Fighting for Faith
The twilight set in with a gentle call unto the saurians below. The twilight came with the light slowly shedding away to show the many stars that were covered, and to show the moon, who gazed down with gentle wonder at the many small people so far away. And as the first rays of moonlight fell upon the small village, the people watched and waited, in wonderment of the night of dreams.
A young girl watched the great fire, as the priest stood before it, his hands stretched wide, and he calling to they that listened. She watched, holding her doll close to her chest, one made of twigs and dried fruits, and she combed a hand steadily through the mock crest, which she had done up using a stone. She watched as the newly born were brought before the flame and held over it - yet held high enough that the child would not burn.
He held the child close, and prayed upon the alter above the flame, and he prayed for guidance in the times to come, in the famine that was starting to creep upon the land. But above all, he prayed for the child in his arms, a child who breathed shallowly, in the shadows of death. He prayed long and hard, until his voice was hoarse, and until the rest of the families showed.
And so he stepped down, then offered the child forward, towards the mother who was quite old. But he stepped away from them, and held his limbs tight as the chill of the night began to set in, and make him ache just so, in his old bones. It was nights as this he felt lonely, but it was nights like this, that he felt closest.
He walked quietly away from those who began to chant, and perform the celebration of the coming of summer. He walked away, while smoothing a hand through his long hair, away from the scaled ones, and towards the hut that was distinctly his own, one which he had been told to build, when he asked to teach them, they had accepted, when he had finished it. Alone.
And alone he rested, as he lay upon his cot, and gazed out the door towards the licking flames, and the wooden structure which never burned. He smiled to himself at the singing and dancing of the savages, a word he hated to think upon, and he just stroked the only possession he did not make himself, his bible.
It was the year of 2604, and it was the future, or so they claimed. The future of exploration, of a great doctrine of humanism, of spreading humanity across the universe, like a plague - or like a grace, it was the future of beginnings, and of alliances. For him, it was the past, a period of archeological history his ancestors had gone through, themselves.
It was the future, and he was stuck in another world's past, watching them, and being as a missionary. A life he did not complain about, for the look of awe from the children, and the curiosity of the adults was quite meaningful to him - even if they thought it but a story. But he was a holy man, as proclaimed when he arrived, and was given the respect to do what he felt he could. He asked nothing, and they thanked him for it.
A voice made him break his revelry in the moment, and he so gazed upon the young daughter of the clan head. He gazed, and his head bowed to her, in respect. Her crest was a bright orange, and her scales a jungle green, useful for blending into the surroundings, a trick he'd noticed when the children and he played. 'Shaman - what was the prayer?'
His voice drew back, as he reached down to his pipe, to light it up of the local source of relaxants - it was as aspirin, only inhaled, and it made him feel relaxed and calm every time he inhaled it. She did not mind, as the smell was heavy in the village tonight. 'I prayed to my God, that the child will be cured of his sickness. I will be sad if the child dies.' He looked upon her, and she smiled, softly.
'Why does one not of our tribe care the fate of our child? I am always curious as to this.' He marveled again at the sheer talent of her voice, and the range of sounds which she made, when speaking. He focused upon her voice and her lips, for the rest of her, though not human, were beautiful and enticing, like a scaled panther.
'I am commanded to care. And you are a people alive. I would choose to care, because the child is innocent, and deserves a chance at life, just like all the others here.' He continued watching her, as she sat upon a stone bench, and carefully smoothed the loin cloth out, to avoid showing herself to him.
'Why do you not join us at the party? It is in praise of the coming summer, provided by the spirits of light and life. And my father would like you to come, because you are amongst us now, and you are a part of us.' His heart lifted, just a touch, and he gave him a gentle smile, at that comment.
'I would not want to interrupt it, its yours. Plus, I do not believe in your spirits, and I'd be afraid I would offend some of your tribe.' He settled the book down as he sat up, watching her. She shook her head out, softly.
'Make the party in praise to your Spirit, and we shall make it in praise of our own. Come.' She stood, and offered her hand out, and he took it most gently. She smiled for that, and lead him out of his hut, and towards her fathers throne, a throne simple, yet for the Clan Master alone. There was a twisted sort of logic to her words.
And he was old, even by their standards. Forty years old, he rested still with his strong grip upon the mantle of ruler ship - the metal staff from the heavens. He held it tight, and watched the party with a smile, a smile which showed many broken teeth in his clan wars, and showed the scars upon his face from time.
