Birth of the Chosen One

by Roger Kenworthy

  The wise one beat his drum with greater intensity, and it responded with greater sounds of anguish for the beasts, then four simultaneous slices of our sharpened blades slew the beasts, a single motion, and hot blood splattered the rocks that stood guard over the fire pit. Enigmatic clouds of evaporating crimson swirled around the cave. Death hung in the air as the beasts were taken by their spirits to meet their ancestors.

  I was sickened, not elated. Still, this is what our spirits demanded of us; I put on a false face and smiled broadly to my family members…they smiled back. The bodies of these beasts were ours…we were given an entire deer for our celebratory meal to honor the kind spirits.

  The clan finished dining. “Now, we have only a few pieces of the fur left from the beast that provided our sacred homage to the sky, water, and land spirits …Ovark, can you tell us what you have learned while a captive of the Rolling Valley Clan?”

  “Yes, father. My friends and I thank the spirits and our brave hunters, those who saved us, from the evil that walked the lands. While held captive, those who held me against my will revealed many fascinating ideas to me. I believe that if we take their ideas and use them, we shall live an easier life. One that follows our spirits but also follows those who live an easier life than ours.”

  There were puzzled looks across the satiated faces of the many who sat before me. My hand liberated the magic brown-headed plant from my furs. I held it high above my tousled black hair.

  “These, my family, are magical. They stop your wounds from bleeding; they stop your stomach from bloating; and they stop the aching in your legs after walking many suns and moons in search of food for the family.”

  A look of amazement swept across the faces of our clan as a wave of water in the river that divided the lands near our cave.

  “There’s more. They eat this brown-headed plant when the warm season begins; the women pound it to make a white mass when the cold season begins; and they sleep on it when the rains sweep down upon the lands. They cook the roots with red berries. I have tasted the white mass the women cook on their fires; my stomach was full as both the sun and moon passed over their village. This plant is magic.”

  Mouths opened at my idea that this plant was magic…this was the duty of the shaman to receive such words from the spirits, and not from a mere boy who lived a few seasons. I had committed an error with my words.

  “Their clan dries meat in the sun and then stores it for many suns and moons; they never feel that empty feeling when food has not crossed their lips when hunters are unable to kill a beast.

  “Their spirits change mud to rock. Yes! They burn the dark earth in a fire pit to create pots that they cook the beasts and other foods in. They eat plants. Green and red ones; yellow ones and brown ones… these help to relieve the pain of hunger when the beasts of the lands hide from the hunters as it snows and rains.”

  Our cave came alive with hushed murmurings; my family found it difficult to understand that soft earth could be changed to hard rock…that was what the spirits did. Had I crossed the line that divided those who walked these lands from those who walked the Otherworld?

  “My family and clan members, I believe that we should learn lessons from our captors…these ideas I have reported to you as the moon drearily hangs overhead, shall change us forever. We shall live a better life than what we had before our capture.” I sat down and waited for reactions from my family members.

  “Ovark, thank you, and now let us voice our feelings about what my son has shared with us. We must agree that these ways are better ways than what we do over many seasons. As the sun and moon is our witness, Aon, your words are important in our decision.”

  “My leader, my shaman, my family…I am pleased that I have the first words to say about this unexpected message given to us by your son, Ovark. My tired eyes have seen many seasons; my calloused hands have butchered many beasts; my sad heart has sung tearful songs for those who have travelled with the spirits. My heart is heavy by what I’ve seen in this life, and although it is the spirits who give us our past and future…I am still sad from so much pain and suffering.

  “Still, it is the spirits and their decision for what occurs to my family. We must accept joy and suffering, life and death. So, if the spirits wanted us to know such ideas, they would have let our wise ones, our shamans, receive such ideas. I believe we should turn our back on such things. Let us live as we have lived since our ancestors led their kind to this cave, our home.”

  I was saddened that this elder disagreed with the ideas I learned while held captive by the Rolling Valley Clan.

  “Thank you. Now, Zedex, what is your opinion?”

  “Family members…I’ve listened to our brave son, Ovark, and do have my opinion about what happened and why. Let me begin by stating that the spirits guide us as we walk these lands, and they share their wisdom with us so that we are better children, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and elders. There is a lesson to be learned from our children being stolen by another clan. However, how do we know this is meant as a lesson for us to learn from? Perhaps, it was a lesson to punish those who thought they could steal our children to help their family. They were being chastised for wrongdoings to another clan, and not meant to be of benefit to our clan. My answer is, don’t accept the ideas passed along to us from that devious clan.”

  Surely, Zedex, had closed eyes and ears to my ideas…more sadness flowed down from the sky spirits and gripped my heart. I began to accept how my family thought about any new ways to live. It was difficult after what I witnessed, but the clan spoke.

  Relor voiced her opinion next. “My family, I have been a devoted follower of the spirits for many seasons. My father and mother were followers as were my brothers and sisters. They lived as we should live. I have listened to what wise Narizon has told us about our loving parents, the spirits who travel these lands, waters, and skies. They have a purpose for each of us that we don’t know or don’t understand. They have a plan and each of us is a part of that plan like every tree is a part of the forest.”

