“Brave leader, I see that you were right…you knew what Nexor would do when he became lost. The spirits have been most generous in their providing help to catch our most prized gift to the clan.” Moltar gloated to see my captured self unceremoniously dragged back to the hunters.
“Yes, the spirits were most kind. Men, this one is brave…he tried to escape having no food, no weapon, and no way home. The other boys just sat and waited, scared beasts waiting to meet their end from the points of our sharp blades. That is why he’ll be a great leader…bold, brave, and resourceful. I won’t punish him, rather, I’ll praise him. Son, you make me proud; you did what I would do if a band of hunters took me from my clan. Brave Nexor…you shall be spoken of for many seasons as the leader of our clan, how, even as a young boy, pitted himself against the spirits and our hunters to find his way back to his old home.”
I pondered my next move. Should I say thank you for such kind words or spit at his feet. I choose neither…I smiled and knew that another chance would be given to me to run from my captors. I was defeated but not beaten.
We plodded onward until we arrived at a village of scattered homes, and they were not what I was used to see families living in. They lived in huts made from the hides of a beast. There were no caves. And then there were many wooden structures that had the thin strips of beasts hanging in the sun. I was right…the sun did spit it back up and not eat it.
“Nexor…you look as if a cave bear had just walked across your path; I told you that you would see many things that would be strange to you. Yes, those are our homes; we don’t live in caves anymore. We use mammoth tusks to support the hides; when the hides no longer stop the rains we receive from the skies in the warm season, we replace them with new hides. Those over there…they’re drying racks; we dry our meat and other food in the sun. Do you know why?”
“No, we never eat such dry food; I shall never again swallow such weathered looking meat.”
“We learned this from Moltar; you see, we dry the food and can eat it many moons after we kill a beast. We don’t have to hunt during every sun either because we have a shelter full of dried food. We never starve…has your belly ever felt empty from no food passing over your lips?”
“Yes, there are many suns and moons that pass over our lands and we have no fresh meat to eat. We grow skinny, we grow weak; my family members die as our bones peek through our ragged furs.”
“You never have to worry about that feeling again, and you’ll never see a member of our clan die from a lack of food. We have sacred lands that give us meat and vegetables…and fruit.”
My mind raced ahead of me. What are fruits and vegetables that he spoke of? I have never seen such things or heard such words. Our clan would gain from my experiences when I return to them with such new ideas…to think, our family never having to die because we had no meat to eat. Food to eat when the sun did not shine, the rain fell, or the snow flew past our cave.
I began to feel very warm; it was as if the sun had entered my fur…my sweat started to pour out of my body. I felt very uncomfortable.
“My son, Nexor, I see that the hot sun has begun to cook your body like a piece of meat thrown upon a glowing fire. You must change your thick furs to ours. Here, touch mine; feel the difference between this one and yours. My deer fur keeps me cool and dry in the sun and rains. Your thick fur from a cave bear will become wet, and then heavy as it absorbs the water but keeps the warmth next to your body. There is one more advantage…we can run or walk much longer since we have these thin deer furs upon our backs. That’s why your hunters never would be able to keep up with us over the many suns and moons we’ve been traveling back to our lands.”
Another idea to help my family. Oh, I could not wait to see the faces of my clan members as I shared with them such novel ways to live our lives in the future.
“Chetrix, gather the clan; we’ll introduce our new members to everyone. Ask the women to prepare food for the entire family…this is a celebration that we’ll share around our fires for many seasons. Our children will remember this celebration of life. Their children’s children will remember this celebration of life…new life to prevent the Rolling Valley Clan from walking down the pathway with the sky, water, and land spirits. Our clan will travel these lands, dry our food, and dance to this wonderful story until the sun and moon sleep forever.”
“Wise one…I’ll organize your wishes, and may the compassionate spirits attend our celebration. Let them be here as we receive the four gifts from them, to provide a future that ensures our clan does occupy these lands until the spirits themselves sleep forever.”
“And dear Moltar, while I visit my wife and family, can you share our ways with Nexor? He is very inquisitive and has been asking many questions about our food and how we survive in these lands. I’ve said that it was your kind who have given us new ways that make our lives what they are.”
“Zandex, my pleasure to describe what my kind has passed along to the clan. Nexor, let’s walk around the camp and you’ll witness first-hand how we live. Ask any questions and they’ll be answered.”
I was pleased that I would hear the words directly from Moltar.
“Now, you see those drying racks? Yes, there’s wild beast meat hanging there and drying in the cold sun, but look closer. What do you see?”
“Green plants with brown heads.”
“Yes, these are the sacred plants that the spirits have given to us. We eat them; we use them to heal our wounds; and we make soft mats to sleep on. We can leave the camp when the sun wakes up and be back with our arms full of these sacred plants before the moon rises.”
“How do you eat them?” I just heard the where, but now my inquisitive mind wondered how.
