Jump to content

Life of the Least


Recommended Posts

It is dark, so dark. But why should this be surprising? I was born in shadow, raised in shadow, and will probably die in shadow.


I am a Bahro, after all; a living, breathing shadow. Nothing more.


My name is Kantath, and my tale is not a happy one, but I feel it is one that must be spoken. You might think of me as a feral beast, or a mad demon of some sort, but please listen to me, just to calm my weary soul.


The beginning of my life is a mystery even to me. I do not know who my birth parents were. Just glimpses of memories. However, I think I have managed to piece together the story of my birth. Yes, I can see it now. My mother’s tired eyes gazing into mine for the first and last time… Her warm, weak arms protecting me… A comforting purr climbing up her throat…


And then I was taken away. The first bit of love and affection I ever experienced was cut short. We had to learn how to be good, obedient little slaves. Our spirits had to be shattered. Love only got in the way.


And why do I say “we;†because this probably is the memory of every Bahro child.


And what of my mother? After her labor from childbirth ended, she simply resumed her ordinary labor. True, carrying and birthing me was strenuous for her, and all she wanted was a rest from her endless toil. But what was she to them? What was I to them? Just a beast of burden that had just produced another worthless spawn to tarnish the world. Besides, the only thing they valued was work. So they took me and sent her away.


I wonder if she ever thinks of me like how I think of her…


As a youngling, I was brought to Eder Kemo. Yes, I’m pretty sure you have seen it. You have seen the valley, filled with breathtaking slopes and beautiful architecture; the rarest of trees and shrubs whistling in the wind, watered solely by the skies of the Age. And surely, you have thought about what a wonderful, relaxing place it was, and how odd it is that the Grower portrays it as a glimpse of the sins of Proud.


Of course, you haven’t seen beyond the walls of that valley, now have you? You see, the humans get the valley. We get the tunnels underneath. Even the most desperate would refuse to dwell there. The caves are so dark and damp, the stale air reeking of mold. Of course, it was the only home we ever knew.


Every day at the break of dawn (or at least what would be the break of dawn above the surface), we had to crawl through the grimy, wretched hallways of mud and stone. If we were hungry, which we almost always were, we had to scratch the walls in hope of finding a nesting Keanulint nymph, or any other grubs and beetle we could find. Naturally, humans frown on such a diet, but it was the only thing available for us.

So great was our hunger that if one among us found anything no matter how small and forgot to devour it quickly, another Bahro would almost immediately leap on him to claim possession of the meal. Loud shrieking battle calls with louder cussing, grinding of claws, the packing sounds of kicking, and cries of pain echoed through the tunnels almost every day. It was only by a miracle that the earth above us was thick enough to prevent any passerby from hearing what is meant to be unheard.


The battle always ended in one of several ways. Sometimes the challenger was fended away; other times the challenger prevailed. Sometimes the prize slithered away, either escaping into the soil or victim of another hungry mouth. Sometimes the battle was short, which would happen if one Bahro was bigger and stronger than another. Other times, it was long and bloody, both competitors forgetting the original cause of the dispute and venting out all their frustration on each other. Once in a while, one of the elders would step in and call off the fight. Any way it happened, one thing was certain: the brawl would always slow down the traffic in the tunnel, causing many of us who were not even involved to be scolded at, or even beaten.


But whatever the case – food or no food, strength or fatigue – training always came first. At the end of the passage were several large rooms carved into the earth, made of slightly stronger and smoother stone (similar to that of the Kemo cliffs). These were the Chambers of Discipline, where we were taught all that we were required to know as future servants. The teachers were elder Bahro, most of whom were strict and eager to scold. In my infancy, I detested this, but later, I took notice of all the whipping scars on their backs, and that many limped. Perhaps because their lives were so harsh, they made sure not to give us any compassion which they had never been given.


In the Chambers, we learned of our present as wretched slaves, and our destiny as wretched slaves. The Bahro were bound to the D’ni. Their prosperity, their entertainment, and even their very lives were our responsibility, no matter how thankless this vocation. And we deserved to suffer because of who we were.