He wore the most of the clan, first his long loin cloth, and then the gift from the new shaman - a long and open vest, which hung upon him gently, a bit too large - when he came to them from above to teach them. His words were strange, yet they were happier to hear it, that someone cared for them. The Chieftain smiled as he caught the strange, bitter scent of the shaman, and the scent, fair and sweet, of his youngest daughter.
'Welcome, wise man, I see my fair daughter has made you join. I am pleased to have you here. Please, sit with me, and tell me of your tribe.' The priest gave a quiet nod of his head, and carefully groomed a hand through his long beard, trying his best to find a way to trim it - but the rocks were rarely sharp enough to cut.
'My people live in the stars.' He lifted a hand, and pointed up. 'That one there, in the constellation... uhm, in the eye of the great dragon up there.' He tried to use terms they were used to, but it was difficult, his mind having to work down to their understanding. He didn't feel they were unintelligent, in his heart, he knew they were far smarter than most humans he had met.
'Ah, so I see. But my Shaman says that only the spirits live up there, and that the eye of the dragon is not a place for people, but the eye of the great maker. What do you believe of this?' The priest looked at the Chieftain directly, and a hand lifted, to point towards the stars.
'The spirit I worship, encompasses all of the stars, and all of the world within his hand. He made all of the stars, and he made the world.' His voice was gentle, a she held his hand up towards the stars again, then drew it down to his lap, towards the torn leggings of his pants.
'That is a very large spirit. Could it be the Great Spirit?' He looked over at the shaman of the tribe, who danced with the males, in the dance to entice the females in, to enjoy the revelry. The Shaman did little else this past three days.
'It could be. He did make everything, and it is no stretch that he made your people, as well. He does love all of his creation, and he would welcome worship from your kind.' He gazed at the shaman as well, watching him, and not liking the feelings he received when he was around.
'The Shaman says you are evil, and are here to tempt us away from the path of the Great Spirit, it is why there is the great famine beginning, in the villages near us. It is why the children are sick. What do you say of this?' The Chieftains voice was soft, yet firm, a question he wished to have answered, but willing to listen to the answer.
'I am glad you let me answer, instead of assuming, like other tribes would have done. I chose your tribe, because I have heard of a great and kind ruler.' He paused in his flattery. 'I do not have an answer to why your young are sick, and the food is scarce. I just know, that it is happening, and it will happen, even if I am here or not. But I do know, that your people will survive.'
The Chieftain gazed upon him once more, while holding the long metal staff to his chest.
'My shaman wishes to have you sacrificed upon the alter, and says it would appease the spirits. But my daughter protests this; she says that it would only anger your great spirit, whom would cause even more trouble to us. I do not know who to listen to, so I ask you. Would you die, so that we would live?' The chieftain was truly large, and the Priest knew, if the chieftain so chose, his life would be forfeit at any time. Yet he watched with his patient eyes, for the answer to the question.
'Yes I would.' The heart felt heavy suddenly, and fear was inside, for a second. But he inhaled in deep, and looked at the Chieftain. 'If I could share the Maker with you, even if it cost me my life, I would. If I could prevent your children from dying of the sickness, and if it cost me my life, I would do it.'
'Why would you give your life so easily for us, people not even of your clan?' He questioned back, though he held the staff up, higher, from the ground.
'Because the Maker would do the same for me, and has done the same for me. I will explain I to you soon, the n ext time I am to teach my faith. If you want to listen, I'd be glad to tell you.' His heart was beating again, hard and fast, and his cheeks were flushed. He was afraid, but he would keep his word.
'I see.' The great reptile wondered aloud. 'Then my daughter was correct, you do have a good heart - and you are a kind being, even if kind to a fault. But I will honor your words and wisdom, and my daughter's wish. We will keep you around, a little longer. But do remember, my shaman does not wish to keep you about. Be careful.' The chieftain stood, and his staff was lifted once.
Twice, Three times, before he dropped it down, and watched the revelries. The priest just rested, with the daughter kneeling at the feet of her father, quietly regarding the males. She would remain single, until one was found for her, by her fathers will.
'Priest-Shaman, do you have a wife?' She asked him, and he looked down with a shake of his head. 'Are you permitted one?'
'Yes, I am, but I do not think I would do well with a wife, because my life is a very lonely one, and a very hard one. Plus, humans do not often want to spend time with other people, no matter how nice they are, or seem to be - many of us would rather jstay in our worlds, than go out, and meet other people.' He quietly reached a hand over, and, in a moment, perhaps from the pain killers, perhaps from the closeness of the party, he touched her crest in a motion, that few did, but always was taken as a gin of close friendship. Her father did nothing about it, though he saw it. She only smiled, and held his hand after he touched.
