Revision as of 20:53, 16 June 2022

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Reference text ( Maintained text, used as reference ) :
Notes: (Lanstiril, 2022-06-16)

“

The toddler opened his eyes and began to gurgle. Waving his chubby little arms, he searched with his clumsy fingertips for the rag doll that was sharing his nights since he was born. Not finding it, he gesticulated in order to extract himself from his cocoon of sheets, and grabbed the protective bars of his little bed to stand up. Like many mornings, he found it lying on the floor, looking at him with a disappointed look, unhappy to have been inadvertently rejected outside the warm and cozy nest. He was about to join her, thanks to some acrobatics, when the drape of the room he was in opened. The morning apparition might well be recurrent, he never got tired of his mother's incredible beauty. Totally forgetful of his doll, he flapped his arms laughing, eager to find the one who was torn from him every night by his father. Behind her tattooed mask, the Zorai gave him back her smile and let escape some words. If he didn't understand her words, her voice was the most beautiful melody he knew.

"Good morning, my darling. Another restless night so far as I can see."

She approached the crib, picked up the doll then held out her arms to him. The child, who was already stamping with impatience, mimicked her gesture and laughed even more when his mother grabbed him by the waist and made him take off. She made it waltz a few seconds in the air, put her bony forehead against that still virgin of her son, then tightened it on her heart.

"Today is a great day for you Pü. Mom believes in you. Like your brother, the destiny awaiting you is paved with glory."

The toddler immediately calmed down at the touch of his mother's mask and blue skin. She tasted so good. She smelled so good. She was so soft. Opening his mouth, he ran his tongue over the warm flesh to catch the sweet scent of his mother's sweat. While heading towards the main room of the house, the Zorai took out of her vegetal tunic one of her imposing breasts, which she handed to her son. This one did not need persuading and grabbed the voluptuous curve with handful, while his mouth swooped on the erect extremity which nourished him every day.

The dwelling of Pü and his family consisted of a large circular hut, which contained the main room, and two smaller huts flanking the large one, which housed the parent's room in which Pü slept and his older brother's room. The foundation of the settlement was mainly made of soft wood, vines and various large leaves selected for their waterproofing. After Grandmother Bä-Bä's, this dwelling was the most imposing in the tribe. In the center of the main room was the family table, on which a vast amount of varied food rested. Around the table, Pü's father and brother were eating in silence. Pü stared at the two homins in succession, not stopping to suck on his mother's breast.

He guessed a smile under the mouth slit of his brother's mask. He wasn't yet used to seeing him like this. Until recently, his face was still naked, and regularly displayed peculiar grimaces that had no other purpose than to make him laugh. But when he was twelve years old, a horned mask had grown. Pü loved his brother very much. He tickled him, played with him, and showed him incredible acrobatic choreographies which plunged the little Zoraï in a state of overexcitement, and which had a knack for annoying their mother.

His father did not look at him and kept eating in silence. Pü didn't know what to think of him. His big black mask was scaring him, and he didn't remember ever having guessed a smile behind that one. Moreover, he had already seen him behaving harshly with his brother, hitting him violently with sharp objects that Niï nevertheless managed to dodge. He had also on several occasions caught him abusing his mother in the parental bed, firmly seizing her hair, tightening her wrists, crushing her with his powerful musculature, and even giving her at times slaps on the lower part of the body, while she muffled her screams in the cushions.

Yet neither his brother nor his mother seemed to resent him. His brother seemed to keep regarding his father up as a role model, and his mother always ended their nightly brawls with tender strokes that Pü was jealous of from his crib. He definitely did not understand. And wary, he preferred his father to continue to ignore him, while his mother and brother were busy bringing him love and laughter.

The lunch continued in silence until her father spoke up.

"Niï, quickly finish lunch and go prepare our formal wear, please. Meanwhile, your mother will dress Pü for the ceremony. Also, make sure our weapons are properly whetted."

