Chronicles of Akhani - 4 - The Struggle Within
Akhani found himself surrounded by cool mist at the top of a rocky slope. All about him were gray-blue rocks and the clouds were within reach. A breeze was blowing, and upon that breeze he caught two voices talking.
He slinked his way around the bend of the mountain, and, to his surprise, he caught a glimpse Zhorovna talking to a great blue giant. The giant wore chains across his chest, and stood with a hammer slung over his shoulder. His clothing was made of furs and skins unfamiliar to Akhani. Most strikingly, though, was that Zhorovna appeared to be kneeling before him.
Slowly, and carefully, Akhani made his way closer, ducking between rocks as he went. Neither Zhorovna nor the giant appeared to take any notice of their tiny guest. At last, Akhani had made his way within earshot of their conversation.
“Do not fret, my dear,” the giant reassured Zhorovna in his deep, rich, and resonating voice. “The gods would have sent someone else if you were not fit for the task. Remember, there is more to faith than hearing words, and there is more to loyalty than following. You were not brought to him to become his slave. No. You were brought to him to help him find the True Path. In that True Path, and only there, will your souls be in communion.”
The giant bent down and placed his hand on Zhorovna’s shoulder. As Zhorovna wept, the giant sent a compassionate glance over towards Akhani. Startled, Akhani slid down into a crack among the rocks. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, hoping against hope to not be found.
He opened his eyes and found himself on the sheet he used as a mattress on top of the soft sand. Sitting up, he saw that Zhorovna was in front of the shrine in the same position as he had seen her in his dream.
Remorse filled his heart for the way he had treated her the day before. Something seemed to be at war within him. He wrestled within himself, and found no resolve.
Akhani made himself busy that morning setting traps for smaller prey that make their way to the life-giving water. He had a hunch that he needed to remain close to Zhorovna, but he did not know why.
Why was I so adamant about not giving an offering to her gods? Surely we have more than enough food. What took over me? What infected my heart and clouded my mind? Akhani thought to himself as he worked. And what was that dream? Was that really a dream? Why was she in the same position as she was while awake?
The entire morning, Zhorovna had remained kneeling in front of the altar and shrine. It was not until noon that Zhorovna stood up, wiped the tears from her eyes, and made her way down to the water’s edge. There was little more that she wanted to do than to bathe in the spring water, but felt far to ashamed to be naked while Akhani was still in camp. She, too, was wrestling with things that she did not know or understand.
While preparing for lunch, Akhani walked over to the meat and fat that he was preserving. He found what he was looking for, and picked it up. Zhorovna noticed that there was something strange in the way he walked. Her eyes followed him as he walked with the meat and fat in his hands. To her shock, he placed them on the altar, and proceeded to walk towards her.
She was breathless as he approached. Neither said a word as he grabbed her hands, knelt with a bowed head, and penitently asked, “How does one appease the gods?”
A tear rolled down Zhorovna’s cheek as she fell prostrate in front of her master.
Akhani placed his hands on her shoulders. As the spark of his touch enlivened her, she sat up and embraced him. Their embrace was so warm, that neither knew where one stopped and the other began. Tears of regret, forgiveness, and joy were intermingled in that moment. The moment was brief, but everlasting.
The two became aware of themselves as fast as they had fallen into each other’s arms. Each blushed, and could not look the other in the eyes.
Akhani broke the silence first. “How does one make a sacrifice?”
“I will show you,” Zhorovna said, stopping herself short of grabbing his hand. To her surprise, it was Akhani who grabbed hers.
They walked, hand in hand over to the wood piles that Zhorovna had stacked the day before.
Zhorovna blushed as she looked down on her tiny master. Their hands released as she gave the instructions. She had told Akhani that he would need to be the one to perform the ritual, as he was her master. He followed as she guided him, stacking the wood upon the altar, and the sacrifice thereupon.
Zhorovna guided Akhani’s hands through the ritualistic motions of lighting the small pyre. The wood lit must easier than Akhani had ever witnessed in his life. The flame grew higher and hotter than the pyre would have accommodated. In that flame, Akhani witnessed a face. It was the face of the giant with whom Zhorovna was talking in his dream. Akhani gazed at his weeping companion who, too, saw that same face.
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