“We open our mouths and then chew them until we can swallow them. I see that your clan has little to no sense of humor, Nexor. Honestly…the women pound the brown heads with a stone until it is mashed and becomes a white mass, and at that time they can bake it on the hot rocks that line the fire pit or boil it in bags made from the stomach of reindeer or red deer. When the warm season arrives, we eat the small green roots; at the end of the warm season the plant grows the brown heads we enjoy in our diet. In the middle of the warm season, we have these yellow and red berries. Every one of these plants can be dried and we can eat them when the cold season begins. You see, the spirits have provided us with food for every season. I haven’t even mentioned the wild beasts…the red deer and reindeer that migrate every cold season through our lands.”
“Our hunters must kill beasts as the sun rises and puts the moon to sleep. The spirits can be cruel as the men return to the cave without a beast, then we have no food. Our women cry; the babies cry; and the elders weep sad tears too. The hunters, they feel grief-stricken knowing that they did not provide food for the family.”
As I looked around a firepit, there were vessels that appeared to be made of rock with a curious design. I took my finger and ran it over the markings; there were two lines and two circles, repeated over and over again. My excited fingers grabbed a stick and drew the design in the soft earth ===:===:===:===. “What does this mean, Moltar?”
“These are pots; we take a handful of light brown earth and make round coils, then we take them and make them into this shape. After that, we place it in the fire; the sacred flames of red and yellow sent by the spirits transform the mud into vessels as hard as rock. The lines and circles show how many suns and moons we travel to the pits of soft earth to make our pots. After we cook the earth, we cook our food in it.”
My mind had a difficult time to understand the many wonderful things I witnessed at the clan’s camp.
“Brother…you’ll never suffer from hunger anymore; your hands will always be full of meat and plants. Your stomach rejoices with the many favors bestowed upon us by our compassionate spirits that traverse the lands, soar as an eagle in the skies, and swirl around in the pure waters. Come, meet the clan and watch our shaman as he crosses over to the spirit
world and shares their message of joy with our clan members.”
As we walked, the clan members stopped what they were doing (pounding brown plant heads, sewing new animal clothes, carving animal figures) and looked at me with hope in their collective eyes. I gazed back at them, noticing that half or so were like my kind and the other members like Moltar. These would be my new family.
“Nexor, I feel that you are frightened of these staring eyes; these are your kin. They would go to fight others to the death for you. They would sacrifice their own body and soul to keep you safe. They would give their own children to protect you from others. You are the future of the clan; it has been told to Andar, and he shared that sacred message from the spirits with our family. You are one of us.”
Family…I had my own and wanted to leave this place with my new knowledge to help my family; to be sure my clan walked into the future and not left in the past. What would ‘they’ do if they knew my thoughts?
“Hurry brother…the celebration is about to begin. Our shaman, Andar, is a spectacle, one who is always chasing moon shadows. It is his belief that the spirits are most attentive to his needs when the sun sleeps and the moon guards the lands. He has very strong medicine; it is made from the brown heads that the women pound to make food. Our sore legs are walking again with this medicine; our bloody wounds stop bleeding with this medicine; and our bulging stomachs are cured with this medicine.”
My family would benefit greatly with this brown-headed plant in Narizon’s hands.
“Look, we’re here. Let’s sit…don’t worry, you won’t miss anything.”
We reached the epicenter of the village…it’s heart, so to speak. The milieu where the most sacred of traditions were performed by Andar, shaman of the Rolling Valley Clan. There were a series of large grey stones that formed a circle around a raised platform. While the family sat upon the smaller rocks, the taller one was significant. This area stood out as the focal point of the stone circle…this is where Andar would perform his shamanic duties for the clan.
As I absorbed the sacredness of the rock circle, the clan found their places, and the shaman prepared to begin his display of reverence for the spirits.
Andar had laid out a thin fur across the width of the rock he sat on. On the fur, he placed the herbs and plants that were the conduits to the otherworld, the sacred world where the spirits and ancestors walked. There were blue and red berries, yellow and orange plants, a drum and rattle; all of which appeared to hold him as captive. Before he ingested them, they restricted his motion, his dancing… however, once ingested they liberated his motion and dancing. He reverently placed a few berries under his tongue and then threw his arms up to the skies; shortly thereafter, the powerful medicine took ahold of his physical body and mind.
I never experienced what was about to occur before us; I heard the spirits speak. A deep voice emanated from Andar’s pulsating torso; “We, the spirits, have sent down warm sunshine upon this village. We have stopped the rains from falling from the skies. Why? We are pleased with your actions towards us and as such, have provided a precious gift for your clan. Here…these four young boys shall ensure the prosperity of the Rolling Valley Clan.” Then the voice ended as abruptly as it began. There were only smiles throughout the crowd.
I was too involved scrutinizing the shaman’s physical characteristics to have a smile cross my lips. He appeared much different than Narizon, certainly, he was a rare bird. In front of me was a spirit that had just been released from the skies…a strong, wise one that walked the lands. He was mostly naked, just a thin strip of red fur wrapped loosely around his waist. Green strips of plants wrapped halfway up his well-shaped arms and legs, constraining those sinewy muscles and not allowing them to escape.
Those hands, fingers…thick and powerful, they could take the life from a beast with little effort. There was nothing binding his feet which resulted in calloused, deformed toes…they were spread out like those seen on green and yellow spotted creatures we find swimming in quiet, shallow waters. As I looked upon him with wonder, he caught me unawares…a stare from deep black eyes, as dark as the clouds that preceded the cold season rains looked through me. A shiver went up and down my spine. He spoke.
