The Spinner of Tales

There was a hushed silence in the court of the trickster spirit Una’jir. Along the root-pierced stonewalls of his throne room the local spirits stood assembled, waiting with baited breath. There was an occasional mumble that slithered through the room, as one fire elemental whispered to his tiger-spirited handler, or when the parrot-spirit tried to crack a joke before watching the humour literally snuffed out by the nihilistic glare of a Mueh’zalan. All assembled were strange and beautiful, and none dared to move, for the trickster, Una’jir, sat upon his two thrones at the end of the chamber opposite the mighty gates. Of his two bodies, strangely angular and marble white, one was female, one was male, but both shared the feathered glass-wings, and scaled and clawed feet. His hair was a stark azure blue, uncompromising like his gaze. But both of his bodies merely watched the gate. The intensity of his anticipation lay over his attendants, and it was slowly choking them, for Una’jir was a strong mind, and he anticipated something wondrous.

And something wondrous was coming. The door creaked open, and in came one of Una’jirs servant-children. Scurrying on countless finger-like legs that disintegrated behind him as they manifested before him, the child made it’s way to its father-lord, and climbed to his lap to whisper in his ears. As his bodies listened to the whisper, they grinned slyly, knowing that their tale would soon come full circle. Something wondrous was on its way.
The male and female bodies stood at the same time, their movements synchronized, as if mirrored in some unseen glass. The elementals and spirits, god-blooded and witch doctors of Una’jirs court silenced completely, for Una’jir was about to speak.
The male body spoke first, his voice soothing and beautiful, while he walked calmly amongst his spirit servants, watching and touching their shapes as a purveyor of sculptures might, for the first time acting differently than the female body. “I am Una’jir. You all know me. Some of you call me Friend of Spiders, for schemes I know well, and some of you call me Thief of Words, for I take your tongue before you speak them.” He turned sharply on his feet, before throwing his arm out in a gesture of grace and nobility. “ But all of you know me as Spinner of Tales, Una’jir.”

The male body stopped talking, but continued prowling and watching and touching, while the female body woke, spread its glorious glass-wings wide, and rose towards the ceiling. As she ascended, a mere flick of her wrist had the manifold denizens of the skies, air elementals, spirits of parrot, vulture and bat rise into the sky to circle with their mistress-master, the Spinner of Tales. Her shrieking voice echoed through the halls, as she screamed her song.
“You know me, and yet you would forget me if you desired to.” Her voice seared through the hearts or heart-souls of the collected court, and all, even the Mueh’zalan stoic, agreed that they would never betray Una’jir with the banishment of forgetfulness. “You mutter amongst yourselves, that your dreams are your own. This is true and this is tragedy, for none of your tales can be as great as the tale that I have wrought. Know that while my tale is greater than yours, your own tales yet exist, and their narrative is their own. Know this and know sorrow.” The female body stopped in midair, hovering. Her face was wracked with sorrow, and tears fell for the lost glory of those around him. The body raised its arms, and then dropped them dramatically, and all the flying beasts and spirits that had risen with her fell, willingly, back to the ground, falling like drops of rain from the heavens, for such was the power of Una’jirs story that it rendered truth every metaphor or simile it touched.

Floating, as if in stasis, the female body went silent, and all attention turned to the male body, which was now settling back into its throne, calmly watching the amazed audience. Just then the sound of something wondrous crashing into the gate of Una’jirs throne room resonated through the chamber, startling many from their reverie. Una’jir merely smirked serenely. With grace that few could match, he stood. As he walked towards the gate, his female body landed beside the male one, and the two spoke in unison. The air rippled with their new tale. It would be something wondrous.
“In my hand is a sword, and its blade is my valour, its guard is my conviction, its handle is my temperance, its pommel is my compassion and its master is my heart.” As the two bodies spoke the tale of their swords manifested in their hands, glorious green things that resembled root and leaf, with a gemstone pommel that pulsed like the heart of a spirit; fickle, sometimes beautiful, sometimes horrible, but always itself.
As the twin bodies of one spirit continued their march upon the gates of their own home, the portal began to warp and splinter under the weight of something wondrous, just beyond. In the last seconds before his tale ends, Una’jirs bodies managed to look back at their court, all misty-eyed spirits and trolls, a blue, sad light in the once warm room. Then the gate broke and the crashing wave of a story of something wondrous descended upon them. Within that story, it is said that Una’jir found his prize: a battle so unforgettable that it could not be remembered, against the things that are dreams of mortals.
He found something wondrous, and something wondrous found him.

I seriously love your writing, Rojir. Your style is so very impressive and worded like an epic. More!!