“Unless,” interjected Yltar.
“Unless what?” demanded Dumo. “Will you think of some strange circumstance that would make this believable so that this council will once again spare the lives of these three? Do not waste our time, Yltar. You persuaded us once, but you will not succeed again, no matter how hard you try.”
“What if Hyram feared your actions?” the shaman postulated. “What if he knew what your reaction would be to the news of his son and feared that your actions would jeopardize the Qubari people?”
“How could my knowledge of such a blessed event hurt the Qubari?” scowled Dumo. “You weave tales that contain no logic. Let us convene this council and determine their fate.”
“I can think of only one reason that Hyram would not have shared his birth,” persisted Yltar as he forced his way through the line of guards. “He would have kept his silence in fear that you would have torn down the gates of Angragar for a child who could barely walk.”
Everyone stared at the shaman as he marched over to stand in front of Rejji. He reached down and seized Rejji’s right arm from where it rested on his leg. He twisted the arm to force Rejji’s palm to face upward and gasped at the sight of the crescent mark he saw. He gently pulled Rejji to his feet and raised the held arm high in the air so the palm faced the council table. Yltar then fell to his knees before Rejji.
“Behold, people of Qubari,” Yltar called out. “Behold the coming of the Astor.”
The entire courtyard gasped and fell to their knees. Tears flowed down Dumo’s cheeks and dampened the stones of the courtyard. Although his tears flowed freely, Chief Dumo was the happiest man in the world.
“What does this mean?” asked Rejji. “What is happening?”
“Angragar is awakening,” smiled Yltar. “We have waited centuries for you to come.”
Chapter 23
Astor
“I still don’t understand,” declared Rejji. “What is an Astor? What does it mean that Angragar is awakening? What does this have to do with me?”
“You are the Astor,” began Yltar. “It is prophesied that the Astor will reopen Angragar. He will be marked by the crescent of the moon upon his right palm.”
“This can’t be,” Rejji shook his head. “I am only half Qubari and if you are all kneeling in deference to me, please stop. It makes me very uncomfortable. Surely a lot of people could be born with such a scar.”
The Qubari sheepishly rose to their feet as Yltar continued, “It is not a scar, Rejji. It is a mark and it is more than just you having it. Your father was a scholar who studied the ancient tomes more than any other. He had become convinced that the time of the Astor was near. I am not certain of the signs he saw to predict this, but I respected his knowledge enough to believe he had not misread them. Add to that the instructions you received from the Sage and it is undeniable. There is a further test that can be made if you are still in doubt.”
“What is the test?” questioned Rejji.
“The gates of Angragar have been locked for centuries,” stated Yltar. “Many have tried to open them and all have failed. That is why Dumo spoke of an army to tear the gates down, yet it is written that the gates will yield to the Astor. I am confident that you can open them.”
“Then let us go find out for sure,” murmured Rejji.
“That can be done,” offered Yltar, “but may I make a suggestion.”
“Certainly,” replied Rejji. “I can use suggestions from everyone. I do not have any idea what it is you think I am.”
“It appears that there is little doubt that you are Qubari,” smiled Yltar. “Even if you are found not to be the Astor, there is much that you and Bakhai should learn. Angragar is a distance from here and once the gates are open, it becomes harder to keep the city secure. Spend some time here in the village before we make the journey and test you. Learn of our history and customs. Study the ancient scrolls. Find out what the Astor is for yourself and what is expected of you. Angragar has waited many centuries. It will wait a few weeks longer.”
“I would like that,” nodded Rejji. “I feel like I have found my true home for the first time. I am in no hurry to leave it.”
“I would like that too,” interjected Bakhai. “Why is Angragar being protected?”
“To explain that, I must go back thousands of years,” declared Yltar as he pulled up a chair and sat. “At one time there was a very advanced nation where we stand. It was one of the great ancient nations of the world. Ships from Angragar traveled the world and traded the bounties of this land. It was a peaceful nation as most were at that time. One of its greatest allies was Elvangar, land of the elves.”
“Real elves?” questioned Mistake. “Do you mean there really are elves?”
“Oh yes, real elves,” smiled Yltar. “At least there were elves at that time. I cannot say if any still exist. One day, in the reign of King Regis, a young mage named Vand rose to power. He was well versed in the dark arts and he sought domination over his brothers. He defied all customs and laws, yet his charm drew a large following to him. He sought a way to topple the king and seize power for himself. As large and as powerful as his following got, he realized that he would never be a threat to the king as long as the king stood in the favor of the people.”
“So the people loved this king?” queried Mistake.
“Very much so,” nodded Yltar. “Whenever Vand tried to stir up the crowd in Angragar, the people threw stones at him and chased him from the city. Vand decided one day upon a plan to seize power. He took his followers west over the mountains unto the center of the land. There on the shores of a great lake, he built a temple to himself.”
“Vandegar,” interjected Rejji.
“Yes, Vandegar,” confirmed Yltar. “He declared himself a god and demanded his people worship him. Then he began issuing proclamations and prophecies. One of the prophecies he wrote prophesized an invasion of the land by our allies the elves. As he sent his followers throughout the land to spread these proclamations and prophecies, people laughed and ridiculed them. This continued for some years. During this time, Vand was secretly building a navy away from the prying eyes of the people. When the time was right, Vand raised the flag of Angragar on his ships and sent the fleet to attack the elves.”
