Date: Sat, 14 Feb 2004 13:52:52 -0800 (PST)
From: Warren Powers <supergenious2003@yahoo.com>
Subject: Journey Through Kajahri - Chapter Four

Chapter 4: Like a Nun With a Ruler


The next day was the first time Saret ventured outside my Claba. I had to
warn him not to speak his language, or the secret that he was
otherworldly would be out. He spent most of his time wandering around,
admiring the tall trees which surrounded our small valley, trying to
remain as inconspicuous as he could. Later on, when I was skinning a deer
for dinner, he approached me.

"Nefan," he whispered. "The trees here are humongous! On Earth, there
aren't many trees left, and even those are only one third the size of
these!"

I looked at him, annoyed. "If you're going to bother me, at least have
a good reason!"

Glaring at me, he sat down. "Ok, how's this for a reason: I can't talk
to anyone! That big burly troll guy over there keeps trying to ask me a
question or something, and I end up just walking away. I think he's
going to kill me or something." His eyes were wide and he played with
the ends of the tunic I had given him.

Sighing, I set my knife down and glanced around, to make sure no one was
watching us. "Tomorrow, after The Hunter's Festival, Kahtroki has
agreed to spend a week teaching you Ishall. It's the standard slave
tongue, and almost everybody speaks it."

Saret looked panicked. "I have to learn a new language?! I barely passed
French, and I can still only say, `where is the bathroom, good sir?'
How am I going to learn a new language in a week? And what is the
Hunter's Festival?"

I sighed and picked my knife up again. "The Hunter's Festival is a
celebration that the members of Kahtroki's Clabaharem perform every
year, as the Blue Moon of Phaos sets, and the Red Moon of Ghava rises. It
is said that every hundred years, on this night, strange, magical
energies are released, and transformations occur. All the Tree Sprites of
the Clabaharem were once humans, the dancers, who were transformed on the
night of the Hunter's Festival. I myself am dancing tomorrow tonight."

Saret looked at me in the eyes, skeptical. "That would mean that the
Sprites are all hundreds of years old."

"Yes," I told him. "The Tree Sprites are immortal. They will never die
unless the forest does."

He considered this and seemed to accept it. "So does that mean that
during this festival you will turn into a Tree Sprite?"

I shook my head. "No. There have been some occasions where people have
been transformed into other creatures, and some occasions where people do
not transform at all. Sometimes trolls, sometimes animals, and there is a
legend that long ago, a man transformed into a dragon."

Saret rolled his eyes. "Oh please, a dragon? Dragons don't exist."

I sighed again. "You have been magically transported to a world other
than your own. Don't you think it's a little stupid to deny the
existence of something you know nothing about?"

He shrugged. "Well then what other mythical creatures have you got here?
Unicorns? Pegasus'?" He sniggered. "Werewolves?"

I whipped around and looked him in the eyes. "Damn it, Jake, I`ve had
enough of your arrogance. Leave me and let me do my chores! You can
bother me with your incessant questions after the Festival. If I don't
skin this thing, we won't eat tonight." He looked shocked at my
outburst. I grabbed his arm. "Come with me, we'll find you something to
do."

I walked briskly over to Julu, the slave master of the Clabaharem.
"Julu," I asked, in Ishall. "My Shall needs to be broken in. Put him
to work, please."

Julu looked Saret up and down, sizing him up. Saret shrank away, but I
pushed him forward. "He doesn't speak Ishall, so you'll basically have
to treat him like a child." Julu scowled, this wasn't going to be fun
for him.

"What do you want him to do?" Julu asked. "I can have him work the
forge, Hava just got off."

"Yes, fine, whatever. Just keep him busy." I walked away, intent on
finishing my chores and preparing for the festival, my heart beating
furiously as Saret's last comment drilled into my brain.

Werewolves?

***

"Harkesh est tula gurn." The giant man pushed me forward into a strange
machine composed of ropes and pulleys. "Harkesh est tula gurn, ick
forlack sone!" Frustrated, I help my arms in a confused manner, and
pointed to my ear, shaking my head. I didn't understand.

