Journey of Awakening

by Shawna Thomas

“As for cause, my second son, Cais, has always been rash. He was the best warrior, the best hunter, the greatest fighter in the clan. Yet he would never be Akier.” The briefest of ironic smiles touched Niku’s mouth. He glanced at a younger man sitting slightly behind and to one side of the Regent Akier. “He acted for his tribe but without my knowledge. Without his brother’s, Trilian’s, knowledge.”

  “Are you so ill informed about your own tribe that such a thing could be planned under your very nose and you not know?” Tobar’s voice rose.

  The Rabishi Akier started and disappeared farther behind his father. Niku met Tobar’s fierce gaze and didn’t waver. Sara’s estimation of him increased. “For you to understand, you would have to know how things fare among the Rabishi. It will not excuse Cais’s action, but it will perhaps explain his reasoning. Or at least, what I believe his reasoning to be.” Niku fingered the tassels of the rug as he took several deep breaths. Strong emotion creased his face.

  “Once, the Rabishi were strong. We hunted the mighty beasts of the field, feasted on the fowl that flocked on the marsh and in the winter, fires and abundant stores kept us warm and filled our bellies. We were proud. I have come to believe that arrogance erodes wisdom. Many seasons ago, the river grew shallow, the fish began to disappear, then one spring, the fowl did not return. The great Jaybecks who live in the deep water pulled themselves on the shore and died in the sand.

  “My father sent scouts up the river. They returned with tales of a new lake. The river had been blocked by a village of northerners. He sent envoys. They did not return. He went himself.” Niku shook his head. “That is when I became Akier in my twenty-fifth summer. I have sent warriors to knock down the dam. They have not been successful. If Sabo-Wen was our father, the river is our mother and these tegosi are killing her. The field beasts no longer water along her banks, the grass withers, trees die. My people die. We are starving. After the last season of rain, a great sickness struck, taking our old and almost all our young.” Niku hit his fist into a hand with a resounding thump. “Cais looked to the south, saw how the Heleini prospered, knew what the salt pans and the traders would mean to our people. He had never seen a Heleini. To him, they were no more than tegosi. He grew up with stories of Heleini treachery.” Niku raised his hand at muttered protests from the Heleini elders. “Do not your old ones tell stories of Rabishi dishonor? I’ve often wondered what happened between our fathers. I was just a boy then and the councils of men didn’t interest me. I know my father would have given you the best of what we had to trade, but the best we’ve had has not been good and damn it, I know we needed that salt.”

  Niku rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry. Here is not the place to rehash old arguments. My pride is brought low before you, but then perhaps pride is another thing the Rabishi can no longer afford.” He met the council’s gaze. “Another generation and the name Rabishi will only be heard in tales told by the old around the fire on cold winter nights. Cais’s heart was for his people. He saw a way to give us a chance and now his blood feeds the earth far from his home.” Trilian placed on hand on his father’s shoulder. Niku grasped it. “My son died trying to bring salvation to his tribe but without my sanction and in vain.”

  Cais must have been the dark-haired warrior she cut down. “If it comforts you, he died well, as a warrior.” Her voice surprised her.

  Niku meet Sara’s gaze. “It does. Thank you.”

  Gunari reached for the amarin. “As for me, I am here to ask for pardon, not to offer excuses, but I too will explain the history behind my choice.” He glanced toward Sara. Gunari’s gaze intensified. “Among the Zorcani, it is unusual to take more than one wife but not unheard of. I had only one. She bore me many daughters, but only one son. It was her wish that I take another wife to bear more sons but I could not.” Gunari’s smile was wistful. “When she died, I should have taken another woman. Even then, I did not. Some people’s memory cannot be quieted and there was simply not room for another woman by my fire. Still my duty is to the people and their future and I should have put aside my feelings. When Shandor fell to the viper and Vadoma, our healer, could not bring him out of the land of shadow, a trader claimed his medicine was stronger than the old woman’s. I believed him and for a while, it seemed Shandor would recover. Then he grew weak and finally collapsed.” Gunari shook his head. “I was not only to lose a son, but my people would lose their inheritance. We would have lost the blood of the One. There would be no more Zorcani. This trader said he knew of a way. The Rabishi were hunting in our northern forests, the second son of the Akier, Cais, among them. He said they were willing to bring Tobar’s eldest to lead the Zorcani. I know now there are many flaws in my logic. I was lying to myself.”

