Alkier - 1. Story

Alkier

By Ieshwar

Memories of his family were sparse and very distant. All he recalled was that last day with them. The images were hazy with distorted shadows. It was a painful day about which he didn’t like to reminisce.

The only part he remembered clearly was being dragged by a strong hand, probably that of Barakas. He was just a toddler who had barely started walking. He was doing his best to stop the hand; he had thrown himself on the ground, beating it with his plump fists. Tears mixed with dust and soil streaked down his cheeks. Pebbles scraped his tender skin and blood oozed out. He didn’t notice any of these. He just wanted to go back to his mother.

“Ama! Ama!” he shrieked. It was one of the first words he had learnt.

His fingers were stretched toward the shadow directly ahead of him. It was the only one which wasn’t distorted. Short and plump, the shadow was sobbing. It was his mother. Over the years, he would return to this memory to have a small glimpse of her face. But he never could. His mother remained this faceless shadow forever.

As he grew up, he thought about her. Where was she? Why had she not tried to stop Barakas? Why did she not come to see him now? Was she ashamed of him? Or of herself? Countless times over the coming years, he yearned for the warmth of his mother’s embrace. But all he had was dark cold shadows.

That was his fate, or his punishment for being born during the night of Feathered Serpent- a night which comes once every eleven years and announces the awakening of a terrible monster. And that was how he was chosen to be Alkier. After eleven years, on the next night of Feathered Serpent, he would be sent to the monster.

He never knew his real name; he wondered if he had one. Even if he had one, it was lost in the winds and was replaced by Alkier, which in Old Words meant sacrifice.

***************

He didn’t have many memories of his early childhood, not that he forgot them but that there weren’t many events which stood out. All his days were the same. He would help to clean the school where he lived. Then, he would recite the mantra a hundred times. A mistake would earn him ten stabs from a snake-needle¹. He would spend the rest of his time in his tiny hut.

The only atypical days were perhaps the first ones at school. When he had first arrived, he was just an infant and still distressed from the separation from his family. He cried, he wailed, he sulked. But as time passed, when he calmed down, he got out meeting the rest. He didn’t like being alone. He was living in the school with Barakas where other children studied. One day, he stood in a corner and watched three small boys playing. He tentatively approached them. He held a bunch of flowers which he had picked and wanted to share. Slowly, he came closer to them, close enough for them to see him. After a few blunt words and threats, he learnt that everyone hated him. Over the next days, when he would go to sit near other children, they would get up and leave. If he fell, no one would come to set him on his feet. No one would play or eat with him.

That was how he found out that Alkiers didn’t have friends. The following few nights, he had cried alone in his tiny hut. He wanted to feel someone next to him but he had no one- no mother, no family and no friends. It was difficult for him to understand this at that time. He did all he could to make them accept him as a friend. He gave them his meager food, he drew on leaves for them and he agreed to share the few toys he made with sticks in his free time. But he remained alone.

Then, after some years, he accepted that having no friends was a part of him he couldn’t change. Fortunately, by that time, he had started to like solitude.

***************

Barakas was the puppeteer who had held the strings of Alkier’s life in his hands from the moment the boy took his first breath. He was the Wise Man and responsible for the school. In the tribe, he was the most fluent in Old Words, language of their ancestors. Some even said that he conversed with the spirits of the dead. It was common knowledge that his words held much influence over the Chief.

Even though Alkier lived at the school, he attended no lessons, unlike every other child. It was considered a waste of effort. He was going to be sacrificed at the age of eleven. Any effort or time for him to learn the necessary skills was futile. So, he rarely met other scholars. The only person who interacted with him was Barakas, who had undertaken the charge of Alkier.

Every day, since his arrival to the school, Barakas would meet him at noon for the recital of the mantra:

Neimo Kals Dei Hurna

Neimo Gurga Fol Ven.

Alkier didn’t know what the mantra meant. When he asked, he received five stabs and was ordered to never ask this question again. His role was to memorize these words so they would flow as naturally as his breathing, if not better.He spent every day reciting the words a hundred times. A single mistake, or sometimes a hesitation or a stumble, was enough to make Barakas furious.

