Kenly's Tales - D'anyu's Saga

Kenly's Tales - D'anyu's Saga

D'anyu ran.

The trip from the warrior's shrine to the summer camp was a long one. Had D'anyu begun the journey at dawn, D'anyu knew he could have walked to their camp and reached it by late afternoon. Running, he would have reached the camp well before noon. But it was already late in the afternoon when D'anyu had finally returned from the underworld. D'anyu was the fastest runner in his tribe, but even he was unlikely to complete this desperate journey before sunset.

Tonight would mark the passing of a complete cycle of the moon since D'anyu had last been home. Because D’anyu now traveled alone, without anyone to accompany him, D’anyu’s spirit would be deemed unclean and unfit to return to his tribe. He had spent too much time in the dark and the evil spirits which haunted the darkness would be expected to have claimed his soul. D'anyu knew that if he failed to return home before sunset he would be declared dead, and the declaration of his death would be final. None of his tribe would see him or hear him or feel his presence in any way from this night onward if he failed to return before the curfew.

D'anyu must make it home very swiftly indeed, or he would be parted from his family forever.

D'anyu pondered the recent events that had trapped him in the underworld. If he didn't know better, he would have suspected his brother Anwen had been responsible for his recent journey into the underworld; the entire experience seemed to have been a deliberate trap. But Anwen had changed. D'anyu and his brother had been enemies for so long that it had seemed to be a miracle the day Anwen laid down his enmity toward D'anyu and embraced him.

"Brother, I have done you terrible wrongs." Anwen had said. "You deserved my love and support and have withstood all of my attacks against you without complaint. Will you ever forgive me?"

"Brother,” D’anyu had replied, "I have always forgiven you. I understood you were testing me to make me strong. I am a better man and warrior than I ever could have become thanks to you. You have been like a knapping stone honing the flint of my spirit for battle. The flint edge of my soul is sharp. The flesh of my body is hard. My senses are keen, my hand is sure and my feet are swift. All this and more I owe to you brother."

D'anyu returned his brother’s embrace fervently, rejoicing that his brother was finally seeking to make amends.

As D'anyu reflected on this particular moment of his life, Anwen too reflected upon the same moment. It was as if the two brothers' minds and hearts were joined in a single moment, reliving their past.

D'anyu ran like the wind.

Anwen remembered embracing his brother. As the two brothers hugged Anwen had scowled. There was no one to witness his moment of anger.

Anwen had done everything in his power to destroy his brother. That his brother only grew stronger in response to every attack had infuriated Anwen.
When Anwen had sought his brother’s forgiveness he had needed to alter the tribe’s perception of him. He had needed to make peace with his family before his father Garayon could die. Before Anwen could kill him that was.

Anwen had been concerned about things he had recently done then which would soon be revealed to his father.

Anwen knew that Garayon had spied the dark intentions that burned within Anwen’s heart. His father was sorry that his eldest son was now a cripple; worse, his father was shamed, for all knew that something in Anwen's heart prevented the healers from fixing the terrible damage he had suffered in the fire. Even worse yet, Garayon knew that Anwen had brought his fate upon himself with his evil intentions. For some time Garayon had withheld his hand from justice, nor would he speak out against Anwen, but that would soon change and Garayon would have Anwen banished from the tribe when he learned of Anwen's most recent attack against his brother.

So Anwen had made peace with his brother to pave the way to murder his father, his chieftain.

When Anwen murdered his father he would be making his brother the tribe’s chieftain. When Garayon finally died the warriors would gather to acclaim a new chieftain. Anwen's brother D'anyu was by far the best candidate to become their next chieftain. Anwen had once meant to become chieftain himself, but now Anwen was scarred and crippled; he was unfit to be a chief and he could never be chieftain.

All his ambitions had been thwarted that terrible day he had nearly burned to death.

From that day forward Anwen had vowed to avenge himself; he blamed D'anyu for his crippling wounds and the ruin of his ambitions to be chieftain. Anwen had vowed he would make his brother pay. The day after he was burned Anwen had apprenticed himself to Manayok and begun the long journey to become a shaman. Anwen was already very knowledge regarding the ways of the Shaman’s Path, he knew much about medicine and healing, but his knowledge was strongest in regard to the things of darkness. He had always loved the ancient legends of evil beings and terrible powers which were told to the tribe by their shaman, Manayok.