The young Zorai grabbed a last handful of dried fruit in a hurry, stood up, and bowed to his father.

"I sharpened our weapons last night before the bedtime, Father. And I'll get our outfits ready straightaway."

This one answered him by a light nod of head and recentered on the contents of his plate. At the same time, the mother got up and took Pü off her breast. The little one, already full, did not flinch, but continued to knead the globe of flesh to maintain contact. She changed him, exchanging his night soiled swaddling clothes for a pretty braided panty. A few ten minutes passed, and the family was ready to leave.

-–—o§O§o—–-

Pü squinted as his mother came out of the hut. His tribe might well be settled in a gigantic stump of a felled sky-tree, the bark ceiling, badly damaged, let in a few astral rays at certain times of the day, one of which had just found the eye of the little Zorai, who took refuge between his mother's breasts. In the absence of celestial light, the community was lightening itself with the help of lamps containing fireflies. Although some might have described the atmosphere as gloomy, Pü loved it when his mother took him for a walk in the sloping and winding streets, or on the suspension bridges that connected the different levels of the small city. The village, much higher than it was wide, was built vertically. The dwellings were located in the heights, while the lower levels were reserved for communal areas, such as stores, places of worship, the dojo, and the dining hall. Pü loved the dining hall. The other Zorais were very kind to him and the food was plentiful. Yet this time, the toddler sensed that the walk was nothing like ordinary. The other members of the tribe were present in numbers, forming a path from the family hut to the village heights. All wore their black ceremonial dress, consisting of a loincloth of vegetal fibers, a wide belt of braided straw, but especially recognizable by the imposing white amber lens that adorned each of the plexuses. As the family moved forward, led by Pü's mother, the people bowed deferentially and joined the group. The toddler, full and lulled by his mother's walk, dozed off into a light sleep. As this scene suggested, his family was no ordinary family.

Looï Fu-Tao, Pü's mother, worked outside the village as a diplomat, in charge of maintaining relations with the Zorai Theocracy, the political regime that had governed the country for almost three centuries, and whose headquarters were located in Zoran, its capital. For some forty years, the Great Sage Min-Cho had been the highest human authority in the Theocracy, who, assisted by the Council of Sages, ruled the Jungle, the native country of the Zorai people. While the Sages hoped that the members of the "Cursed Strain Tribe" – as they liked to name it – would eventually accept the authority of the Theocracy, nothing helped. It had been several generations since the tribe had seceded, and things didn't look like they were about to change. But Looï was not only a diplomat. In the village, she was first and foremost the High Priestess of the Black Cult of Ma-Duk, the depository of religious authority.

Her husband Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask, the First Warrior, military chief of the tribe. A few months after his birth, Niï, their eldest son, had been promised a great destiny by Grandmother Bä-Bä, the witch and seer of the village. According to the prophecy, Niï Fu-Tao would someday succeed his father as the Black Mask, and above all, would become the Sacred Warrior. Elected by Ma-Duk the Great Genitor, Niï Fu-Tao would be brought to tour the world, converting the lost to the True Faith, subduing the atheists and exterminating the heretics. For the Zorai Theocracy, this prophecy was precisely coming under heresy.

For the conflict that opposed the tribe to the rest of the country was first of all religious. Indeed, all Zorais worshipped the Kamis, mysterious spiritual entities that protected the ecosystems. Able to change their appearance at will and to travel without physical constraint, these divine guardians permanently ensured that no one compromised the fragile balance of Atys, the plant world where all were coexisting. Although discreet, they shared close relations with the homins, as long as those showed respect for nature. Among the different homin peoples, the Zorais were by far the most receptive to the magic of the Kamis. Already provided with a large size and a blue skin, which distinguished them from the rest of the hominity, a bony and horned mask grew moreover on their face, from their forehead, in their adolescence. This mask represented the true soul of its wearer and testified to the unique link he had with the Kamis. However, if every Zorai worshipped the Kamis, not everyone agreed on the identity of the Supreme Kami. For the majority of Zorais, the Kamis served Jena, the Goddess of the Day Star and the Mother of Hominity. For the dissident tribe, Jena was a usurping goddess from the sky, alien to Atys and wanting it evil. According to them, the one and only Supreme Kami was Ma-Duk, meaning "Great Mask" in the Zorai language. He was the Great Genitor, asleep in the depths of Atys. A god that no one recognized but them.