***************

As Alkier grew, his chores at the school increased. He cleaned the school as well as the kitchen before and after the cook left. He fetched water with the servants from the river found about a mile away.

It was customary to have the Alkier at certain families’ houses. It was said to be auspicious- when the Alkier would be sacrificed, the monster would bless and be generous toward the families he served. The young boy didn’t see the logic in this tradition but he knew better than to ask.

Only important families were allowed to have Alkier at their place but the young boy was most frequently seen at the Chief’s home. He would go there at least once a month and it was always a matter of great excitation for them. After all, they now had a servant to do all the chores when he was there. The Chief’s wife, a willowy sinewy woman, would stand over him and spew orders every minute. Alkier often felt like they neglected the chores for the week before he came, leaving everything for him.

But the worst was their son. Every time Alkier was at their place, he would lurk around with his friends. They would catch him unexpectedly when the woman was gone. They would insult and make fun of him. Sometimes, they would ruin the work Alkier did. But the boy knew that any comment to anyone would only cause more problems for him. So he remained quiet.

***************

Nel entered his life when Alkier was eight. He was the Chief’s orphaned nephew and had come to the school as an apprentice scholar. Engrossed in his daily life, the young boy barely noticed him, even when their paths crossed. For him, he was no different from the other scholars or students. Then, one day, they talked. It started with greetings, then a few lines and after that, it was full conversation.

It was the first time someone talked to him in such a way. Nel would ask him how he was feeling, how his day went or what his plan was for the next day. He was interested in him, the real him. Alkier tried to push him away, as politely as he could. He had built a fort around himself and Nel’s clawing at the walls made him feel threatened. But the fourteen-year old persisted and the fort fell to dust.

Alkier felt the presence of someone close after a very long time. There were no more shadows. There was Nel, ready to scare away all monsters. The two became friends. He spent his little free time with him. He told him about his fears, his solitude and the cold shadows. He voiced all the questions he had stifled and he got answers.

“And what about the mantra I recite? Do you know what it means?” he asked one day.

“Yes, it’s in Old Words. It means I give you my life in return of eternal prosperity toward my people,” Nel said grimly.

“Oh.”

“It’s so unfair that you have to…” Nel let his sentence trail into silence. He felt Nel’s hand snake around his waist and the other one tussle his hair. “You’re such a nice boy. I will miss you when you are gone. I like you a lot.”

“Me too,” he smiled sadly.

Suddenly, he felt the hand on his waist slide toward his inner thigh. Goosebumps covered his whole body.

“Nel…”

“Shhh, don’t say anything.”

His mouth became uncannily dry. He had to get away. His mind raced and so did his heartbeat.

“Someone’s calling for me. If I don’t go, I’ll be in trouble,” he pleaded.

“No one would say anything,” he whispered, “I’ll tell them you were doing some work for me.”

He tried to inch away but Nel’s hold on him was strong. He pleaded and made excuses but the young man had stopped hearing him. What else could he do? In the end, he was just an eight-year old boy against a fourteen-year old. That was how Nel, who was supposed to protect him against the monster, became a monster himself, the worst one. And this time, he had no fort to protect himself.

Alkier didn’t sleep the whole night. He went to the dingy bathroom and rubbed himself till he was raw. He cried a lot at first but after a while, the tears seemed to have dried off. The solitude after the weeks of friendship, even if fake, hit him like a punch. He was used to the warmth of a friend. And there was the haunting feeling of being soiled, which never left him.

The next morning, he knocked at Barakas’s door. The Wise Man was, without doubt, unpleasant but he was also responsible for the school as well as Alkier. He had to tell him. He would be able to stop Nel and perhaps, get rid of that dirty feeling.

“What do you want, boy?” Barakas spat when he opened the door.

“I have something important to tell you.”

He followed the Wise Man in. Barakas continued with his work, mixing various herbs and potions, and listened to the young boy with little attention. He didn’t show any reaction when Alkier told him about how close Nel and he became. Then, he started talking about the previous night and Barakas stopped what he was doing but he didn’t look at the boy. When he finished talking, the old man turned to face him. An ugly scowl, the ugliest he had ever seen, twisted his wrinkled face.

