Chronicles of Akhani - 5 - Familiarization
Akhani watched as a fragrant smoke rose from where the offering had been burnt. As the smoke dissolved into the air, he thought back on how his own life had done likewise. It had been ages since he had thought of his past.
“How long have you been living like this?” Zhorovna asked, sensing that the former tensions between them had, at least in part, been resolved.
“Is this part of the ceremony?” Akhani asked, wondering what level of guard he should maintain.
“It is not, but I was hoping that we could get to know each other. I was hoping that our reconciliation meant...”
“I have been here ever since my family was killed by the Doiketians. My father had dared to resist our masters’ orders. What those orders were are unclear to me.
“I was out here in the desert looking to prove my manhood through slaying a sand dragon, and my dear friend Zarpaki hurried to meet me before I would return. He told me what had happened and that I should not return. He told me that if I did return, I would be killed just like the rest of my family.” Akhani’s face grew pale as he continued, “After some days, I do not know how many, I returned home in the dead of night to seek the truth. Our tunnels were collapsed. Not just my family’s, but the entire network of our underground village.
“This has been typical ever since the Doiketians conquered us a century ago. They do not view us equal to humans. They look at us as vermin and only value our smithing of our unique alloys.” He proceeded to hold up his blade for Zhorovna to take. “Take it. Feel its weight, and test its strength against that tree.”
Zhorovna gripped the blade in her hand. It looked like a pocket knife in her hands, but as she cut into a tree, she noticed it offered no resistance. The blade easily sliced the wood as though it were butter. She handed the blade back without uttering a word.
“This is the only reason why we are still alive. If they knew the secrets of our metallurgy, they would dispose of us as they do with the wild cats in their own lands – killed for sport.”
Akhani sighed as he sheathed his blade. He turned and looked directly at Zhorovna. “I know I did not fully answer your question, but the truth is, I have had no reason to track time.”
“I left my monastery about a month ago against the advice of the abbess. She told me that I was still too young to understand the breadth of the Words. She told me that it would be better for me to send messages to our warriors advising them on their actions instead of taking the actions myself. Once a person leaves a monastery without the blessing of the abbot or abbess, that person is no longer a monastic.
“I had been raised in the monastery since the time that I was three years old. My parents were devout practitioners of the faith, and followed the advice of a prophet to have me raised in the monastery. The prophet had told them that the only way for my salvation was for me to remain at the monastery,” Zhorovna barely managed to get these words out of her lips.
“What does salvation mean?”
“It is our belief that the gods protect their believers from corruption. There are demons among us that are preying on those who have turned away from, or have never known, the gods. They twist their souls towards selfishness, and in so doing, perpetuate pain and suffering throughout Amythro.”
“Why don’t the gods destroy the demons?”
“I do not know. I have only been trained in my prophetic gifts. Prophets are never taught scholarly matters. It is long thought that scholarly matters pollute the eyes and ears of the heart, and weaken their ability to perceive the Words and communicate with the righteous dead.”
“Like the giant?”
Zhorovna turned pale and stared at her master.
“Last night, in my dream, I saw you talking to him on top of the mountain, in the midst of the clouds. When I awoke from that dream, you were in front of the shrine in the same position as in my dream.”
“You saw us on the mountain top? I have never heard of anyone who was not a descendent of the Ovorganti experiencing the Mystical Mountain.”
“Mystical Mountain?”
“It is the realm of the spirits. Only those of us who have been given the gift of prophesy are able to travel there. We are only to travel there to seek help from the righteous dead. Either you are a prophet….”
Zhorovna had trailed off into deep thought. Akhani patiently stared at her, but realized that the other option was better left unsaid.
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