Birth of the Chosen One

by Roger Kenworthy

  As a few suns and moons passed, I asked many questions to Moltar and Zandex. Life was pleasant, however, at the back of my mind, I always searched for an ideal opportunity for us to escape and return to our clan, our family. Still, I promised myself that I would gain as much knowledge as possible to help my clan when we made that long journey back to our loving home.

  One moonless night, as I experienced the color of the winds, Andar visited the Otherworld. He sat cross legged on a bright blue mat of jagged grasses, slowly eating a handful of sacred herbs. He began to recite stories in a strange language, all the time beating his drum and shaking his rattle. His face narrowed as his eyes burst wide open, several shadowy figures flew around him, encircled him…imprisoned him. A screech of terror rose from his inner world. He had no place to flee as an eagle dropped down from the skies. It perched upon his bare arm; sharp talons ripping his skin into strips…bleeding, spurting crimson. His blood covered an area that stretched for many spear lengths. I thought that he would be taken by the spirits on that darkest of nights.

  As soon as the spectacle began…it ended; Andar lay motionless, as still as a lioness who stalks a red deer. His eyes popped open, and he wiped saliva from his beard and mouth. He cried out for Zandex. Their leader appeared from nowhere.

  “Shaman, what ails you? I see that you have visited the spirits again; what words did you receive from the spirits?”

  “Wise One…the eagle brings a message of dread to our home. It is a bad omen; the children we have from the Forest Clan…shall not be ours. Our spirits have fought a mighty battle with the Forest Clan spirits, and we have lost. Hence, the boys shall be found and forfeited, taken away from us…our future is bleak. There is no mistake, the spirits communicated this message through the noblest of winged creatures of the skies to me as I walked in the Otherworld.”

  “No…you’re mistaken; these children are the saviors of The Rolling Valley Clan. The spirits are playing with your mind and your thoughts. Revisit them and tell them their decision puts an end to the clan. We’ll all be with the spirits, and after only a few seasons if we cannot bring new blood to the clan to mate with our women.”

  “Zandex, there is no error…my ears felt the message of the spirits as the eagle tore my skin and left me bleeding as a beast run through with a black obsidian spear point. To question the spirits is futile …they can deliver sadness upon us if we don’t accept the sacred words brought by the most striking fowl of the skies.”

  “This message crushes my soul, our last chance; but, I must accept what path the spirits want us to travel down. It doesn’t mean that our clan will be as children and not fight until we can fight no more. If our future is destined to end with these boys being returned to their own clan, we’ll be as brave hunters and our spears will speak for us. We’ll meet our end, but it’ll be a proud end; not one where we cower as scared beasts awaiting the sharp points of a hunter’s spear.”

  “Spoken as a true leader…that’s what I would expect from the bravest of the brave, born of the Rolling Valley Clan. Go, and prepare to meet the future, Zandex.”

  “Hunters of our clan, as the sun moves down to meet the lands, arm yourself with the sharpest spears you have. Return to your family and hug your wife and your children, your mother and father, your sister and brother…we may not have that honor again. Sleep with one eye open…we may face our future sooner than we might believe. Go!”

  All the hunters of the clan roared with the strength of the past, present, and future. Their spears kissed the skies, their hearts hugged the lands…their lands, their ancestor’s lands. They were a proud group of men who were prepared to give their lives for their present and their future.

  The moon quickly danced across the skies; it didn’t want the responsibility of being a witness to the end of the proudest of the proud. The spirits had other plans…they would defy the motion of the moon. In the distant hills, the enemy had arrived.

  “Tusik…there, fire pits glowing in the darkness. There are more of them than of us.” Gaylan spoke without hesitation. “We must create a plan that’ll give us victory. We didn’t chase after this band of brigands to be slaughtered as wild beasts.”

  “Brave and noble brother…that’s what I have been planning for many suns and moons. Listen to my idea. We measure the hunters of their village by the fire pits we see burning…sunray yellow and crimson red. Yes? Let us help them determine how many hunters we have encircling their kind.”

