They saw the man standing on the village boulder. The man emerged from the sands of the boulder. The village boulder was holy land which the spirits of the underworld emerged. So they were told. The sun was at its zenith when the villagers saw the sands of the boulder shape into the man. Under the blazing sun, the villagers beheld the spectacle. Twirling and swirling, the sands began forming the man’s feet. A large wind rushed, lifting more sand from the boulder. So great was the wind, many of the villagers’ thatched roofs were blown away. The wind encircled the centre of the boulder. Suddenly, thunder erupted, releasing a bright orange burst of lightening within the centre of the wind. The burst of lightning was so powerful, streaks of the orange light ran below the feet of the villagers. The wind dissipated, revealing the man from the underworld.
A mighty man he was. He stood tall and fierce. Eagle feathers decorated his ankles. His legs were solid and shone like polished bronze pillars, with thick black bands of leather wrapped around the centre of this thighs and below the knees. The mighty man held a large bow and arrow. The bow was made of cedar also was the shaft of the arrow. The head of the arrow reflected the rays of the sun, breaking the various colours of the rainbow throughout the whole of the village. A tiny spine protruded from the arrow. The spine was the material as that of the darkness between the night stars.
The villagers watched in awe of the being. No one knew why the being had arrived. The village royal house ordered the village shaman to investigate the matter. The shaman could speak in dialects of the underworld. Through him, the village monarchy believed that the shaman could understand what was happening. Such as never happened before. The village scholar rushed through the ancient texts with the hope to find a past occurrence of the phenomena that the village was experiencing. While the royal house was ordering the shaman and scholar to investigate the matter, the unthinkable happened.
A court guard of the royal house heard a loud cry from the village. He looked up and saw the mighty man raise his bow and arrow. The mighty man’s pteruge never broke form. The mighty man’s bicep tightened as he pulled the arrow backwards. The arrow lined perfectly under the man’s eyes; eyes that shone like the full moon. Eagle feathers, adorned with gold and ruby stones, crowned the man’s head. Someone yelled from the crowd. The person yelled as if aiming to stop the mighty man. Undeterred, the mighty man released the arrow. The arrow shot straight to the sun.
While the arrow flew to the sun, the mighty man vanished. Doing so, a large wind blinded the whole village. So fierce was the wind that not a single person could look into the sky. As the dust settled once more over the village, the villagers were left in horror. The sky had been robbed of the sun.
“What is the meaning of this?” The King asked the shaman fuming in anger.
“My Lord. I do not know,” the shaman replied.
“Do not tell me you do not know! You! Scholar, what did you find in the royal library?” The King directed his anger towards the scholar.
“My Lord. Shama and I are in the same boat. I am sorry my Lord but I too do not know what is the meaning of all this,” the scholar replied.
So angry was the King that his breathing echoed in the royal chambers. “No one tells the villagers that the royal house does not know what is going on until we understand what is going on,” ordered the King.
Outside the royal house, the village was surrounded in absolute darkness. Fear, panic and a strange euphoria captivated the hearts of the villagers. One by one, they provided philosophies and theories about the darkness. The eldest claimed that they remember such a night. They say that the village once met such a darkness before. At the time, the darkness came at night. The darkness aroused from the boulder. They said that it rose like a cloud of smoke from a great fire, drifting into the night enshrouding the stars. No light penetrated the darkness that night. That night, they say, it was the night that she died.
“These old people! Who’s she?” scolding the younger generation.
“Well, we cannot say who it is. It is forbidden,” said Dema, the eldest in the village.
“Why is it forbidden to say who she is?” asked Shefra, the command leader of the village warriors.
“Well, it is complicated. You, yes you. Young man gather wood from the side of any house so we can make fire. Go quickly before the orange light beneath us disappears,” ordered Dema.
As the young boy rushed quickly to gather wood, the sky began getting darker. Slowly, the sky was turning into a rich, deep and dark shade of purple. The villages watched in awe. Some lit fires by their homes. Village artists took the opportunity to engrave the phenomena into rocks. With fire they captured from the heat of the orange light beneath them, they wasted no time in recording the events of the day. So too did the village sculptors and potters. They rushed to create replicas of the mighty being and his mighty fine bow and arrow. Finally, the young boy came back with the timber.
“Right, be careful now. The orange light is hot so place the wood wisely young man,” instructed Dema,” right, the forbidden one. But first, send your man out with light. Let them patrol the area for any men from the royal house. If they hear this story, we will be killed without question.”
