The slow trudging of the cart. The rhythmic sound of dented wheels going up and down and forward through a lull desert. The living pack trots through the asleep desert. I walk alongside a camel, on top sits our prince Neitch. He sings occasionally.
I HAVE LIVED AS I SHALL DIE
AS A BLUR IMAGE OF A PASSERBY,
LIKE A SMOKE OF A DULL PYRE,
AS AN EMPTY LIFE OF A LIAR.
I adjust the only sack on my back and run ahead. The descending road, I warn the driver who turns the vehicle around slowly maneuvering the old mule down the shifting pebbles. He is old but without a single hair and just creases on his entire body it is hard to guess the decade of his age. About a dozen of us follow down complaining little.
We move towards the setting sun, looking like death's shadow waiting to drape the world in darkness. The confident stride leads us away and near to abstract monuments of nature…tall and ignorant of our existence. So sure of the path we take almost as if when the desert was built we laid these sands here ourselves.
This is a quest for the prince we know he is too young to undertake, but the time gave us not choice. We needed a guide to reach and hopefully negotiate with the city of Dalimacus. We step through hoping to reach shade before sunset. The Faizimun desert's iron rich ground turns blood red at this hour.
Semiote and Sympto, brothers who had left to scout the area ahead return and guide us to a well ahead.
"We have to wait here till the dust storm passes. We will leave at daybreak" they said.
After handing us a wet cloths to cover our mouths, the prince started humming another prayer.
...PERVERSE, IS THE WAY OF THE WORLD
ONLY ONE THAT'S ALWAYS TRUE
CHAOS IS ITS SILENT SISTER
AND DREAMS ITS SWEET MOTHER
THEY SEEK RHYTHMS OF FLESH
SO KEEP DESPAIR IN YOUR HEART A FRESH
FOR THE THIRD ONE COMES WITH A FOUL SCENT
It was a pregnant stillness. We sat leaning against our herd and cart facing the portentous signs. The dark sky turned the thick clouds purple who announced their gathering with blasting thunder . The storm moved quick warping sand and pebbles around growing bigger and darker. This destructive event of nature dancing to the rhythm of dazzling death roamed across the Faizimun desert frequently. It passed over them for what seems to be hours, and leaving us dirty and dry.
The storm leaves slowly almost unwilling to let go of the strangers it had hugged. The gift it leaves behind was clear starry sky. It was late night ,I was still awake keeping a watch. While the men cleaned themselves and went back to sleep, the prince walked alone praying, thinking and dreaming, I think the stars listened to his mind's familiar vows and lulled his ambitions into sweet sleep they deserved.
In the morning, we were awoken to a messenger from Dalimacus, who proclaimed the city's Shaman would like an audience with our prince. There were loud discussion and fights. 'We are walking into an ambush' said some while others said 'But this means we can turn around quicker, the first one back is who wins'. The prince finally stood up still a young man with uneven facial hair sprouting from his sharp jaw.
"What does your Shaman think of our contest?"
"I don't dare to ask those questions. We do not want a fight. This is a test, but not of might." Said the messenger.
"So, we meet outside the city walls and you guide us there. Once we reach the Arch, your Shaman walks us in. Is that clear ?"
"Whatever you wish sire"
"But we are just walking in to their trap, they are lying bastards. Not to mention they foresee it all, I think-"
Prince Neitch turned around "Till they have the mirror, they can win us over anytime. They would not need the pretense of a messenger. We walk these deserts without a guide past these cliffs, we will not reach in time. Lastly, if we are ambushed the Shaman will be our shield."
"What if they ambush us before we even reach the gates? We have no idea about the terrain around, they will slit our throats while we sleep"
"So they do, if death on our throats we shall scream one last time in name of our king and his people. We could never outmaneuver THEM. My shoulders are heavy already, and I will not push the lives of men who doubt me as well. But I am moving forward, this is the answer. The only answer we can save the kingdom with."
