Night Phlox

My foolish dreams

The Legend of Avaia

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We’ve nearly finished the preparation stage of our collaborative writing project. I named a river the River Avaia, after an old Fenran legend, so I thought I should probably write the legend to add some nice depth to things. I know it’s not the best writing, but I wrote it to help add to Fenran culture, rather than showing off my writing skills.

Many thousands of years ago, two sides battled for control of a great River. The first tribe, the men of the North, boasted hundreds of trained warriors; a squadron that was unmatched in bravery. Across the river lived the second tribe, the men of the South. Their warriors were known to be the most cunning in all of Fenra. For hundreds of years the men of the North, clothed in red, and the men of the South, cloaked in black; fought a great battle, so fierce that the waters of the River were oft stained with blood.

The black and the red remained in stalemate, destined to remain at odds for eternity. Their battles became so legendary that Isdari, goddess of strength and courage, gave them a gift. Isdari’s daughter, Avaia – disguised as a young human – was her gift.

The men of the North welcomed Avaia with open arms. They learnt of her skill with medicine and her talent for healing. With Avaia’s help, the redcloaks were certain of their victory. They planned for the final battle, a great crossing of the River, an invasion, a fatal blow.

Avaia saw the bloodshed.

With her mother’s gifts, she walked across the River. Before the sun had risen, Avaia had saved a dozen lives, both red and black. The first man she healed had broken his arm in two places. Avaia placed her hands on the soldier’s skin and spoke: “It is the will of Isdari that you should live and never raise a sword again.” The man was healed instantly, and repeated: “I will never raise a sword again.” Avaia helped a young mother, an elderly man, three blonde-haired children and seven more soldiers with these same words.

On her return to the North, after their unsuccessful attack, some called Avaia a traitor. Those redcloaks she had saved saw her as the Saint she was, and Avaia was forgiven.

Some months later, a second attack came. One redcloak had a new weapon, the longbow. He felt sure it would win the redcloaks the River.

The Second Battle was twice as bloody as the first.

Avaia saw the bloodshed.

And with her mother’s gifts, she walked across the River. Before the sun had risen, Avaia had saved two-dozen lives, both red and black. To every man she blessed, she spoke: “It is the will of Isdari that you should live and never raise a sword again.”

On the twenty-fifth man, a blackcloak of the South, lying still by the River’s edge, Avaia began to recite her words.

The longbow of the North saw Avaia’s traitorous actions and nocked an arrow with fletching of red and black. His aim was true, and the arrow punctured Avaia’s heart. As Avaia fell, she realised that she had blessed her slayer in the First Battle. He had not raised a sword, he had raised a bow.

Avaia’s life ended, but as it did, Isdari’s anger took away the lives her daughter had given so generously. Near fifty people died by Isdari’s wrath alone.

The redcloaks and blackcloaks were both victims of the tragedy. They saw that the tragedy had been their own doing and thus united in their grief and guilt.

Red and black were dispelled, and blue, Isdari’s colour, was adopted.

The bluecloaks set Avaia’s body in their grandest boat, and as it travelled down the River; Isdari reclaimed her daughter and wept.

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Written by Freya

Saturday 17th September 2011 at 9:18 pm

Posted in Collaboration

Tagged with , , ,

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