

Later that day, we washed ourselves in the waters to rid ourselves of the evil that had tainted us. In the days that followed, Mother River seemed quiet and sad without the pretty face of Rima and the constant voice of the crone to keep her company. The people wondered if we had made the right choice. The flow of the river was hard to know, and nobody could see the cold depths under the glittering surface. But as the days passed, and we finished the long song of tears for Rima, things became gentle again.

Then another girl disappeared. It was the same as before, gone in the night without a sound. Now we knew we were being visited by evil. It was not just the old crone who was muddied by evil. Still, we argued whether the crone had brought the evil or not. So much could not be known, and these arguments flowed nowhere. One of the people remembered that the crone had spoken of a way to increase luck and lessen evil. What if she could prevent us from being destroyed like the Painted Backs?

Now there were many arguments and threats, and one man was almost drowned until he was saved by his women. It was decided that this evil was very powerful, and we would have to surrender to it or be destroyed. There was no choice. So, whether the woman was lucky or evil, whether she was helping us or tricking us, we would go to her and do as she said. Killing her would not help. If she could bring evil from far down the river, how much easier would it be to bring evil from the other side of death, which is so close to life? No, we would go to her.

I and another man were chosen to go back down the river and find the old crone. She was still at the bend where we had left her, staring into the glittering waters. She smiled as we came to her and asked what we must do.

Sacrifice
The Watcher Narrative Part 03 68th Post Posted 25 May 2016 at 04:19:32 EDT Link to original

When the old crone told me how get rid of the evil, I said the names of my Fathers, all of them in a row, and I spat on the ground. It was too much to bear. I had been told to bring the crone back to where the people were camped, but I wanted to hold her down in the water of the river and be done with her.

She said that we must wait for the next moonless night, then lead one of our young women deep into the haunted rocky lands. One of the monstrous evil strangers would come and take her away. If we do this, the evil strangers would leave the rest of the people alone, and they would not destroy us as they destroyed the Painted Backs. She said we must do this at the beginning of every dry season.

It was absurd, but we took the crone back to the people as we had been told to do. She told the people what she had told us. The people listened and were silent for a while. I spoke up as the son of one of the great men. I said her plan was evil. The people's strength is their young women, who are ripe and bear sons. To give them away is a humiliation. It is the way of cowards. When we make war against strangers, do we not take their young women for our own? We should make war against these evil strangers. We should set up a night watch, and when the evil strangers come to us, sneaking in like cowards, we should slay their men and take their women. This is the way of the Fathers. This is among the Deeds.

Many of the people agreed. Even though my words were clumsy, they still had the flow of truth. However, some of the great men seemed irritated, because I spoke first even though I was not a great man myself. One of my uncles asked the people if the Painted Backs were cowards. Were they not at least as numerous as the people? Were their men not strong? Did they not join us in war against the vile Grub Eaters and fight like lions? Yet they had been entirely destroyed by the evil strangers. It was not the act of a coward to prevent this. The people had many ripe young women, and just one was not too much to give away. To go against the flow of a powerful evil like this was unwise. It would bring destruction.

This led to much arguing among the people. Nobody knew what to do. I became angry. I shouted that the crone was a witch trickster. She had probably kidnapped the young girl Rima and sold her as a slave. I said my uncle was a fool. Some of the men had to lead me away from the camp so that I could calm down before blood was shed. When I finally came back, all had been decided. On the next moonless night, the crone would lead Rima's younger sister, Rona, out to the rocky lands. I was outraged, but did not say anything. The people were decided, and I could not go against them.

Then Maed, the flute player, spoke up. He said that it was cruel to send such a young girl out to the rocky lands to be taken away by evil. She would never see her mother and father again, nor the people, nor Mother River herself. With many beautiful and flowing words, he begged the people to change their minds. Now the arguing began again. The people were decided, but some of them lamented for Rona.

After Maed's words, I felt an opportunity. I asked the great men if I could go with Rona and the crone to the rocky lands. I would make sure that the crone was not tricking us and face the strangers to see if they were as the crone had said, monstrous men as white as cave fish, or if they were just ordinary men.

I was sure that the crone was trickster and that the evil strangers were just a lie she was telling. I expected her to protest, and I planned to show the people that she was lying. But instead she just bowed and said that this was a wise and fair idea. She said I was very wise to doubt her, even wiser than some who were older than me, which made my old uncle grumble. She would be glad to show me the nature of these terrible beings so that the people would believe her.

This surprised me. The old witch was more tricky than I had expected. She offered to take anyone who doubted her out to the rocky lands to show them the evil menace. Nobody but me was "wise" enough to go with her. Now I became worried. Was the menace real? Would I encounter something monstrous out there in the rocky lands? Was I swimming against the flow of something sinister and powerful?

