Fire of Refignment-Into the Flames 9

      1:9

      Karanah Shobveisht

         His aged father smiled as he held the infant child with tenderness in his arms, his white hair falling over his shoulders, and blue eyes holding tears,
      "Kahhd hish dah. tYashhan kahhd hish dah.
            Teach him.  Teach him of TrueLight.
      "Ekh dushahhd tYashhan, kahhd hish dah."
               Teach him His ways.
"Nahhd wosh bvonei, hish dahn atohl. Digj cit ohl bvah Kahhd, kahhd bvah hish dah,."
         They will come for him.  Teach him as I taught you.

         This, he spoke as the family departed, leaving Shtohk as Shobvei Nikasht had instructed: their planet in near ruins for the poor stewardship of their people and warrior society. 
        They had long abandoned the ways of Yashhan, and had nearly forgotten Him.  Shobvei Nikasht was the last to remember, and last of the ruling line.  He refused to take up the kingship and it's violent requirements after his father's death.
He was known for being the opposite of his father, who killed those who believed in Yashhan.  His ways were contradictory, and he hated Him: the TrueLight. He named his son Shobvei (Divine) so that the people would worship him as a god, having born a son divine. 
        Somehow the only child and only son of the Oppressor knew of Yashhan and loved Him, despite all his father's cruel attempts to turn him. 
Nicah Kohhn would not kill him, for he was his only heir but he mocked him all his life and even from the grave.  He had instated that on the day of his death, the young wife of Shobvei, who shared his very heart for Yashhan, was to be 'punished' if he did not take the throne. 
Shobvei refused.
      She did not survive, but left him with one child: Karanah. 
      He had been wise to keep her pregnancy hidden and she delivered the child just days before she was taken.  Indeed, the guards that came for her were not aware, it was so concealed; and it was a mercy Shobvei attributed to Yashhan that his father had not thought of his son having any children that he would demand in place of him to rule. 
Even as she left that day, he knew her heart, and saw in her eyes the same determination to remain faithful to Yashhan, and that she expected to die. Her love for Shobvei was still in her eyes as she went, willingly, and he knew she was still with him in his stand.
        But that day his heart broke.

Still, Shobvei clung ever more deeply to Yashhan, and loved Him even more.  He thanked Him for the blessing of his son who was of great comfort. 
        Sometimes when his infant son was crying and he knew of nothing else to do for him, he would hold the child gently to his chest and cry with him as he grieved his own great loss.  In this he saw Yashhan, for he understood that just as his own heart was broken, so did His heart break; and the pain He felt was even greater.
      Shobvei was well known not only for his different ways, but also his great internal strength, which he credited to the tender love of Yashhan.  He would never turn, and he told all who used his name,
      "Cit het Shobvei.  Ei cit dah dakh abv Dah Shobvei." 
                I am not divine. I am One who points to the Divine One.

        Though his father's tyrannical reign had left the people willing to live without a ruler for a while, he knew they would soon contemplate instating him.  They had to have one of regal decent to rule; they would accept no one else.  They would rebel.  Though his father was so cruel, they feared him too much to cast him out . Indeed, some believed he was divine or had some supernatural power. 
Shobvei knew in the end they would reject him without fear for his ways were so different.  He also knew they would kill him in their attempts to force him to rule, then pursue his son and child.
        He had to stay:
            to give his son and grandson the chance to leave,
                to put distance between them and their people,
                    to slow down their pursuit,
                        to give Karanah time to teach the child. 
        He himself was not afraid to die.

        With the desperate state of their planet, he knew they would come for him soon.

        Some Yeshmaht had already begun to evacuate Shtohk for the lack of resources.  Shobvei Nikasht had his son board one of the parting vessels set for a newly discovered planet called Zador. 

        "Yashmakhnah," he had called the child, saying,
        "Makhnah dushahhd hish dah ahayahn irmo wet abv Yash."
              He will lead many to the Truth, and by example, preserve it in his ways.

         With reluctance he returned the child to his son, but not before he had kissed him the way a father among their people kisses his infant in the hope of imparting strength or blessing.
        Karanah wiped tears from his own eyes.  He knew how much his father loved.  There was a depth to it that even he did not understand, for it had come through the suffering he endured throughout his life: Yashhan pouring into him the overcoming power of His love. 
        Passing the child to his wife, Karanah stepped forward to give his final farewell to his father.  They began with the traditional handhold, but then drew in to each other’s strong embrace. 
        “Bvah cit gjiknah, isht eisha.”
               I love you my father.
      “Ahay isht bvonei, ahay.”          
              Indeed my son, I know. 
      And he could say no more.

      They released and held each other’s elbows looking deep in the other's eyes.  Then Karanah gave a submissive bow of final farewell, and they turned to go.
        Shobvei watched.  His tears flowed freely in silence as they boarded the ship. He knew it was the last time he would see family. 
      And it was that very day, that they arrested him.

