Kibit Ratniki

                            ( bow centered warriors)

The ancient lodge was unique both in structure and setting.  It could only be reached over a narrow bridge that was easily drawn back from the crevasse that separated the splinter of cliff from the meadowed village proper.   In this protected defile, the fledgling River Sorak churned in cataract thunder that defied passage.  In an earlier age, perhaps this protection had been necessary.  Now the tribes of Scythia were at peace and the great lodge only served its spiritual function.   Yet, the fortress lodge by right guarded the entrance to the two score fingers of grazing fields where most of the clan dwelled.  Each had a separate rivulet of blessed stream that cut through the high protective granite walls that protected from fierce storm and claim by a less industrious band.  The people were called in legend the 'Kibit Ratniki', though they were neither warriors nor archers.  Gather close, and learn the story.

Enter the lodge, if you have earned the right!  Four posts hold the rafter beams aloft and actually grow up from the ground, proof that the forest had once carried far.  Stroking from a thousand hands have refined their shapes and oiled their preservation.  They each have a name unspoken, but long forgotten is their meaning and language.  Only ritual remains.  That and the mighty luk called of name never mentioned, but known to every bonded man-child.   Into each trunk are set three benches that radiate out toward the center fire, their forward ends supported by boulders hewn from the high Carpathian peaks.   On each bench would sit an elder with a novice between his knees.  Trebusca, the Magic 24!  Each had a role in preserving the verbal history and ceremonial traditions of their ancestors.   Each pair would sustain death and rebirth many times in ritualistic training and disciplined transference.  Through swirling colored incense smoke they learned the legend of the bow.

The revered, curved shaft was taken down from the carved slot in the great lintel post where He lived.  His flexed length was that of three strides.  Ancient auroch horn formed his central kibit hold, thick as a man's arm.   Tapered wings of unknown branch were twinned with mountain ram sinew, isinglass and glue of deep river fish.  His nether tips were formed of bronze inlaid with silver scroll, and the protruding siyahs were imbedded with teeth of bear.  'Tis said was enthralled by magic dwarfs on the floating Chemmis isle.   More enchanting still are the hands of maidens who have oiled His length since a time before Christians were known on the plains below.  He is taken out only when the moon is forbidden from the night sky, and is strung only twice each year when the great Bear Stars touch the bare castle peaks.  The deed is done by two men hanging from each recurve tip, with string extended by trusted shaman and widow crone.  He is not called upon in draw, but the sulitsa shafts are checked for true and laid out against the aiming stones set in the training wall.  Each man-youth, in passing rite, had to help rebuild the barrier, with chant, and prayer and instinctive pride.  Each budding maiden faire replaced anew the double ridge of feathered guides on arrow shafts more tall than they.   Twenty-four they could fly to a Song of Trabusca, in a language unknown, yet whispered still.

They came, did they, in times long passed to assail the forbidding pass and river cleft.  For by traveling here amongst the fingered trails was a path to western goal Therengia, shorter by twenty leagues than by common road.  A signal bell could not sound alarm throughout the sheltered rifts and gentle vales of this mountain share.  Only He could call the herdsmen and hunters to protect their blessed home.   Two men it took to support the bow with extended feet, hands locked around the ankles of those straining behind.  Others held the waist of the practiced pair who drew back upon the finger thick string.  Set sure the nock of each javelin shaft in turn to arch high over the aiming stones.   Cover the children's ears to protect from the throbbing strum as He sings in voice that loosens boulders on the slopes.  Hold your breath as the glittering flame-tipped messengers sail out, out to each waiting fingered valley.

They would come in measured trot, in groups and alone, to form behind the cresting wall.  In their hands spun simple shafts of daily use, headed now with slings of hunting skill.  Even a charging hoard of battle blooded armored might could not withstand such dread rain of stone and fire pots.   One hundred strong in ten second count could missiles fly across the gap where bridge was drawn.   Ever there in bold support, He would continue to sing in throaty song that vibrated in the souls of those who dared approach the moat.   With arrows gone He became but a instrument of guiding strength and passion sure.  Beneath His pacing call, the simple men of goat and nurtured greens, and laughing youth became that day fine warriors proud.

Sing, sing all who can feel the pulsing bond with Mother Earth and magic bow.  Join with mighty luk and warrior pride.   Embrace the blend of God given will and humanity's reach.  You too can be like a strela of truth in this land protected by the myth of Kibit Ratniki.

Kibit ………………… center part of a bow

Ratnik ……………..  warrior

Luk …………………..  bow

Strela ……………..  arrow

Sulitsa …………….  Javelin

Siyahs ……………..  rigid ends on the recurve with string guides at the bow's recurve point

Sorok ………………  a river in Moravia, only 60 miles long with drop of 3000 feet.

            Trebusca ………..  an ancient mystical belief based on the power of the number 24.

Kinjal of Moravia