The Rocky Land
The Watcher Narrative Part 04 69th Post Posted 25 May 2016 at 19:15:08 EDT Link to original

I had to go. To back down would be cowardly, not something that belonged among the Deeds. But I would have to be very careful out in the rocky land. Maybe the crone was telling the truth, and the monstrous evil strangers were real. But more likely, she would try to kill me out there and blame it on the strangers. That would get rid of me and make the people even more afraid.

Rona, the crone and I set out the next day. I let two women walk ahead of me, with Rona weeping and the crone whispering strange things to her. I stayed behind them. It was hard to look at poor Rona's red weeping face, and I did not want the crone near me. I had taken the fishing head off my spear and attached the war head. I also had my black stone knife hidden inside my tunic, and I brought my two favorite cats, Charm and Grayscruff, in my satchel. They both rode in the satchel well and were very clever and watchful. I wanted to be ready for any sort of trap.

We quickly left behind the gentle trees and bushes of the river land and went into steep, bare folds of the rocky land. I had only been away from Mother River's voice a few times in my life. Out in the rocky lands, there was nothing but the occasional stirring of the wind, which was not warm and burbling like the river, but thin and whispering. All around, I could feel the evil dryness and death that covered the land. Dust blew over the tilted rocks, and here and there were animal skulls and stalking black birds.

The sun was sinking down from its highest perch when we came upon a huge, smooth stone which rose above everything else. It was round like the top of a bald man's head and large enough that many men could stand on it at once. The crone said that this would be the place where the evil stranger would arrive. I asked her what we must do. She said that we only need to wait for night. Rona would go atop the stone. The stranger would come.

Rona did not weep now, but looked at the stone with glittering eyes. The crone ran her hands through Rona's hair, gently pulling out the tangles, and Rona smiled at her. I asked her if she was afraid. The crone had told her wonderful stories about how the strangers would treat her kindly because she was coming to them willingly. They would take her across the rocky land to another river which was far greater than Mother River, wide and flowing with sun-gold waters, and they would make her into one of the great women of their band.

I kicked the crone over. She cried out. I told her if I heard her voice one more time, I would paint this evil rock with her brains. She became meek. Rona protested, but I told her that the crone was a trickster. I tied the crone's hands behind her back with my belt and stuffed a wad of cloth into her mouth. There would be no tricks from her now.

I brought Rona and the crone atop the rock and looked around. The rocky land had many folds and hiding places. Still, the high stone was not a good place to make an attack. I let Charm and Grayscruff out of my satchel, and they stretched their legs and sniffed the rocks. If they felt any evil in the land, they did not show it. I walked far around the giant rock and searched among the cracks and folds in the land to see if there was anyone waiting. The whole place seemed to be empty. There were a few dry, dead bushes, so I gathered firewood.

When I came back, the sun was sinking behind the rocks, and long curving shadows lay across the bare world. I built a fire, and Rona and I ate while we watched the sky turn orange and purple. Finally all color fled from the world and darkness fell. With no moon, the small fire was the only light except for the stars. I told Rona to stay by the fire with the crone, who lay on her side, seeming to sleep.

I withdrew from the small circle of light and lay flat against the still-warm stone with my spear by my side. I was completely hidden in the darkness. Looking away from the firelight, the world was a perfectly black. Grayscruff startled me as he appeared out of the dark, sneaking up the rock to sit by the fire. Charm soon joined him. Maybe it was too dark for even the cats to hunt. Or maybe the land was too dead.

A long time passed, and there was no sound but the fire. The crone seemed to sleep. Rona added wood to the fire and drowsed. The cats lay side by side, like a man and woman. I wondered if I had ruined the crone's plan, if I would just lie on this rock all night with nothing coming. It was better than being stabbed in my sleep. More time passed. My thoughts became loose and wandering. I imagined the waters of the river flowing through the weird folds of the rocky land. My eyes closed.

I opened my eyes again. I wasn't sure how long I had slept. Everything was quiet. The fire still burned well. Rona and the crone slept. Grayscruff and Charm were still lying next to each other, both awake, both looking off into the darkness, both looking in the same direction. I looked out into the darkness. I couldn't see anything out there, just far stars over the blackness of the land. Were the cats watching something? Their eyes were wide.

I found myself slowly wrapping my hand around the shaft of my spear. The cats did not take their attention away from what they were looking at. Maybe they had both heard noise, a pebble falling somewhere. Grayscruff slowly, carefully got up, keeping its gaze fixed. Charm did that same. I pulled my spear close and gripped it tight.

The cats both jerked their heads slightly in the same direction, following something. Something was out there. It was close. I pulled my knees up under myself and held my spear with both hands. I listened to every noise, everything around me. I knew I was outside the light of the fire. I would hear anybody coming up the rock. Still, I wished desperately that I could see what the cats saw. It was awful to not know.

Charm and Grayscruff crouched and turned their bodies, ready to flee, but still watching the thing in the darkness, their wide eyes glowing in the fire. Slowly, they raised their heads, following the thing up and up, until they were looking almost straight up. They must have been watching a bird. That was the only thing that could be that high. I let out a relieved breath. A gust of wind made the fire shudder, and the cats both jumped, scrambling off into the darkness.