But how did this come to be?


In all my years as a youngling, I only admired one teacher, older and far wiser and the rest. I called this elder Nraavat Ai, which in our tongue means “my master.†He, too, bears many grievous wounds on his back, but he also bore strange symbols on his body. Odd circular patterns and wavy lines were on his white, bony chest, while more of these lines were on his upper arms. Although we had not yet been informed about such marks, it was easy to realize that the elder was very important. There was a strange light in his light blue eyes, a sign of wisdom, and perhaps hope.


According to Nraavat Ai, the story of our slavery began many circles ago, back in the forgotten times. The Bahro were as a normal civilization, residing in the Age of Noloben. We dug tunnels under the rocks and we delighted in our creations.


One day, a being materialized from thin air, about the size of a Bahro, but walked straighter and had skin as soft and as oily as a worm. After years of talks, we learned that this being was a Ronay, a denizen of the world of Garternay. We learned of their power; their Art, which could craft doorways into other unimaginable worlds, and only with tiny Books.


And so, relations between our two nations blossomed. We grew to love their culture, they grew to tolerate ours. True, both sides bore many grievances against each other. Each side saw each other as agents of Jaktooth. Our appearance was seen as demonic, while their linking ability seemed too unnatural to be allowed by the Maker. Still, a long lasting peace was set between Garternay and Noloben.


The peace ended, however, when we began to covet the Skill, and we begged the Ronay to teach it to us, only to be turned down. The anger which had resided between the two cultures emerged from beneath the surface, resulting in a series of terrible wars. The Ronay nearly crushed us all with their superior devices, and we were forced to flee into hiding. Our race ultimately became dead to them.


In our rage and arrogance, we called onto the Maker, asking for his help to overcome the people of the root. We begged for a gift as wonderful and terrible as the gift of the Art.


Indeed, as our traditions tell us, the Maker did send a gift before our eyes: the Sacred Tablet. The Tablet itself looked simple, telling by a diagram Nraavat Ai scratched in the wall. But what a wonder it was! It gave us great power beyond the words of Bahro or Ronay. We could create rain and wind; we could link at will to other Ages. We could change worlds!


With this new power, the Bahro decided to hatch a plan for revenge. The conspirators managed to make the Garternay sun age prematurely, fast enough to unbalance the Age, but not fast enough to raise concern among the Ronay. From there, they planned to take refuge in Noloben, where they would reestablish their utopian society.


However, the fate of my people was sealed. One of the Ronay uncovered the conspiracy, and stole the Tablet and carved his own name into the side. By doing so, he forced the Bahro to follow his will. Our slavery had begun.


Our new master was greedy, and wanted us to serve him alone. Therefore, he decided to hide away the Tablet forever, so nobody could free us. Thus, his unwilling servants built the Keep, which locked the Tablet into place. The only way it could be unlocked was by using four special Slates to push the heavy locks, but they were set on special Pedestals, and the only way we could move them to the Keep was if we were ordered by the Ronay.


The Keep and the four Pedestals were each set into Linking Bubbles, which made them each an Age onto themselves, being in many times and places at one. Finally, the Bahro were forced to spirit them away. Our bond of servitude had been sealed.


Thankfully, our captor died with no heirs, but we were still forced to quietly serve the Ronay, even if we damaged their world. To make up for it, we aided the Ronay, preventing plagues and bringing bounty to their fields, even if they did not recognize our work.


Nonetheless, the inevitable came. The Ronay finally became aware of their world’s critical condition, and set out to leave Garternay. Most of them ventured to the paradise of Terahnee, yet there was one, Ri’Neref, who split from the rest to form his own nation. The Bahro found him as a promising master. He and his followers were compassionate individuals, most of which detested the corruption of the Ronay.


Thus, we ventured to the Cavern of D’ni with Ri’Neref, where our two peoples stayed out of contact with each other. But at least the silence was filled with harmony, and in our part, hope. As we continued to bring blessings to the D’ni, we witnessed the rise and fall of many great kings and prophets. Although some prophets, like Gish, proved to be false, and some kings, like Me’emen, proved to be foolish, our faith little diminished.


