“I think you already know much more than you let on,” declared Ukaro. “The painting you saw in Angragar must have made you think about what god will require from you.”
“God,” mused Marak. “I grew up with the flatlanders, father. They speak of many gods, but value none of them.”
“I understand,” nodded the shaman, “but you have learned from your Sakovan friends that the one true god is Kaltara. Have you not?”
“Yes,” agreed Marak, “but I know little about him. Why does this god put his favor on me? What makes him think that I can change the world?”
“He has chosen you, my son” Ukaro smiled proudly. “Do not question his motives. As to why he thinks you can change the world, he will endow you with what is necessary, and he will guide you. This you must believe with all your heart.”
“So he will just make everything turn out all right?” questioned Marak.
“No, no,” Ukaro shook his head vigorously, causing his mane to sway from side to side. “You must work hard to achieve his goals. By choosing you to be the Torak, he is giving all of humanity a chance to redeem itself, but only a chance. You must strive to make sure that you do not fail us. Another Torak may not come for thousands of years.”
“So I can fail,” pondered Marak. “What exactly is prophesized about this Torak?”
“Our scrolls state that the Torak will rise to reclaim our lands,” stated the shaman. “Most people believe that means that you will reclaim the land of the Chula from the flatlanders. It is said that you will destroy their armies and chase these invaders from our shores.”
“Most people believe that,” puzzled Marak. “I know you well enough to understand by your choice of words that you do not share that interpretation. What do you believe?”
“I used to believe as the others do,” explained Ukaro, “but hearing about your journeys to Sakova and Fakara has changed my perception of what must be done.”
“How has the telling of my travels changed your thinking?” inquired Marak.
“The painting in Angragar for one causes me to see things from a different perspective,” Ukaro continued. “It is clear that your future is tied to the Star of Sakova and the Astor of Qubari as they are pictured by your side in the painting.”
“I agree with that,” nodded Marak. “I have seen that painting many times in my dreams. It causes me to wonder what is to come.”
“I have spent many days since your return from Angragar going through the oldest of our archives,” stated Ukaro. “The invaders that came to our shores were fleeing from some great evil. There is nothing in our records to indicate what they were fleeing from, but I cannot help thinking that whatever was chasing them is what you must truly battle.”
Lord Marak nodded slowly as his mind drifted back to his short time in Angragar. They had found a scroll in the old temple that spoke of burning ships and searing minds.
“I believe you are correct,” declared Marak. “An old prophecy spoke of a great evil. It was an evil that defied Kaltara thousands of years before the invaders came. The evil was banished from the land to a new land. I suspect the invaders came from that new land. I think they were fleeing from that evil.”
“That would explain the great fear that pervaded the invaders,” mused Ukaro. “The histories tell much about the trials of my people during the invasion. The invaders were skilled warriors, much greater than anyone who lived here. They certainly were not cowards and did not shy from battle, but they were driven by fear of something chasing them. Our records offer no hint as to what that evil was.”
“One of the Qubari suspected that the great evil was a priest named Vand,” offered Marak. “Vand declared himself a god and gathered a great host of followers. Legend states that he defied the other gods and was banished to some unknown land.”
“Then the pieces fall into place,” sighed Ukaro.
“How?” Marak shook his head. “This all happened thousands of years ago. Some priest who thought he was a god would not be alive today to bother us.”
“Can you be sure of that?” questioned the shaman. “You already know of many things that defy what is supposedly known to be true. The flatlanders believe that magicians can only be female. An untruth. They believe that slavery is necessary for the survival of their economy. A lie. You were told that nobody ever escapes the Qubari jungle, yet here you are. Do not be so quick to rule out an old priest as the source of the evil that will plague you. Even if this Vand no longer lives, the evil that lived within him might still exist.”
“All right,” shrugged Marak. “The prophecy stated that the people of his new land would flee from him. It states that they will burn their ships and sear their minds, whatever that means.”
“I will tell you what it means,” the shaman said. “The invaders that came to our shores so long ago burned their ships upon arrival. It made no sense to the Chula of that age, but it was recorded, so it is true. I have read all of the histories from that time. There is little in them except the harrowing tales of brutal slaughter, but I do recall reading one that spoke of captured invaders. I said before that the invaders were afraid of something, but that we never found out what it was. One of the scrolls suggested that the invaders did not know what they were fleeing because their memories were destroyed.”
“Do you mean intentionally erased?” asked Marak.
“The scroll did not make that judgment,” shrugged Ukaro, “but if it was intentional, would not that be a searing of minds?”
“It would,” nodded Marak. “Is that possible? Do you know of magic that can block a memory?”
“No,” admitted Ukaro, “but that does not make it impossible. Tell me more of this scroll you found in Angragar.”
“It mentioned that the searing magic would fail because of intermarriage and that the evil would be summoned because of that failure,” Marak continued. “The scroll called this the Time of Calling. It is during this Time of Calling that Kaltara will send forth the Torak, the Star of Sakova, and the Astor. The three of us are to gather the faithful and the faithless to stand against the evil in the Time of Cleansing.”
“When is the Time of Cleansing?” interrupted the shaman.
“It starts when the evil arrives,” answered Marak. “That is all the scroll stated.”
“So you are to gather the faithful AND the faithless,” mused Ukaro. “The faithless to me are the flatlanders. I feel more strongly than ever that what the others expect of the Torak is not what is required of you. If you were here merely to reclaim our land from the flatlanders, then why did Kaltara send the Star and the Astor?”
“They each have their own lands to reclaim,” Marak offered weakly.
“Perhaps that is how others will interpret it,” shrugged Ukaro, “but I see both of them as being among the faithful. It is the Khadorans, the Omungans, and the Fakarans that are the faithless. It is not referring to the Chula, the Sakovans, and the Qubari. They could never be considered faithless. We have lived for many generations waiting for you to come. We have not wavered in our faith.”
“So I am to make allies with the flatlanders in all three countries?” Marak questioned skeptically.
“It would appear so,” nodded Ukaro.
“Impossible,” Marak shook his head. “The Khadorans will kill me. It is only a matter of time before they do, but I am sure that they will succeed. In any event, there is absolutely no chance that the Khadorans would ever agree to follow me.”
“Come,” Ukaro smiled as he rose. “It is time for you to leave the Chula and return to your flatlanders. Have you found a mate a yet?”
Lord Marak rose and stared at his father with his mouth hanging open.
“A mate?” he echoed. “With everything that is going on, how can you ask such a question?”
“Life continues even through troubled times,” chuckled the shaman. “I wonder what kind of parent you will make.”
“This is no time for me to be distracted by such things, father,” Marak shook his head. “Whatever brings such thoughts to your mind?”