  “A trader spoke to Cais in our village as well,” Niku said.

  Gunari shrugged. “When the trader spoke, his words seemed wise but I heard what I wanted to hear and no more. I have done what I could to repair the damage my desperation has caused and will accept the terms of compensation sent forth by this council.” Gunari hung his head and returned the amarin to the center of the rug.

  “Ta n-ameri salah, ta n-amiksan sadsa. The word of a friend makes you cry, the word of an enemy makes you laugh.” Durriken’s ancient voice broke the silence. “Do the young no longer learn our proverbs?”

  Tobar reached for the amarin. “I hear your words and see you were sorely tempted to the action that you took but that does not excuse it. This act demands retribution. It is my right to see the partakers punished.”

  “I think you mean revenge,” one of the Rabishi said.

  Tobar turned fiery eyes to the man. “Call it what you will.” His voice was iron. “The scales need balance.”

  Niku reached for the amarin. “Tobar is right. The scales must balance. What would you have from me? You want punishment? Retribution? I lost my son with no hope of his return. Compensation, perhaps? I could give you a tenth of my stores, isn’t that one of the old laws of recompense? A tenth of my stores I brought with me, barely enough to feed us on our journey. It is yours. I have no wealth or anything that passes for it. My lands are fallow. My people starve. I’d give you my back to scourge if that would appease you for all I have left is my dignity. What more can you take from me that I have not already lost? What would balance the scales, Tobar of the Heleini?”

  Tobar’s eyes were lit by a hidden fire, but he remained silent.

  “You could take my life.” Trilian spoke. “I offer it freely if you’ll but let me pass the bloodline on to one of my younger brothers.”

  Niku’s eyes widened. “No, Trilian. Not you too.”

  The members of the council glanced at one another, uneasy.

  Sara scanned the faces around the council, not seeing Rabishi, Heleini or Zorcani, but men. Fallible men who made mistake after mistake. She too wanted revenge. She wanted the Rabishi to suffer. But judging from Niku’s ravaged face and the story he told, he had suffered and was suffering still. She turned toward Gunari. Did she want the Zorcani to suffer too?

  Damn it. She extended her hand and after the slightest pause, Niku gave her the amarin. She took a deep breath, Ilydearta heavy against her breath. A way. “I am a tegosi, yet I have dwelled with the People. I have shed my blood and lost what is precious to me and now I sit here and listen to your council and I think, are these not one people? Didn’t one tribe follow Sabo-Wen from the Far South?” Sara shook her head. “I see three people, no ties, no bonds save those ancient threads that even now are breaking apart.

  “You argue about salt, about trade, about honor, but the wound that afflicts you is older than any of these and has been left untended far too long and now it’s poisoning the whole body.

  “What happened to your people?” She glanced from Niku to Tobar. “A trade dispute over salt? That was enough to separate two tribes? Look around you. Have you ever met? Niku claims his son had never set eyes upon a Helei
ni and viewed them as foreigners.” She turned to Gunari and Tobar. “Have your children ever seen the other tribes? Can’t you recognize the sorrow in your isolation? I’ve watched how the young look at each other, as though those of another tribe are something to be feared.”

  A deep weariness weighed her limbs. “I’ve heard the ancient stories and come to respect Sabo-Wen and he would not have wanted this for his people.” She faced the leaders. “Even more than deciding what recompense should be paid to whom and by whom, this council needs to decide for your tribes whether you are one people or three. Because if you are one, then the Rabishi’s problems are also the Heleini’s and the Zorcani’s. And if you are three...” Sara’s voice caught. “Then why are you here? Go back to your lands. Nothing will be accomplished at this council. There is no recompense for any of your actions. What’s done is done.”