“He attacked the elves for no reason?” asked Bakhai. “I hope he was soundly defeated.”
“Oh his navy was indeed destroyed,” frowned Yltar, “but his goal was achieved. His navy raided and destroyed many elven towns and villages. What was left behind was meant to incense the elves. It worked. The elves were so incensed by the merciless attacks that they sent their armies to Angragar. Much of Angragar and the surrounding villages were destroyed. King Regis called a truce and when he sat down with the elves and compared stories, it became clear to all what Vand had done, but it was too late. The people saw the devastation and believed in Vand’s supernatural powers. They fled Angragar and rallied to Vandegar. Only a few families remained true to King Regis.”
“The Qubari?” questioned Bakhai.
“In a sense,” answered Yltar. “King Regis was of the Qubari family. Over the ages, all of the families lost their identities and all are considered Qubari now. Vand relished the power he had obtained, but he lusted for more. Word came that he was gathering an army to come and finish the conquest the elves had begun. In desperation, the elves used their magic to hide Angragar. They created a great jungle around it and populated it with fierce beasts. They bestowed upon the Qubari the ability to talk to the animals and use the creatures as allies. Vand’s forces expended much effort to crush Angragar, but eventually they gave up and returned to Vandegar.”
“What happened to Vandegar?” asked Bakhai.
“Vand grew in strength and power,” replied Yltar. “He appeared to gain power from the strength of his following. Some say he went crazy, others that he had always been mad. Whichever is true, in the end, Vand truly believed himself to be a god. He gathered the masses of his realm to the temple
and openly declared the other gods dead. Legend says that he so offended the gods that they struck him down by renting the ground and having the sea swallow it. Most of his following died at once. The survivors spread all over the land.”
“So that is why you consider everyone from outside the jungle an invader?” asked Rejji. “Because they tried to conquer Angragar?”
“No,” explained Yltar. “The invaders came centuries later and annihilated those that remained of Vand’s people. Little is known of the invaders except they sought to kill every living person in the land. They arrived by ships and promptly burned the ships so they could not return to where they came from. Massive armies descended on the people and slew them all. They brought mages and laid waste to the land. Only the Qubari Jungle survived their slaughter. They tried to invade the jungle and failed. Then their army turned around and left. Some of the invaders stayed in the lands outside the jungle and tried to settle down but the land was poor. Those are the people you call Fakarans.”
“So the elves hid Angragar and promised that it would awaken in the future,” surmised Mistake. “Why has it gone so long without happening?”
“The elves hid Angragar to protect it from Vand,” corrected Yltar. “They did not lock it. God did that at the time that Vand’s people were destroyed. He was angry with King Regis for allowing Vand to prosper. He said we would be able to enter Angragar when we were ready to stand up for what is holy and right. I guess that time is now.”
“God locked Angragar?” echoed Mistake. “Which god?”
“The Qubari only believe in one god,” explained Yltar. “Vand is the one who created multiple gods. I assume he did so to facilitate people believing that he was one. We have always believed in only one god.”
“So Rejji wanting to unite the tribes is what your god has been waiting for?” queried Mistake.
“I do not know the reasons,” admitted Yltar. “I only know that if Rejji is indeed the Astor, the Qubari are his to command. We have done our job faithfully since the fall of Angragar. We will not falter now.”
“Why is it that Rejji is not a talker?” asked Bakhai. “I would expect his abilities to be as good as mine.”
“There is no reason to believe that, Bakhai,” responded Yltar. “Rejji may possess some skill as a talker, or he may not. We can host a ceremony for him to find out, but he does not require talking skills to be the Astor. Not all of the Qubari have the skill.”
“Let us go to the temple,” suggested Dumo who had remained silent since finding out that Rejji was the Astor and his grandson. “I will have living quarters prepared for the three of you while we show you the ancient scrolls and histories of our people. There is much for you to learn.”
***
Rejji sat on the grass in the park-like square between the temple and the large stone building. He tried to pull all of his thoughts together with the information he had learned over the weeks of study in the temple.
“Taking a day off?” chirped Mistake as she entered the park and sat beside him.
“Hi, Mistake,” smiled Rejji. “Actually I am wondering why we are here. There are more questions than answers.”
“What kind of questions?” prodded Mistake.
“Haven’t you ever wondered why the three of us are in this jungle learning about things that happened thousands of years ago?” replied Rejji. “It makes no sense to me. We are just ordinary people and yet Lord Marak treated us like visiting royalty. The Sage acted like we are the saviors of the world and the Qubari think we are gods. Why is this happening to us?”
Mistake pressed her lips together and studied Rejji’s face before answering. “Actually it is you that is treated that way,” she finally said. “Bakhai and I just happened to be with you when this all happened, but that doesn’t really answer your question. I would assume that you are someone special and that these people can sense it somehow. Why does it bother you so? When Lord Marak presented the opportunity, you were certainly glad to take it. You really sounded like rebuilding Fakara was what you wanted to do with your life. Now you do not seem sure.”