Shefra ordered 133 of his men to patrol the village. Luckily for them, the royal house gave the village freedom to live the way they saw fit. The army of the royal house was independent so as such, the royal house had its own army as well. A constructive peace existed between the village and the monarchy that it never occurred to the villagers to go against the royal house. However, there were days where the royal house held ceremonies where Shama, the royal shaman, demonstrated his powers to the village. Shama could bend the space between trees and summon waters to spring from rocks. This display of power reminded the villagers of the royal house’s power and that it was to be respected at all time.
Shefra sent out 133 of his men to patrol the area and to report to him if they saw anyone from the royal family. Once the men were out of sight, one of them shot a green projectile into the sky, indicating that the men are in formation and that they have begun the patrol. With the clear signal from his men, Shefra motioned to Dema to continue with the story.
“So, the forbidden one. On that night, the father’s king-“ Dema abruptly stopped speaking. An arrow protruded from his mouth. Trickles of blood dripped into the fire below him. Someone had shot an arrow which pierced Dema at the base of his head. Shocked gripped Shefra and everyone around him. He quickly reached for his spear. The thickness of the darkness made it difficult for him to see. He searched the area for the assailant. Nothing. Shortly afterwards, as if it was synchronised, shots of red projectiles shot into the sky- 133 in total. Shefra knew that his men – all of them - were in trouble.
“These fools!” Shama yelled at the top of his voice. Without explaining himself, he reached for one of the torches that hung on the walls of the royal courts. He rushed out the court's door, ordering two of the strongest warriors of the army to follow him. Behind him, Donam, the scholar, ran towards him.
“Shama! Wait!”
“Donam, you know I can’t do that.”
“Just wait. Shama-“ Shama foreseeing what Donam was going to say, quickly rendered the two warriors deaf and motionless.
“Shama, I know what you thinking and I know where you going.”
“The village imbeciles decided to discuss that which should not be discussed. I am the only one who knows how to handle the matter. Plead ignorance to the King or else he will have our heads.”
“Understood. Good… good luck my friend,” Donam said.
Shama simply nodded to Donam. He unmuted the warriors and restored their hearing. They were oblivious to what had happened.
“What you waiting for? Let’s hurry!” Shama yelled.
Shama ran past one of Shefra’s men. He was not dead. He was just paralysed. His body was marked with an orange slug that ran from his forehead to his bellybutton. Froth kept bubbling in the man’s eyes. The man seemed to have collapsed. Using the torch, Shama searched for any footprints or animal prints around the body. There was none. Fear seized his heart. He turned around and ordered one solider to tell Donam that it is true. He ordered the other solider to tell Shefra in the village that his men are not dead. While the two soldiers ran to fulfil their respective orders, he reached inside his cloak. Inside the cloak, he pulled a medallion made from the hooves of the wild cows that roamed the outskirts of the village. He held the medallion and knelt down. Raising the medallion slowing to the dark sky, instantly, he vanished into the nothingness.
Shama teleported to the centre of the mountain boulder. On top of the boulder, the sun shone with great intensity. The fierceness of the sun was so great that it concentrated the air on top of the boulder. The concentrated air felt like walking through solid cement. The air felt like breathing desert sand. Shama knew that he had to press forward. He kept walking. Each step that he took drew blood from his shins. The skin of his feet melted into his sandals. For the sake of his village, he had to keep on. In the eye of the centre of the boulder was where he had to reach. For what seemed to be an eternity, he finally reached the eye of the centre which was a fissure in the boulder. The pressure of the concentrated air weighed heavy on his shoulders. The intensity of the sun clawed on his back. Without thinking about it, he let himself fall into the fissure.
During his descent, the inner walls of the fissure sparkled with purple and maroon gems that he had never seen before. Magically, his skin restored itself while he fell. The fall seemed to never end and he fell asleep. Suddenly, he found himself in new clothes. There he was. In the land of the underworld.
Shama hoped that his medallions and elixirs were still on him. Nothing. He searched himself and found nothing. Desperate to find them, he tried unclothing himself. He couldn’t. The lime and light purple robes were fastened in such a way that it was impossible to unknot them. Fear caused him to fall to a single knee. However, he remembered. He remembered that he was entrusted with the knowledge of the underworld. With this in mind, Shama sat on the orange grass. He prayed for inner strength to continue his journey.
“Who are you praying to? Forgot you pray to us?” said a voice laughing.
Shama shot up, startled by the voice.
“Do not be afraid. You are rightfully chosen to be here. Come with me.” The voice said.
“I do not see you,” replied Shama.