Anwen had pursued his study of the Shamanic arts with nearly all the fervor with which he had pursed his brother’s destruction.

Now Garayon had learned too much of the dark and evil things he had done to destroy his brother and Garayon would be left with no choice but to act against Anwen and banish him from the tribe when Garayon learned of Anwen’s latest evil plot. So Garayon must die.

As Anwen reflected on the events leading to the murder of his father, D’anyu ran.

D’anyu had been chieftain twelve years now. But he would be no one at all in just a short time, if the sun set before he entered the camp.

Anwen reflected upon the present moment. He could sense D’anyu’s approach, but D’anyu was too far away to concern him. Soon he would declare his brother an An’guwa, an unclean spirit of the dead.
At last his schemes to destroy D’anyu were coming to fruition.

D’anyu ran harder still, until his blood was singing in his ears. And still he ran.

Anwen continued his reflections upon the deeds of his past that had led him to patricide.

After making peace with D’anyu Anwen had gone to see their father Anwen had prostrated himself before his father and begged his forgiveness; he had recounted his sins against his brother, throwing in a few details he knew his father had no knowledge of to make his pleas for forgiveness seem all the more sincere. But Anwen had known he would need more than his pretenses of sincerity to fool his father, so Anwen had made sure that a pot of fine wine had been delivered to Garayon before his supper that night.

The wine had been strong; the herbs that laced it had been stronger yet. His father did not notice the subtle flavors of the herbs, Anwen had been treating his father for a cold and instead of curing it he had manipulated his father's health so that his sense of smell and taste were greatly diminished by the evil spirits that lingered in his nose. The herbs were not a poison, but they had weakened his father's mind and made him susceptible to Anwen’s sentimental pleas.

When Anwen had finished prostrating himself before his father to beg forgiveness for all his sins he had risked looking up to behold his father's face. The stern countenance that had usually met Anwen's gaze when he had spoken with his father had been gone; the harshness had been replaced by tears and heartache and a flood of joy and forgiveness for his eldest son. Anwen had carefully lowered his face back to the Earth, to await his father's response to his pleas.

That night Anwen had heard his father rise to his feet unsteadily, the effects of the wine and herbs had been apparent in the shaky steps Garayon had taken to place his hand upon his son's left shoulder.

"Rise my son." His father had beseeched him.

Anwen had slowly stood and father and son had embraced in a hug that had been long years in the making.

"Come." His father had said.

Anwen followed his father out into the night, where his father had called to a grandson to bring him his drum.

Anwen relived this old moment of victory in his mind as if it were happening now.

With his drum tucked beneath one arm his father began to beat a slow rhythm. The words of the drum called the tribe to gather at the Great Spirit Fire in the center of their camp. The quiet tone of the drum spoke without urgency; those who would come could come in their own good time. The slow beat spoke without command; those with other business need not drop everything to answer.

His father led him to the War Pole, the chieftain’s traditional place by the Great Fire.

Anwen had followed at his father’s heels struggling to keep a neutral expression on his face. He wanted no one to see the triumph in his heart.

When it seemed that all who would gather had arrived His father had led him about the Great Spirit fire announcing his love of his son to all who would listen.

They approached the Gatherer's Pole.

"Here is my son who has been bad and shameful!" his father had declared. "He has begged forgiveness and promises to mend his ways! I now forgive him as you are my witnesses he is restored to his place in my heart and my hearth."

His father had hugged long and hard, and then they had proceeded to the Spirit Pole where Manayok watched the pair approach with mistrust.

Anwen could read the thoughts in his teacher’s mind as they approached.

The shaman had appeared glad that the rift between the chieftain and his son was healed, but he had also appeared suspicious that so unlikely an event would come to pass. He seemed to wonder how Anwen had managed it. The shaman and chieftain had a rivalry that was almost bitter in its intensity.