"We do not doubt you sire, but you are young. These men are vicious-"
"If you doubt me, leave now. So when I do comeback, I have not lost all respect for you."
After an hour we rode west as a company of 5. Everyone had left us, except our scouts. The messenger introduced himself as Damar. So we journeyed on with Damar keeping a slight lead among them cracking conversation to break concrete mood. We rode like lost strays in a fever land across dunes keeping close to the rocks for shade. The only sounds came from lonely winds boiling under a cloudless sun while camels snickered their way through. We turned little north making our way towards a path between eroded volcanic peaks.
"You see these scratches here Semi" Damar pointing at the volcanic hills looking back at the bearded man. " These were left by the first brothers. When they were stranded in the desert."
Semi smiled unevenly to his right side with hint of mockery in his smirk. "Yes, a beautiful story that, the heretical brother and the pious one were abandoned in the desert to see whose faith would last longer. The battle of will. Finally the brother who prayed everyday without cursing hears God speaking to him through the dust storm, the swirling sands, and even though he begs for his brother's forgiveness. God pulls him down to hell." said Symp in a sad tone. His voice bendy and frail for a man of his stature. His copper-skinned face contrasted his grey head scarf covering his forehead, shielding the bronze squinting eyes.
Damar looks back with his right hand raised parallel to his eyebrows nodding "Aye, It is a tragic one, our Shahman used to tell us these stories... of ancient tribes they learned from people inside the WIᴚᴚoᴚ" .
In the sweat filled journey there was a chill among the riders. The prince was riding in the middle, not even singing. This constant wobbling trot of the camel with bright dry sun made his hungry stomach churn acidic burps.
We traveled on chalk colored hard ground till near dusk stopping once to camp for food. Damar had packed dry meat and water on each of the camels enough for travel. Anything kept far was kept for good was the motto he traveled with for so long. By the end of the evening we reached the Veins where dusty spikes stood with rotten helmets pierced through.
Soon over the mesa came whistles. Damar whipped around and took a deep breath to respond.
"My friends are here, soon we'll have shade and company"
The sun had turned the sky anemic red, when long tents of dark cloth draped over poles at calculated intervals with the mesa at the rear were erected. A well stood a little distance away from the camp. The joy was uneven, Prince Neitch strolled through making sure everyone was at ease. Only Sympto joined the inebriated clanking of insults and laughter. With laughter and charred wine intertwining itself into stories Damar introduced the visitors to a half pause of chatter.
Prince walked away. A complete silence is not easily bearable. This murmur of people at a distance was disturbing his silence, so the he walked to the well. This alive silence away from the party had a way of consoling its siblings inside him, he had swallowed a lot of words in his years. Now they came out formless, silently falling into dark round chasm while he sat with his chin leaning on his forearms which were supported by knees. He stared with empty eyes down, the edges of his brown hair floating. For a moment his body was just a sculpture while his mind sank. The stars twinkling, the fire cackling, the whistling wind, and the hissing sand were all aware of his existence. Their primordial gossiping had turned the sound of the living off in his mind.
Rich trance and deep breaths he sat unperturbed by shouting at the camp. Jerked awake hearing a scream, he saw Semi running towards the well, chased by hollering men holding blazing torches. They looked like apostles of ancient pyrolatry trying to catch the nightmares under the shining stars.
Semi was caught and beaten. They had burnt his sole so couldn't run anymore. A bulging eye and peeling skin he sat almost unconscious in his surroundings and mumbled while whispering insults. Sympto took up to ease the tension by telling them their plight.
They were brothers on the run, they sought the Prince for a way out. They had heard his compassion for orphans of fate. They were robbers and cheats who had almost won the local general's daughter before being chased away. Their dream wasn't the riches that come with it but the revenge of name. Often insulted for being incomplete, they built a name, a name that if not royalty gave them notoriety.