“Evil spirits have eaten your mind!” he yelled.

“But Nel…”

“Don’t drag that innocent boy’s name in your sin. I warned him about being too close to you and he didn’t heed me. See what has happened. You draped him in your evilness. For the next month, you don’t see sunlight. You do your chores during night and spend the day in your hut.”

Alkier nodded as tears stung his eyes. Now, he was truly alone- not because he had no friends around but because he had no humans around him. He was in the pit of monsters. In his mind, he saw Nel as a monster towering over him smugly while Barakas laughed behind. But as he had accepted and lived through all the other miseries, he decided to do the same with this one too.

***************

Alkier looked around and smiled. He hadn’t smiled in a long time but today was different. It was his day. They had moved him from his small dingy hut to this fancier one. Garlands of flowers hung on the wooden walls. There was even a window through which the sunlight filtrated in.

Offerings from every family in the tribe lay in front of him- baskets of fruits, bouquets of flowers and bottles of scented water. Kneeling down, he took one of the latter in his hands and sprinkled it on himself and his hair. Jasmine’s fragrance filled the air around him. He reached for the flowers and took a few white ones. He didn’t know their names but they were beautiful. He daintily tied them in his black hair. He giggled as the flowers tickled him upper neck. Some of the bouquets were in fact garlands. He put one around his neck and wrapped a few around his wrists.

With a strange feeling erupting in his chest, he pranced to the nearby pot of water. He looked at his reflection. For the first time, he thought that he wasn’t so bad-looking. He wasn’t burly like the rest but he had nice eyes, rather greenish-brown and large. The flowers rested on his head like a crown. The smile added something too.

With a start, he recognized the strange feeling. It was joy.

Suddenly, the door opened and someone entered. It was Nel. Alkier turned his back to him and continued gazing at the gifts. Over the years, Nel had abused him several times. He didn’t dare saying anything more to Barakas. When he showed up with bruises on his face- signs of struggle, the Wise Man didn’t say anything about it.

“I’ve come to make sure you’re properly dressed for the ceremony.”

Alkier felt Nel’s cold hands on his shoulders. He moved away.

“I’ll get dressed by myself. Keep the cloth near the baskets,” he said without looking at Nel. But the cold hands gripped him again. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed. He wouldn’t let him ruin this day, his day. Everything would go fine. He pulled away from the hands with all his might and ran to the other side of the room.

“You seem to be oddly persistent today,” Nel sneered.

“Go away,” Alkier said. He grabbed some of the fruits at his feet and threw them at the approaching man, who dodged them.

“It seems like the cub grew teeth. I must…” Before he could get another word out, the boy grabbed a log lying nearby and flung it at his face. And this time, he found his mark.

“You scoundrel!” Nel grabbed him and threw him across the room. His head knocked against the pitcher holding the water. The earthen pot broke. The water splashed on the boy and the floor. Alkier gingerly touched the side of his head and found traces of blood. The pain brought tears to his eyes.

“You think that you’re some prince or something,” Nel growled. His pretty face was contorted into a mask of rage. He looked like a monster, especially with the blood dripping from his swollen nose. “You think that because of the ceremony, you’re someone special. Well, put this in your head. You’re just an animal which we are going to sacrifice today. No one’s going to cry or even grieve when you’re gone. Do you know what will happen after you’re sent away? We’ll celebrate, we’ll sing and dance. The preparation for the feast has already started.”

Nel’s face was dangerously close to his. Alkier felt like he would eat him now, in one gulp. He tried to back away but he could feel the hard wood behind him and knew he had no room.

“Nel!” someone cried outside. “Nel, we need you here.”

“I guess that’s for us,” he grinned, baring his teeth, “You’ll be gone soon. I had a good time with you. But don’t worry about me. Today, another baby will be born, another Alkier for me.”

Laughing, he rose and went away. Alkier clenched his fists and angrily wiped the tears from his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his reflection in the puddle of water. Most of the flowers had fallen down or been crushed. The ones on his right were tainted with blood. With a pain in his heart, he realized how right Nel was. He was no prince. He was just a sacrifice, a wooden doll which everyone played with, not caring if it cried or broke. As he watched, a single tear fell in the water disturbing the image.

