Chronicles of Akhani - 21 - Together at Last
Squirming, writhing, twisting, turning in perpetual discomfort, Agystos shifted his weight incessantly as he sat on the hard bench of the cart. Looking left, looking right, he never seemed to be at ease. With each bump in the uneven hard packed road, he would groan and wince. His breathing became labored and, suddenly, he fell off the side of the cart.
“WHOA!” yelled Iosodoros pulling hard on the reins of the mules
Iosodoros jumped off the cart and hurried to Agystos, but stopped dead in his tracks as he turned the corner around the cart. Agystos sat silent, eyes open, and perfectly rigid. Mouth hanging slightly open, staring deep into space, Agystos seemed to be in some sort of trance, which unsettled Iosodoros deeply. He began to wonder if this was more mischief of the invisible people of which Zhorovna spoke, or some type of psychosis. As these thoughts poured through his mind, a smile began to spread on Agystos’s face and he came to come back to reality.
“Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me,” Agystos explained in an oddly, uncharacteristically cool tone. “We really should hurry. I would hate to keep your friends waiting.”
Iosodoros poured through his memories and could not recall mentioning friends. He had let slip Zhorovna’s name, but not in a way that would imply that she was at the farm. Iosodoros’s confused gaze was met with a knowing, sly smile that sent chills down Iosodoros.
“I won’t collapse again, I promise,” Agystos said. “Let’s just hurry before anything… should happen.”
Gathering himself and suppressing his sudden onset of fear and confusion, Iosodoros sternly replied, “Tell me what you know. What just transpired. Why was there this sudden change in you?”
“It is not your place to know,” Agystos replied with a domineering glare.
Iosodoros shrugged off the glare as though it was made from an obstinate child, took a few steps forward, and made his reply, “It is my business, as I am your guide. If you wish to hide any knowledge from me, you must depart and not step foot upon my land again. Liars and deceivers are not welcome.”
“So be it,” Agystos sneered while making a dive towards the cart.
As Agystos struggled to climb in to the cart to grab one of the swords that he had taken note of before, Iosodoros was able to overtake him. A hard blow landed at the back of Agystos’s head from the blackjack Iosodoros had hid under his outer wrapping. Agystos’s limp body slid down to the ground from the side of the cart.
Thinking quickly, Iosodoros retrieved a rope from the back of the cart and proceeded to restrain his guest. Having prepared to load heavy supplies into his cart, he quickly rigged up the pulley system and lifted Agystos into the back of the cart. Looking him over, concerned over what state he might awake in, Iosodoros slipped the now empty food sack over Agystos’s head and loosely secured it. Satisfied, he decided haste was indeed needed, but not for Agystos’s aim, for the sake of his wife and friends.
–
Iosodoros poured over the recent events in his mind over and over again on the remaining journey home. He wondered how long the corruption had actually existed. Whether this was all a new phenomenon or had just lurked just beyond the threshold of perception for years. He began to think about how each year, without fail, the harvest was worse. How a new trouble would befall the land, each greater than the last.
As Iosodoros made his way onto the open savanna, he noticed, far off in the distance, a small figure running at great speed. Is that Akhani? He wondered. Can’t be. He was bound in the basement. As he wondered, he noticed a wall of sand following not far behind the mysterious figure.
Cracking his whip and snapping the reigns, the kicked the already tired mules into a final gallop across the open field. The road was hard and bumpy, and with each bump a groan would exhale from his hostage. Sweat beaded upon his bald head and began streaming down his face. Crack after crack of the whip snapped just above the backs of his mules. Frothing at the bit, no more energy was left to give by his mules.
“Get inside!” Iosodoros cried, unsure if the women were in or out of the barn. “Shut and bar it all! A sandstorm is coming!”
Zhorovna and Kodomi, returning from the altar, were still many meters from the closest entrance of the barn. Barely hearing her husband’s cries, Kodomi grabbed Zhorovna by the arm and began their run together. Flying as fast as they could, they did not observe what had caused the desperation in Iosodoros’s voice. However, his arrival was enough concern for alarm in and of itself.
Akhani’s legs ached and his lungs burned as he made the final stretch to the barn. Gasping for air, he lunged through the side stall entrance through which he had escaped. Seeing it open led him to believe that the others were unaware of his disappearance. This, however, was the least of his concerns.
Nearly simultaneously, all three parties made their way into the barn, Kodomi and Zhorovna through the back, Akhani through the side, and Iosodoros with his mules and captive through the main barn doors. The mules collapsed upon entry.
“Ioso! Ioso! What happened!” Kodomi cried making her way to the main room, and not noticing Akhani hiding in the stall.
“A sandstorm is coming! Shut everything!” Iosodoros cried to Zhorovna as his wife collapsed into his arms.
“We have already shut--” Zhorovna responded, but suddenly stopped as she heard a door shut from within the stall.
Silently, she crept up beside the stall, not allowing herself to be seen by any occupant. Akhani, on the other side, slowly closed the stall door while, too, attempting to remain hidden from site. Seeing the door shutting, and the preoccupation of her hosts in their embrace, Zhorovna armed herself with a nearby pitchfork and kicked the door open.
“OW!” Akhani couldn’t help but scream as the door came slamming into his face. Blood streamed from his nose as he groped himself in pain.
“Serves you right!” Kodomi cried lifting her head from her husband’s chest then immediately settled back into the embrace.
Zhorovna, muscles tense, stood ready with the pitchfork ready to pierce Akhani should he make the wrong move. Seeing Zhorovna in this stance, Akhani read the bluff for what it was, pushed the pitchfork aside as he hurried to embrace his companion.
Zhorovna, feeling Akhani’s embrace, threw the pitchfork to the ground, dropped to her knees, and kissed her master with a passion she did not know she was capable of. For a moment, there was only them. As if awoken from a dream, Akhani and Zhorovna pulled back from each other. Glances were thrown in the direction of their elderly hosts, but, to their relief, their momentary indulgence of passion had gone unnoticed.
It would not be possible for Zhorovna to turn a brighter shade of red, nor Akhani as well. They both stared at the floor, and slowly Zhorovna returned to her feet. Adrenaline surged through their veins, and their hands and lips trembled. But the moment came suddenly to and end before either could fully process it.
A terrible, hideous cackle came from inside the cart.
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