  As the Forest Clan prepared their plan, the shaman of the Rolling Valley Clan received a foreboding message from the spirits. “Zandex, they have arrived and wait up in the hills where the sun shall greet us after the moon sleeps.”

  Those words drew the ire of the wise one. “Brothers, this is our opportunity to show the spirits our bravery and cunning. The enemy will meet their ancestors in the dark of the moon. We’ll step on them and crush them under our feet. Victory is ours; the children are ours! We fight now; prepare for a fight.”

  “Brave Zandex, should we attack them at night? The enemy has the advantage over us in this situation. Why not wait until the morning?” Moltar believed that their chances for victory were greater when the sun danced across the sky.

  “That’s why we launch our assault now; they won’t be expecting it while the moon shows its face within our lands.”

  With the alarm sounded, the sleepy village sprang to life…there were bodies running every which way. The men grabbed their spears and brown-headed torches to begin their mission of conquest over my family. The women, children, and elders hid in their animal skin homes.

  In the confusion, the guards left us unattended …I looked outside our shelter and saw our chance to flee. A quick decision; we ran. “Listen to me; be quiet, stay close together, and make our way to our fathers.” As we placed many steps between us and the clan, lightning struck a tree next to us…fire raced down to the earth with the noise of incendiary branches hurting our ears.

  “Where do we go, Ovark?”

  “There…” I pointed to a series of fires that dotted the hillside like stars hanging in the skies. My eyes blinked and there was no sign of father…now, the hillside was ablaze. Our rescuers had arrived.

  “Men, each of us must make a handful of fires, then set them roaring to the sky spirits. The enemy shall think there are many more of us than we have …fear shall guide their actions, foul deeds that the spirits can punish with our sharp spear points!”

  Our brave fighters scurried about finding dried bones and the occasional mammoth tusk to create their many fires…an illusion that there were far more of them than those they wished to meet in battle. Cherry red fires jumped to life; grey smoke lazily soared upwards to meet the sky spirits.

  Father and our hunters stopped their fire making and gazed down upon a thin line of lit torches hurriedly making their way to the hill. As they zig-zagged across the lands below their eyes, preparations for their eventual meeting recommenced.

  “Noble clan members…be patient and allow my plan to unfold as mentioned. They shall be surprised, and then have the advantage over them. May the spirits hand us victory in battle.”

  Our men hid in the grasses, waiting silently for an opportune time to strike the enemy, slay them like a beast that wanders the valleys of these lands.

  The raging fires disclosed the anxiety on the fighters’ faces, “Chetrix…there are many fires, but no-one tends or protects the fire pits. Where are the enemy? Did they run in terror at the sight of our burning torches?”

  Before a response could be formed on Chetrix’s nervous lips, an answer appeared from the darkness. A volley of spears whistled through the skies to thwart the advance of the unsuspecting clan; the harbingers of death found their targets…painful groans hung upon the dark skies, blood red squirted from deep wounds. The spirits arrived and took the lifeless, cold hands of those who perished.

  The first and then the second volley of spears did much damage to the advancing warriors. Moltar, Chetrix,
and Zandex lay dead in the blood-stained grasses. The remaining hunters from the Rolling Valley Clan were terrified by the massacre that had taken place. They realized the spirits were against them, and rather than die upon our spear points, they fled.

  “Tusik, should be give chase? We could easily kill many more as they run from us.”

  Before father could speak, the appearance of four grateful children provided an answer.

  “Father!” My arms were spread wide as a majestic eagle in flight…we were saved.

  Since I was only in several seasons of life, I was too young to remember every detail of my kidnapping by the Rolling Valley Clan. Nevertheless, this is what happened according to the words spoken from father’s lips…there is no reason to doubt the account of this sad event that our clan had to endure for so many unhappy moons and moons.

