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(Page 1 of 2) Blinded by sight by James MacEachern
 (6 ratings)
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I have been to many planets, seen many civilizations. One that will forever stay with me is the planet Calington, in the Xar solar system. From afar, the planet appears landless, one large body of water in a perpetually cloudy atmosphere, but looks are misleading.
There is one small continent, an overgrown island if you will, and upon it lives a variety of animal and plant life. In the center of the land mass is a small mountain range, rich in metal ores and hot from the lava's trapped in there watery grave. It's a two day glide from the mountains to the beaches, between which favourable soils lend them self to the farming creatures of Calington. Oh yes, Intelligent life exsists on this planet, humanoid sadly, but still intelligent. Two breeds of them have claimed sections of the land as there own. The Eads and the Hasi.
The Eads live near the water, eating fish and farming the lands. Reeds and wood are there primary building materials. Ugluks, a hairy beast a burden, gives them the means for cloths and blankets. There have five villages, sometimes four, and live a peaceful life following naturalist religious tenants. The Hasi on the other hand, live in the mountains. They have only one community, it's population is lethally monitered at nine hundred and fifty-two. Hot springs run through the village and foundry where they work metals. Their diet is largely meat, with some breads and roots as well. The Hasi, on first look, are not peaceful people. They thrive on combat, but not as one would suspect, against the Eads. No, the Hasi love to fight the Hasi, in ritual fights to the death, much to the delight of the expecting mothers of the community.
Once a year, though, the Hasi warriors roll down from the mountains and decend upon the Eads. One village, just one, is ransacked by the warriors. The Eads know the Hasi will come at the turning of the winter season, but not where. Each village prepares for an attack that may not come. The Ditches of years gone by are reinforced, traps are restrung and the people make ready.
They fight soundlessly, well in truth, there is the grunts of efforts, the screams of agony, the clang of metal and the snap of bows. But the people do not scream or roar or blow horns. No moment of victory is cheered, no moment of loss mourned. The Hasi win, always, they pay the price of blood gladly and take there spoils. The bodies of the Eads, every single one. The next day the Eads of the other villages approach the ghost village, they enter calmly having done this for so long. They know they will find no bodies alive or dead, Ead or Hasi.
The Hasi march home solemnly, carrying the bodies of there comrades and of the Eads over their shoulders. More die on the march through the lands and up the mountains, those are left where they fall, weak and forgotten. The lights of the mountain village are seen hours before the homes themselves. Candles, special candles made for just that night sit in every window, at the corner of every street, turning night into day. The Hasi wait in the streets, on their knees, heads bent low.
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