Alkier got on his feet. He wiped off all traces of tears and blood. He didn’t want to feel Barakas’s wrath. He wouldn’t be able to bear it, not after what Nel told him. He arranged his hair, put fresh flowers on his head and dressed himself in the cloth Nel brought. After he was done, he sat in a corner, resting his back against the wood. He couldn’t look at all the gifts; they seemed to mock him.

Barakas came to fetch him after a while. He wasn’t expecting the Wise Man to tell him anything comforting as a few last words. Yet he felt sad when the man led him outside without any words. Perhaps, a small part of him was waiting for something, at least an adieu. They had been together since Alkier had learnt to walk. The man was the only adult he knew, even if he was unpleasant, grouchy and discriminating.

Both of them walked to the edge of their land, which faced the mountain. The few times Alkier raised his head, he saw garlands of flowers hanging over houses and trees. Wooden sculptures were placed here and there. The festivities had already started. A few days ago, when he had seen all this, he had thought that the villagers wanted him to spend his last day merrily. He was so naïve and stupid. Now, he realized that they just wanted to send him away. The celebration was for getting rid of him.

Barakas and Alkier reached the edge where a cluster of people was waiting for them. According to the custom, all the members of the tribe have to bid farewell to the Alkier by offering him food for the trip. Perhaps, it was to provide him with enough energy to climb the mountain or perhaps, by feeding the Alkier, they were feeding the monster and keeping it happy.

However, the cluster of people was mainly women. A few kids ran around. The men were definitely somewhere else, not wasting time on the stupid ceremony. The children were playing at other places too. Stoically, Alkier made his way to the large rock where he sat. Barakas started saying words, incomprehensible to him. The women at the front of the cluster were listening but the rest were chattering. He raised his head and looked at them. Almost all the women were here. Could it be? Could it be that his mother was here? He didn’t know how she looked but there should be glistening tears or sobs. He eagerly searched for her face but he found nothing. She wasn’t here. He lowered his head.

Then, Barakas started calling the women forward and on his signal, they fed him bits of fruits they had brought. After some more incantations, the Wise Man brought him to his feet and led him to the path leading to the tip of the mountain.

“The only thing you have to say is the mantra,” Barakas said. Alkier nodded. “Go.”

With a final glance toward the tribe, the boy walked on toward the mountain where the monster waited for him.

***************

Hours had passed since he started walking and night had fallen. He had stopped only once and it was only because he wanted to look at the sunset, his last sunset. Sitting on a rock, he watched as the fire ball extinguished itself in the horizon, leaving trails of reds and oranges. He wondered if his death was going to be as slow and bloody as that of the sun. Would it be painless? No one told him anything about it.

Alkier put one foot in front of the other. His pace had slowed considerably since he had started. Beads of sweat rested on his forehead and his breathing, strangely, was getting difficult as the path was getting steeper. Most of the flowers on his head and on the garlands had fallen off, leaving only the threads and the vines. He shook them off when they reminded him of a noose around his neck. His feet were cut a few times when he walked on sharp rocks. He tried to wipe the blood off on some leaves but the flow didn’t stop. After a while, he ignored them, wincing with every step.

He often heard shouts and jeers. He knew no animals roamed in this part of the mountain, not so close to the monster. Perhaps, it was the celebrations from the village. He wished he could see them but the huge trees on both sides hid the view. Like a prisoner walking to a death sentence, he kept on going.

Finally, he broke into a clearing. It was the only area, except for the path, not covered by trees. It was right on top of a cliff and gave a view of the land ahead. He saw his village, small and reduced to the size of ants. And above it was the dark sky with its stars and its shining moon. He searched for the Feathered Serpent. He would have liked to see it but he didn’t know what it was like. He couldn’t find it.

Suddenly, he heard a rustle behind him. He turned around. It had to be the monster. His heart was thumping loudly. His eyes darted around and his hands twitched for something to protect himself. Ironically, he had come here to die. Someone said something he couldn’t understand. It wasn’t human. It was deep, as if two stones were grating together.

Say the mantra. Say the mantra.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. His mind had gone blank, and so had the mantra. And his tongue was so dry.

