A story of the Children of Nia, by Jasnia Mahtab

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Jasnia knelt before a small depression in the rock. It had been made in aeons past by a pool fed by a trickling stream, but no water flowed there now. The rest of her tribe, bar one, waited in the main high-ceilinged cavern to which the small, firelit cave in which she now sat was connected by a narrow tunnel, so low that any adult must crawl to reach this sacred place, and some could not pass it at all. Jangjeet, her protector, stood just behind her.

Taking a deep breath and inhaling the sacred smoke of the Aba-Al-Ghaib she cleared her mind and prepared it to call on the goddess's power. Their journey to this mancala, this place of safety in the rocks, had been a long and difficult one and the tribe were in need of water. Offering a prayer that the goddess would provide for her children as she had always done before, Jasnia lent forwards and placed one palm on the rock at the center of the depression. Eyes closed she allowed her awareness to travel down through her arm into the rock. Behind her she half heard Jangjeet shift slightly, knew her protector would be alert for any mental or magical danger. Such small magics so far from anywhere needed little warding, but Jangjeet was ever vigilant.

Down she went, deeper and deeper into the rock until at last she found what she sought. Tiny ribbons of silver, flowing through the rocks. The power of the goddess pulled on those ribbons, calling to her life-giving gift. Slowly but surely they rose up through the rock, diverting from their normal path into channels through which they had not flowed by choice for many millenia.

Only half aware of her body, Jasnia distantly felt the dampness on her fingers as the first silver ribbons broke the surface of the slightly porous rock. It would be easier now - the water knew it's course. Sure enough the water, at first such a tiny trickle, flowed faster and faster up into the depression in the rock until at last there was a pool there once more. A shallow one, but a pool none the less.

Although they had finished their water some time before the end of their most recent journey, the smell of the water did not awaken thirst in either of the women who were silently giving thanks for this miracle. They had been trained since before birth not to feel thirst, only to drink when necessary. To be subject to thirst in the desert was a sure route to tormented madness. But Jasnia was aware of the needs of her tribe and, as soon as her thanks to the goddess were complete, she nodded to Jangjeet to pass the water skins, and together they began to fill them.

Once the water for the tribe had been collected, Jasnia took up the bowl that had sat at her side throughout and scouped up the last remaining water with it. Dipping into a pouch at her belt she took a pinch of the Aba-Al-Ghaib and sprinkled it into the water. It must be left in this sacred place to be infused with the mystical herb. Then it must be distilled, purified and blessed. As she sprinkled the herb into the bowl Jasnia looked up and caught Jangjeet's eye. No stranger would have seen anything other than calm in the women's eyes, but they could each read the tension in the other.

"It is dangerous."

"But it must be done."

Not liking, but accepting - the good of the tribe ever outweighed the safety of the individual - Jangjeet nodded, and continued collecting waterskins to take out through the narrow passage to where the tribe waited. After a final thanks to the goddess, Jasnia followed her with the rest.

*

The distribution of water and the ceremony of thanks that went with it went as they usually did, and the relaxation of the tribe after the stresses of their journey across the open desert was almost tangiable in the air. They were alive, and they had their goddess, water and their tribe - no Kintal could ask for any more, and they celebrated their fortune. But Jasnia could not yet relax. On their latest journey, Pavitar, the old Priestess, had been killed. Jasnia did not grieve - Pavitar's water had been returned to the tribe - but she knew the tribe looked to her to fill the hole the wise woman's death had left.

She had been trained since she reached adulthood, some 12 years before, to ascend to the priesthood, but she had expected to face the perills of the Awat-Al-Nia with Pavitar beside her, not alone. No, she corrected herself, she was not alone - she had Jangjeet to protect her from any outside harm, and she knew her friend would protect her with her life. But what of the perils of the journey she must make? She remembered hearing the screams of the women who partook of the Awat-Al-Nia at the gathering of the tribes each Water moon - the normal time for ascentions to the priesthood - and Pavitar's words to her.

"They scream because the Awat-Al-Nia poisons their body and threatens to take their mind" she had said, matter of factly. "The pain is, at first, unbearable, but it is soon forgotten as the mysteries of the goddess open to you." Here, her voice softened. "You will see such wonderful and terrible things, they are beyond imagining or explanation. It will change you. It changes us all." Looking up at the deep, fathomless eyes of the priestess, the young Jasnia did not doubt it. "Remember, when it comes to your time, cling to the goddess - she will protect you and guide you through the malestrom. If you are strong enough to serve her, she will not let you fall." But in spite of the priestess's encouraging words, Jasnia could not help but be disturbed by those she had seen who's minds had been taken by the Awat-Al-Nia, and who had fallen into madness. She knew they were touched by Nia, and their ravings faithfully recorded for any further insights into the mysteries or the great prophesy, but still she could not suppress horror at the thought that she might end up like them.

Jasnia pushed such negative thoughts aside. She had faith in the goddess, she believed herself strong enough to serve, and she was sure she was ready. She had been due to take the Awat-Al-Nia the next Water Moon, and although she had much to learn she did not believe she would learn it this side of the testing. And so, the distilled and purified water ready, there was no more cause for delay. She called Jangjeet and the others who would participate in the ceremony. Before the night was out she would be a fully fledged Priestess, or one of the touched.....