"… They loved us… They were cursed to… We were bandits who stole for them in way that was familiar. We were born to feeble homes but we were sure not die there … and I wasted it all because I thought I could be honest man. I told her about our past. She told her general father. We soon lost our respects and almost lost our freedom. But we found him, he took us in without a question" said Sympto
Semi spit and rasping voice forced it's way out "I did not believe you. You wanted to save yourself… for your kingdom. I had seen ambitions like this, if you were so powerful save us and then yourself. They beat your man, and yet you stand there, might as well be a dead."
A tight slap from his brother surprised everyone. "He is delirious, I believe… I believe bring us back with you, I beg of you Prince"
Neitch was leaning on the wooden pole with his hands crossed.
A complete silence came over the mortals around while primordial chatter continued. The sand hissed, the fire crackled and the stars shined as they always had and would. The party however stared at these signs lost behind their eyes. An old man cried loud in a muffled throat voice and sang a tune haunting and lonely, leaving a taste of peeling ecstasy in the mind. Damar joined in with a tabor with a simple rhythm. Others joined in the chorus with a couple on bone flutes. The old man sang the chorus' high vowels with a shaky tenor. The first verse by the youngest, the second by Damar, third by the old man everyone sang without meeting anyone's eyes. Each looking at primordial signs which imbued them with comfort to sing…
|| There walked a man from dawn to eve
Guarding a swan with a naeve
He hoped to show it the endless sea
Ease the burden be finally free ||
| A drunk screams a ballad of dreams
Jolting the man to listen in peace
'It is cruel to dream, under the marble
rain of self-esteem
As a prisoner of a concentric stream
Hooked on the quest for the world's morpheme
No heroes have escaped the death of wants
None sailed pleasure seas on ponts
Listen to your primal screams for leisure
Give into currents and bury your treasures'
Stumbling and hitting the floor
Swan beckons a call for shore |
| Across soft sands and harsh meadows
Marching fortissimo, To the symphony of shadows
While knights with dented armor frolic around a spreading pyre
And their blind mounts stand guard against the night's wailing choir
Bereft and with glee he takes in the sweet sea breeze
Hearing dazzling cries of infinite unbound blue
The swan toppled the kingdom of hope in an anxious coup
With emptiness and carnal joy abound
Alive metals holding numb souls drowned
'Slip and let go'his body shrieks
While the swan urged a call for the peaks |
| Across kingdoms of men and demons
Misery and distrust was part of all seasons
'Unite and see your houses fall
We are your saviors' their whipmasters called
Ghosts with golden lips promote blows of metal fists
As the blind cheer at the arena of blood
They drown in a golden flood
Apocalypse and death abound
The man cries to the white swan aloud
'What is your purpose? Why won't you leave me?
If I must face the world, I am plenty'
A loud darkness surrounded them both
The swan sheds light in return for an oath
'Carry me till Dawn and Dusk meet
and till calm waters touch my feet
'Truth is irrational passionfruit that must be pursued
While breaking men-made chains' the swan spewed
'But for all I care is world without dark
A morning with no end
For joy with no pain
For peace with no gain
For…' he cried in vain
So we cry the same
"So we cry the same" said the old man finally shifting from the stars above to Semi. "All of this, it's too much, if you don't have a way to feel yourself. So we paint our reflections. The Mirror isn't the answer, it will at best let you see yourself in others that look through. Cry and try to let go of this dream. Image is worth more than the shadow, but not more than the warm light that creates them both" looking at Neitch "walk away"
"Ayyyi, we are scaring them now, it's alright" patting Symp's back " Our Shaman, she will guide you." said Damar, his words pierced through the tight breath it felt everyone was holding. The moment was over, it was now back to noise of the party.
The next day's travel was short. Before the sun reached it's zenith, we rode through the stone arch that was a humongous door frame. Long towers of stone rose like fingers from the ground curving and meeting at the top. On top of the elliptic arch was a carved Varanus. Its leathery skin and hissing face carved out of black mudstone. Dalimacus was empty, not abandoned and torn down, but devoid of trodden roads and open windows.