  All ears were receptive to Relor’s astute observation of our life.

  “If a tree is removed it is not the same forest, but why it is removed or how it is removed is not understood by us. If a river is added, the lands are not the same, but why it is added or how it is added is unknown by us. This is the way of the spirits. The spirits give us what we need and why we need; the reason is not of this world. So, if the spirits wanted us to know of such ideas as dried meat and sacred plants, they would have given these to us. They have, but not through Narizon or other shamans and wise ones, but a young child that’ll be our leader. Don’t misunderstand who was the messenger of the spirits, but the why. The why…to let our clan live a life where we’ll not travel to our kind parents because we starved, lacked food. The shape or age of the messenger for such helpful benefits to our future is not important.”

  “Are you for us accepting the ways of the Rolling Valley Clan or rejecting them?” Father wanted to be sure that all of us understood what Relor’s message was to us and not to put words in her mouth.

  “Accept their knowledge delivered to us from your son.”

  There was a buzz throughout the family. Father nodded his head.

  “Leor, what do you believe?”

  “Wise Narizon, family members; I’m a hunter and not a grower of green plants or a burner of black earth. My father and my father’s father were hunters for our clan, and they never did such things. They lived by the spirits and they died by the spirits…our spirits. If we change our ways to those of another tribe, I see this as abandoning what our caring wise ones have provided to our cherished ancestors.

  “If my father walked these lands under this sun and this moon, he wouldn’t accept such ideas. If my father’s father walked these lands under this sun and this moon, he also wouldn’t accept these ideas. They believed in their own spirits and what they received from the spirits was what was meant to be. Their broad and strong
shoulders acknowledged what they were, and I know they would want us to stay as we are. We shouldn’t challenge our spirits to make any changes. We are the Forest Clan; we’ll remain as such until our last hunter, elder or mother walks these lands. My answer…no!”

  Thank you. Zedor, you are a mother of one of stolen children…what does your heart say about this?”

  “Beloved family members, it is true that my son was stolen from me and this horrible act caused me great pain. I cried while the sun moved across the skies; I cried while the sun slept. As each lamenting sun and grieving moon passed, my hatred for those who committed such a foul deed against us grew. My life was consumed by hate for them…my son taken from his mother’s bosom at such a young age.

  “While many suns and moons passed by, I held hope in my heart as any mother would do when her child is gone. However, my once happy dreams about my child turned into nightmares; I saw my boy’s bleached bones strewn across our lands, his flesh picked clean by hungry wolves. I say no to any suggestion that we follow this clan’s example to live an easier life. I can’t and won’t forgive those who stole my child from me. I would rather die and take my children with me to the Otherworld than to admit that their clan can benefit our family!”

  “Thank you. Now, Galan.”

  “I stood at the side of our noble leader, Tusik, as we pursued the evil ones. We stood shoulder-to-shoulder facing death at their hands, but we overcame their wickedness with the guidance of our spirits. Daring Tusik received a bold plan from our spirits that helped us beat down evil. As the enemy approached us, by the light of our fires I saw the anger in their eyes. As we launched our attack, they were unaware of our presence…as we killed many of them the survivors fled back to their village of deceit and hatred. I shan’t be a servant to their ways…never! Their hatred shown in their eyes for our people shall never be taken from my mind…as the sun greets us, and as the moon welcomes us, my mind won’t ever be changed to how they lived in their village.”

  “Our courageous Bundan, here is your chance to say what your heart believes is the truth and what is best for our clan members.”

  “Wise one, noble one; when I heard Ovark’s words I believed that we should adopt the ideas of the other clan. A new way to keep us from feeling the pain of hunger; a new way to prepare our food…they appear to be wise ideas to help our family survive the cold and wet seasons. Although he has lived a few seasons, he speaks well. His persuasive words must flow from his father and his father’s father. As the water is the river, and the river is the water; so, it is with our noble son and his family. One is the shadow of the other and the other is now the shadow of the one.

  “Then I heard what our family members felt about such ideas. I realized that I was swayed by rhetoric…instead of listening to my heart and what the spirits wanted of me, I listened to words. Sweet words as the fat from the paws of a cave bear. My mind was distracted as it is when eating such a gift from the spirits. My ears tasted the sweetness of the meat and didn’t think about what might occur when we hunt these lands as the next sun and moon shine down upon our faces. In the best interest of the family and its future, I also must say no to the ideas that our ears hear at this ceremony to honor our caring land, sky, and water spirits.”

  “Thank you, brother. Let us hear from our most respected elder. Tosak, the Elder…what are your words about this proposal set before the clan?”

  “My fellow clan members, I have travelled many suns and an equal number of moons, and I must say that I am against any ideas that are given to us by the unpure. When I lived just a handful of seasons, our family never heard of their kind. We never saw their kind. We never had any dealings with their kind. However, as the seasons change from warm to cold, and then cold to warm, we see them wandering around our lands. We saw a handful, then another…they are here, and they are getting bolder. They wandered through our lands and forests…but they shall want our lands. They shall fight us and kill us, make us leave our lands for other lands. Lands that have no beasts, no streams, and no grasses.”