We rejoiced as the Watcher preached the coming of the Grower, who would redeem the Least at last. We gazed in awe as the Great King Ahlsendar sealed himself within his Tomb, calling for a separation from Garternay, and we smiled as Queen Lalen reclaimed the Lost Books of Birenni. If the D’ni could find something that ancient, perhaps they would remember us as well.


To add to our expectations, many of us believed that the Tablet was actually hidden within the D’ni Cavern. Of course, we never discovered its location or that of the Slates, yet our priests felt a strong presence. It is not known for sure whether or not they were actually telling the truth, but we began to celebrate our bond with the Tablet once again.


An example of this is the crafting of Pillars. These Pillars, still part of our tradition today, are made of the same stone as the Tablet, and share the same blue aura. These Pillars are seen as substitutes (but not replacements) of the Tablet, so they must come with us wherever we go. And wherever the Pillars are brought, we shall reside.


In the end, the D’ni did discover our presence. However, the ones who found us were evil and corrupt, desiring only wealth and power. They stole Pillars from our innocent, and hid them in Ages which demanded hard labor. They beat us with whips; they stabbed us with poisoned daggers; they suppressed our powers.


After all these years, our situation did not improve in the slightest. The black market began to run smoothly, dodging every trap set by the Kings, and later the Grand Masters. Yet hope still lied. Prophecies of the Grower became popular, and prophets even emerged among the Bahro.


“And so,†Nraavat Ai concluded, “A shadow of light has fallen onto our race. But remember, the day shall come when the Tablet is restored, and we shall be free again. For many circles we waited, but the circle shall soon be complete. Very soon.â€Â


The other lessons were also interesting, but were more or less variations on the main theme. Bahro prophets, D’ni prophets, failed uprisings and false Growers; nevertheless, you had to admit that it was an interesting course.


After the various lectures, we were sent away for free time. This was when we were to eat our meals of Keanulint and grubs, and we were allowed to leave the main tunnels. We were even free to roam above the surface. The one condition: stay out of the valley where the humans visit.


I used to love this hour. The sun was so warm and welcoming; the air was pure and inviting, unlike the musky stench of the tunnels. For the most part, I would just climb around on the sloping limestone cliffs, sunning myself as a lizard would.


If I got caught in the cyclic rains, then the experience was all the better. The rain felt… I don’t know how to describe it in words. It felt like I was being purified from every dark deed of my forbearers, while at the same time being sheltered by a thousand invisible sentinels. It was like I was being embraced by the Maker.


Of course, I didn’t always go alone. I met a couple good friends in my days of Training. First, there was Parrin, a Bahro a half-cycle younger than I. Yes, Parrin was the most cautious and reasonable of us (quite fitting- he was smaller than usual, making an easy target for those larger and more able than him). And then there was Kepik, who was quite arrogant and rash.


The three of us truly did get into a lot of mischief in our youth. Although we were forbidden to enter the main valley of the Age, we did so anyway. He carefully dodged all human eyes, and we even managed to scrawl various symbols on the cliff walls. We were naturally beaten severely for our actions, but it did help us pass the long hours afterwards, which only consisted of more lectures, followed by rest, where all communication was forbidden.


I miss those carefree days. If only things had turned out differently…


It is useless to mourn the past, but it was on one of those excursions to the surface when everything changed…

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Chapter 1: Encounter


The three of us entered the Forbidden Valley during the afternoon break. Of course, it took us a while to plan for our entry. Judging by a small D’ni watch kept in the Chamber of Discipline – a mystery in itself, for how could a device that small operate without the use of fire or water? – It was night in D’ni. Our presence would be undetected.


If there was a single living soul in the Valley, he would have seen three shadows looming over the limestone wall: one peering downward in fascination, one crouched bravely like a predator about to jump its prey, and one cringing nervously


“Are you sure this is a good idea?†the cringing shadow would ask, the chirps in his native Bahro-speak sounding more like a whimpering, defenseless creature.


