4. The world stopped for Kassir. The weight of the shadow bear smothered him, but he did not have any energy left in him to move it aside. His thoughts were scattered, and he could not focus on anything for too long. He barely knew what he was doing there and what had happened to him. He could not tell who he was. He had no idea how long he lay there, shivering slightly in the cold desert night.
The first thing he was truly aware of was the rain. Cold droplets were falling on his face. The water revived him a little. Gradually, his mind returned to him. He could tell who he was again – and who he had become. He had passed his initiation rites. He was now one of the people of the desert. The Gods had chosen him and nothing – not even his powers or the fact that he was born on the second rainy night of the year – could make anyone contest his rightful place among the people of the desert.
Rain fell and lightning flashed in the sky above him. It felt like further proof that he had won. He belonged to the rain, after all. It had been there when he was born. How could it not be here now as well, when he was born a second time, becoming a true inhabitant of the desert?
Kassir tried to move. His whole body ached. He wondered fearfully if the bear had not damaged something when it landed on him. He finally tried to shift the dead weight away from him. It was a painstaking job and it left him even more exhausted when it was done. After he finally managed to push the body of the shadow bear away, he got up on shaky legs. Pain flared everywhere, but he was sure it was not too bad. At least he could stand. He did not think he had broken anything. And he had survived. He had won.
He looked down at the body of the slain animal. It had been beautiful. Now it no longer looked evil, if it had ever been so. Kassir knew he had had no choice. His initiation rites aside, the bear could have done great damage to the desert villages. But he could feel no victory in his deed. He could recall clearly that brief moment of contact, when the shadow bear had looked straight into his eyes. Kassir thought the creature had recognised him somehow. That it had connected with him. And even though it was the shadow bear that had attacked first, Kassir could not help feeling as if he had betrayed some kind of holy trust.
He shook his head vehemently. He must have been knocked about quite a lot to be feeling regret now. What was there to regret? He should be glad. He should be celebrating. The thing he had been dreading for so long was over. And he had not failed his initiation rites.
Tomorrow, he would go to the priest to announce his deed, but people would have found out about it already. The next morning, herders would discover the shadow bear and word would spread through the village. And those who knew about the initiation rites would know this was Kassir’s work. He hoped the first herder to discover the shadow bear would be Rashed. And maybe his father would be proud of him, then. Maybe he would be a little less distant.
Kassir could not remain there to wait for the herders, though. He had to leave. He could not be seen by any from the village. Not until he talked to the priest the next day.
It was a long way till morning and rain was now falling heavily. Kassir shivered. He was cold and beyond exhausted. He wanted nothing more but to crawl somewhere and sleep till dawn. He made his way back to his hiding place.
He lay down on the ground and closed his eyes. It was a long time before he settled down, though. That day’s events were crowding his mind, chasing each other, banishing his sleep. Finally, it was the sound of the rain outside that sent Kassir to the land of dreams. His last thoughts were that it made a fitting lullaby for one like him.
5. When Kassir woke up the next morning the sky was still grey, but the rain had stopped. The air had that unique freshness he knew so well, even though he usually only felt it once a year. The morning was cool, with all the previous stuffiness gone. Briefly, he wondered how it would feel in the World Without where it rained more than once a year and where summer was not eternal. He shook his head quickly to dispel the thought. Even thinking about the World Without meant borrowing for trouble. He sniffed the fresh air eagerly. It made him feel unexplainably exhilarated. He grinned broadly. He could not wait to see all their faces – Linir’s and Lusa’s and the priest’s when they learned that he had been allowed to pass the initiation rites, and with such a difficult task no less.
It was early. Kassir went to the river to bathe, then returned to the hut. He was sore from the fight with the shadow bear and he was beginning to feel the pangs of hunger. He had not eaten since the previous morning, and he still was not allowed to break his fast – not before he met with the priest that afternoon and announced his victory.
The rest of the morning he spent lying down in the hut. Thoughts were constantly swirling in his head. He wondered if the villagers had found the corpse of the shadow bear yet and if they had managed to link it with Kassir’s mission. Were they worried about him? A shadow bear was, after all, a dangerous creature to fight.
At noon, he headed for the temple. The village was strangely quiet. The few people he met still would not acknowledge him and averted their eyes as he passed. After all, they could not tell if he was going to declare a victory or a failure. They did not know for sure yet if he was one of them.
Kassir reached the small temple. This time he did not hesitate and walked inside, heading straight for the dark chamber where he knew the priest was waiting for him. He entered. The priest was standing just as before, at the opposite end of the room, with his back to him. The young boy could see that his posture was tense. He too, was worried.
“I have told you before, your place among the people of the desert is for the Gods to decide,” the priest began. “What do they have to say?”
“The Gods sent me a shadow bear last night,” Kassir answered, watching the priest carefully, for any sign of surprise. “I fought him and slew him. His carcass can be found at the edge of our village. Does such a deed make me worthy of the people of the desert? Or what more can I do?”
The priest hesitated. For one terrifying moment, Kassir was afraid he was going to come up with yet another impossible task. Had it not been too easy for him, considering the circumstances of his birth and his strange powers?
“You have done well,” the priest told him in the end. “And you have earned your place among the people of the desert. But not, I am afraid, in this village. As a matter of fact, you must leave this village next year.”
