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“Where.” Daughter Ndya stated more than asked as she was joined by Rajan’kin and Gage-jun heading for the flap.
“He was found trying to hide in Mr. Canalor’s tent. Mr. Canalor was the one who turned him in.” The runner said as he turned to lead them. Gage-jun gestured for Elfric to stay behind and watch the hut as they stepped out into the alley. “The Respected is having him brought to the southern sands.”
Unprompted the Daughter explained, “The southern sands are in fact where violent acts were tried, historically. I also believe it is grandmother’s hope that the heat will prevent a crowd from forming too close and potentially causing issue.”
In a silent run, the small group made their way to the southern edge of the settlement. The Daughter’s guards in the lead, clearing the path forward. True to Daughter Ndya’s prediction, a crowd was forming and watching out across the sand. A few had ventured out into the sun to stand in a half circle to observe.
At the center of the attention was a half-circle of guards. At its center stood the Respected, the Son of Sand, and a young man on his knees between the two. He looked elven, though his ears stood more straight out from his head then for other elves. His hair was a dark blue-black that was a disheveled mess and roughly tied into a bun. His skin was pale, and he looked like he was already starting to burn under the sun. His billowy white robes were dirty and torn, matched by the dirty blue hakama he wore, or what Gage would assume was the ‘eastern elven’ equivalent. The elf’s face, while handsome, was indifferent and flat. No emotion was portrayed as he stared at the ground before himself.
As soon as the Respected noticed their arrival and gestured them over. “Daja Hye-jun, I was not expecting you.”
Gage-jun gave a slight bow of her head. “I came in case the victims were needed or if any testament for what they had endured.”
“Amenable.” The Respected gave a slight nod in turn before turning her attention to Rajan’kin. “I assumed you would join us, considering the claims that have been made regarding your Faith in this matter.”
Rajan’kin gave a deeper bow. “This one is most troubled about the claims. Nothing in Kin’s teachings is so violent. It is this one’s intentions to reach the heart of the matter.”
“It would be like a foreigner,” the word was almost spat out, “To set the blame elsewhere.” The Son of Sand said as he stepped forward. “The Akalahari tribe has not had such a violent crime in nearly twelve hundred years. It was foreigner who committed such an act because of a foreign religion. It seems straight forward enough to me.”
“Perhaps, we should proceed.” The Respected turned past the Son and stepped towards the kneeling elf. The Daughter stepped with her and together they began to chant.
‘O great Ancestors, spirits of our souls,
Hear our voices, hear our plea,
Guidance, truth, and light we see.
Ancient ones, with wisdom deep,
Show us the way, guide our feet,
As we strive for justice in this heat.
Banish lies, let deceit be soothed,
Your sight cuts through the darkest veil,
Grant us the vision that will prevail.
A flame of righteousness that never dies,
Balance the scales, let fairness reign,
As we uncover the truth, let justice chain.
Guide and protect us, hear our creed,
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With your blessings, keep our hearts pure,
As we walk this path, strong and sure.’
Their voices echoed and reverberated over the open sands. As the two spoke the words aloud, a pressure seemed to grow. It surrounded them all. Several individuals in the gathered crowd fell to their knees, as did a few of the kumdahari guards.
Gage-jun felt the pressure as it started to grow, then it stepped back. Now it brushed his mind like the fluttering of a moth’s wings. Glancing around, only the Respected, Daughter Ndya, and the Son seemed unaffected. As the pressure seemed to ease, it was replaced with a very strong sense of being watched.
“The entirety of the Akalahari tribe’s Ancestry watches you now. Speak the truth and it will be known.” The Respected’s voice still reverberated a little, as if multiple people were speaking through a single mouthpiece. “Who are you.”
His head rolled to the side and with an uncaring eye he looked up at the Respected. The words seemed to come to his lips unbidden. “I am Liu’ye, the petal that drifts on the flowing waters.”
“Why did you attack,” the Respected looked over her shoulder to Gage-jun.
“Griz’tek and Kaylen.” Gage-jun answered the unspoken question. The Respected returned her gaze to Liu’ye.
"The way of Kin is clear: strength endures while weakness fades. Should no trial present itself, one must be woven from the threads of fate." Liu’ye’s eyes fluttered briefly, and he glanced to Rajan’kin. A flash of confusion crossing his face.
Daughter Ndya gestured Rajan’kin forward. Rajan’kin did so, stepping just to the side of Liu’ye. “This one will speak its truth before the Ancestor’s of the Akalahari tribe, before the Respected. It is true the teachings of Kin do speak of bettering oneself, it is not at the expense of others. The teachings certainly do not speak of creating such trials for others. Everyone has their own path and follows it at their own pace.” The pressure seemed to increase, focusing in on Rajan’kin. After a few moments of intensity, it lessened.
Before the Respected could speak, Liu’ye spoke out. “The voice I hear is not what you say. Kin himself spoke to me. His words were clear as daylight. He said they must bleed, that only the strong would live. If they fell, they were unworthy. How can this be wrong?”
There were a few moments of silence before the Respected continued, “Kin himself speaks to you.” Rajan’kin was frowning, clearly unsettled at the statement but stayed silent.
“Yes!” Liu’ye cried out, his voice was strained as he spoke. His eyes were growing panicked, wild. “His voice is strong, carried by the desert winds and the searing sun. It is a trial in itself to hear his words.”
Once more the Respected turned to Rajan’kin, who sadly shook their head. “Kin’s voice is of cool waters, a refreshing breath of air. It is reprieve and peace.”
“No!” Liu’ye lurched upwards, standing on his knees rather than kneeling. “I tell you! He spoke to me. Kin spoke to me! I do not lie! The strong will endure, the weak will fall!” He collapsed back down. Hunched forward, he started muttering to himself. “How can this be wrong? Have I not followed his command? What if I was wrong? The things I've done… they cannot be in vain. I am not… wrong?”
“There! You see! The voice of this so-called god has driven this man insane!” The Son roared, pointing a finger at Rajan’kin. “He has been tainted by the teachings spread by none other than an alajin lice.” Rajan’kin looked like they had been slapped across the face.
“You will respect our guests.” The whisper caused a ripple in the air, causing the Son of Sand to take a step back, shock clear on his face. The Respected’s face had lost its serene quality. Instead, it bore the look of being a façade that held back the anger of thousands of souls. The sun that glinted off her looked sharper, more intense. It lasted a heartbeat more before her serenity returned.
Daughter Ndya cleared her throat. “Perhaps, as with the Respected from the Era of the Flooded Spire, the Ancestor’s could entice Liu’ye to speak with the voice of his… agitator.”
The Respected glanced at Daughter Ndya before looking around, as if conferring with those that others could not see. She nodded and turned to Liu’ye. “Very well. When next you speak, it will be with the tongue of he who has set you on this path.”
"You wish to hear the voice of Kin?” While it was Liu’ye’s mouth that moved, the voice that left it was not his own. It burned and scoured the ears, a complete lack of emotion. An unyielding force of nature. Or it would have been, had it not been spoken with the body of a mortal. “Then let the blazing sun sear your spirit, feel the weight of his might upon you." Liu’ye’s lips cracked, his skin went ashy as his body seemed to dry out as he spoke. With the final word, he collapsed into the sand. Gage-jun and Rajan’kin both took a step forward but stopped themselves.
“We know this voice.” The Respected spoke, a multitude of voices overlapping her own. “Like the scouring, whittling winds of the deep desert. It has torn at our souls. That is the voice of Xarax.”