The man sighed and showed me what I was supposed to do. Taking an armful
of ropes, he leaned back and put what looked like a horse's bit into his
mouth. Then, he swayed back and forth moving both the ropes and the bit
with him. Trailing the ropes with my eyes, I could see that they
connected through pulleys and somehow powered a huge fan, which fed
oxygen to the giant fire of a forge. He thrust the ropes at me and walked
away. "Okay," I thought to myself, "I can do this."

I put the bit into my mouth and spit it out right away. Caked blood
remained on the edges of the metal, and rust joined it. I rubbed it on
the tunic Nefan had given me, and reluctantly put it back in my mouth.
"This is just great," I thought. "A week ago I was sitting around the
house, cruising the net, and now I'm here in some alternate dimension or
something, doing slave labor. If I didn't know this wasn't a dream,
I'd expect Mister Rogers to jump out in a pinstripe suit and start doing
the Tango with a grizzly bear." Grabbing the ropes in my hand, I started
to work.

***

When I finished skinning the deer, I brushed myself off and prepared to
go see Kahtroki. As I passed the slave hut, I glanced out of the corner
of my eye and saw Saret in the boiling room, working the forge. I
stopped, my eyes widening at what I saw. He had stripped off his shirt
and was straining against the ropes. A thin layer of sweat covered him,
making him glisten in the sunlight, like some kind of god. His muscles
bulged as he worked the forge, and his legs braced against the walls for
traction. I stood there, in a trance, captivated by his movements. I was
considering going over to him, when Samali bumped into me, jerking me
from my reverie.

"Hey Nefan." He said, trailing my line of sight. "Watching the
slave-boy are you?" He tilted his head and zipped around me in circles,
his wings beating so fast you could barely see them.

"Shut up, Samali." I said, blushing. "Have you seen Kahtroki?" I
glanced back at Saret, who was wiping his forehead, breathing heavily.

"Yeah, she's in the Galaclaba. I think she's waiting for you." When I
didn't turn to face him, he zipped right in front of my eyes, blocking
my view. "Hey Nefan! Quit staring at the boy, he's only a slave."

I turned to Samali. "Yeah," I said, frowning. "You're probably
right."

He laughed. "Probably? Oh please Nefan. "He chuckled and zipped away.
Scowling, I looked back towards the forge, but Saret was gone. Shaking my
head, I continued to the Galaclaba, the Main Hall of the Clabaharem,
intent on speaking with Kahtroki. I needed to know about my dance, and
the legend of transformation.

Suddenly, the doors of the Galaclaba burst open and Kahtroki swooped down
the steps, her purple tunic whipping behind her, heading straight for me.
I placed the back of my hand to my forehead and knelt before her.
"Klasaka, Mistress."

She grabbed my arm and raised me to my feet. "There's no time for that,
child." She snapped, whisking me away with her, heading for my Claba.

"Mistress," I asked, almost tripping over my own feet. "What's going
on?"

She shushed me and thrust me in the door, locking it behind her. "Why
didn't I figure it out?" She said, seemingly to herself.

"Figure what out?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

She sat on my bed and motioned for me to do the same. "Nefan," She
began, her eyes filled with an emotion I couldn't quite place.
"There's something I have to tell you."

I sat beside her and tried to keep the anticipation out of my voice.
"What is it, Mistress? What's wrong?"

She looked me in the eye and I could tell she felt sorry for me. I
didn't know why. "My child," She paused, thinking of the right words.
"Tomorrow is the Festival, and you know that you will be dancing."

I nodded, Saret's words still stuck in my brain.

"Well, we all know that the only ones who have transformed have been the
dancers."

Again, I nodded, fear building inside me.

"You are doing the dance of the wolf." She said, and impatience started
to build inside of me.

"Yes? And what about it?" I clenched the blanket beneath me in my
hands.

"Boy, do you not see where I am going with this?" Kahtroki's voice was
shrill. "You will transform on the night of the festival, and the
priests say that it is highly unlikely you will transform into a sprite.
In fact, they say you will transform into something that no one has seen
before."