'It is a shame you are not our tribal shaman , we would have a great love of having you here, with us. For your mannerism and your heart are good and pure, and you would teach love, when our shaman would teach hate.' She watched him, and held his hand tightly.
'May I speak to him privately, Father?' The priest turned his head to the Chieftain, whom nodded once. There was great trust there. 'Then come along with me, Priest-Shaman.'
He stood from his sitting position, and her hand drew him along, towards the hut that she had, to herself, as the virgin daughter. Their hands were together, as they walked the dirt path amongst the many homes that the tribe had, and they together went into the hut, and she drew the sheet closed behind, to gaze eyes to eyes with one another.
'What did you wish to talk to me of?' He asked, sitting upon the stone bench in her room, opposite of she had done in his. His hand fell upon a masonry jar, and he quietly lifted it, to look upon the work. He smiled, the craftsmanship was quite well done.
'I want you to become our Tribal Shaman, even if you are not of the Sissihiri. My father listens to me well, but the shaman disregards me as just a female. You have respected me, and my sisters as equals, and that is all we ask. You honor us as you honor yourself, and your speaking of your great spirit is highly intriguing. Will you accept?'
He nodded his head gently, in regards to that question. 'Yes, I will do what you ask. But the shaman your tribe has no, will not like it.'
'I know.' She said softly. 'But he can be dealt with, if he does not step down willingly. I will talk to him - and then if that does not work, you may have to take it from him.' She looked eyes to eyes with him, for a second, before kissing his forehead, in a sign of respect.
'I do not want to have to fight.' He looked up at her again, speaking softly. 'My way is not violence, as I have told you.' He looked at her, thorough pained eyes. She smiled though, gently.
'Our was is our way. You will have to fight him to prove to the rest of the clan that you are strong enough to take the possession of the mantle of shaman. My friend, Priest Shaman... if you believe in your faith, be willing to fight for it. You do not have to kill him, just prove to him that he is too weak against your spirit. I believe in you.'
He nodded his head softly. 'Why?' He asked her once, softly.
Her head turned away, quietly. 'Because, I'm afraid of what will happen if you don't.' He gazed further into her soft hazel wood eyes.
'What would happen?' He murmured with his soft voice.
'He will sacrifice me to the spirits, because I am the third daughter of the Chieftain, and considered a sacred being. By sacrificing me, they would believe there would be great harvest. I'm afraid, Shaman-Priest. I'm afraid to die.' He nodded, understandingly, before he stood and quietly stepped out, knowing her reasons were just, now.
He wasn't fighting for just God, now.
'Attention.' The Chieftain stood strong, with his ruler ship firm in hand, and his eyes gazing long upon those who were in revelries. They watched him quietly, saying nothing for a time. Beside him, was his daughter, and the priest-shaman stood beside as well.
'There has been a grand choice tonight, and it has been told to me, by my daughter, than the Priest-Shaman wishes to challenge for the position of high shaman, and displace our current. Be it known that I have thought it over, and I have accepted the request - they will fight.'
The shaman's head lifted up sharply, and his gray eyes narrowed at the usurper, a hand tightening into a fist.
'Clear away from the alter and pit, they will fight tonight - no weapons.' The tribe moved away quietly, a shocked look on many faces. Others were angered, and a few, mostly the females, seemed to nod at the wisdom of the choice.
In a circle they stood, as both combatants stepped forward, their clothing stripped away by claw. They stood, facing one another, and the human knew he was at a sore disadvantage, with sot flesh compared to hide and claws. But they both crouched, at a signal, and watched one another.
'To the bridge.' The Chieftain spoke clearly, and both took upon an opposing side, and slowly ascended up towards the middle. The human felt afraid, but trusted in the above, and gripped the wood. 'May the spirits choose the one most worthy to lead us.'
They both met in the middle, and their eyes locked, and gazed into one another's spirit. While one felt, found hope and strength, the other found hopelessness, and anger, a bitter resentment at the spirits. They both looked upon the others face, reading, and looking, searching, in a battle of wills.
The human and the lizard continued to watch one another, and they felt the others strength, they felt each others weaknesses. The breathing was slow and soft, while hearts began to race inside, and blood flowed. They watched, in a moment of utter, spiritual battle, they watched.
The heat was intense, a burning heat that filled them both, and in a haze, from the burning wood and plants, and from the warmth of the night, they reached together, and their fists touched, one to the other. Then claws came forth, and a hand moved up, to grab the hand, weakly. The hand fell again, and the claws sunk through the skin of the shoulder, tearing the skin and digging into the muscle.