Damar and his friends had stopt and alighted off the camels, we followed suit. A festival was abound they had whispered. Neitch watched as the street opened to silent march. A strong stench of something rotten made Neitch start coughing. The women marching wore thick face covers. The women held a bowl of viscous brown liquid. The men were dancing around, silently, only lonely cracks of joints and exhales were heard from them. Neitch saw the dance as almost a slithering and suffocating the women's path towards temple. The men looked down but the women looked up as they carried the bowls past the party. The old woman walked tapping a beautiful decorated staff to the ground, guiding the woman from the side.
If by chance the liquid dripped it fell on men bending and twisting around them. The march soon reached an opening of a cave that led into the ground. On either side of these steps stood a couple of men holding long poles with a cloth tied to the top end. The tip of the cloth was dipped in each bowl as the women passed them. When the last woman passed the men started a fire, a few steps away from the cave and waited. The pole-bearers lit the cloth and it started with a sparkle as they invited the party downstairs. The Shaman smiled staring at our Prince.
Climbing down dusty steps Neitch reached inside sack to palm a weapon. The tunnel was completely dark, the women now were humming in a low tone. A dot of light a distance grew as they moved forward. Soon there was an opening, to a large pool of similar dark liquid filled to the brim by a natural crater.
The sun was blood red, setting off directly in front of them. The women slowly emptied their bowls into the pool looking up. We followed their gaze to see a large reflective surface, a mirror, lodged into the rock above them. Bowls were emptied and handed off to the Shaman
This was Resfil festival. That night at the large camp in the middle of the town, the Shaman approached Neitch. The strong smoke of burning dry wood and thick dark vapors soared high from liquid they poured occasionally, kept the flames ablaze. It caused coughing fits and burning throats.
" So you are the last to be guided here. " said the Shaman. Neitch turned around to see an old woman leaning on the decorated staff. Damar stood to her right motioning Neitch to stand up.
"Save the pleasantries prince, tell me by when do you need the piece ?"
Prince Neitch had no answer.
"Walk with me."
The stroll takes them around the fire, the dancing flames erected uneven shadows onto distant walls.
"How did you know I came here for a piece ?"
" Prince, we have the images of entire God's world held in the mirror. Your arrival was seen an age ago. "
" Why allow me ? When heroes have been denied of the same"
" Look around. There is nothing here anymore. "
" There is a noise increasing. The more one stares into the Mirror the more distorted are their dreams. The city now mostly exists without it. They daydream. They look not to know but to live itself. The real my ancestors used to see and guide them and the illusions they dream have gotten too close. They are alone in this noise and they are ecstatic. "
" Tomorrow we will carve out the piece for you. Only if it wills to come with you."
" Will I win the throne if I come back with this ? "
The Shaman smiled at him with a soft expression. " You give your father, a king, the sight of future. Would he have even set this challenge up ?"
Prince walked into the cave with a lit torch. I sat on the stairs and heard as his steps went faint. The Shaman had warned him already, they would allow him to take it, but the angels might have a different plan. Neitch just laughed, there was no doubt in his mind. This life was meant for glory so he marched on. I asked if I could follow him, he denied it. He would not want it for me he said. I sat alone staring at the cave entrance, long dancing shadows off the orange light merged in with the darkness inside the cave. When I was sure no one cared I slowly walked in, I following the echo of the crackling torch. I saw him approaching the pool and hid in a fold.
Soon there was a boom. From the dark liquid pool rose a form ,swirling into a storm finally a face emerged and spoke to him.
"So you seek to change the world"
"No, I seek to change the fate of my subjects."
"Your subjects ? You are still a prince aren't you ?"
"Hmm, no words in response. I will come with you, but I must know your soul. So answer me these questions"
"Who is more vital, the shepherd who guides the sheep or the sheep who give him purpose ?"
"None" I whisper in fear
"The shepherd" he answers
"Hmmm, A storm engulfs them, is it a warning or a command ?"
"An omen"
"A command"
"Who does God finally protect ? The shepherd or the sheep ?"
"The worthy"
"The shepherd"