“Of course you do. Follow me.” Ordered the voice.
Shama did not understand how he could follow that he could not see. While he thought about this, he felt a tingle in his eyes. Slowly his vision heightened. He looked at the grass beneath him. The blades of the grass lost form. The insects that lived on the grass amplified and grew large in size. Suddenly, the insects reduced in size and the blades of the grass regained their form once more. Not understanding what was happening to him, he searched around looking for any form of help. He felt scared and he could feel the loneliness of being the only human grapple with his soul. While looking around, a form in the distance emerged.
“Can you see me now?”
“Yes, yes I can.”
What Shama saw was nothing that he ever saw before. So magnificent was what he saw, the silhouette glowed with a fine radiance of white light. He could tell that the figure in front of him was human. The swerve of its shape suggested that the human was a woman. He wasn’t sure whether indeed the figure was a human but it looked like it.
“Now, come to me,” the being said.
With nowhere else to go, Shama approached the being. His body was in automatic. He felt his body approach the being. The underworld had no hills. There were only endless plateaus. Trees grew larger at every horizon that he saw. Suddenly, his feet left the ground. He was floating faster towards the being. The closer he reached the being, he noticed he wasn’t wrong. The being was human. A female human.
“The villagers. Their selfish ignorance to see a male king has brought them the peril that they are in now. Unfortunately for them, they have you,” she said.
“Why unfortunately?” Shama asked.
“Who is protecting them now? Donam? He only has the knowledge of the ancient texts. He doesn’t have what you have.”
“What is that?”
“Do not ask such foolish questions as if you are the village fool. You know what I mean.”
Embarrassed, Shama chose to keep quiet. Indeed he was clueless about what he had that Donam did not have. They were both students of Master Qink. Donam chose to study the theory of the ancient texts and he decided to study the practical application of the ancient texts. They worked as a team for one could not operate without the other. Now, this being, this being that claims is the one his prayers reach, is telling him he has that which his best friend does not have. His best friend who together, are the only ones who understand the ancient texts of the village.
“I could imagine how it felt,” the being asked.
The being added to his confusion.
“The years of learning how to harness the powers of the ancient texts. Master Qink’s assistant told you that you should never touch a woman if you wanted to harness those powers didn’t he?” the being asked.
The words hit his heart. Deep in his heart, in the chambers that housed his true emotions, Shama longed to touch a woman. He envied his friends who got married. Master Qink’s assistant, Kinsa, told him that for the path that he has chosen, he had to renounce all of his masculinity. On the day of his ascension as chief shaman of the village, as per the orders of the school, he was castrated and his genitals fed to wild birds. He remembers that he cried that whole night in the arms of his best friend, Donam.
“Look at you now. Was the price worth it?” the being asked Shama.
“Yes. For look at me now. I am in the presence of the being to which I pray to,” Shama responded. His words carried the hurt that was in his heart.
“Who you did not even know it was who you pray to. Come. Lay with me under this tree.” The being motioned Shama to the tree in front of them.
The tree looked like an oak tree but it felt like cedar to the touch. He could hear that the tree was breathing. He looked closer and saw what looked like eyelids. Indeed the tree was asleep.
“Come, lay with me,” the being motioned to Shama to join him. She was already lying on the orange grass. It was only then that Shama saw that she was wearing a loosely fit golden dress. The gold of the dress complimented the rich bronze of her skin.
“Come now,” she said with impatience in her voice.
The tree, while its eyes closed, yelled at Shama to join the being on the grass. The loud booming voice of the tree reverberated throughout the whole landscape. The voice felt like the roar of a lion. His knees felt weak at the command of the tree that Shama fell on the being’s belly.
“Oh, oh so-“Shama deeply embarrassed said.
With a laugh, the being interrupted, “oh no don’t worry! You are where I want you.”
Shama could tell that she was running her fingers in his hair. Her fingers like that of rose petals, gently brushing against his sculpt. It was the first time feeling the touch of a woman.
“The village is in peril and they have sent you to save them,” she said.
“Well, they did not send me. I sent himself,” Shama said.
“And why would you do that?” She said.
“To save my people,” Shama responded.
“Why do you sound sad when you say those words?” She asked.
“Sad, I am not-“
“Do not lie!” The tree yelled once more at Shama. Its voice vibrating every bone his body.
“He’s very protective,” laughed the being.
“Well, I am sad. I am sad that here I am to save them. I am sad that my life has been about them and not me. I am sad that my life has been about the King and not me. I am sad that here I am, in the bosom of a heavenly woman and there is nothing I could do but talk with her,” Shama confessed to the being. He could not stop the tears flowing down his eyes.
