Origin: Rooted Within

CHAPTER FIVE

“Where the sand reigns, the water perishes,” was the most popular proverb in the East, and it was not only a proverb, but a line used to describe great Denark.

Denark was a land of sand, a place covered with fine golden grains of sand. It was a great desert in the east, under intense sunlight during the day and blown by an extremely cold wind at night. The largest land in the east and the other lands, Pilo and Fyrmot, were green lands because they were far from the Denark desert.

Denark was the home of a tribe of people. The only tribe destined by their nature to roam the land. It was they whose greed for treasure led them to choose the desert as their home. Their eyes desired everything that glittered, and Denark was once a land of many treasures that delighted the eyes buried beneath the great sands. They went far beyond their tents in the community and wandered to the middle of the desert and even beyond to collect lost treasures, some of which were even older than they were.

Fyrmot and Pilo were Denark's only sources of food and water, and the people of Denark had no choice but to maintain good relations with the inhabitants of these two villages. They were just collectors of treasures, and no matter how valuable these things were, they were not food, and they had to be sold before they could be put on the table.

Most of the jewels, trinkets, and gems in all the lands were brought from Denark by the tribe of treasure seekers. They were brought up in this trade, and they could only survive doing this, as it was what they loved doing. 

The sky had turned blue, with silver clouds embedded in it. The way they described the land of Denark, although it had rained in so many regions the previous night, Denark had not been touched by a single drop, and it was as dry as under the sun. This was the normal condition, and people had become accustomed to the extremes of the climate.

The Shefà tribe had always lived in tents in Denark, but travelled to other parts of the world to trade treasure for money, and sometimes food. 

A little boy who had left home so early was wandering through the desert, wondering where to go next. He stopped and looked at the swirling sand that kept following him, and got a good dusting in the face. He wiped his face with his right hand and the sand particles fell back onto the pile of sand. He had come here from his father's tent to look for some special treasures. He was to travel with his father to Westland. On this trip they were to get their collection of the last year sold. That's why he had to get up so early, to find suitable treasures that would fit into their collection and complete it. 

This was his first opportunity, and there was no way he was going to miss it. His father had suggested that they postpone the trip until the near future, until they found the right treasures for the collection. They had set out almost every morning to search the sands, and each day they changed locations and lengthened their walk. 

After dusting himself off, he began to walk again, and as he walked, he felt something change in his surroundings. He looked around but could not exactly find anything different. He only saw the raging wind that continued to approach him from behind, making the edge of his black shrouds flutter and dance behind his back. 

He felt as if something was demanding his attention. He could not see anything, but he could not resist the feeling that kept urging him to change direction. He was heading to the east of the desert, but the thing that kept forcing him in his own mind made him go south. He had scoured this area the day before, and he felt that it was a waste of time to return there. However, the sand was almost constantly moving because of the strong wind that was always blowing all over the land, and that wind tended to cover things, expose things, and move things along with the sand, and that was one of the reasons why they had to search the land every day, even in a place they had not been searching for long. 

That feeling came again, and it was strong enough to overpower his will to go east. He turned around and went to the south of the country. 

After walking a considerable distance from where he originally wanted to go, he stood there wondering why he was so foolish to follow his instinct that drove him to go south. Frustrated, he kicked the pile of sand in front of him and froze. The toe of his boot hit an object under the sand... 

 

                                   * * * *

Elada was a boy who had reached the age of fifteen. He lived with his father, Darío. He never knew his mother. All the years of his life had been spent in Denark, for he was a young Shefàn who had never ventured into any other land, not even Pilo and Fyrmot, which were neighbouring villages.

Like every Shefàn, Elada was wrapped in shrouds. They all dressed and wrapped themselves in shrouds to prevent sand from entering their clothing and sticking to their bodies. These shrouds were wrapped over both hands, both legs, around the waist, and up to the chest. This also helped them during the chilly nights.

He entered his father’s tent with a brown sack hanging over his left shoulder. Looking into his father’s face, he smiled. He had been out since dawn, searching for treasure. His father had been inside, stacking treasures in a black box. Beside him were so many other boxes that contained even more of these treasures.

“Elada, I have been waiting for you, son. I think we already have enough to sell all over the West. We can make a lot of money with this pile,” Darío told his son.

He finished filling the box with treasures and was about to close it when he noticed the look on his son’s face.

“I have seen that look on your face before. I know you brought home something good,” he said to his son as a grin formed on his face.

“I found something. I know it’s not much of a gem, but I thought you might know what it is,” Elada said to his father, grinning.

“Let me see what you found,” Darío said to his son.

Elada stepped closer to his father. He watched as Elada dip his hand into the pouch, hoping to see a myrt or a terr, stones that would bring them so much money.

Elada pulled out something, something Darío would never have thought of. He pulled out a silver pendant formed in the shape of a crescent moon.

Darío’s eyes widened.

“You have brought evil upon us!” said Darío. He raised his voice in fear, and Elada trembled.

“It is a dark instrument belonging to an evil tribe that once lived in Northland. You must take it from my sight now and destroy it!” he said.

“But father, I found it under the sand. No one has claimed it. It lay there waiting to be found and sold, like the other treasures in our box,” he said to his father, kneeling before him.

“Son, this is not treasure! It is evil. You must destroy it,” he said in a low tone as he grabbed Elada’s cheek to make him more alert.

“No, father, I have been out since dawn, and I cannot destroy the only thing I have found,” said Elada, and Darío slapped him on the left side of the face.

Elada’s eyes watered as his left hand crept to his cheek. He stroked it to ease the pain and put on an apologetic expression.

“I am so sorry, son. I did not mean to strike you. This instrument belonged to those who destroyed my family, and now that they are long gone, we should destroy all that is left of them. Promise me, son, promise me that you will have it destroyed,” Darío said to his son.

He had remembered how his father had been killed by a Kranian. The Kranian had come to Denark to get someone for their renewal ritual. Then he had tried to pursue them with a blade, and the blade had been plunged through his own heart. Elada knew nothing of it. He never understood why his father was so afraid of the pendant, nor did he understand what he meant about it belonging to those who had once destroyed his family.

“Promise me! Promise me!” cried Darío, grabbing the boy by the shoulder and making him tremble.

“I promise!” He agreed. He straightened up and stomped out of the tent. Once outside, he walked around the back of the tent and placed a stone in front of him. On the stone, he placed the pendant. His right hand reached for his axe. Darío exhaled in relief when he heard Elada’s axe tearing through something.

He entered the tent and nodded.

“Father, it is done,” he said.

“Good boy, now prepare the camels for the journey. We will ride at sunset,” Darío instructed him, and he nodded.