Leídan Aznawar of Khand

Neida and Leídan returned to their camp where their Azumehda were sleeping. It was near noon and outside the cave, the sun was burning again. Here inside in the half dark it was still cool, also through the ice-cold water of the underground lake. “It is not hard to imagine how people really lived here, the temperature is better here than outside,” said Neida while she was repairing one of her blouses. With tiny stitches, she weaved the left seam together. She had learned that from her mother and her older sister Lysia. “Yes, but who lived here really?” wondered Leídan, looking up from the knife, where he was cleaning his fingernails with. “That is the question, huh?” smiled Neida at him, knowing her brother really wanted to know that. “Asking around is not an option.” “The tribes now living here are nomads. They are descendants of the Tedjin Nomads. They come from Haradwar, the land below the Muzeida. The Sangohyang descend from them, so also our neighbours of the north, the Harmunekhad and the Angashaghur, and so many others. They all have deep brown skins and dark eyes, unlike us. Here did live another strain of men,” said Leídan thoughtful. Neida knotted the thread off at the end and bit through it. “Why would you think that?” Leídan stood up and walked back with a torch to the second chamber and the wall with drawings. Neida stood up as well and followed him. Her brother pointed toward the drawings. “Look closer, what the scenes of men and women, the animals, the vegetation, the divine gods….. Nothing indicates they have been from Haradwar. This land has not always been sand and rocks, but as Laergaladrin, rich grasslands.” Leídan’s finger rested near a woman figure kneeling in grass for a divine god. Neida frowned as she watched the scene on the wall. “Is she really human, or something else? We never see the gods, we know they are there… only being closer to them, would see them,” she said.

Leídan frowned deeply as he held the torch light over another scene of a man with a child in his arms. Also he was facing a divine god. Why would really be this put on the wall? What displayed these scenes really? What did they tell? The mystery intrigued him. “We have those ugly Muzimi from over the mountains and they are not human,” continued Neida, when Leídan didn’t answer her. He looked at her. “Another race, you mean. It could be,” he said doubtful. “Though it would be interesting to know who they were, and what their culture was.” Neida laughed softly, so it echoed not in the cave. “There is no book or scroll that can tell us that,” she said. Leídan moved a hand over his chin and shook his head. “No, not out here. All the cities and forts here are from a later date. This is really ancient…” He moved around and then realized something. “I saw no graveyard. Would there perhaps been a place where they cremated their dead?” Neida raised her eyebrows. “How so,” she asked puzzled. Leídan nodded excited: “You know Tir Ethraid and Sturlurtsa? Tir Ethraid had a graveyard and Sturlurtsa has a crematorium. This settlement should have had one too.” Neida nodded at his reasoning. “Of course. But where?” “Fire and flames? Outside off course,” grinned Leídan and returned with her to their camp. Cremations never took place in a living area, but in the open air.

The next morning at a very early hour, just after sunrise Neida and Leídan explored the surrounding hills for more evidence of habitation. The ruins nearby told them there had been a pottery, a baking place and a smithy. They found also minor potsherd and fragments of glass. It was all bleak, if it had any colour long ago, it was lost. Brother and sister explored more as long the sun allowed in this place. There had been a worship place, but they found no graveyard. The altar was two resting stones; the plate lay broken in five parts on the ground. More there was not. They felt quite dismayed so little was found, but with this information, they returned the second half of the morning back to the cave, where they spent the noon in silence. Neida continued her needlework; Leídan spent his time of cleaning and controlling the condition of all their weapons. Eventually they would face a fight.

It was unsure either humans had lived here, or some other kind. Leídan was not complete unaware of more kinds living in this world, other than humans. He knew about the Muzimi over the mountains in the north. Who they really were and where they came from, was also a mystery itself. They were lovers of the night, and dark clouded days. When the sun shone, you saw them nowhere. Perhaps in some northern city there were scrolls, but he fairly doubted that. He had an idea that this city lived when none of the lands existed. He estimated it had to be over 6000 years old or even more. After noon, deeper in the midday, Leídan and Neida packed their belongings together and set themselves with their Azumehda on the road again. They bowed off now toward the east, going through the hills and so taking the bridge of Kupsha to reach the city on the other side of the mountain river. A large wall to keep the city Kupsha safe from the Muzimi in the mountains shielded off the land between the two rivers. The next evening they crossed without problems into the city of Kupsha.