“What’s your last wish, stupid boy?” the voice asked again.

“You speak our language!” Alkier blurted out before he could stop himself.

But no voice came again. However, it wasn’t important. His wits came back to him. He steadied himself, bracing himself. He wet his lips, prepared to say the mantra. And to die.

At the same moment, two large gleaming eyes opened in front of him in the dark trees, barely a few feet ahead. They were huge, almost one foot wide.

The words on his tongue melted away as he looked at the reflection on the glassy yellow eyes. It was that of a boy. He was skinny with a dirty cloth tied around his waist. Scrapes covered his arms. His hair was disheveled, full of twigs and leaves. He looked so lost and miserable. What shocked him more was how small the boy was. He was so young. He was only a boy.

And then, he realized who it was. It was him.

He heard a large sound behind him. It came from the village. They had lit a huge bonfire. Huge sparks rose in the air, some purple and some pink. Sequot seeds². Barakas saved them for rare special celebrations.

Alkier turned to look at the small boy in the yellow eyes and then to the village.

“I’m here to die and no one’s…” he whispered to himself. “What did I do wrong?”

He thought about the cold shadows, the ones which haunted him every night. His mother never came once, not even in secrecy. No one ever came to chase those shadows away.

He thought about Barakas. He had stoically followed the man and his words since he met him. He kept mum about Nel’s abuse when he was told to. But he never received a kind word in return, not even a pat or a smile.

He thought about Nel, the pig that had molested him again and again. He had trusted him. He had thought he was a friend. But for Nel, emotions and bodies are just games to be played with.

He thought about the villagers. They never considered him as one of them yet they were completely ready to send him to his death. They didn’t even have the decency to show up for the farewell for the boy who was going to die for them.

“I wasn’t wrong!” he hissed, “You were the wrong, rotten and evil ones. I am one of yours. I was born amongst you. I’m a son of the tribe too. Did none of you see that? Could you not shed a few tears when I went away? You are having a feast, a grand one, when one of you is going to die. A child, a small one. Damn it, I’m just a little boy.” The last words came out as a whimper.

Wiping off the tears, he carried on steadily, “You robbed me of everything. My family. My friends. My self-respect. My childhood. And now my life.”

White hot fury filled him from within. He had never felt such a strong hatred and rage for anyone. His body shook. His fists were clenched and his nails dug deep in his skin, drawing blood.

“Now, it’s payback time,” he spat vehemently, “I want each of you to feel what I went through. Tonight, you’ll all be Alkiers.” Then, he shouted out loud, “My last wish is to see my people suffer like I did for eleven years. They should yearn for comfort and love but get none. They should know what it feels like to be violated emotionally and physically. They should be lonely inside. They should die!”

Silence reigned after the somber announcement. He stood and watched the village. Then, suddenly, the bonfire rose high in the sky. It sent fire sparks into the sky which then landed on the huts, setting them on fire. He heard screams and cries. Some of them were fleeing the flames but they somehow caught fire. None of them died instantly. They rolled on the ground and pleaded for mercy.

He couldn’t see but he imagined Barakas running away from the fire while muttering his weird incantations. But his wizened body wouldn’t be able to outrun the flames and he would burn down like an old dry stick. And there was Nel. He could sense him tearing his hair out while madness sought his mind. He wouldn’t even feel the fire eating his body; the guilt inside him would devour him. Alkier smiled as the images flashed through his mind.

After a few hours, the village had burnt down to a pile of ashes. The last soul left its charred skeleton after hours of agony. The last person of his tribe was gone. The sun was about to rise. Before the first ray reached him, Alkier felt huge black jaws close on him. He never let the smoking village leave his sight.

Then, he was gone. And it was with a smile on his face.

As well as a tear.

***************

Snake-needle¹: needle extracted from a venomous snake. Each needle holds an irritant and when it’s stabbed, it produces a painful itching feeling which lasts from ten to twenty minutes.

Sequot seeds²: Seeds which when thrown in fire produces large sparks in the air, sparks of certain patterns (most often those of sequot flowers)

This story wouldn’t have been the same without Graeme’s and Sharon’s help. Kudos to them!!

Copyright 2009 Ieshwar

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