      The child was too young to remember this, but he treasured the story of his grandfather, when he was told. Indeed, he was the image of Shobvei.  Sometimes he would put his hand over the place where his grandfather had kissed him and wonder whether it was blessing or strength that had been imparted to him.  At times when he did this he felt a warmth come over him, and a comfort fill him. He knew this mystery was in Yashhan and he longed to know about Him.  He wished to know Him even as he wished he could have known his grandfather.  The comfort soothed his ache for the teacher he would have been to him, for even as his father taught him, his knowledge only went so far.  Finally he told him he must search beyond for the answers. 
        Yashmakhnah understood in his heart, somewhere out there was a people who would know, who had some deep revelation of Yashhan.  Somewhere out there he knew he would find peace for his questions.

        When they came to Zador, they were in awe of the great abundance of resources and fertile land.  Mountains and meadows were everywhere and lush valleys were filled with vegetation.  There were lakes and rivers, such beauty.
        Though the land was plentiful, they went about with fear as they did on Shtohk and aggressively laid their claims.  Some began to fight each other, afraid there would not be enough for all. 
        Then they discovered the Zadorians: the round, wrinkled, stunted people of the land, who lived like animals in small settlements, everywhere.  They were generally quiet, shy, and hard to find for their skin was a smudged pattern of dark brown and black providing camouflage when they were still.  They were a jolly little people who loved to play, lived simply. 
        The Yeshmaht disputed on what to do about the Zadorians, for they feared a lack of resources would be eminent.  Karanah Shobveisht argued to let the Zadorians live, for a time: seven years, to see if there was any reason to fear.  Some were adamantly opposed, but because of his lineage, they still revered him and listened, for a while. 
        Later, however, they changed their minds, and began killing Zadorians wherever they found them.
The evidence was never concealed well, as if to spite the stand of Karanah.  He would state his distaste at their actions, but they continued anyway.  More and more people were taking part, and more and more murdered Zadorians were being found. 
      Yashmakhnah, now a young boy, encountered a Zadorian child in the forest not far from their home, and they became friends.  Karanah kept this secret, until the night the child came to them terrified, and hid in their house.  His entire clan had been ambushed in the forest and he alone managed to escape.
      When those seeking his life had tracked him to the house, they demanded that Karanah turn the child out.  He came to the door, dressed for war and stood in the way. 
      He was of broad build, tall and strong. 
      Though Shobvei did not like it, Karanah had been a general for the Martial Head of Security on Shtohk in a stand to help maintain peace, and was well trained. 
        Many had not seen him this way before and were in awe. 
He stood in the traditional way that the man of the house stood to lay down his life in battle for the kin of his home.  It was clear that he was claiming the Zadorian child as his own son. 
        Intimidated, reason sank into their minds and they left without another word.


In the night, Karanah:

         He stands before a great being.
                   A powerful being.
                             A consuming presence.
                                       Shaken-
                                                 The very breath of his spirit trembling.
A light from the side,
sounds, shouts, screams, shrieks over the land, across the forest.
         His people slaying, murdering entire villages, infants, all.
                   He feels anger from the Great Presence.
                             He falls to his knees, grips his head in terror,
his heart faltering.

                                       He hears his voice cry out "Yeoldahn!" (Mercy)


Another being appears between them,
dwarfed and small yet far greater than he,
cool like water, echoes his cry
"Yeoldahn!" 

                   Another being opposing him hot like fire cries out
    "Kosh!" (Justice)
And they wrestle before the Great Presence. 

         Awakening, he cried out "Gjelaht!"

        He sat up, threw off the blankets and went out in the night, crying to all the people, "Gjelaht!" 
        They understood he had seen a vision and by the distressed tone of his voice, they knew the severity.  They came to the house. 
        "Net gjishtah oshkah yeoldahn tYashhan!" he cried out to them. 
                   We must seek the mercy of TrueLight.
        "Nahd kosh, Hish Dah bvokahn tahn ruk weish nit weishtohl tGjsador!
         He is about to command our lives for the lives of the Zadorians whom we've murdered.
        Gjishtah! Nahd wosh weish gjishtah!"
         Plead, plead for your lives.
         Then he fell on his knees before them and cried out.  "Yashhan! Yeoldahn!
                                                                               TrueLight. Mercy.
      "Ohl net dushahhd koshtah!  Nakish! Kay bvah nakish kugjo." 
                             We have erred against you.  Forgive.  Please, will you forgive us?
         Ipabi bravely peered around the door post allowing himself to be seen. 
        One of the men shouted: one who had begun the first of the killings.  He took an aggressive step forward, but fell suddenly to the ground, dead. 
        Fear fell on them all and they began to cry for mercy, throwing themselves to the ground.  They pled with Karanah, asking what they should do? 
         He called Ipabi and stood him at his feet in front of them. 
        "Hish weish tGjsador, kush!"
                   This life of Zador, honor.
      And they did, from that point on.  They treated Ipabi with great honor, wherever he went.  He was free to live with anyone, but he chose to stay with the family of Karanah and Yashmakhnah. 
      The Yeshmaht people, seeing his playful nature, adored him and came to love him, still grieving for what they had done in their fear. 
      Karanah instructed the people to entrust themselves to Yashhan as the Maker of all who is able to provide for all His creatures, and holds all lives in great value. 
      Sadly, Ipabi became ill and did not live long among them. 
      The people grieved and some became afraid, asking Karanah if Yashhan would now punish them since the last living Zadorian had died, but he said to them.
      "Shibv het, akh ekh dushahhd het kei yah bvin.  Yashhan hish yahk."
                   Don't fear that, but don't abandon the way.  TrueLight is good.
         The people made a monument in Ipabi's honor, and committed themselves to protect indigenous peoples throughout the Universe: to protect them from what they themselves had done.