“Well, you have come to save them. Not the way which you expect. Not in the way that the ancient texts have taught you. Let me tell you a story that has never been told before,” the being said. She raised Shama up. Her hazel eyes looked deeply into Shama’s eyes. She held his hands. Shama felt eternally locked with her.
“My brother was born after me. That was a reality that the villages could not stand. My mother, she died to the angry mob attacks. My father, he sold me out. The ancient texts say that he sacrificed me at the expense of my mother. That is a lie. He ordered my mother to talk with the mob knowing that she being a woman, will be killed. To protect his namesake, he knew that the village will only accept his son to take the throne. You see, I was at the age where the king’s heir ascends the throne. The village was not ready to be led by a woman.
So, my father, he took me to the centre of the village. He made such a spectacle of it. He told the villagers that as King, he cares for them and loves them. Yet, he traded fathers of sons and daughters as slaves to those that came by sea. He told his village that while he is alive, he will ensure that law and order is maintained. Finally, he ordered his commander-in-chief to tie a rope on the large tree that marked the centre of the village. And there it was, the noose to strangle his daughter.
I remember crying and fighting my father. You know, he was a large and mighty man. My puny attempts of freedom only encouraged him on. He grabbed the noose with one hand. His commander-in-chief asked whether should he do it or will my father do it himself. My father said that he is the King. As King, he had to do. In that moment, he forgot that he was my father and I, his daughter. He grabbed the noose with one hand. He looked at me. He saw my tears. He saw that fear rendered my tongue useless. He felt that the fear he induced in me paralysed me. He felt my bowels empty themselves on him. And yet, he did not flinch. He simply said that I now go to join my mother. And just like that, he strapped the noose around my neck and watched me empty the air in my lungs.”
Shama did not know how to react. He looked at her. She illuminated so brightly that he could not look at her for long. He looked away. To his shock, he saw the noose hang by the tree behind them. It was at the moment he understood why he was the chosen one. In his one studies, he discovered that the boulder in the village emerged after the princess’ death. It simply erupted from the Earth with great force. So much so that Master Qink suggested to the King, the princess’ father, to forbade the death of her daughter. Kinsa further suggested that her memory and existence be erased from the village’s histories.
They commissioned the then apprentice Shama to burn all accounts of the princess. Shama did not. He took them and stored them deep in his personal library. Only his friend, Donam knew about them.
“This is why you here Shama. You here to save your village from the awful actions of my father,” she said, “the gods have granted me the powers to help you. You only have this moment.”
Overwhelmed Shama asked, “What must I do my Queen?”
“Kiss me.”
Shama felt his heart skip a few beats. He had never kissed a woman before. He felt her hands squeeze his hands. Sweat emerged from his forehead.
“Like yourself, I too do not know what love is. The gods have given me this opportunity to experience it. Even if it is for a moment. Kiss me Shama,” she said.
Shama, not knowing what to do, closed his eyes. He waited. Perhaps there is something that he must do. Perhaps he is doing something but doing it wrongly. Suddenly, he was derailed in his train of thoughts. Her lips pressed against his. The softness of her lips melted on his. The sweetness of her kiss flowed in his nerves.
She pulled away, savouring the moment. He froze, savouring the moment. At that moment, he felt his whole body become restored.
“It’s time.” A loud voice yelled.
“Shama, thank you,” she said. She smiled at him. The woman that he sat with transformed into a little child. Her neck began to leak blood. She looked at Shama and began to cry. With each tear that fell on the grass, she slowly vanished into the nothingness. He looked at the tree and saw that it had taken the form of a bow and arrow.
In his heart, he knew what to do. He stood up. Looking into the endless plateaus, he thanked her for restoring him and clearing his heart. Strength coursed his veins. His body felt strong and able. He walked over to the bow and arrow.
“Pick them up,” the voice ordered Shama.
With a clear mind, Shama picked the bow and arrow up. As he did, the nothingness around him crowned him with a headdress made of large eagle feathers adorned with gold and ruby stones. The nothingness wrapped his thighs with thick black leather bands, below his knees too. The power that came with the bow and arrow lifted the ground below him, adorning his ankles with the same eagle's feathers as his headdress. Streaks of orange lightning erupting from his hands. The ground lifted him to the skies.
In his heart, he had the strength of the princess’s love. The rightful ruler of his home. He knew what to do. He was ready to fulfil his purpose.
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