But the discordance did not end there. The Zorai Theocracy, which had become particularly isolationist in the last century, had built the Great Wall, a gigantic edifice protecting the borders of the Jungle from all foreign contact. However, this Great Wall had never prevented the Theocracy from maintaining relations with the Karavan, a strange group of hominoids dressed from head to toe in amazing black armor and using prodigious instruments. These singular entities, whose true nature no one knew, lived in the skies of Atys. Equipped with a technology unknown to all, and traveling with curious vehicles capable of overcoming gravity, they crisscrossed the sky to spread the word and serve the interests of the goddess Jena. In exchange for their loyalty, the Karavan had given the Zorais the secrets of magnetism and electrostatic properties, and had also taught them to write. The Kamis abhorred the Karavan, and did not hesitate to make this known to the homins, but this never prevented the Council of Elders from accepting their gifts, and use, today still, Karavan knowledge to levitate the buildings of Zoran. For the dissident tribe, as an apostle of Jena abhorred by the Kamis, the Karavan had to be seen as a serious threat and fought accordingly.

There laid the divergences. These divergences that heated the minds of the Great Sage Min-Cho and his advisors, who were unable to accept any ideological criticism, and made the dissident tribe want to wage holy war. Rather than attacking the tribe head-on, fearing the prowess of its soldiers and the mysterious powers of Grandmother Bä-Bä, the Zorai Theocracy made the tribe pass for a common pagan sect in the eyes of peoples of the Jungle. This had worked quite well up to that point.

For Pü Fu-Tao, the youngest child, who had just been awakened by the distant echo of a bird call, none of this made sense yet. However, with his big black eyes, he looked at the villagers with astonished look, aware that today something seemed to be different. Perhaps he knew, deep down, that something important was about to come. When, recognizing the alleys between the huts, he understood that they were going to Grandmother Bä-Bä's house, his heart began to race. He did not like the old woman. Her gaunt mask frightened him, her smell stung his nose, and her presence was associated with illness. Grandmother Bä-Bä was in fact also the village healer, whom people went to see to find solutions to their problems. Although the Fu-Tao couple represented the authority within the tribe, everyone knew that Grandmother Bä-Bä was actually the central pillar of the community. It was said that she was older than the oldest Zorai in the country, and that she had helped deliver every member of the tribe.

When the cortege arrived at Grandmother Bä-Bä's huge hut at the highest point of the village, Pü, feeling the tears welling up, clutched his mother's robe tightly. Looï put her forehead against his, which had the effect of reassuring him, and advanced towards the big hut, her son in her arms. Pü had just enough time to glance behind him to see his brother waving to him, before large curtains obstructed his vision and the characteristic smell of the dwelling reached his nose. In the back of the main room, Grandmother Bä-Bä was working over an amber stockpot. Despite her far advanced age, she was particularly lively and agile, quickly pulling out various plants and roots from the multitude of pockets that made up her apron. Nothing suggested such vitality, however, as her livid, bony, dry body was crossed with deep wrinkles. Grandmother Bä-Bä was constanly postponing death, and everyone knew that she owed that to her kamic powers.

"Come closer my daughter, she said in a cavernous voice, without looking at her guests. Set your son on the altar, I am soon ready."

Obediently, Looï walked over to a beautiful carved stump. When she gently placed her son on the firm surface, breaking the mother's touch, this one began to cry.

"Don't comfort him my daughter. Tears feed the predictions."

The young Zorai did not understand. He might well emit alert signals, his mother did not react, looking at him with a strange look on her face bent over him. As Pü reached out, trying to grab his mother's long tresses, the old woman's hideous mask cut off eye contact. His tears redoubled.