         A year later Yashmakhnah had just turned eight years old, they came: strange visitors dressed in the old way of his people before they had changed. 
      They had received some contacts from a few of the Yeshmaht on Zador who were jealous of Karanah's leadership and were yearning for the old ways.  When they heard that Shtohk was still habitable, they wanted to return, and agreed to help those seeking Karanah, to lead them to him. 
      The strange visitors came to the house.  They used some words that Yashmakhnah did not recognize.  They seemed aggressive and forceful. 
        He stayed back in the shadows and tried not to be seen.  They frightened him. 
         The strangers talked of going back to Shtohk.  They wanted to take the whole family there, away from this beautiful land, the only land he had ever known. 
        His father spoke gently and listened politely.  It seemed as though he were considering. 
         Without thinking he started to protest, and stepped forward. 
         "Hesha!" his father commanded, but he had been seen.
         "Yan," one of the men said, looking keenly at him where he had backed up into the dark.
        "Hish dah digj Shobvei."
               He's the image of Shobvei.
         Karanah drew the attention to himself again, and refused to go, politely turning them away.

         That night, strangers returned and took the child.

        They tried to break him. 
            They tried to make him deny his father,
                  his family, his name. 
        But most of all they tried hard to make him deny Yashhan. 
              He remembers saying nothing, curled up, hiding his face,
                      saying nothing.

        He tried not to remember those dark times; but they came up again, like the sudden shooting pain in a limb from an old injury.  He kept them as disassembled shadows in the far recesses of his mind.  He'd carry the marks, inside and out, but not the details of the memories. 

        His father came for him,
            was able to get him out, but was cut down. 
      Before he died: before they fell upon him, he said to him, 
                      "Ekhimotu, Yashhan hish yahk. Bvah cit gjiknah.  Atohl!"
                                       Remember, TrueLight is good.  I love you. Run!

      And he ran, fearing to look back, tears blinding him: leaves and bows scraping his face, stinging his wounds. He ran into the dark night,
and into the dark hour of his soul.                    

        Kalisha screamed.
        The Advocate jolted up, throwing the blankets aside.
        Morshaht flung open the door. 
        Light streamed in from the hall.
        "Carter," spoke the Advocate. 
        Morshaht ran down the hall to her room.
        The Advocate followed after him, staying back in the shadows to the side looking in.
        She clenched a pillow and was weeping, muttering something about Jaymith and whipping.
        Morshaht placed a hand on her shoulder attempting to comfort.

        The Advocate turned away, rubbed his brow in an agitated fashion, and let out a quick sigh.  It was one thing to endure one's own trauma, different to watch another suffer.  He was feeling the strain of responsibility for leading her in this painful journey, and that of his old wound awakened. Dropping his hand limply to his side, he turned going slowly back.

        Again in his room, he could still hear her.
        He remembered, many a nights crying himself to sleep,
              Angry about his father's death,
              Angry about his painful marring wounds,
              that hurt every time he moved, and breathed.
              Angry about being alive.
              Angry about a Yeshmaht boy crying silently in the dark.
              Angry about not being able to do anything about what happened,
              and trying to forget.

          Yet peace, when he learned it, came through willful understanding of the mysterious way of Yashhan: loving the unworthy, forgiving all, submitting to His ways of goodness and peace.  Knowing that He is good.  This he learned by the gracious example of his mother and her faith as best she understood it. 
          He remembered her, gently stroking his head, and time to time squeezing his hands or feet: the few places on him without wounds.  She would whisper to him, "Yash subvaht het moishtah tohl. Hish val mektoe. Hish Yashhan." He remembered her eyes, filled with pain, and love, and peace; but now he realized how she endured, not only the loss of her husband, but of seeing her child suffer. He understood a piece of that now with Kalisha.

        How could he pass on to the Human child what was imparted to him without burdening her with his past?  From his bed, he prayed for her, and peace came to his heart.
          Slowly her cries subsided and she was silent.
          Morshaht returned to check on his room and all was quiet.