  The air was thick with smoldering tempers. The room remained silent. Sara seemed to hear the words Zeynel spoke when they were in on the mountain. She turned to Tobar and repeated them. “Do not be too hard on them. They were dealing with a power that none of them can grasp, let alone defy.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Tobar spat.

  Sara sighed, suddenly exhausted. “I fight for what you should be fighting for: the People. Have you not heard what is being said here? Can’t you see the trader has played everyone, including you, like fools? He has told them what they wanted, needed to hear, and they believed him. You reacted exactly the way he expected you to. I am not saying there is no fault in Cais, Niku or Gunari, but consider how the trader manipulated the situation.

  “There is a story my grandfather told me many years ago about the mother and father of an ancient race. One day the mother was alone and a creature of great evil came to her and spoke words that filled her with wonder and put her in awe of her own power. She listened to this creature and did as it said, defying the One’s only command, and then she went to her husband and bid him to do the same. Because of this action, the people were cursed, separated from true communion with the One, unable to hear His voice. Many people, when they hear this story, blame the woman for being weak—but that is not the problem as I see it. The man and woman fell into the evil one’s snare because they were separated. Together, they could have seen through the false words into the truth of the matter.” Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back. “You are not one people, you are separate entities, blaming each other for your weaknesses, and because of this, you are more than weak, you are fools scrambling after a tegosi’s words, and because he has sprinkled some honey on death, you swallow it whole.”

  She turned to Tobar. “Do you really think you are any better? That you wouldn’t have done anything in your power to save your tribe? Weren’t you ready to paint the Faisach with blood to get your son back?”

  The elders glanced at one another; one made a gesture toward the amarin but when Sara glared at him, he dropped his hand.

  “Would the People Sabo-Wen brought out of the Far South have fallen under the conspiracies of a stranger no matter how pretty his words? Would the People of Sabo-Wen have succumbed to a tegosi’s intrigue? Would they have consented to stealing children from their beds? Or let other children die of starvation because they carry another name? You are not the People and you defile Sabo-Wen’s dream every time you use the term.”

  Murmurs of rage rippled through the group.

  Sara threw the amarin toward the center of the circle. Unshed tears blurred those gathered. “Zeynel, my companion, who I loved, died protecting your people. I cannot sit down and watch you take that death for granted. I cannot watch you degrade his sacrifice for petty differences.”

  The silence simmered, broken only by rustling fabric and the sound of discontent. The tide of anger swelled until Sara felt she would drown.

  Tobar reached for the amarin and the wave broke. “The healer’s words—” he swallowed, then continued, speaking each word with care, “—although harsh and difficult, ring of wisdom. Have we become blind like the tegosi? If we do not share anything—resources, friendship, even joy or sorrow—how then do we call ourselves a people?” Tobar took a deep breath and slowly panned the circle, meeting every eye. His voice strengthened. “I will put aside my right to be angry in order to embrace the wisdom to rule my people. Though I’ve never spoken it, I have not looked upon the Rabishi or the Zorcani as brothers. We have been separate and drifted from the dream of Sabo-Wen. It is time to break our silence. It is time to decide the future of our people.”

  Gunari reached for the amarin. “It is said, a house at war cannot survive. We—I have proven it. The Rabishi now suffer, but if the Zorcani and Heleini do nothing, who will then help us if we are in need?” He turned to Niku. “My brother, my heart grieves for you and your people. I have seen the Rabishi travel farther and farther south for meat. I have seen their robes are thin and I have closed my eyes. I beg your forgiveness. I will do so no more.” Gunari handed the amarin to Tobar.

  “It is on my tongue to say, had we known, but it is not true. I share your pride and held old wounds close to my heart where they cannot heal. I know now. It is time to put old grievances aside. We will burn these things in the sacred fire and even as we are now, celebrate Al Lycal. It is time to remember that your people are my people. The Heleini have stores enough. What you need, you make take.”

  Niku examined the rug before him. When he looked up, his eyes were bright with tears. “I do not know what to say. Your offers are life to my people and you know, each of you, what that means to me. I do not want to sound ungrateful, because I am not. But my peo—the Rabishi cannot depend on your generosity for long before we stop being a tribe.”