  Some heads nodded yes, and others politely nodded no to what the elder said about the unpure and their ideas.

  “Our clan has seen many suns and moons, and we have survived when we had no beasts to kill; when they didn’t provide us with warm furs to keep out the cold winds of the seasons; and when the rains and snow fell around us…We lived in the face of dangers from other clans and so, I don’t believe our family needs any advice from the unpure for how we live. We must not accept their ways, their food, and their ideas. If we do, our kind shall be unpure…this is not acceptable to our ancestors who lived as we do; we should live as they did, and not change.”

  Many more clan members voiced their concerns and then their decision about adopting the ways of the Rolling Valley Clan…in the end, my family did not welcome the wisdom from the unpure to change their lives. No more was ever said about the many suns and moons we spent as captives in the hands of evil. Closed ears brought more illness and death to our family. Why wouldn’t they listen to me?

  4

  Our home was set high on a steep slope, roughly as tall as four hunters, above a flat strip of land that often saw beasts, large and small use as a pathway to the gently rolling lands of thick grasses. There were irregularly shaped boulders that formed a natural pathway, just wide enough for a single hunter, to walk up to our home one at a time. While it took extra effort and time for a number of us to leave or enter our cave, nevertheless, it was a site provided to us by the spirits. Our ancestors were advised by the land spirits to choose this site and for good reason; any enemy that entered our lands could easily be seen as they approached our cave.

  At one time, many low bushes grew around our home, but over the many seasons we lived here, we cut them all down, used them to cook our meals, and to keep us warm at night. With them all gone, we had a clear view to our right and to our left. It was doubtful that an enemy could plan an attack of our lands without being seen, at least during the time the sun shone down upon us. At night…the evil spirits roamed the lands looking for souls to take; most hunters stayed warm in their caves; they didn’t want to arouse the ire of the wise ones.

  Below the cave there was a wide corridor, roughly ten spears wide, that served as a migratory pathway for reindeer, bison, mammoth, and woolly rhinoceros. We knew that the season had changed because a cloud of dust would proceed the beasts on their journey. The yellow rays of the sun were blocked out as they approached. The ground trembled and warned us to be ready with our spears in hand. Food arrived. Act quickly and survive; hesitate and starve.

  In the past, dense herds of beasts rolled past our cave like the waves of the river. I used to look at one spot, twice as high as my arm could reach, where the beasts rubbed against the rocks and left them smooth as a scrapper mother used to cut up a beast. When I grew, and became taller, I would often go to that spot, rub it with my hand, and ask the land spirits to help me find and kill a beast for our family to feed on.

  But now, there were few. When I was young, it was a joyous time; our clan would be fed for days with little effort. The hunters hid behind the rocks high above the streams of animals meandering slowly past them. Their sharp spears thrown into the body of the herd, death was everywhere; blood turned the emerald grasses crimson red. As I look out on the grass that would be trampled flat by the long lines of animals making their way to the grasslands next to our cave, it is untouched, only small areas trodden down. I felt sorrow and believed that the spirits laughed at our plight as we grew hungry, skinny.

  While the location of our cave was founded upon the ease to hunt for food, the inner area also served us well. Upon entering our home, there was a wide-open space that sunk down roughly the height of three hunters from the entrance. This is where our community cooked and ate food; treated and prepared furs for clothing; and where we laid our heads upon soft furs. When the days were bright, there was chaos in the cave; women cooking, men retelling hunting stories, male childr
en playing hunters of wild beasts and female sewers of animal skins.

  Bones, and tusks were spread in piles, waiting to be consumed by the fires that cooked our meat during the day and kept us warm at night. Daytime was a time to learn and play. Night time was special…we slept with our extended family all around us. Grandfather slept next to mother, father slept next to a cousin, and the children slept next to their brothers and sisters. As children, we often talked when we were supposed to sleep. Father was patient, but he did ask us to be silent, so grandfather could sleep.

  I remember the fires blazing at night and seeing shadows dancing on the walls…the walls came alive as we entered the dream world. They were covered with pictures of colorful beasts and hunters. There were large, shaggy animals with long white tusks being chased by one of our clan members. A skinny lioness cowered in fear as five hunters surrounded her and plunged their sharp spears into her body. Thin-legged reindeer, painted bright red, jumped this way and that with our men chasing after them. A large black cave bear, twice as tall as our tallest hunter, stood on its back legs defending itself from death at the hands of our skilled hunters.

  The animals pursued by the hunters were our future, but at the center of the drawings were our shamans, long ago travelled to the spirit land to be with our ancestors. The one shaman that always caught my eye was standing erect next to the left of the main line of medicine men. He was much taller than the others. The others appeared as young children compared to his size. I thought that he must have stooped down to enter our home. His body was outlined in thick black paint and had a white and red crown of feathers upon his head. His arms and legs were bound with colorful shells of pink, yellow, and red. They seemed to move to a slow rhythm even though that was not possible…it was a painting after all. Large circles of white ran up and down his entire body, no doubt to protect him from any evil spirits that wandered throughout our lands.