Anwen recalled how Manayok had gloated when he had asked the shaman to instruct him in the ways of a shaman. His father had responded by escalating their rivalry so that Manayok had been taxed to his limits to meet the new challenges gracefully. His father had still loved and cherished him in those days, and he had believed then that he was still being groomed to replace his father as chieftain.
But when he was burned he had known his dreams of power over the warriors of the tribe were ended.

Now Anwen watched his teacher’s careful regard. He had set a trap for the shaman and he counted on Manayok to walk straight into it.

"Here is my son who has plotted against his brother treacherously!" Garayon proclaimed before the Spirit Pole. "See how he begs for forgiveness, see how he has groveled with humility. Now all is forgiven!"

Again he had shared an embrace with his father and they then continued on toward the Hunter's Pole.

As the passed by the shaman he had watched Manayok take a deep breath through his nose.

Anwen had seen that Manayok had recognized the scent of the potent wine and herbs that tainted his father’s body and breath. Manayok had learned what he had done and Manayok had appeared to suspect where this might be leading. Manayok had frowned.
Anwen had known the shaman was uncertain he was ready for his chieftain to die. Throughout all their great long rivalry Manayok had always respected and loved Garayon.

But Anwen thought he had been able see into the thoughts that had passed through the shaman’s mind in that moment. He knew that Manayok had considered how the chieftain was much stronger, and that with the chieftain out of the way Manayok would become the most powerful and influential man of the tribe. Manayok had appeared to consider the priveledges he would assume then.

Anwen had thrilled as he watched his teacher concede to the advantages of killing Garayon. Manayok would raise no objections

"Here is my son who has hurt his father and his brother with his mischievious ways!" Garayon proclaimed. "My son has pleaded to be forgiven and has promised to make amends. All is now forgiven!"

Garayon and Anwen completed the circle about the Great Spirit Fire, returning to the War Pole.

"Here is my son who has wrestled with his conscience and won a great victory!" Garayon shouted. "He has reconciled himself within his heart and has sought forgiveness. He promises to be a good and loyal son forevermore. All is forgiven him."

Garayon grasped his crippled son in a fierce proud hug and then held their clasped hands aloft to declare to the tribe that there was peace once more between them.

Anwen had won. When Garayon died, and it would be very soon, Anwen would be beyond suspicion.

Anwen returned to the present moment, sensing his brother drawing nearer, he began to wonder if his brother might return home in time after all.

As D'anyu ran along the trail from the Warrior’s Shrine he recalled that it had been only shortly after Anwen had made his peace with him that their father had died. He remembered how Manayok had quested for their father’s spirit for seven days following his death. Manayok had battled the monsters and demons of the underworld to attempt to wrest Garayon's soul from their possession and return him to life.

The stories Manayok had told of his ordeals in the underworld had become new legends of the tribe.

Throughout those seven days the warriors of the tribe had taken turns maintaining a secret vigil over Garayon’s body, calling out for him to return. For seven days Manayok had lain dead beside D’anyu’s father, a stone knife buried deeply in Manayok’s heart. At dawn on the eighth day the stone knife was absorbed into Manayok’s body and the bloody wound in his corpse had begun to heal. Manayok had returned from the underworld. Beside Manayok Garayon failed to heal, nor did he stir to rise; Manayok’s quest had failed. Garayon would not return from the dead.

Garayon had succumbed to a sickness in his soul and would rise no more.
Such was the fate of the warriors of D'anyu’s tribe. Over time a warrior grows sick in spirit and seeks rebirth. He no longer has the will to stand up to the lords of the underworld to challenge their tyranny and return to present life. Instead, the ailing warrior submits to the rule of the dark lords; he perishes slowly as the dark lords suck his spirit dry. When, at last, his spirit becomes so withered that he has forgotten himself and all whom he once knew and loved his spirit is finally freed from its torment for it has become an empty useless husk that no lord of the underworld would want to keep. Only then does the warrior's spirit become free to return to life, and then he must reincarnate, for he has forgotten himself and he has forgotten all the lore he must know to resurrect himself. By the adamancy of their spirits, the strongest warriors in life took the longest time to perish in death. Garayon had been a mighty hero; he would be gone a long time indeed before he could be reborn.

