Date: Fri, 13 Feb 2004 17:00:07 -0800 (PST) From: Warren Powers Subject: Journey Through Kajahri - Chapter Three Chapter Three: Like a Fish Out of Water Music. I could hear music. No, it wasn't music, it was just someone singing. Someone with a beautiful voice. Slowly, I opened my eyes and waited for them to focus, looking around. When I was finally able to make out where I was, I realized it was the most bizarre thing I had ever seen. I was in what looked like a one room house. Strange symbols decorated the walls, shiny like the iridescent hue of oil on water. Sitting in the center of the room was a boy, the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. His hair was a soft brown, but I could see blonde on the tips of his long locks. His eyes were hazel, and intense, the most intense eyes I had ever seen. He was dressed in a tunic of some sort, revealing his bare stomach where a large tattoo of what looked like a wolf's head was. I could see the muscles under his skin twist and flex as he worked. Sitting cross legged in front of a fire pit, his hands flew around him in a flurry; as if he had something very important he needed to do, but not enough time to do it in. But his eyes, they never faltered. I could have drowned in those eyes. I continued to watch him, transfixed as he mixed colored liquids in a small bowl, every now and then throwing silver dust on the flames. A chill ran up my spine and I grabbed the large blanket that covered me. It was then that I realized I was naked. I tried to sit up but pain wracked my temples, causing me to moan and lay back down on the pillow. In a flash the boy was up, leaning over me with a wary, yet fascinated look in those marvelous eyes. "Shakala est fortunaj?" I wasn't sure I was hearing him correctly. Did I have brain damage from the accident? "Est gurfnab tula fortunaj." Looking at him blankly, I tried to think of something to say. He remained over me, eyes dancing, his hand still clutching the bowl of silver dust. "Where-" I began, coughing as I realized my throat was very, very dry. "Where am I?" The boy's expression changed from scrupulation to shock. After a few minutes, he finally responded. "You speak the language of Phantara." "The who?" I once again tried to get up, but collapsed from the pain. "Don't injure yourself!" He yelled. "Just wait, I am making you medicine." He returned to the fire and threw the fistful of dust into the pit. "You are a very strange spirit." He glanced at me. I squinted my eyes, the pain finally subsiding. "Spirit?" "Well, yes." He turned to face me. "You appear from nowhere, and you have the bravery to speak the language of Phantara. Well, either the bravery or the stupidity. You must be a spirit." I slowly eased myself into a sitting position on the bed and looked at him; a thousand possible scenarios to explain this were shooting through my mind. "Ok, there are about a million things in that sentence I don't understand. Lets just get all the important things out of the way. Number one, where are my clothes?" The boy's eyes narrowed and he looked away. "You were unclothed when I found you." "What do you mean, `when you found me'?" He regained her composure and faced me again. "I was gathering the morning meal two days ago when I came across your body. You were lying, naked, in the middle of Sancta." I looked at him. "The middle of where?" He looked annoyed. "Sancta Woods of course." I grabbed my head in frustration, feeling suddenly drowsy. "Where am I?" The boy seemed to soften a little, as he realized I had no idea what had happened to me. "You are now at the Clabaharem of the Mistress Kahtroki, in the heart of Sancta Woods." My head spun in disbelief. "Sancta Woods? Is that in California?" The boy looked suspicious and confused. He slowly shook his head. "No, I have never heard of the land of Calalie-fornya." I sank slowly back onto the bed, "This is just a dream. This is just a dream." "I don't think so Saret, I am not a dream boy, I am your new master. And if you know what's good for you, you will do everything I say." He looked stern. "Of course not," I said, tired. "My dream guys are always in bikini briefs, and my name is Jake, not Saret." "I don't think you understand, Saret. You are now my Shall, my personal slave. And if you don't wish to go with the Collectors, than you will be silent and do as I tell you." "Listen, psycho..." I began to get angry. "I am no one's slave. I am a human being, OK? I have constitutional rights. You can't just boss me sound like this..." Suddenly, a knife was at my throat. "Listen slave," he spat. "You do not have a choice. If you do not want to be my Shall, than you can go with the Collectors to the Har'kin Diamond Mines of Southern Yoon. Do you know what the soldiers do to the slaves of Phantara's mines?" I slowly shook my head, a large lump of shock and confusion rising in my throat. "They work them nonstop, until they cannot work any longer. And when they're usefulness is expired, they are thrown into a pit, to starve." He brought the knife away and I drew in a short rattling breath. His face was contorted in anger, his lip curling in fury. But his eyes never lost their dance, their passion. "Who are you?" I asked. He returned to the fire and continued his work. "My name is Nefan, Nefan Hararant." I looked at his hand, which still gripped the knife, as if he were prepared to spring once more. "Well, you seem very friendly, Nefan." I could see him smile slightly and he approached me, causing me to back away. "Relax," he said, sprinkling some dust in my face. "It is time for you to sleep now, Jake." Everything in the room seemed woozy, and my dream guy, or was it jailer, disappeared. *** It took me a week to finally recover from the head piercing migraines which wracked me with pain every time I took a breath. Nefan had done his best, administering his dusty potion to me whenever it