“It is something I would like to do,” admitted Rejji, “but I have never felt that it was something I could really accomplish. Everyone seems to have more faith in me than I have in myself.”
“Do not discount their faith, Rejji,” smiled Mistake. “You speak of men that are powerful and wise. They do not heap confidence upon you as a reward. They must see something in you that you do not see yourself. There is another way that you should be looking at this.”
“How should I be looking at it?” questioned Rejji.
“You are about to embark on a course that pleases you,” explained Mistake. “You feel your skills are not up to the task, but you really want to succeed. Consider Lord Marak and Dumo as friends that want you to succeed and are willing to help you. Surely their help will make up for any deficiencies you think you might have.”
“Lord Marak is far away,” objected Rejji, “and Dumo will never leave this jungle. When we leave, we will be on our own. I don’t even think Marak and Dumo would get along if they did try to help.”
“Well you are wrong on that,” grinned Mistake. “Lord Marak and Chief Dumo get along just fine.”
“How do you know that?” quizzed Rejji.
“Because I have heard them talk,” answered Mistake. “I have taught the Air Tunnel to Yltar with Lord Marak’s blessing. They seem to have developed a friendship over the weeks. Both are very excited about your prospects for bringing peace and prosperity to Fakara.”
“Is this a private meeting,” asked Bakhai, “or can a younger brother join in?”
“Bakhai!” greeted Mistake. “Sit. Rejji is having doubts about his place in things.”
“One chosen by God should not complain,” grinned Bakhai as he slapped his brother on the back and sat down next to him. “I think I found a reference to the hellsouls.”
“You did?” Rejji asked excitedly. “Does it explain what they are?”
“I think so,” nodded Bakhai. “When the Qubari were expelled from Angragar and the gates were sealed, some were left behind. Some accounts spoke of this as a mistake God made, but I have found another that explains it differently. At the time the elves hid the ancient city, there were agents of Vand inside the city that were plotting to attack from within. The reference I found suggests that God knew of these people and prevented them from leaving when the others were expelled. In a sense, Angragar became their prison and yet they became protectors of the city, stopping outsiders from surviving an attempt to enter.”
“If so,” Rejji frowned, “they will still seek to protect the city. That means that just opening the gates is not enough.”
“What are you talking about?” interrupted Mistake. “How can people from thousands of years ago still be protecting the city?”
“They are not people any longer,” explained Bakhai. “They are evil spirit beings. Hundreds of references speak of Angragar being haunted. Those evil spirits have been called hellsouls by the Qubari.”
“You can’t possibly believe in evil ghosts,” chided Mistake.
“You would be wise to believe in them,” interjected Yltar as Dumo and the shaman walked up behind the trio. “They do exist, but I am sure our warriors can take care of them.”
“I am not so sure,” frowned Rejji. “I think if I am able to open the gates, they should immediately be closed again. We must not let the hellsouls escape into this world.”
“You cannot be planning on entering Angragar alone?” protested Dumo. “I won’t permit it.”
“The Sage instructed the three of us to go to Angragar,” declared Rejji. “To risk the lives of all of the Qubari on this adventure makes no sense. If the three of us survive, there will plenty of chance for the Qubari to reclaim the city. If we do not survive then you will know that you still wait for the real Astor.”
“Perhaps a compromise?” offered Yltar. “Each of you will take one warrior for an esco
rt?”
“I would feel better with some trained warriors at my back,” nodded Rejji. “I do hesitate to be the bringer of death to others though.”
“There are many who will volunteer,” responded Dumo. “Even in death, it would be considered an honor to have been chosen for such an historic moment. As a leader you must come to realize that death is the due of a warrior. All that your actions can do is change the timing of that death. You are never the cause of their death.”
“Dumo is correct,” nodded Yltar. “For you to take the blame for a warrior’s death is to rob that warrior of the reason for his life.”
“I have come across references to Qubari armor,” interrupted Bakhai. “I do not understand the references when all you wear are loincloths.”
“We have very strong armor,” Chief Dumo stated. “We do not wear it unless we face a large assault by a determined enemy. There is little need for it otherwise.”
“Wouldn’t armor rust in this jungle?” questioned Mistake.
“Not Qubari armor,” chuckled Dumo. “It is made of silk.”
“Silk?” echoed Rejji. “How can silk protect a warrior?”
“It is not ordinary silk,” smiled Yltar. “It is tyrik silk and woven very tightly. An arrow may pierce it, but the arrowhead will not completely penetrate it. Likewise, the tip of a sword may pierce it, but the edge of a blade does little damage unless the blows are repetitive and in the same location.”
“It is light enough to be worn under garments or sturdy enough to worn as garments,” added Dumo. “I shall have some made for the three of you.”
“That sounds great,” chirped Mistake.
“I still have no idea what it is we are supposed to do in Angragar,” sighed Rejji. “The Sage talked about uncovering the mysteries there, but he gave no clue as to what those mysteries are.”
“I have no clues about that,” frowned Dumo. “Occasionally, we have patrols go to the city, but nobody has entered it in thousands of years. The whole city is a mystery to us.”
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