Chronicles of Akhani - 19 - A Storm is Forming
The desert sands were stained red for as far as the eye could see. Thin, black smoke rose from the carnage which diminished visibility significantly. Crunching and snapping sounds of bones being consumed filled the hot, motionless air. On the ground lay the bodies of a vast army of Doiketians, all torn asunder and left in heaps. The cacophony of groans and cracking bones was pierced by wild cheers of Xotokian warriors. These visions flowed unhindered through Akhani’s mind.
Snapping back to the present, Akhani’s mission became all the more resolute. He would rouse the troops. Under his lead, they would vanquish their foes. Then, he would rise above and usher in the new dawn. In the meantime, he had to make haste.
Instinctively, Akhani’s path lead him straight into the Heart of the Desert instead of taking a direct path to Eilana. The mild divergence, almost entirely unrealized by Akhani, would add a few days to his journey, but ensured that pursuit would mean certain death for anyone not native to the desert.
Sandy dune after sandy dune, Akhani scuttled unconsciously as he made his way deeper and deeper into the desert. Vision after vision blinded him to the reality surrounding him. Specters of the destruction of the Doiketian occupation appeared as though they were already in the present. The distinction between the present and future grew more and more blurred until at last, something disturbed him to the core.
It was but a flash, seemingly indistinguishable and chaotic. Abstract, yet concrete. Far off, but dwelling deep inside of him. Within bloody battlefields of his vision, there was a figure. A familiar figure, as though Akhani knew it well, but its nature seemed utterly foreign to Akhani. In that flash, the figure head up a head. That head was that of Akhani’s father.
Akhani slid to a stop in the soft sands atop a dune. To his left was a small shrub which had begun to seed. The season of the mist was over. All the vegetation had used up their meager resources in order to create the next generation. Not all seeds would survive the heat, but the strong will continue the endless creation of new life.
Akhani felt himself suddenly drawn to the plant. It was not what he remembered the plant to have been. In all previous years of his life, that species had never changed. Its branches had always been thin with shallow ridges. However, somehow, this plant that stood before him now was quite different. It had grown black and appeared to ooze tar. Its once thin and flexible limbs were now thick and rigid. All but the leaves and seeds had changed. Akhani, despite the plants’ new characteristics, still recognized the plant. At that moment, Akhani stared at the plant as if it were a reflection of himself.
Looking inward, he realized that he was no longer the same person as he was before. He no longer felt that he was an heir to his father. He did not recognize the unrestrained hatred that he felt oozing out of him as the tar oozed out of the plant. His heart felt as cold, hard, and rigid as the plant’s new branches. And in that moment, something came to him.
Deep in thought, he uttered the words aloud, “What if I am following the wrong path?”
Thunder clapped to the west as these words slipped off his tongue. Akhani looked over, and was dumbstruck by the sight.
Swirling up from the desert floor, miles and miles away in the direction of Akraessi, as a pillar of deep, dark smoke. The smoke, as it rose into the air spread and formed a supercell. The swirling, churning black cloud of smoke was continuously illuminated with internal lightening. The desert sands themselves were lifting up into the sky slowly creating a curtain of sand obstructing Akhani’s sight from the storm. Fear, unlike he had ever felt before, fell over Akhani’s heart.
Fueled by concern, Akhani began his flight. As his feet flew over the sand he realized something that would save his life. Zhorovna was right.
–
Silence. Awkward silence. That was the tone set from the onset of the journey.
Agystos greedily feasted upon the food that Kodomi had packed for their journey. After having consumed half a dozen boiled eggs, a loaf of bread, and a small container of yogurt, Agystos began to drain one of the waterskins. Iosodoros sighed and kept his eyes on the road ahead.
“I really do have to thank you,” Agystos began with his mouth half full of food even after taking a drink of water. “I have no doubt in my mind that I would have perished making this trip on foot. I had no food, no water, and, most worrisome of all, I had no weapon.”
“You still have no weapon,” Iosodoros pointed out.
“True enough. However, I did see that you have more than one weapon stashed upon your cart. As long as both of us are together, we stand half a chance.”
Iosodoros gave a short grunt in acknowledgment of Agystos’s utterance. Iosodoros just wanted to get the noble to Karioni, get his supplies, then head back to the farm. There was too much work that needed to be done. Too much planning that needed to be made. But something else weighed on him much more.
Iosodoros couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that he had left his wife with a stranger and no other protection. Sure, the woman had successfully killed a sand dragon, even before Akhani himself had been able to accomplish such a feet, but something told Iosodoros that a much greater danger was looming just over the horizon. A danger that he, too, might not be able to save his wife from.
“I recognize that you are not accustomed to interactions with other nobles after having lived on the land for so long,” Agystos began again, pressing for an actual conversation. “However, I assure you that, by decree of the Council of Achinos, all landowners are equal citizens within our realm. You do not need to feel any level of inferiority to me or any of the others that I will introduce you to.”
“I am not the one who is inferior,” Iosodoros snapped back.
“What?” A wave of self awareness rushed over Agystos.
“I am well aware of your reputation, Agystos. Word travels fast in these parts, even to those of us who live in near isolation.”
“What reputation are you speaking of?” Asked Agystos, feigning insult.
“I am well aware that it was you who ordered the strike on the Xotokian settlement,” Iosodoros said sternly. “I am aware of the hundreds of lives lost due to listening to rumors. Rumors of an impending insurrection. Rumors that the Xotokians would rise up and reclaim their land. Rumors that had no basis in reality.
“The Xotokians have been my friends for a long time, as they have been to all who farm on these lands. They have taught us the ways of managing crops and animals in these unforgiving lands,” Iosodoros continued. “The vast majority are content with their station in life, and those who are not only wish to become equals. There is no great uprising. There is only speech of liberation, equality, and cooperative prosperity.
“Such attacks as you had ordered have only fostered animosity. It gives new breath to radicals and their ideas. Radical ideas lead to what you were trying to stop. Radical ideas lead to an uprising. Uprisings lead to subjugation. That is true no matter which side wins,” Iosodoros and then paused.
“Look, ahead. What do you see?” Iosodoros said pointing in the distance.
Agystos, with his battered ego, strained to focus on the point at which Iosodoros was referring. His eyes widened when his mind caught up to his eyes. It was a plume of black smoke rising from Karioni.
“We must turn around! Quick! The Xotokians have attacked Karioni as well!” Agystos cried.
“Zhorovna was right,” Iosodoros said under his breath. “The corruption is spreading.”
“Corruption?” Agystos asked.
“I’ll let my friend fill you in when we get back,” Iosodoros said turning the cart around and cracking his whip.
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