My eyes widened, my fears confirmed. But it was my destiny to change; it
was my destiny to greet the Moon Ghava. "I understand." I murmured.
"And I am ready to accept my fate."

Kahtroki flung her hands up. "No! No you don't understand! There is a
problem!" She got up and paced my floor. This was quite unlike Kahtroki,
who had always been a calm, composed woman. "This intervenes with the
prophecy! If you change, well, there's nothing in the prophecy about you
changing!"

My head spun. "What prophecy, Mistress?"

She kneeled in front of me, clutching my hands. "Nefan, what I'm about
to tell you is going to be hard to hear. But you must listen, and you
must believe."

I nodded my head.

"Prophecy foretells of a boy, a boy who has no mortal parents and is
left in the forest as a child."

I blinked.

"This boy is said to have no weakness to the evil one and will be able
to face her, you know of whom I speak." Kahtroki glanced at me, and at
once I knew she was talking about Phantara. "Untouched by the evil
one's men," She grabbed my toe. "He will unite with the one who will
save us all. The one from the other world."

My eyes widened again, memories flooding my brain. The altar where I was
found. Finding Saret naked in the forest. It all connected.

"Are you telling me that the Prophecy is about me and Ja-, I mean
Saret?"

Kahtroki closed her eyes. "Yes. You both are the ones who will save
Kajahri. You are the ones who will destroy Phantara."

Tears streamed down her face, as she watched me from the floor. "Soon,
you both will have to leave us. But there is something that the priests
of long ago did not anticipate. You were chosen by Ghava to do the
Hunter's dance. That tattoo on you stomach is no normal inking. It
appeared overnight, while you slept. There is nothing we can do. You have
to dance tomorrow, because if you don't Ghava will not rise, and Sancta
Woods will die."

I rubbed my temples; information seemed to be swelling my brain. "And
what about Saret?" I asked. "He cannot even speak Ishall. How will he
stop Phantara?"

Kahtroki smiled. "I have devised a plan for Saret to speak Ishall. It
involves pain, but it will give him the language in a matter of hours."

I nodded, almost in a trance. "When will we leave?"

Kahtroki shook her head, the smile vanishing. "We do not know. The
festival changes everything. We simply have top hope for the best." I
nodded. "And Nefan," I raised my head to look at her, standing by the
door. "Don't repeat this to anyone. Even your Shall." She closed the
door and left me to my solitude.

* * *

I arose from bed early the next morning, wanting to see the final setting
of Phaos for the year, last night's events still fresh in my mind.

The large blue moon slowly descended into the horizon as the sun rose
behind me, and I shivered in the chill morning air.

Soon the rest of our small village was up and bustling around, the
excitement of the upcoming festival almost palpable in the air.  I heard
approaching footsteps, and felt a hand on my shoulder.

"I know how you must be feeling." Kahtroki said, sighing.

"Yeah."  I lowered my head and looked at the ground. "Will everything
be different? Will I ever see you again after tomorrow night?"

Kahtroki sighed again. "I told you already, Nefan. We don't know. The
best thing you can do for now is to just try to enjoy the night of the
festival. You're not dancing until tomorrow so just try to have some
fun. I will meet with Saret in about an hour to teach him Ishall, so
please instruct him to meet me in the Galaclaba." She walked away.

I nodded and turned to go to my small house. Saret lay curled in the
corner, his arms wrapped around his body, shivering. I gently prodded him
and his eyes slowly opened. "Good morning, Nefan." He smiled.

"Uh huh." I mumbled, almost in a trance. "You have to go meet Kahtroki
in about an hour; she's going to teach you Ishall."

His eyes lighted up. "Finally! I've been here almost a month and I
haven't been able to talk to anyone! How long will it take?"

"Don't get too excited, Jake." I commented as I changed my tunic
behind my privacy screen. "She says it won't take more than a few
hours, but it will be painful."

The light in his eyes vanished and he sighed. "That figures. I'll get
going."

He walked through the door and slowly closed it.

Glad to be rid of him, I took a deep breath and began my preparations for
the festival.

* * *

Nefan seemed to be in an unusually bad mood today. Normally he was fierce
and domineering; always barking orders. But today he was quiet and seemed
to have some kind of inner turmoil.