  Gunari and Tobar shared a long gaze.

  Durriken reached for the amarin. “What Niku says is right. If the Rabishi live off the Zorcani or the Heleini wealth, they will soon lose what makes them Rabishi and that will be a tragedy.”

  “But what can be done?” a Rabishi elder asked, a scar marred one side of his face. “I am old. I have lived to see everyone I know die. I rode with Niku because I thought this to be my last cold season and I wanted to die doing something for my people, but the One is more complicated than I imagine. I now see there was need of Rabishi memory and though I am old, my memory is long. I remember, though I was a small boy, when my tribe was strong. We have tried everything. The river is dying and we cannot return life to her banks.”

  “There is much Heleini land...” someone murmured.

  “The Rabishi, without the river?” another person asked.

  “What about a raid on the dam?” a Zorcani elder began. “Together we can push out the tegosi.”

  Sara reached into her pack and fingered a piece of leather.

  “In the thaw,” the elder continued, “the combined forces of the People could decimate the tegosi—”

  “There is another way.” Sara rescued the cloth. “Forgive me.” She nodded to the Zorcani. “But long ago, a friend of mine gave me a map.” She placed the leather swath on the rug before her. “In the west, there is a legend of Kaila, Anaman and Selia. The legend speaks of their gifts to mortals: vast fields of sea grass to appease man’s hunger, Bamako clams that can be harvested to make strings, ornaments or nets and translucent shells, larger than a man could span and all much prized by traders.” She paused. How to explain the images that Teann rippled through her mind?

  “Most legends spring from truth, and this one is no exception. The gifts exist. There are vast granaries of food in the sea and wealth to trade.” She nodded to the map. “The bay is north of your river along the coast. I see waves in your crest and your fate is indeed tied to water—but perhaps not little water in marshes and rivers, but great waters. Waveriders, conquering seas stretching farther than any of you can see. There—” Sara gestured again to the map, “—is your answer.”

  The men glanced around the room as
though afraid to rest their gazes on any one person.

  “You know of this place?” Niku asked.

  Gunari peered at it. “I have heard the traders speak of the legend but...” He turned to Sara. “Who dwells there now?”

  Sara studied the map. “Although there is wealth in water, the land is harsh and not easy to tame. There are no tegosi towns.”

  Niku scratched his chin. “How far is it? I do not wish to lose my brothers now that I have found them.”

  Sara shrugged. “I do not believe it would be too far. Not too far to journey every year to the Al Lycal.”

  The Rabishi nodded and turned to Tobar. “I could send scouts after the thaw—”

  “Brother, we will send scouts after the thaw. Until then, you may take what you need to keep your people full during the cold season. I know Gunari would be generous but his mountains are treacherous this time of year. Only a fool would dare traverse them.” A sparkle kindled in Tobar’s eye, drawing a half smile to Gunari’s face.

  “And your people?” Niku asked Tobar.

  “We have plenty and if we run low, the forests to our west are still full of life. It is not many days’ journey. It is settled?” Tobar asked.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Gunari and Niku nodded.

  Tobar stood and extended the amarin. The three Regent Akiers shared a solemn gaze; then Gunari and Niku stood in turn. Together they held the stick over the history of the people.

  Tobar spoke. “Too long have we been divided by mistrust and fear. It is not good for the People to be separate. Today we begin anew. We will honor Al Lycal. This day we speak with one voice.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Torches flickered in the sand just a length from the circle of men. The women had gone, taking with them all evidence of a feast, leaving in their wake a quiet night faintly disturbed by flicks and pops as flames battled the damp night air. A blackened circle sat a distance away, the last evidence of the sacred fire and an end to the hostility between the tribes. Eleven men sat under the stars, their breath rising in tendrils to disappear in the darkness. Five Zorcani, two Rabishi and four Heleini regarded one another, the light behind them so their faces were shadowed save for the flash of an eye as it caught the flames on the opposite side of the circle. Sara sat at Tobar’s side, every hair on her body charged with electricity. The deep night seemed to hold secrets in its cold breath, the atmosphere shifting with the light, solemnity replacing the last of the echoes of earlier laughter.