Rona screamed. It landed just in front of her with a flap of wings and a gust of wind that scattered the fire in a spray of sparks. I was on my feet, holding the spear out. The brightly burning pieces of wood showed its shape, like a giant pale man with huge wings instead of arms. It stood for a moment with its wings spread, far larger than any bird, but with no feathers like a bat's. The firelight shined through the thin wings, showing the creature's long bones and the streams of blood that flowed under the skin.

It turned to look at me, and I realized that the scattering of the fire had brought me into the light. It could see me. My war spear felt like a frail little stick in my hands. Its face was like a rock lion's but with awful black teeth and huge, filmy eyes. It was just as the crone had said. She had been right all along.

Strange, filmy eyes
The Watcher Narrative Part 05 70th Post Posted 26 May 2016 at 03:20:11 EDT Link to original

Rona had fallen back onto the ground, and the evil thing stood over her. It was far taller than a man but very thin, with a waist hardly bigger than a cat's and legs like a mantis. As I stood there with my spear in my hands, the flaming wood lying scattered all around me, looking at this thing in the shifting darkness, it seemed less and less like a man and more like an animal, one of the sneaking, starving animals of the rocky land.

It folded its wings behind itself, and its teeth shuffled in its mouth like a spider's. Rona was screaming, the horrible sound ringing off the stones. I knew what the spear in my hands was for. I knew what I must do. But I could not move. I was held in place by an evil cowardice.

The thing crouched over Rona, and its cock rose from between its legs, very thin but longer than any man's. It separated into many different parts, like the petals of a flower opening, like a man spreading his fingers apart. The many parts grew longer, very long, and wound like snakes through the darkness toward Rona, seeming to sniff the air. They found Rona's body and went inside her -- inside her mouth and nose and ears and in between her legs. Her screams ended at once, and the snake-like parts lifted her body into the air.

Many seasons ago, shortly after I became a man, I had killed a rock lion while it was at the river's edge, watching the waters for fish. I had simply found it there below me as I came to the edge of a small cliff. All I had to do was leap down and drive my spear through its shoulders, and it was dead. When the people found out, they made me feel like I was greater than even the great men, at least for the rest of the day. The only other living person to kill a rock lion was already gray and almost toothless. It was said that I would become a great hunter. But Mother River provides so much for the people that we do not hunt often, and I hadn't killed anything since then, except a few boar.

Now I ran toward the great and evil thing, my feet slapping quick over the bare rock. I lifted my spear and leapt and drove the heavy war head right into its side. The spear went deep into its body, and a spray of black blood exploded out of the wound. It let out a sound like an awful bird call, and one of its wings unfolded and hit me hard enough that I fell back. Its wings flapped wildly, spraying fire and sparks everywhere, but it could not fly and fell back down onto the stone. Black blood poured out of its side.

I pulled Rona away from it, but she was limp and moaning, and the awful snake-like things were still inside her. I pulled them out, one by one, but they were sharp and cut my hands, and they came out of her body covered in red blood. When I had freed her, I took her up and grabbed my spear and slid down the side of the rock and stumbled through the blackness until I found a ridge of rock to hide behind.

There were a few bits of fire left on top of the rock, but they soon went out. I was in total darkness except for the stars above, clinging to Rona, who made no more sound. I waited there in the utter blackness. Rona did not stir, and I felt the warmth slowly flow from her body. By the time the first gray light of morning came, she was dead.

As soon as I could see well enough, I went back up to the top of the large rock. The thing was lying there, its wings spread wide and coated with black blood. It had bled enough to cover the entire top of the rock with blackness, which had dried and become thin flakes that blew away in the wind after I stepped on them. With my spear gripped tight, I approached it again. Its body was the same sort of pale color as the morning sky, and was covered in tiny glistening hairs. The mouth was like a spider's, with sharp black teeth. Its cock had become just a shriveled little thing, with no sign of the long snake-like parts.

I went down the rock again to where I had left the crone. She was gone. My belt lay in the dust, sawed in half. Maybe it was just as well. I did not want to see her again. I called for Charm and Grayscruff but there was no sign of them. I left the evil rocky land as fast as I could.

The weird rocks all looked the same to me, and I did not know the way well, but I found the river before the sun had climbed to its highest. It was a different part of the river than I had left, and nobody was there. I made my way along the banks, looking for the people. There was much to tell them. Would the other winged strangers soon try to set upon the people? Would we have to make war against them? If it must be so, then let them come. They could be killed like any other men.

The sun was still above the trees when I first saw men walking along the river, their faces the normal color of sandy river mud, not the evil white of the winged stranger. I called to them happily, called the names of the Fathers, but they did not answer. I came closer and saw that these were not the people. I took my spear in both hands. These men were Painted Backs. They stood silently by the river, their war spears in hand, signs of victory and triumph painted on their chests in bright blood. They watched me with strange, filmy eyes.