Dumo stared over at Bakhai and his chin crinkled in bitter sadness. His eyes watered and he nodded as he walked towards Bakhai.
“Regardless of how I rant about his failings,” Dumo grimaced, “your father was a great man. He would have made an excellent chief or shaman for the Qubari. It is not that I did not love him, but rather that we did not see eye to eye on many things. He had the same feelings of sacrifice for our people as I do, but he thought very differently. His name was Hyram and I am proud to have called him my son. I am sorry, but I cannot remember your mother’s name. She was an invader and I only met her once and it was an emotional time between your father and I. Perhaps it will come back to me.”
“Her name was Saria,” Rejji said haltingly, his eyes filled with tears.
Silence invaded the courtyard and Pulom and Anderal halted on their way to the council table. Dumo turned and stared at Rejji.
“It was indeed Saria,” Chief Dumo said softly. “How could you possibly know this?”
Dumo turned to look at Yltar. “Did you ever mention her name to him?” he quizzed the shaman.
Yltar shook his head and stared at Rejji. Dumo stormed his way through the ring of guards and stood towering over Rejji.
“Tell me how you know her name,” Dumo demanded.
“She was my mother,” sobbed Rejji. “Her father raised me as his own when they left to return to Hyram’s people. She was pregnant at the time.”
“So it was not the cold that affected the balls,” concluded Mistake. “Bakhai was deep in the mountain seeking the dragon. The carozit worked!”
Rejji nodded and Dumo started pacing towards the council table.
“This is unbelievable,” scowled Dumo. “This is some trick to get me to reject your punishment. Hyram would have told me about his son when we met. He would have been too proud to conceal such a thing from me. I cannot believe this. He is not even a talker. He should be slowly tortured for playing such a cruel trick.”
“I agree,” stated Pulom. “No man could resist bragging about a son to his father. There is absolutely no reason for him not to have told everyone about his son.”
Even the guards were nodding their heads at the thoughts expressed by Pulom. A birth among the Qubari was a wonderful and joyous event, which was shared and celebrated by the entire village. Not a man there could understand a father not sharing his joy, not only with his own father, but also with the entire village.
“Unless,” interjected Yltar.
“Unless what?” demanded Dumo. “Will you think of some strange circumstance that would make this believable so that this council will once again spare the lives of these three? Do not waste our time, Yltar. You persuaded us once, but you will not succeed again, no matter how hard you try.”
“What if Hyram feared your actions?” the shaman postulated. “What if he knew what your reaction would be to the news of his son and feared that your actions would jeopardize the Qubari people?”
“How could my knowledge of such a blessed event hurt the Qubari?” scowled Dumo. “You weave tales that contain no logic. Let us convene this council and determine their fate.”
“I can think of only one reason that Hyram would not have shared his birth,” persisted Yltar as he forced his way through the line of guards. “He would have kept his silence in fear that you would have torn down the gates of Angragar for a child who could barely walk.”
Everyone stared at the shaman as he marched over to stand in front of Rejji. He reached down and seized Rejji’s right arm from where it rested on his leg. He twisted the arm to force Rejji’s palm to face upward and gasped at the sight of the crescent mark he saw. He gently pulled Rejji to his feet and raised the held arm high in the air so the palm faced the council table. Yltar then fell to his knees before Rejji.
“Behold, people of Qubari,” Yltar called out. “Behold the coming of the Astor.”
The entire courtyard gasped and fell to their knees. Tears flowed down Dumo’s cheeks and dampened the stones of the courtyard. Although his tears flowed freely, Chief Dumo was the happiest man in the world.
“What does this mean?” asked Rejji. “What is happening?”
“Angragar is awakening,” smiled Yltar. “We have waited centuries for you to come.”
Chapter 23
Astor
“I still don’t understand,” declared Rejji. “What is an Astor? What does it mean that Angragar is awakening? What does this have to do with me?”
“You are the Astor,” began Yltar. “It is prophesied that the Astor will reopen Angragar. He will be marked by the crescent of the moon upon his right palm.”
“This can’t be,” Rejji shook his head. “I am only half Qubari and if you are all kneeling in deference to me, please stop. It makes me very uncomfortable. Surely a lot of people could be born with such a scar.”
The Qubari sheepishly rose to their feet as Yltar continued, “It is not a scar, Rejji. It is a mark and it is more than just you having it. Your father was a scholar who studied the ancient tomes more than any other. He had become convinced that the time of the Astor was near. I am not certain of the signs he saw to predict this, but I respected his knowledge enough to believe he had not misread them. Add to that the instructions you received from the Sage and it is undeniable. There is a further test that can be made if you are still in doubt.”
“What is the test?” questioned Rejji.
“The gates of Angragar have been locked for centuries,” stated Yltar. “Many have tried to open them and all have failed. That is why Dumo spoke of an army to tear the gates down, yet it is written that the gates will yield to the Astor. I am confident that you can open them.”
“Then let us go find out for sure,” murmured Rejji.
“That can be done,” offered Yltar, “but may I make a suggestion.”
“Certainly,” replied Rejji. “I can use suggestions from everyone. I do not have any idea what it is you think I am.”
“It appears that there is little doubt that you are Qubari,” smiled Yltar. “Even if you are found not to be the Astor, there is much that you and Bakhai should learn. Angragar is a distance from here and once the gates are open, it becomes harder to keep the city secure. Spend some time here in the village before we make the journey and test you. Learn of our history and customs. Study the ancient scrolls. Find out what the Astor is for yourself and what is expected of you. Angragar has waited many centuries. It will wait a few weeks longer.”
“I would like that,” nodded Rejji. “I feel like I have found my true home for the first time. I am in no hurry to leave it.”
“I would like that too,” interjected Bakhai. “Why is Angragar being protected?”
“To explain that, I must go back thousands of years,” declared Yltar as he pulled up a chair and sat. “At one time there was a very advanced nation where we stand. It was one of the great ancient nations of the world. Ships from Angragar traveled the world and traded the bounties of this land. It was a peaceful nation as most were at that time. One of its greatest allies was Elvangar, land of the elves.”
“Real elves?” questioned Mistake. “Do you mean there really are elves?”
“Oh yes, real elves,” smiled Yltar. “At least there were elves at that time. I cannot say if any still exist. One day, in the reign of King Regis, a young mage named Vand rose to power. He was well versed in the dark arts and he sought domination over his brothers. He defied all customs and laws, yet his charm drew a large following to him. He sought a way to topple the king and seize power for himself. As large and as powerful as his following got, he realized that he would never be a threat to the king as long as the king stood in the favor of the people.”
“So the people loved this king?” queried Mistake.
“Very much so,” nodded Yltar. “Whenever Vand tried to stir up the crowd in Angragar, the people threw stones at him and chased him from the city. Vand decided one day upon a plan to seize power. He took his followers west over the mountains unto the center of the land. There on the shores of a great lake, he built a temple to himself.”