  3

  The sun smiled at the joyous reunion of the four captives with their fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and elders. Our clan was relieved that their children had been rescued and the perpetrators paid the price for such a devious act against us and our future.

  In our home, there was a river of smiles and hugs. The skies were clear blue; glistening purity, reflecting love for those below them. Everyone gave thanks to the spirits for returning us back to the clan and…we were all unharmed by those audacious thieves.

  “Ovark, you’re safe and have come back to your mother. I heard that you were brave beyond the few seasons that you have lived. Such bravery; trying to escape your captors and leading the other children to safety from that village. I am so proud of your actions in such a dangerous situation.” Tears flowed like the rains we received in the warm season, and like that rain our tears feed the grass green at our feet.

  My face felt hot and turned bright red. “It was father’s bravery and cunning that brought us safely back home. I was scared when they took me, but I vowed to return home to be the leader of our clan when the sun and moon have crossed the skies for many seasons. The spirits helped me stay strong when the sun was black, and the moon was hidden from my sight. Father, mother…I have many stories to share with you about my time spent with the Rolling Valley Clan. Their ideas shall help our clan.”

  There was confusion swirling around within me; a wild beast being chased here and there by a famished lioness with the will to survive danger. In my heart, I was glad to return home, but I also felt sad at the thought that Zandex and Moltar walked with the spirits; their life ended by our ebony spear points. Yes, they stole me and my friends; it was their desire to continue as a clan which blinded their eyes and clouded their wisdom. Still, what would father do if our clan faced the same possibility? I made a decision how I felt about the dichotomy that plagued me. While they travel with the spirits, I shall hold them in my heart, in a good way and not a bad way.

  “Son, you can share them with the entire family …we shall have a feast to thank the compassionate spirits that have given your life, as well as the other boys, back to us. Bundan, let the family know about the celebration, and Johar, can you organize the women to prepare food for us? This is special, and we must give praise to the spirits.”

  “Brave one, it’ll be a grand celebration that the sun and moon will share with the sky spirits for many seasons.” Bundan was gone.

  Then mother went about her duties with the other mothers. “Women of the Forest Clan, let’s bend our backs and master our hands to prepare the food to celebrate the return of our most cherished gifts from the spirits…our children.”

  Everyone was in motion; there was the hum of activity that spread throughout the cave. Dark shadows of the workers ran all over the cave walls; smoke curled up red from the fire pits; and laughter bounced about between those who toiled unselfishly.

  The women skillfully cut up the body of the beast killed by our hunters; children threw bones and tusks upon the hungry fires; elders watched over the youngest of the clan; hunters sharpened their spear points and bragged about their last confrontation with a wild beast. While all contributed, Narizon sat quietly and prepared for his duty to awaken the spirits to watch our celebration of love and appreciations to and for them…those that overcame the Rolling Valley Clan spirits to win our release and eventual return to our family.

  With preparations completed, we found our spot around the fire pit. The elders closest to the burning fire; next the children; then the women; and finally, the hunters sat the farthest away from the center of activity. Situated at the outer edge of the assembled clan members where they could protect us, even in celebration.

  Father began. “Members of the Forest Clan, again, we have worked as one to honor the sky, land, and water spirits. We moved as one to save our stolen children…we acted as one to bring this celebration to fruition. There is sacred nature for our unselfish ways; each clan member benefits from our cooperation to work as one. Let us continue to be as one, and not be selfish and uncaring towards our family members. It is our cooperation and reverence for those around and above us that enables our clan to survive in the bad times and enjoy the good times.”

  Tusik then raised his arms to the skies and addressed the many spirits that watched over us as their special people. “Spirits…you have generously returned our children to us, and now it is our responsibility to honor those who gave hope to us. We share this beast with you; may it please the spirits as it nourishes our bodies, minds, and souls.”

  Father then indicated that it was Narizon’s turn to take over and carry on with our laudatory narrative for the kind spirits. He rose from his furs, stared candidly at his family…eyes red with joy. All were silent.

