This land is a wasteland. I don't say so metaphorically. It's indeed now a large expanse of ash and dust. The grounds, once supple with green earth and flowing streams, are now cracked and baked dry.
The air, once moist with dew and rain, is now thick with smoke and dust.
Even the wind is whistling with sorrow, and the dry trees are sagging in pain.
What happened to the land of Emorah?
“Gulick?... Gulick, we should head back. There's nothing here.”
I turn around to look into Nethiah’s eyes. She's been my mate for only half of one season, and yet I couldn't offer her the forever I'd promised that night by the bonfire.
“Head back to what, darling? There's nothing here. There's nothing anywhere.”
Her large, coral eyes stare up at me. They've never lost their wonder, how gold flecks accentuate the blue iris making her eyes like glowing embers.
But right now, those embers seem to be fading. The despair has gotten to her. If we don't get something…anything…her baby, Loart, will starve.
I wish I'd never been chosen to become chief of the clan.
In the time before, my father was chief. He was a large man, towering above all of us at seven feet. He loved to laugh a lot, but one day, the spasms began.
The land was green then, flourishing with herbs, so the priest brought them to him in abundance.
He'd take the white lotus and the emerald fig, but the spasms became worse by the day.
He just lay there, unable to talk to us, unable to go hunting with me, unable to rule.
The village carried on because there was hope. My father had seven sons. Hefty men who could lead the village on.
I'm the last of those seven. And the smallest.
“Gulick!”
Her soprano voice calls again. I have to leave even if I don't want to.
My boots crunch softly on the brittle soil. What am I going to say to the seven hundred people who're standing on the other side, waiting for me to come with news of hope?
Soft fingers graze my arm and I turn down to look at her. She's holding my son in her arms, tears brimming in her eyes.
“What're you doing?” I don't intend to be harsh, but she knows I've never liked this baby.
Babies are meant to be blessings not curses. His coming has brought so much ash and suffering. I cannot bear to look into his face.
“Look at him just once, Gulick. Maybe he's the reason everything is going wrong.”
“Ah finally…you agree. Every other child brings the blessings of rain and sunshine. He brings the curse of destruction and waste.”
My voice is reduced to the barest minimum so the other members of the clan can barely hear me.
“No, Gulick. What if when you love him then things begin to turn around? Remember the prophecy.” Her wide eyes have become even wider now. As if they're pleading with me to reconsider.
“The priest was old and stricken with blindness when he gave the prophecy. How can a blind man see?”
The late priest had said three words in prophecy when my son was born. “Love will heal.”
She rolls her eyes and sighs with exasperation. “But he's your son. How can you hate him so?”
Shaking my head, I hasten my steps so I can walk away from her…and her son.
We need to find a way out of this mess before the clan refutes me chief. If I'm declared incompetent and dethroned, I'll automatically be cast out of the clan.
I can't let my long lineage of rulers be reduced to a generation of cast-outs.
If only father hadn't pronounced me as chief.
I can still recall the shock on everyone's faces when the priest struck clay on my forehead.
“How can you name the last and weakest over us, father? This isn't how it's done. You must respect tradition!” One of my brothers yelled.
But my father was too weak to state his reason, or give explanation. He just lay there while the priest danced and did his mumbo jumbo.
My fifth brother was the only one who looked me in the eyes and gave a sad smile. “If father chose you, then it's you. Brace yourself, you'll have a lot to conquer.”
I went through the five stages of cleansing and adhered to every instruction the priest gave before he passed on. Yet it seems I wasn't braced enough.
“Gulick!”
Something rumbles in the distance. Turning around, I spot Nethiah racing towards me, the baby bundle in one arm.
What's going on?
The earth beneath me cracks and I can feel a chasm opening fast beneath me. No!
“Nethiah! Run…quick!”
Stepping away from the chasm, I stretch my arm over the other side so I can catch her when she jumps but she doesn't jump.
She throws the baby instead. My heart leaps as I dive forward to catch him, stopping short at the mouth of the chasm.
“Nethiah!’
“Gulick, I won't make it.” My heart's thudding mercilessly in my chest. No. I can't lose her. “Do me a favor, Gulick. Look at him. Please.”
I tear my eyes away from her and look into the wide eyes of the baby in my arms. Tears burst from my insides.
He's so beautiful.
A final rumble drives Nethiah into the chasm.
Clutching Loart in my arms, I kneel to pay my final respect to his mother, then rise to my feet and kiss his forehead.
The rumbling shifts to the sky. Dark clouds begin to gather, the wind’s whistling becomes sharper…louder.
“Quick! Get everyone to safety!” I yell at the elders of the clan. I take another look at the bundle to adjust the shawl on my son's face but I see something that stops me.
His eyes are like lanterns now, glowing so bright that it's lighting up the dark path.
It makes sense now. Love will heal.
I fall to my knees and bow my head to him. This baby isn't just a ruler. He's a priest.
He's the first priest ruler.
My mouth opens with shock. Then I see it. The subtle tilting of his lips. He's smiling at me.
More tears slip down my cheeks.
In the same breath, the clouds open and rain begins to fall.
Loart is our salvation.
Ps: Image is not mine