As D’anyu ran he continued to reflect on the events of his father’s death.

D'anyu had wondered what illness had festered in their father's heart that he was ready to die so young. Garayon should have lived another century or more. He had been only 70 or so when he had died. D'anyu had also wondered whether another shaman might have brought their father back. He had not trusted Manayok to return from the underworld with their father for Manayok had been locked in a bitter rivalry with Garayon for a very long time.

Then, shortly after Garayon’s death the tribe had been terrified by the sudden death of Manayok. Manayok had been old, over 200 years old the day he had died, but Manayok himself had expected to live another 50 years or more, and many in the tribe thought he would live to be 300.

Now, as he ran, D’anyu sensed his brother within his thoughts.

Suddenly as if from nowhere a terrible monster appeared upon the path before D’anyu. No, it was an illusion! A Roc descended upon D’anyu from the sky, another illusion?

D’anyu dove to the ground, talons raking his back. As the Roc struggled to regain altitude D’anyu leapt upon it’s back driving it into the sky.

Enemies of D’anyu’s people far to the east of their winter camp rode the backs of Rocs like this one into war. D’anyu struggled for control, but this great bird had never been tamed, and D’anyu had no harnesses or bridle.

D’anyu’s flight through the air took an ever-changing course as bird and man fought one another. D’anyu conceded that he would never control the Roc which could have taken him home well before the sun would set. He plunged his knife into the bird’s neck seeking an artery. He would bleed the bird of its vitality so that it would slowly sink to the ground; he did not dare to kill it quickly, for already they were too high in the air for D’anyu to survive his plummet to Earth.

Another death now and D’anyu would return to the underworld. If he died now he might as well not struggle with the lords below, for he would have no home to return to when he finally made his way back to the world of light.

As Anwen fought to steer the great Roc astray so that D’anyu would be carried farther from their camp Kenly snuck into the shaman’s home.

Kenly could sense the nature of the struggle taking place. Kenly loaded a tiny insect into a narrow pipe. The insect was just a blood midge, but Kenly had carefully saturated its tiny corpse with salts and then dried it so that it was very stiff. This was Kenly’s favorite game to play upon bullies and to distract the guards that might prevent him from sneaking about in his Uncle’s lodge and other places Kenly should never go.

Kenly blew sharply on his pipe and the blood midge took one final flight. The little sting his Uncle felt scarcely distracted him from the deadly battle he played with the Roc, however the salts that saturated the blood midge had a mild soporific effect, and Anwen grew tired for a moment and forgot his battle as his mind briefly drifted.

The Roc, freed from the shaman’s influence turned west toward the lowering sun, instinctively seeking the light in its dying moments. The Roc sank quickly, for it had now lost a great deal of blood.

D’anyu clapped his hand over the wound he had made in the birds neck and sought within himself to free the power that could heal the wound. It was difficult to heal the Roc; it was too alien to D’anyu who must intimately know a creature’s form and vitality before he could heal it.

Still, the wound closed, but too late. With a final squawk the bird landed indignantly, confused that it could not find the strength to rise into the air again.

D’anyu ran up the back of the great bird’s neck and leapt from it’s beak. He landed running as the bird lunged to grab him and the jaws of its beak clacked shut behind him with a warm wet breath upon D’anyu’s back.

D’anyu ran.

As D’anyu ran he considered what had just happened.

The dark beast that had been an illusion had been intended for what, a distraction? Yes. And the battle with the Roc had been more like a battle with someone familiar, his brother? Yes, that fit too. He had sensed his brother’s thoughts just before the illusion appeared. So then his brother was trying to delay his return, which could only mean it was by his brother’s hand that he was killed a month ago and made to return from the underworld alone with no one to chant the way for him.

If his brother’s hand was behind this nightmare journey that he raced to conclude, then other mysterious events became clearer. All the delays and distractions that had held him in the underworld far longer than he would expect to remain there could be seen as more of his brother’s machinations against him.

The Roc may have given D’anyu an edge. He plunged ahead upon the Jungle path alert for more of his brother’s tricks. Perhaps he would make it home before dark after all.

To be continued...