  “Spirits of the Forest Clan; we praise you for your wisdom; we thank you for your guidance; we give tribute for your compassion.”

  He encircled the clan with his words and his actions. As he walked around the fire pit, he gazed intently at the ceiling of our cave, searching for something that would give his inspiration to continue his words. We saw nothing but an irregular surfaced vault above our heads. He discovered it…the words flowed as the drops of water dripping down from an ancient stalactite.

  “My family, there was a mighty battle that occurred in the lands of the seen and the unseen. Our people, led by Tusik, fought the enemy in the seen lands. As they stole our children we gave chase and caught them, and then slew them with our angry spear points. Their hostility and deceit were met by our most valiant hunters. Our brave men put an end to their wicked intentions. The spilling of their hot blood at our hands ended the battle that took place in the seen world. It was a victory we shall be proud of for many seasons to come.”

  I wondered what Narizon meant by the battle within the unseen world?

  “While our noble hunters fought a battle that was seen, our caring spirits fought a courageous battle against their spirits in the unseen lands. As our clan was successful at defeating an unjust enemy, so were our spirits. Our righteous spirits fought an unseen battle against those spirits who defended the unjust actions of those in the seen world…and ours won. The righteous shall triumph over the unrighteous…our spirits were more powerful than theirs. Is this not a sign that our spirits are just and fair? A sign that our clan is the most just and most fair?”

  Many heads nodded in amazement; even our spirits were against the evil that stole us from our families for their selfish plans.

  Before he spoke more wise words, he started to gyrate in dance to venerate the intrepid spirits. His hands were empty as he took several bouncing steps with one foot and then an equal number with the other foot. This pattern continued until a dusty cloud spread through our home. He twirled and twisted as a beast caught in the thorny branches of a low-lying bush. Pain etched upon his fiery brow, shoulders hunched in agony. Bare arms stuck straight out from his side …moved up and down as an eagle in flight. The sound of the wind under his wings resonated off the irregular shaped walls of our cave. Our ears stung from this sound.

  His head bobbed up to the skies and down to the lands, all the while s
pinning in an ever-larger circle. He hesitated and reached down for his rattle; as he resumed to move, the black animal skin draped over his bony shoulders appeared to live once more. The once dead beast escaped the hands of death and lived yet again as it turned into dark waves of undulating movement. We were mesmerized by Narizon’s primordial acts of reverence for the spirits of our lands, waters, and skies. He stopped.

  His sacred wooden staff appeared to jump into his outstretched hand; he securely latched onto it, and drew a large circle in the cave’s dirt floor. When the ends of the circle met, he motioned each of the four former hostages to enter into the hallowed area. We obeyed our shaman. Gnarled fingers placed delicate pink shell necklaces into our hands to wear around youthful necks. A symbol of manhood, we navigated through a sacred rite of passage. No words came from his mouth; there was no need to as he led by example …he danced, we danced. As we did, the clan joined in and chanted meaningless words of great importance to the spirits. They clapped their hands as one to rouse the sleeping spirits. We were not disappointed. A whirlwind of the sprits entered our home and nestled within each member of the family.

  After we completed dancing several rounds of the circle, Narizon spoke holy words to us. “Children, those saved by our kind and caring spirits, as the moon watches over us and keeps the sun out of the skies, you have the honor of contributing to this joyous celebration. The spirits have asked you to spill the blood of these juvenile deer brought back to the clan by our cunning hunters.”

  My mouth became dry; what did Narizon mean by ‘spilling the blood’ of the captured beasts? I soon knew, and it disgusted me.

  Our shaman blessed the knives he handed to each of us; in my nervous hand, it came to life. It would fulfil its purpose…the finale of this ritual would have the beast meet its ancestors, four freed children seen as hunters, and the spirits would be honored. I wondered if my young hand could muster the strength to end the beast’s life.