The Prize
by Christina Kamnikar
copyright 1997
Watcher File #21135: From the Scrolls of Gabrielle of Poteida, carbon-dated around 800 B.C.E.; found at the Belinski dig in Corinth, August 1997:
...story I had from Rivka of Jerach (1), which she told to me on the journey from Brindisi to Felis. Xena and I were helping safeguard a caravan of her people against bandits, since they were transporting many of their people's treasures to safer havens along the Peninsula (2). Rivka enjoyed hearing the tales of mine and Xena's adventures, and said that fair payment among her people required a trade of stories. She also said that this legend is so old, she doesn't know where it first began, but that she believes it to be true.
~~~~~
Long ago, when the children of Man were very young - so young that they didn't build cities; so young that they didn't harvest fields; so young that the moon shone brighter above the seas - they were ruled over by another race, a race of Immortals.
These Immortals were not gods, but to Man they were the only gods that mattered. For they walked the earth along with Man, and controlled and directed the lives of Men far more closely than any god or goddess. Some say that the gods made them, in the earliest days of the universe. Others claim that they were the children of the gods, gifted with eternal youth and health and freedom from death upon their birth, and thus did not need to fear any mortal for as long as they lived. Perhaps this is true; perhaps the truth is so strange that we can not understand how the Immortals came to be. Wherever they came from, whatever their origins, they ruled by virtue of their invulnerability and their numbers.
Immortals would herd Men like cattle, use them as slaves, torture or reward them according to their whims, with no fear of reprisal. For there was only one way to kill an Immortal, and that was to behead one; and all Immortals practiced the arts of Ares from the moment they realized who they were, preventing any mortal from ever gaining the skill to challenge their ascendancy. More, to kill an
Immortal only meant that the powers and memories of the one killed descended upon the Immortal nearest to them upon their death--- and that Immortal would then take terrible vengeance for the death of one of their fellows.
They had only one flaw, and that was their inability to bear or beget children. It was rumored that many would steal children and raise them as their own, and give them the gift of Immortality in return for their fidelity. Others would ravage mortal communities in rage against their own limitations. But all
remained loyal to their brethren, supporting Immortal against mortal, keeping their vulnerable cousins subordinate to the greater strength of their massed skill and deathlessness.
This went on for years without number, for every year was the same, since every spring brought new life but no change for the enslaved race of Man, and no end to the reign of Immortals.
Until there came a day when the gods were angered. Some say they were enraged by the hubris of the Immortals, daring to compare themselves to gods. Some say that Prometheus took pity on his creations, and devised a clever plan to break the Immortals' rule. It may be that the Fates simply spun out the thread of their kingdom, letting it fray into the tapestry of the world in myriad directions, so that they would no longer dominate the future of Mankind.
On this day, and at that hour, the power of the Immortals was broken from within by the promise of the Prize.
It came to pass that the Immortals were gathered for a feast at the darkest night of the year, with candles and merrymaking and songs and a banquet to gorge themselves on, while thousands of mortals starved for lack of food. At the height of the festivities, as the sun set upon the old year, a guest appeared in the middle of the gala. Tall and hooded, the figure could have been male or female, from any country of the world; the only clue to the newcomer's identity was the inescapable sense of Presence that the Guest possessed, which resonated through every Immortal present.
In the hand of the Hooded One shone a crystal, a sphere of light and beauty that drew the eye of every onlooker, mortal and Immortal alike. It was a light of promise, and hope; of power and freedom.
"A gift," said the Guest. "For one Immortal. But only one."
"We share everything," objected one of the younger Immortals.
"What is it?" asked another.
"We will take it from you, and divide it among ourselves," threatened someone else.
The Hooded One rolled the Stone (3) into the center of the Gathering, and it sparkled and glittered with its own inner radiance. "It is power. Knowledge. Immortality."
"We have all that," laughed one of the oldest Immortals.
"Do you have children, to carry on and spread your name and glory?" A silence fell around the room, as all stared at the glowing crystal. "Do you know the names of all the worlds that have ever been, or will be? Can you see the future, and what it holds?" The Guest's voice echoed around the fires. "This is unlimited power, beyond your imagining. But it can only go to one of you. It can only be used once. You must decide which one of you will rule the world for eternity."
"I will," said one, reaching for the stone.
"No, it should be me, I am the oldest!" another claimed.
"It is mine by force of arms!" declared another, drawing his sword.
A battle ensued among those who had never battled before. When the riches of the world had all been of equal worth, there had been no need to fight for slaves or wealth. The mortals were the enemy, the Immortals the ally to defend one's back against puny, weak beings who were of no consequence.
But here was a Prize like no other, that only one could possess. Here was the answer to all questions, the satisfying of every wish, the guarantee of unbroken power and greatness.
In the melee, the Stone was lost, shattered and scattered among the mortals present, who fled with the shards as far and as fast as they could.
It did not stop the combat. The Immortals, knowing that the Prize was still on the earth, continued to war with each other, dealing the final death amongst themselves with a brutality unseen even by their mortal slaves. Each death would pass on the skills and memories of the Immortal who had died to the victor, with that Immortal going on to fight another competitor for the Prize.
In time, memory of the actual nature of the Prize was lost as the Immortals decimated their own kind, and the children of Man grew in numbers and freed themselves of the remaining Immortal rulers. The once mighty and unstoppable warriors were scattered over the world, fighting amongst themselves for a Prize that none could find.
They are few in number now, in comparison to Man. They are everywhere, hiding, concealing their true natures, for fear of reprisal from mortals who do not remember their rule except in dark legends told to frighten children. They still battle each other, with holy ground their only sanctuary, for a Prize promised so long ago by the mysterious power that changed and altered everything that they were in one moment.
If that Prize should ever be recovered by an Immortal, the Children of Man would once again face an iron reign by a deathless ruler.
But until that day, until that final Gathering, Mankind is free.
(1) Rivka of Jerach; see Horne, Rebecca, 1200 B.C.E. - 1994 C.E.
(2) Believed to be the Iberian Peninsula, and possibly a migration after the Fall of Troy. However, other contemporary evidence suggests a journey into Asia Minor by groups of post-Israelite peoples.
(3) This translation of the word "Stone" is the same used in other contemporary Watcher Scrolls to refer to the infamous Methuselah Stone (see April 1995 Paris Proceedings). It is unknown whether the word was suggested by Rivka or the choice of Gabrielle herself. Given the connection to Rebecca
Horne, however, it does raise some interesting questions....