got too intense. When I was finally healthy enough to walk, that was when things got complicated. It was the afternoon of the tenth day I had spent in this place, and I had been experimenting with standing all day. Nefan was out doing some chores for his "Mistress", and I had finally managed to walk across the room without a head rush. The wooden door to the house opened and Nefan seemed to float inside, moving so quickly and gracefully, his feet barely touched the ground, silent as the wind. He was carrying two bowls of soup, which he quickly set down on the table. He turned to see me standing and a look of disappointment filled his beautiful eyes. "Oh..." He murmured. "Yep," I said, grinning. "I can walk again!" But instead of looking thrilled, happy, or even just plain excited, sadness seemed to fill his eyes as he motioned for me to sit by the fire. For the past week, I had been plaguing him with questions, about where I was, and what was going on, but he had refused to answer. He told me that his mistress, Kahtroki, had forbidden him from telling me anything, that it wasn't the right time. As we sat across the fire from one another, he absentmindedly drew symbols in the soft earth beside him and finally looked at me. "Nefan," I said softly. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?" He nodded, and handed me the bowl of soup. "You see, Saret," He glanced at me. "Kahtroki has given me permission to tell you all that you want to know, only when it is a danger that you might flee. Now that you are able to walk, that time has come." He sipped from the bowl in her hands and did not look at me. "Kahtroki tells me that you are from a land very far from here called "Earth"." "Wait a minute." I interrupted. "You're telling me I'm not on Earth?!" "Please," He said, in a much kinder voice than he had ever used with me. "Let me speak." I nodded and also drank from my bowl. "The morning I found you, it was the dawn of the Day of Dissu. The Day of Dissu is when the Blue Moon returns to her slumber beyond the High Mountains, and the Red Moon awakens. There is a legend that once, long ago, a man was transported to our world, in the province of Hakariah, on this day. He was very superior to the people there and taught them how to make terrible weapons of great destruction." His face was pained, as if saying these things hurt him somehow. "But the knowledge of these great weapons corrupted them, and they ultimately destroyed themselves. Now, Kahtroki says that you are from the same world as that man, and that you have come to change our world also, but in a very different way, in a good way. "This world is called Kajahri, and it is made up of twelve provinces. We are in the Sancta Woods, and it is the largest forest in all of Kajahri. Do you understand?" I stared at him for what seemed like an hour, letting all the information sink in. "Yes." I breathed. He relaxed and chewed on a leaf, his gaze transfixed in the flames. "Nefan," I asked. "There are some more questions that I have to ask you, will you answer them?" He looked at me and smiled, "If I can." I shifted my weight and looked him straight in the eyes. "On more than one occasion, you've mentioned something about diamond mines, please explain this." Nefan leaned back into a more comfortable position and spoke. "The Diamond Mines of Southern Yoon. Every year, Phantara's Collectors come to each province's main settlement. There, they take fifteen slaves who spend the rest of their lives in service to Phantara. This year, they are collecting slaves for the mines." I contemplated this, thinking of what to ask next. "Who is Phantara? You have also mentioned him on several occasions, and you say I speak his language. Who is he?" Nefan suddenly threw back his head and laughed, his beautiful eyes gleaming. "If, if you had referred to Phantara as a man in front of anyone else, it would be required that you be whipped, and blinded." "So, Phantara's a woman." Nefan regained his composure and turned serious once more. "Yes, Phantara is a woman; she is the ruler of Kajahri. The self proclaimed ruler of Kajahri." His eyes filled with hate and he spat into the flames. "Phantara has ruled for as long as I can remember, and as long as Kahtroki can remember, which is hundreds of years. Every year she depletes the population of Kajahri with her endless slave laborers. The language which we know speak is hers. Only a select few know this language, but to speak it in public is a death sentence. You will need to learn ours." I did not like the way this lady sounded. "But why is she allowed to kill all these people? Why hasn't someone tried to overthrow her?" Nefan laughed once more. "Her troops are too strong. Many have rebelled, but the punishment for rebellion is worse than death." He shuddered. "I think I understand a lot more than before," I said. "But I still have just a couple more questions. Nefan nodded. "Why do you continue to deny my real name and call me Saret?" He looked away and told me. "Saret is your name now. The name you brought with you is yours and yours alone. Don't ever tell anyone your true name is Jake." "Well, why not?" "Because in this world, a person cannot truly have power over you if they do not know your true name. Because of this, Phantara cannot harm you." "But why doesn't everyone use a fake name? They can use this to their advantage." Nefan shook his head. "Don't you think that was already thought of? At birth, the parents must tell Phantara's troops the names of their children. Then, the soldiers cut off one of the child's toes. That's how they are sure." He stretched and got up. "I think that's enough for tonight. I have to attend to something before I retire." He walked towards the door. Before I lay down on the soft bed, I noticed something. "Nefan," I called, and he turned around. "You have all of your toes." "Yes," He smiled at me. "I do."