First Rider
Two men sit at a campfire, roadworn and calm. A cold and star-bright night rolls over these high mountains. Having eaten their dried meat and tended to their horses the younger of the two settles in, preparing to spend the evening staring into the flames. But to his surprise the older one speaks.
“Do you knowhow the world came to be?”
The younger traveller shakes his head. The elder begins his story.
“In the beginning all was darkness. Mankind lived in this way, navigating by sound and touch alone. We were creatures of the dark. We knew nothing else. When we were tired or threatened we reached for one another and huddled together. When one was lost they were lost forever, for in a world without direction who could say which way they had gone? We crawled on all fours and ate what we stumbled upon. We could neither plan nor plant since time did not exist. All we could trust in was that which we could smell, feel and taste.”
“We shared that darkness with other creatures, invisible nightmares much greater than us. We felt the ground shake as they passed, felt their hot breath on our necks as they sniffed us, heard the gnashing of their teeth as they dragged us back into the darkness. We lived in fear, asking for nothing except our lives and a little time to enjoy them. Thus was the way of things until First Rider came.”
“First Rider explored alone, going further into the darkness than anyone had before, and returning. He felt a bond with the monsters of the dark world. He learned their ways. One of these abyssal things he called Black’s Edge and soon he fell into obsession with it, spending his days tracking the creature, getting closer and closer to it with no thought of sense or safety. One day, while following it by the sound of its terrifying footsteps, he saw something. As the creature’s great hoofs beat the ground they threw up a shining cloud of dust which caught and sparkled in the sky. Thus were the Stars born.”
“By the dim glimmer of starlight First Rider could see the faintest silhouette of Black’s Edge as she galloped by. She was the first thing seen by any man. Taken by a kind of madness he grasped for her but his fingers merely brushed her great tail as it streamed past with a great rush of air. Thus was the Wind born.”
“Taken by a frenzy First Rider chased Black’s Edge through the darkness. When next she turned he was ready and reached now for her head. Once again he failed to grasp her. His fingers merely passed through her undulating mane, sweat-stained, rising and falling in great waves. Thus was the Ocean born.’
“First Rider would not give up. He continued tracking her by her hoofbeats and silhouette, feeling the shape of her, learning her movements until finally, leaping in front of her pounding hoofs and grasping her great mane tightly, he succeeded in mounting her. When he took the Great Mare’s back First Rider felt her great muscles taut and rolling beneath him, felt them as mountains and valleys and wide open plains. Thus was the Land born.”
“But Black’s Edge would not suffer to be ridden and her gallop rose to a wild and ferocious pace. The Stars streamed by in a blur, the Wind howled past, the Ocean crashed madly as she ran. It was all First Rider could do to hold on, and he knew that soon his grip would fail him. So he mustered all his strength and hauled mightily on Black’s Edge mane. His skill was such that for a moment she was bested and turned about, her great hoofs digging into the bedrock of the world as she wheeled about and galloped back the way she came. The effort cost First Rider greatly and feeling him tire Black’s Edge once more took up her wild gallop through the darkness. But soon First Rider recovered and, gathering his strength, he hauled again on her mane. Again her great hooves dug into the bedrock, again she wheeled about, again she ran out of control as First Rider recovered. Again and again and again they performed this dance, and over time the places where her hoofs pounded and twisted into the bedrock became red hot and blindingly bright. Thus was the Sun born, and with it the Night, for when we are in the light of the turning points we are in the strong hands of First Rider, and when we are in the darkness between them we are helpless in the wildness of Black’s Edge.
“First Rider is there to this day, head bowed, teeth clenched, hands clutching desperately to the Great Mare’s mane. But Black’s Edge will not suffer to be ridden forever. She knows First Rider’s grip is weakening. One day it will fail, and the Great Mare will gallop away and mankind will be lost to the darkness once more.”