"Hold him tight, and don't panic like you did with your first son. Everything will go well."

Grandmother Bä-Bä pulled a dagger with a finely engraved black blade from her apron and gently grabbed the young Zorai's hand. At the touch of the cracked skin, Pü shivered and began to struggle. Unfortunately for him, his mother would not let him, and held him tight. What had he done wrong? Why did he have to go through all this? As he felt hitting rock bottom, the worst happened. The old lady put the edge of the weapon on her palm and closed her little fingers one by one on the blade. Then she pressed down with a sharp blow. Electrified by the pain, Pü started to scream, while his mother looked at him with a deadened air, all the while forcing him to keep unmoving. He who loved her so much had thought his love was reciprocal. But without him knowing why, she left him at the mercy of the witch, and took part in his calvary.

"Will be completed soon, I just have to collect the precious liquid. Don't try to calm him down, pain gives strength to blood."

The old woman placed the dagger on the altar and retrieved a small leather purse from her apron. One by one, she took out seven strange orange dice, which she passed over the bloody blade. Once the last relic was blessed with blood, she incanted a formula. Then the strange symbols engraved on the amber faces of the dice absorbed the light and came to life. Pü had completely stopped crying, hypnotized by the terrifying spectacle unfolding before his eyes. The witch was throwing the dice at full speed and without interruption on the altar, which ones were projecting reddish animated frescoes on the walls.

Pü was contemplating a circle of homins and Kamis. A round dancing on the circular walls of the hut. He could almost hear them singing. He could almost hear them singing. Stopping abruptly, the Kamis turned into gigantic maws and devoured a large part of the homins, who were trying in vain to fight back. The scene then focused on the survivors of the macabre dance, who, led by a Zorai, climbed a mountain of corpses. Although the slope became steeper with each step, new homins joined the group and helped their climb. Finally, once reached the top, the warrior brandished his sword towards the sky and shattered the star that was center staging there. At the same time, the dice went out and gave the light back to the hut.

Grandmother Bä-Bä looked lengthfully at Looï in silence. The Zorai bent over her son and gently catched hold of him. Pü, who seemed to be completely elsewhere, regained contact with reality the moment his mother held him to her chest. His calvary was over, she still loved him. He fell asleep on the spot.

"You know what you have to tell them, my daughter," the old woman finally said without taking her eyes off Looï.

Taking a few steps forward, she placed a finger on the child's mutilated hand. The wound closed immediately.

"From now on, your son's future, and perhaps the future of all hominkind, depends on your lie. It is a necessary evil. Never forget."

"I know, Grandmother… Thank you for everything," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Feverishly, Looï kissed him on the cheek, and walked towards the exit of the hut, clutching her son to her heart. In his sleep, Pü could feel it beating very strongly. Pushing aside the curtains as she stepped forward, she faced all her people. Each member of the tribe stared at her with heavy gaze, waiting for the verdict. She carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband, and above all, that of her first son. Clearing her throat a little, she then spoke up.

"Grandmother Bä-Bä has rolled the dice! Today I have the signal honor of announcing the predictions she made on the occasion of the first birthday of my second son, Pü Fu-Tao. While Niï, the future Black Mask, will become the Sacred Warrior, going all the way to heaven to destroy the Karavan and Jena, Pü will assist him throughout his journey! He will be his Shadow, who will advise him at every moment and will not hesitate to sacrifice his life to protect him! Praised be my sons! Praise be to Ma-Duk! Tonight we will feast to the glory of the Sacred War and the coming of the Happy Days!"

An unrivaled cheer ran through the assembly. Waking up with a start, Pü swept the crowd with his gaze. Which stopped sharply on his father's black mask. The little Zorai opened his eyes wide in amazement: for the first time, he guessed a smile.

  Belenor Nebius, narrator • Cheng Lai'SuKi, illustrator

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