Chronicles of Akhani - 7 - The Mystical Message
It was late evening as they were making their way back. Electric flowed within them as they discussed the mushroom harvest that they had made. Zhorovna was familiar with a handful of the mushrooms that also grow up in the Silver Mountains, but the vast majority she had only just learned about from her short lessons from Catoblia. However, the real information seemed to be from Akhani’s droning on and on about his harvest.
He was pulling every single last mushroom out of his sack and describing them. However, his description was not just limited to their effects and taste, but long diatribes of where he was, how high the sun or moon was in the sky, and every minute detail of his first taste of the mushroom. Some, he had tried in childhood and drifted into deep nostalgia. Others he had not tried until advised to do so by Catoblia herself.
It had ended up that Akhani had been a very sickly child. Many had believed that he would not live to the age of five, but his mother, who had lived in the savannas for a time, knew the solution. She whisked him away secretly in the night to Catoblia. The journey was long and hard for a woman carrying her sickly child, but as with all mothers, she did not seem to notice her own suffering when it came to saving her son.
When they had arrived, Akhani was on death’s doorstep. His skin was pale and pasty. His ears sagged, instead of their normal rigidity. Weeping at the feet of Catoblia, Vandania pleaded for pity from the mystical creature. Though Catoblia’s kind had never taken notice of the Xotokians, hearing Vandania’s pleas moved Catoblia’s heart. She told Vandania to hoist the child onto her back and to follow her.
Leading the mother to the same spot that she had just lead Akhani and Zhorovna, Catoblia informed Vandania that the earth’s fruit may be able to save her son. However, there will be a price.
Having listened keenly to the tale, Zhorovna had to interrupt. “What was the price?”
“I do not know.”
“Didn’t you ask?”
“I don’t know. Every time I tried to ask, my mother would break down in tears. Catoblia avoids the subject at all costs, so I have stopped pressing the matter.” A deeply troubled stare came across Akhani’s face as he said these words as the looked forward towards their camp.
At that moment, Zhorovna was swept into the realm of the Mystical Mountain. Before her appeared Catoblia and Olvgani the Pious. Immediately upon seeing the most revered prophet of her people, she fell prostrate.
Upon seeing this reaction, Olvgani’s stern yet comforting voice rang out. “Stand. We are equals. By following the Word instead of your Abbess has shown your absolute faith in the gods. What must be discussed is far too important to waste time with frivolous venerations.
“Catoblia had called out for a Word as soon as you and Akhani had left. The gods sent me to her first, and she let me know all the details of Akhani’s life. You must know, you will be in constant danger throughout your entire time serving Akhani. However, it is imperative that you must stay with him. His spirit rests in your hands, but we must inform you as to why that is so urgent.”
Olvgani nodded to Catoblia who then continued. “When Akhani partook of the fruit of the earth, he was given a mushroom that was the only of its kind. That mushroom, for the sake of simplicity, was the heart of the Achinos. Each region of Amythro is alive, and this is why the borders rarely shift regardless of who is in power. Those who live there are nourished by their realm so far as they care for the region.
“Achinos, having tasted the tears of Vandania’s tears allowed me to feed him the Heart. That fruit does not bloom, and having seen it, I knew the gravity of the situation. However, Achinos made it clear to me, in ways I cannot explain to a Syverenian like yourself, that this offering was not without a price.
“That price is the binding of Akhani to the region. The health of the region is his health. The strength of the region is his strength. But, this works in two directions. Should Akhani be killed, the region, too, will die. I cannot stress how dire of a situation that would be.
“The gods who you know are the gods who created the regions. However, they are not the only gods. There exist other gods who seek to corrupt the regions and change them into a vile, consuming, monstrosity.
“One region has fallen to these gods. That region is Akropolia. Its jungles have turned feral. Those who enter are either consumed or corrupted. Speaking of such things is too difficult for me as Achinos stands at the precipice of this same corruption. Should Akhani fall, Achinos will likewise.” Catoblia’s mannerisms were far more grave than the words that she spoke, and Zhorovna could sense this.
“What is it that should be done?” asked Zhorovna.
“It is not our place to tell you that. The gods will send you a Word when appropriate, but we can tell you one more thing,” Olvgani said. “Stop your journey to Akhani’s oasis. The camp is no longer safe. The Doiketians who control this region have already fallen to the gods of corruption. A few of their soldiers have stumbled upon your camp, and are lying in wait of your return.”
As Olvgani’s words fell on Zhorovna, she found herself still walking beside Akhani. He had not noticed that her spirit had drifted into the Mystical Mountain. She stopped grabbing Akhani by the hand. He stopped mid-sentence, still on his ramblings of mushrooms, and stared at her confused.
“We cannot go further. We cannot return to the camp. I was just on the Mystical Mountain and was warned that Doiketians are lying in wait for us,” Zhorovna said conveying the urgency as best she could.
“I am afraid of no Doiketian. Besides, I owe them repayment for what they have done to my loved ones,” Akhani said as if a dark shadow had passed over him. His eyes burned with hatred, and his whole countenance became that as one who faces his nemesis.
Zhorovna, seeing this possession, quickly recited the exorcism rights. The sand swirled up into the air around them. Lightening flashed as the words flowed from Zhorovna’s mouth, and a black steam raised from Akhani’s body. Akhani fell to his knees as the steam began to flow from his every orifice on his head. A scream was heard as the black steam dissolved into the cool desert air.
The sand, along with Akhani, collapsed onto the desert floor. Zhorovna rushed to her companion, and lifted him in her arms. She did not know where she was. She did not know where to go. The only thing she did know, was that they would not be safe here.
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