*

Jasnia sat quietly in the center of the circle as Jangjeet finished the warding. This was the most dangerous of rituals. Not only would it draw their enemies from miles around if it were detected, but Jasnia, at the mercy of the goddess and the infinite mysteries, was in mortal danger from the ritual itself, and any attacks could not but succeed. In addition there were those who said that the warding was all that held the mind close to the body so it could return, and that the touched had been failed by those who were supposed to protect them. Such things were never said openly, but Jasnia had heard the rumours from others training for the priesthood at the Water Moon gatherings over the years. Although the priestesses always denied such things, one could not help to notice they were reluctant to be warded by one who had guarded one who had lost their mind.

In spite of this, Jasnia had no fears in this regard. Jangjeet had always been so much more conscious of her safety than Jasnia herself, always so vigilent, that she could not imagine her friend would fail her now. It was the infinite mysteries of her goddess she feared.

The warding done, the ritual began. The goddess was called into the circle and, on this full moon night, Jasnia felt the goddess's power strongly. She breathed deeply on the smoke of the Aba-Al-Ghaib, knowing that filling her body with the rarified essence of the burning herb would help ease the transition to the enlightenment that would be brought by it's distilled essence in the Awat-Al-Nia. Finally, the time had come. She stood, the bowl of the sacred liquid cupped in her hands. She was flanked by two of the strongest of the tribe, and knew they were there to restrain her when she screamed and writhed in agony so that she did not do herself harm, but she pushed this knowledge from her mind. She prasied Nia and asked for her continued protection. Then, she drank....

*

Pain. There was such pain as she could never have imagined. It started as a white-hot poker in her belly and spread, slowly, unstoppably, through her body. She tried to hold herself still and calm, but the panic - an emotion no Kintarl was used to - rose unbidden. She was going to burn from the inside out. Everlasting agony. She knew it. Her knees gave way, but she was supported somehow (the men who had stood beside her, they held her). She was trying not to scream, but she no longer knew why - the pain was all there was. After what seemed an eternity to her, but mere seconds to the tribe as they watched, she did as every priestess did in her turn. She collapsed before the awesome might of the goddess, and screamed.....

*

She was floating in blackness. There was a light ahead. It grew. Jasnia smiled (or thought she smiled, although she had no body in this place), for it was the face of her goddess, the shining moon. It seemed close, so very close, and Jasnia reached out towards it.

Suddenly, something brushed by her consiousness. Confused, she span to see it, but it was gone and only blackness remained. Again, she reached out to her goddess. And again, something brushed by her. And again. There were more of them now, these things that hid in the darkness. Confused, she span about, trying to see what it was that refused to show itself. More and more of them pressed in on her, yet still she could not see them. Paic rising, she no longer knew which way was up, she was loosing herself in the malestrom that surrounded her. Suddenly, words came to her, unbidden - a voice of calm in the darkness. "When it comes to your time, cling to the goddess - she will protect you and guide you through the malestrom." The light! She had seen the gentle light of her wondress goddess, but she had lost sight of it. Where was it? Frantically she cast about, confused by the things that pressed in around her. But eventually she saw it, a glimmer in the darkness, and reached out towards it once more.

All was calm. She was bathed in the light from the goddess, and the things of madness from the darkness could not enter the light. In relief, Jasnia babbled prayer of thanks after prayer of thanks. And then, wonder of all wonders, the goddess spoke.

"Quiet, Mahtab. I have you safe now." Jasnia was surprised that the goddess should call her by her childhood name, but why she did not know. For in this place she truly was a child. "You must turn and look out into the malestrom."

"No!" Jasnia was frightened, more frightened than she had ever been. "Please, I cannot. I will be lost again...."

"I will hold you steady. It cannot take you while you are in my light. You must look."

Knowing she could not refuse her goddess, even if it meant she be lost forever, Jasnia turned. There, outside the sphere held calm by Nia's light, the malestrom raged. As she looked into it for what seemed eternity she began to discern patterns, shapes, and as understanding bloomed, the mysteries of the goddess were revealed to her....

*

She was aware, once more, of her body. Her limbs felt leaden, her mouth dry, her eyes sticky. She tried to open them, but the light was painful.

"Mahtab? Mahtab?"

Was it the goddess speaking to her again?

"Mahtab? Can you hear me?"

No, she knew that voice as well as her own. Jangjeet. She tried to speak, but her mouth was too try, her throat too soar. Someone dripped blessed cool water onto her lips and she drank it greedily.

"Mahtab?"

"I hear you." It came out as a croak.

"She has come back to us!" Jasnia heard a voice call out. It was joined by others, passing the news along. The tribe would rejoice - they had a priestess to guide them, not a madwoman to nurse across the desert.

Remembering her visions, and what the goddess had revealed to her, she tried to speak. "We are..."

"Hush, you must rest." Jangjeet again, ever mindful of her safety.

"But..." Talking was torturous, but she had such important news. She wanted to sit up, shout it to the tribe, but her after it's ordeal her body would not obey. A few more drops of water were offered, and she started again. "It is the time of the prophesy..." she managed. "We are chosen ... chosen to help fullfill it... we must..."

"Hush, Mahtab. Enough. Gather your strength. I hear what you say and it is wondrous news indeed, but first you must rest."

Jasnia smiled - so few words had ever been needed between her and Jangjeet, and as always she had understood perfectly. She would spread the news, and Jasnia could rest....