The reptile struck forward, and a hand caught the strike again, sharply. A hand fell to the jaw, and the hands tried to hold the claws back, tightly squeezing. But the fist slipped forward, and struck hard across the crest, making the Shaman step back from the priest, head swaying from the influx of sensation there.
A hand moved forward, and clipped the jaw, and then the cheek, and then the gut, a hand fighting and trying to push him away, to push him away from his pained body. It failed to work, and a kick caught him in the gut, sending him back, reeling. The shaman leapt forward, and landed upon the priest, who fell, and slid backwards on the polished wood.
'You will not deceive our people.' The hiss came out, but was silenced as a fist caught the jaw, and jerked the head up again. A foot caught a foot, and both tumbled, twisted, and pushed against the wood of the bridge, which cracked.
'I am trying to show them peace.' The human offered back, bringing both feet up and kicking the lizard up and off. It fell hard on its side, but drew up, claws dripping blood. It launched forward, both claws swinging for the throat, and they missed, with a sharp kick delivered to the chest.
'There can be no peace, the spirits demand we fight!' The lizard again drew forward, this time catching the leg, and twisted, kicking the knee, which gave a sick sound. The human fell to one leg, and held his knee, letting out a gasp of pain. But he moved away, and he twisted, moving away from the clawed feet. He rose up, and fell again to a kneel, before catching a fist.
'Give it a chance.' The human said, a pained expression on his face. 'Let it happen.' He squeezed, and found the lizard behind him, holding his neck in his claws, trying to choke him to death. His words cut off, as he gasped for air.
And then the lizard let out a sound, as he found his shoulder bitten into by the human, who, though with dull teeth, had a strong jaw. The lizard growled, and tried to pull away, before stumbling back, against the wood. The human turned, and leaned against the side of the bridge, agony in his leg.
'We do not have to fight.' The human said, coughing the blood out of his mouth. It tasted vile.
'Yes, we do.' The reptile brought his hand forward, and it was caught by both hands, tightly. They looked eyes to eyes again, one full of anger, the other full of sadness. They both fought for dominance in that moment, before the human, as though to prove a point, turned and let go, the lizard slamming into the other post, before sliding forward, and catching himself on the wood. It was a precarious situation.
'No. We don't.' A hand gripped his ankle, and pulled back, to help the leverage. The human fell back, his leg twisting again and he letting out an agonized scream. The reptile landed, and leaned back against the wood, before he moved forward, and brought a knee down into the chest.
'You're a fool.' The reptile gripped his fist tightly, and the claws gleamed once, before sliding forward - but it never connected, for a hand held the wrist, a female hand, soft, and supple.
'Don't.' The daughter looked down, desperation and fear upon her. 'Don't do it, please! I put him up to this.' She gazed upon the shaman, who then drew a hand forward, to backhander her away.
'Back away, female.' He turned, and lifted the claw again. 'Its not your fight.' The human watched, fearing for her, not himself, as he watched. His breathing was heavy and shallow, and he brought his hands up to stop the claw, which again, never came down.
The lizard, thin compared to the Chieftain, was lifted up single handedly, and thrown as though a rag doll. The shaman landed in a crumple, before the human was able to gaze up at the lizard, which nodded his head quietly.
'You have won, and proven that you are willing to die for your beliefs, human.' The human found himself being pulled up single handedly, and held up, by the chieftain. 'You have proven yourself, and proven to me. You are the Shaman, now, and you will teach us your faith - for you have shown valor of a warrior, and spirit of a healer.' The human just gazed, his mind spinning about the turn of events.
The chieftain carried him then towards his hut, to help him rest and recuperate for a few moments before meeting the tribe in full. But the chieftain looked down upon the new shaman.
'My daughter has made a request, if you should survive. And I must ask you about it, since involves you.' The chieftain lay the human upon the worn bed of cloth and vines. The human looked up, teeth gritting.
'My daughter wished to take you as her male, if you won the fight, both for the fact you are a holy man, and second, for you are alone. I have thought of it, and decided that it is up to you, if you really want to.' The human nodded quietly at that, his head tilting. 'She cannot marry, for she was fated to sacrifice - and she is barren, having never dropped egg. So I would be honored, to call you son, if you accept her as your wife.'
The human needed not answer, as he gazed upon her as she stepped into the chieftain's hut, carrying vines and soothing leaves. She looked up quietly, and the human gazed back quietly, nodding his head.
'Then may the two of you be blessed.'
And they surely were.