“Spirits, that care for us, love us, guide us…we are the true followers of the spirits that are around and above us. Our clan is obedient to your wants and demands; never shall we close our eyes to what the spirits want of us or from us. May the kind spirits provide us with nourishment for our bodies and our souls that will allow us to walk these lands until the sun and moon sleep forever.”
My mind drifted again…he had no tattoos; to me it seemed odd that a living conduit of the spirits had no such markings upon his body. Instead of colored reminders of who he was or what he was, Andar had many scars…deep scars, elongated scars, raised scars. These ran up and down his body…his back, arms, legs, and stomach bore the hallowed pain that he had suffered in the past for his clan. These markings were what he owed the spirits to oversee his family members.
“Our devotion to you is eternal and true…we hold pure love in our hearts for you, our benevolent mothers and fathers. As the sun rises from the valley and rests behind the hills, our duty to serve and obey you is engrained in our way of life. A life that our ancestors have given to us by the wise decisions they made many suns and moons ago. Their love for the spirits runs in our minds…our bodies, and our souls. Our love for the spirits runs in our minds…our bodies, and our souls.”
He danced and beat his drum; as he did so, he wildly gyrated about on his stone pedestal. Once, he tittered on the edge but regained his balance before he fell into the seated members of his clan. Looking exhausted, he set his drum down and his powerful hand wrapped around an ivory handled knife…the blade glistened, reflected the orange hue released by the flames that inhabited the fire pits. My stomach ached, fear sprang up inside me…he did the unimaginable.
“My spirits…our spirits, accept what I am about to offer you with my clan members as witness. May you acknowledge my love, our love, for you and bless us with your wisdom and kindness.”
The family joined in the celebration. They began to chant and then sway in a collective rhythm to what they had created for the spirits. As they did, Andar demonstrated his reverence for the omnipotent wise ones.
“Spirits, may my words be true and blessed by you.” He sliced his still moving tongue…the blood began to flow. His crimson blood ran down his bloated cheeks and scarred the rocks.
“Spirits, may my two arms help my family when in need and want.” He passed his knife across his arm…the blood flowed. Flowed down his arms and dropped like rain in the warm season upon his grey pedestal.
“Spirits, may my two legs carry your kind message throughout the lands we travel.” He passed his knife across each leg…more blood flowed. It spurted out to his heartbeat and ran wildly between the pieces of his rock sanctuary.
The smell of fresh spilt blood wafted through the skies; the forces of the sky spirits guided it to encircle the clan members, and it left its foul scent impressed upon our minds and souls. For several suns and an equal number of moons, even though there were no physical signs of the sickening aroma that clung to me, it refused to relinquish me as its hostage. I was sickened by the unseen clues left with me from the ceremony.
My eyes saw the look of disbelief run across my three clan members’ faces. Although the shaman appeared not to feel the sharpened knife as it sliced his skin, I winced in pain. My deepest reverence passed through me to Andar for such deeds. I silently pleaded to the ancient ones; I begged for him and me as well. “Kind spirits…please, let Andar stop his blood from flowing from these many cuts.”
As the shaman communicated with the spirits, I found myself fascinated by his actions. In my brief life, I had only witnessed three envoys of the sacred spirits; nevertheless, it appeared to me that a commonality existed within them, between them. Something that transcended clan membership, physical location, or number o
f seasons lived. Something rudimentary that accompanied their ancient knowledge and experiences. They were the raging winds that reverted into a gossamer breeze. They were the racing waters that reverted into a docile pool. They were the blinding snowstorms that reverted into a delicate niveous veil.
Andar stopped his bloodletting. “Spirits…with my blood shed and drying upon these sacred rocks before you, you have promised each of us seated here a deathless death. A death that is without end, an end that is without death, a death that reunites us with those who left this life before us. A better life after our death; one that promises everlasting joy with our mothers, fathers, brothers, children, and with our ancestors. Those, whose faces that lived before us we never kissed; the eyes that lived before us we never saw; the wisdom that lived before us we never shared; and the love that lived before us we never felt. When we travel to the Otherworld, we shall be in the presence of their faces, eyes, wisdom, and love…it is promised by the compassionate spirits that this is our new life in death.”
As he spoke of such unworldly things, I felt the flow of such joyous intensity that appeared to manifest from his words, the words that alerted those who had lived before, but now live a deathless life. A river of happiness created from his words, thoughts, and feelings. With this message upon his lips, Andar then collapsed on the main stone of his platform; several hunters picked him up, and took him away. As the new sun made its appearance, I learned that they had applied the medicine from the brown headed plant; the bleeding had stopped, and Andar resumed his life without any ill feelings or sickness.
With the shaman carried away, the Rolling Valley Clan settled down to eat the food freely given by the spirits; we were served freshly cooked red deer, dried reindeer, white food, red and yellow berries, and a golden syrup that held the brightness of the sun but tasted like a sweet-scented flower. Maybe, I could get used to living this life with my new family.
Birth of the Chosen One Page 6