The old human stopped talking and looked at us as if waiting for some type of confirmation. I glanced over at Uncle Finneus, but he didn’t look back. Instead, he stood and offered a low bow in return to the man. “Thank you for this gift,” he said in a formal tone.
I was unsure of what to do, so I just copied Uncle Finneus, bowing and offering the same response before sitting back down.
Garnachi accepted our responses with a nod and began to pace back and forth, beginning his tale. “If you are to understand my story, you must first understand my culture. To the east, farther than even a dragon can fly, there lived the nation of my ancestors. The Narjee did not exist back then. Instead of the warrior clan that we have become, it was a sophisticated nation that knew no battle. Built atop a massive agricultural economy, our empire blossomed, creating knowledge and technologies that the world had never seen, nor has seen since. By the accounts told to me when I was a child, even the gods were proud of how far we had come. From the helpless barbaric creatures, we once were, into a civilization the gods often traveled to. Paradise had been found. But then, it was lost.
Within humans lie those evil emotions of jealousy and envy. And when she, a cruel mistress of destruction came and offered one human within the empire the fulfillment of all his desires, he could not refuse. According to legend, this goddess of death despised the empire for its medical advances which kept millions from dying. Having grown tired of the gates of hell being empty, she, together with her newly made puppet, unleashed an evil disease upon our great empire. The full story of how the illness was created has been lost to us. But the disease destroyed plants and humans alike. It killed nine out of every ten people in our nation. Everything was decimated. And many of those that did not die from the plague, starved to death as our seeds did not bear harvest.
No one ever figured out the mechanism that caused some survivors to fight off the plague, and others to die. But somehow, a few of us did. After several years and untold suffering, the survivors of that hateful plague gathered. These people were changed forever. They had watched their brothers, sisters, wives, and parents die in absolute agony. Instead of calling themselves blessed for having survived the plague, the survivors claimed they were the ones who had been cursed by the evil goddess to survive, and took on the name Narjee to remember their suffering. For Narjee means ‘A Cursed People’ in our old tongue. Realizing there was no hope to be found in the land of their birth, the survivors left that which had become a wasteland and traveled west in search of a new home.
It was the 200th generation of Narjee that my father lived in, and the 201st generation that I was born into. From the first generation to my father’s, the Narjee traveled from place to place, never finding a permanent home, always moving westward. We remained haunted by the past and searched for the prophecies of the future that our doctors had passed down to us. Innumerable battles took place during our journey, and thousands upon thousands died from beasts, and demons alike.”
The old man paused in his pacing for a moment and turned back to my uncle, “While I know that you are aware of most of what I have said, Finneus, I tell it all for the sake of your nephew. And that all might be told in one setting, for such a story should be told all the way through, even if it is but once.”
So, saying, Garnachi returned to his walking of the room. “It was during the early days of my father’s life that one of our doctors warned of a great calamity coming. Then, two years later, another doctor prophesied that a home would be open to us, and a great opportunity would arise. These two prophecies, believed to be opposite of each other, created severe political unrest within the tribe.
In our history, many great doctors protected the Narjee from destruction with their prophecies. We had fought through beasts, demons, and even nature, always following our doctors' words as we sought our prophesized home. The monsters we killed with the help of our doctors would make your empire weep in terror.”
The old man pounded his chest, which sounded like stone beating stone. “We were invincible, by the simple fact, we believed that the prophecies were real and true and would never take us down the wrong path.”
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He opened his arms wide in a helpless gesture, his great frame seemingly taking up the entirety of the room. “And then what we had believed in, for hundreds of years, grew messy as the two prophecies spoke in words opposite of each other. Father argued with brother. And son argued against mother as the tribe tore itself into two sides. One followed a prophecy that spoke of danger and a need for diligence, the other speaking of hope and a home at last.
Both doctors were credible sources of wisdom and prophecy, which made it all the more difficult to decide which path to follow. The man who was leading the Narjee at the time, a chieftain by the name of Killian, was the one to make the impossible decision on the future of the tribe. As any prophecy pushed us to raise our children in a certain way. And with two, there was no clear direction.
After hours of mystical contemplation, Killian decided to trust the prophecy that promised a bright future. He ordered that the old, civilized ways be taught to the children, and the ‘Way of Wandering’ which is what we call our warrior training, be taught to less than the majority of our tribe's younglings. Fights broke out as the decision met with anger and frustration. And it was only through sheer will, and overpowering martial prowess that Killian was able to hold the tribe together and push us onward to the west. Then, five years after that decision, when my father was but a teenager, our tribe made contact with you all.
In winter, a scout of the Narjee was hunting in some woods, when he came across three intelligent creatures that appeared to try and communicate with him. The scout was a believer in the prophecy that spoke of darkness, so he was on edge as the smaller creatures approached him. One thing led to another, and he ended up killing the creatures. He returned to the tribe and reported to Killian that he had encountered dangerous intelligent creatures that tried to entice him and kill him. What followed was the war that made the Narjee famous throughout the empire. But even the elves know of those stories.”
A proud smile crossed over the old man’s face as he mentioned the war, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “The war is meaningless to the story except to add that while we had won a home for ourselves, there were still many within the tribe who believed the other prophecy would come to pass. That we had finally made it to a place that we could call our home was of little consequence to a significant part of the tribe. They believed it was just a temporary stop in our long journey, and that we must prepare even harder. Some went so far as to claim that settling down there was an invitation for destruction. A destruction that would be carried out by the outsiders we had made peace with. It was in this situation I was born together with my younger twin. And in this complicated miasma of political subterfuge, that we were raised.
Two days after our birth, as was custom, we were brought out to meet the sun for the first time. And with our mother raising our small bodies before it, we were named Garnachi and Mashda. Garnachi after a great warrior long dead and almost forgotten. While Mashda was the name of the greatest of our leaders from history.
Time passed and we grew up, inseparable from each other. I do not know if my mother was a seer, or perhaps been granted a vision for this sole purpose, but we grew up each in honor of our namesakes. I was the strongest, fastest boy of our generation. So much so, that by the time I was fourteen I could win against most adults of our tribe in feats of strength. As my instructor said, ‘I was born to wield a spear in my hand.’
Mashda, on the other hand, was unlike me in his gifts. But he was as great as me in the depth of his talent. For while I could wield a spear and shoot an arrow, my brother was smarter than everyone. He may have been weaker, but even as a child, he was always the leader no matter the situation. By the age of ten, he had twenty boys his age serving as lackeys. He was named after a great king, and from the moment he could walk, Mashda felt that kingship was his birthright.”
Garnachi paused there, staring off into the distance with a sad smile on his face. We waited patiently. I did because I had nowhere to be and found the story interesting. I’m not sure why Uncle Finneus didn’t ask a question during the silence. But when I looked over, I found my uncle so focused on the old man it was like nothing else existed. Uncle Finneus’s eyes were clear, bright, and manic, watching Garnachi’s every movement. The old man let out a sigh and waved his hand as if trying to throw away a bad memory.
“That was his one weakness you know. Perhaps it was also his greatest strength. That feeling he was able to convey to the rest of us. That feeling of strength, of purpose, of complete and utter sureness that what he was doing was the right thing, without the possibility of it being wrong. Such a feeling was addicting, and it allowed his followers to feel like they belonged to something greater than themselves. It made them believe in his right to rule.
Of course, it was not all good. When he went against someone who would not join him, Mashda was like a spoilt child who had lost his toy. As he grew older, it became more apparent, at least to me, that Mashda saw the world in black and white. He seemed to separate everyone into two groups, those that followed him, and those that didn’t. Perhaps only myself and my mother were the exceptions. But let me return to the story.”