The words were a death knell to Kassir. He flinched, as if struck by a physical blow. He stared at the priest dumbfounded. If he had done well, why was he being sent into exile? He felt his legs no longer willing to hold him. He leaned heavily against the wall. The priest finally turned around to face him. He regarded Kassir sadly.
“I am sorry,” he said sympathetically. “There is something you do not know. We could not tell you until now, of course, not before you were properly initiated. But now the time has come for you to know your true purpose.”
Kassir’s heart hammered wildly in his chest, as if trying to escape. He had a purpose, then? All his life he had thought whatever had happened to him was random, a whim that could not be explained. Now he saw his powers were actually part of a grander scheme. He did not know if that made him feel better – it actually scared him even more.
The priest did not take much notice of his unease. He walked slowly, until he was face to face with the boy.
“The truth is, Kassir, you have never belonged to our village. In a sense, you do not really belong to the people of the desert, either. Your job is much higher. You belong to the Gods. They have given you gifts, Kassir. Your sight, your hearing, the other strange senses you do not know of yet – the Sun Gods and Rain Goddesses have blessed you with those. You are a Light-tender.”
6. After the talk with the priest, Kassir could finally head home – or, better said, to his family’s house, as it was not going to be his home much longer. His head was reeling with all the things he had found out. He was a Light-tender, blessed by the Gods, only those blessings were not for free. He was to dedicate his life to the Sun Gods and Rain Goddesses, in gratitude of their gifts to him. A small part of him – a tiny, malicious voice too insistent to be ignored – was telling him that there should be no gratitude. What had those gifts actually done for him? They had caused him to be ostracised, earning him the fear of his kinsmen and the jealousy of his best friend. They had isolated him as if he were some vagrant from the World Without. What then was there to be grateful for?
Another part of his brain, though, was telling him that he might as well take advantage of the situation. The time of him being regarded with enmity and mistrust was over. Soon, everyone in the village would know they were wrong. Kassir was not cursed. Kassir was blessed, a chosen of the Gods. Their attitude towards the boy would change instantly. They were going to be doubly warm towards him to make up for the years of mistrust and to avoid any further offence towards him. After all, offending a servant of the Gods meant offending the Gods themselves.
For someone like him, who had spent most of his short life afraid of who he was, or what was going to happen to him, this notion was beyond tempting. He finally had the chance to be someone. He now had the means to prove to everyone they had been wrong about him.
Kassir reached his house in a state of mounting excitement. The last part of the road he spent keeping himself from shouting out loud to the world what he knew about himself. But now he was home, he did not have to hold it in any longer. He banged the wooden door open and burst in.
“Mother! Father!” he shouted from the dark hallway. “I have returned. I have slain a shadow-bear. And the priest has told me I am a Light-tender. He has told me I am a chosen of the Gods!”
Heavy silence greeted him. Kassir frowned. He had expected his parents to rush straight to him as soon as he announced the news. Even if they already knew, it was something big enough that would have prompted them to head straight for him as soon as he got home. But they gave no sign. It was as if they were not even in the house.
Puzzled, he stepped into the adjoining room that served both as kitchen, as well as his parents’ sleeping chamber. Rashed and Malna were both there. Rashed sat at the head of the table, tapping his fingers against the wood, restlessly. Malna was at her usual place by the window. The spinner’s wheel was beside her, but she was not spinning. Kassir was ready to swear she had not even touched the wheel ever since he left the previous morning.
The table was laden with food. There was rich bread and cheese and fresh meat. There was also a jug of wine of the kind kept by the village elders and used only in times of celebration. Rashed and Malna had known of his victory, then, and had prepared the ritual welcome meal. But if they knew, why were they regarding him with such stony expressions, as if he had done something wrong?
Kassir stopped uncertainly in the threshold. That was not how he imagined his homecoming. He stood on the spot, not knowing what to say when Malna suddenly sprang up, remembering her duties. She walked towards him and drew him into the room. Wordlessly, she sat him down at the table, opposite his father.
“Welcome home, my son,” she spoke the required words mechanically, then added in a bitter undertone, unable to help herself: “For the little while that can still be called your home.”
“Malna!” Rashed cried, raising his head in alarm. “Well done,” he said, walking to Kassir and patting his shoulder briefly. “That was a mighty deed.”
Malna fixed Kassir with an intent gaze.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, much sharper than she usually talked with her children.
Baffled, Kassir shook his head.
“No,” he said slowly. “The shadow bear landed on me, but it did not hurt me.”
“Nonetheless, I am sure you are sore,” Malna spoke briskly. “Old Maga has an ointment she says comes from the Rain Goddesses themselves. I’ll go see her and fetch some for you.”
She left abruptly, without casting Kassir a second glance. He watched her go, bemused, then turned to face his father.
“She seems angry with me.”
Rashed gave a heavy sigh.
“It is never easy for the mother to know she will soon lose her firstborn son. Malna is pleased with what you have done – and she is no doubt proud of what you are. But today’s events had made her realise the time she will have to say farewell to you draws near. You cannot expect her to be happy about it.”
Kassir stood a while pondering Rashed’s words. They took away some of the excitement. He looked at his father questioningly.
“What about you?” he asked cautiously. “You are losing me, too. How do you feel about it?”
Rashed hesitated.
“I am proud of who you are,” he told his son and Kassir was sure it was the truth. “And as long as you are happy, I can be content with all of it.
Copyright Simina Lungu 2022
Comments