But the prospect of finally learning Ishall sent my thoughts of Nefan to
the furthest corner of my mind as I entered the main hall of the large
house of Kahtroki, eager to finally learn that language.

"Est Gurfnab!" A guard approached me and narrowed his eyes.

"Shala gurfnab yal ur." A female voice issued from the doorway, making
the guard spin around. "Jak osses to krall." The man ran off, throwing
a surprised look my way.

"Hello, Saret." The woman said, speaking English, or what she would
call "The Language of Phantara". "My name is Kahtroki, as you probably
already know. Nefan Hararant has informed me of your plight, and it is
good that you have not spoken in your language to any of the other
villagers. They would not have understood and the slaves would almost
definitely have killed you." She then stood and admired me for a moment.
But before I could ask her, she turned suddenly. "Please follow me."

Giving me no time to respond, she walked briskly through a maze of
hallways, almost losing me. I quickly realized that the building was
larger than it appeared outside. After going down several staircases, I
realized that the majority of the complex was subterranean. Finally, we
both emerged into a large room that was littered with lighted candles.
This chamber, just like Nefan's house, was covered in strange glowing
markings.

"Please unclothe yourself and lay on the table." She instructed. 
Embarrassed, but eager to learn, I quickly complied, dropping my ragged
tunic and laying face down onto the table.

"Now, what has Nefan told you about this?"

"Not much," I said. "Just that it will be painful."

"Yes," She replied. "It will be. Here, let me show you what I am going
to do. Give me your hand." She maneuvered herself to the front of the
table, and took my right hand. "I am going to use a pen to ink the
alphabet of Ishall into your skin, and as your body absorbs the ink, so
will your mind. Do you understand?"

I nodded hesitantly; something in myself denied me to speak.

Kahtroki took a small pen from an ebony box on an adjoining table,
dipping it in a strange fluid. It shimmered like the iridescent hue of a
bubble laid out flat. She took my hand and pressed the strange pen into
the skin on the back of my hand.

"Aaaah!" I cried, and tore away from her grasp. As soon as the pen had
touched my skin, a searing pain ripped through my head.

Kahtroki smiled softly and retrieved my hand. "I told you this was going
to be painful, so please try to tolerate it. In order for this to work I
have to tattoo each letter on a certain place of your body. Some places
will hurt more than others." She winked, and when she saw that I was not
placated, she crossed her arms.  "I'm doing you a favor you know."

I nodded again and bit my lip, as the pain once more ripped through my
body. It seemed to take forever as she meticulously carved a detailed
symbol onto my hand.

"There," She said, blinking because of the soft light. "That's one
out of forty seven. Take a look." I raised my hand just in time to see
the intricate symbol disappear into my flesh.  Suddenly, my mind flashed
and I knew that the symbol meant the same as the English letter "A".

"Wow." I said, the head rush dulling the pain somewhat.

Kahtroki smiled, grabbing my left hand. "Alright, let's continue."

* * *

Two hours later, my entire body sore, the final symbol of the Shall
alphabet vanished into the skin on my buttock.

"Saret," Kahtroki said. "Can you understand me?"

"Of course I can, you're speaking English." I got up and pulled my
tunic over my head.

She smiled. "No, I'm not. And neither are you. We are both speaking
Ishall."

Suddenly I realized that while I was hearing English, in the back of my
mind I was actually just hearing Ishall and then translating into English
for myself. "Wow."

Kahtroki helped me to my feet, the effects of the long tattooing process
still evident in my shaking legs.

"You know, Saret..." She started.

"Yes?"

"If you wanted, you could participate in the festival."

My eyes must have brightened the room like the sun in a dark place.
"Really? I can?"

She smiled, and something hidden became evident in her eyes. I was
strangely reminded of someone, but I couldn't quite place who. Suddenly,
I staggered backward as if I had been slapped. Kahtroki had the remnants
of a vegetable stuck in her teeth, and I finally made the connection.
"Y-you!"

She smiled sheepishly and nodded.

My increduility didn't subside as my mouth hung open.

"Mrs. Kahtrokis?!"