“No,†the crouching shadow would respond, “But if we came back and told everyone in the Den that we spend an entire mark in the Forbidden Valley undetected, we would be honored like the heroes of the Great Rebellion.â€Â


“And lashed like them, too!†cringing shadow snaps, rising up a bit in defiance, “Remember what the elders said about entering?â€Â


â€ÂYes,†replies the crouching shadow, a tinge of irritation in his growls, “But what’s a few lash marks among us? Parrin, you slept in yesterday, and you still have the scratch wound from it. Kantath was hit in the head for eating a maggot in the middle of a lecture.â€Â


“He’s right,†the gazing shadow remarks, “If we were beaten any more, we would have to grow more skin for them to mark!â€Â


The crouching shadow shoots up, making the first shadow shrink down in fright, “See, Parrin? At least the grub-guzzler gets it.â€Â


“There still is the question of what happens if it rains,†the third shadow states, trying to protect his cringing comrade, “It will get in my eyes – and you remember how sensitive my eyes are.â€Â


The crouching shadow returns to his original position and scoffs, “If you two human-spawn want to see rain, go ahead and wait it out. I’m going to go myself.â€Â


At once, the shadow bounded into the valley (which would have definitely have scared away any observers) and onto a puffer plant, which shook and spurted pollen in every direction. The being, no longer silhouetted against the sun, turned to reveal himself as Kepik, the largest and most reckless of our group.


“Well, come on!†he shouted.


Parrin, formerly the cringing shadow, turned to me, the third and last shadow. “Should we go after him?†he inquired, like a timid servant before a violent dictator.


I couldn’t help but chuckle. Parrin and I share a bond uncommon among others – stronger than that of a usual friend, but weaker than that of mates. “Brothers,†Nraavat Ai called it. When our people were permitted to raise our own young, rather than give them up to servitude, such a bond was formed among the offspring of the same mother. I still do not quite understand it, for how can such a crude connection create such a complex bond?


Although I never experienced brotherhood, I’m pretty sure my relationship with Parrin must be kind of like that. He is younger and weaker than I am, so he often relies on me for aid and comfort. I even helped him out of a few violent scenarios in the Corridors. Nonetheless, I do not feel this is a burden; on the contrary, it seems like it’s my duty to protect him.


“Why not? We can’t him eat all the Keanulints, can we?†I smirked, recalling the many occasions when Kepik literally caught and devoured several large Keanulints in a matter of marks, with no ill effects. “Besides, what will the D’ni eat?â€Â


Parrin chuckled, but suddenly turned to me and asked shyly, “But I thought the D’ni hated bugs!â€Â


“That was supposed to be a joke, youngling.†I grumbled.


Parrin hissed; he hated when anyone called him “youngling,†“I’m being serious, Kantath! They don’t eat bugs!â€Â


This always raised a heated debate: what did the D’ni eat? Nobody from our Den knows, but Parrin always expects me to know the answers.


“That is true. Ancient texts said that the Ronay found our diet as repulsive,†I began, trying to remember Nraavat Ai’s lectures, “and made for themselves a delicacy ‘as soft as clouds, made from the heads of long grass.’ Says so in the Runes of the Ronay, one-circle two-mark.â€Â


“Yes, I know that,†snapped Parrin, “but I tried to the fog once, and I didn’t taste anything! And when I tried to eat grass…â€Â


“Wait… you tried to eat grass?â€Â




This was honestly taking too long. As Kepik so generously pointed out, if we wanted to see the rain, then we could just wait for it. Just then, I had an idea.


I smiled, “Well, why don’t you try it again!â€Â


And with that, I shoved him off the cliff, sending him shrieking not into the grass as I expected, but the pond. It wouldn’t matter either way, anyway. Bahro tend to be very hardy creatures. The three of us (or at least Kepik and I) used this to our advantage.


Parrin arose from the pool in what even an upside-down beetle would find to be the least graceful way possible. In a usual case, he would clamber onto his hind legs and bellow ridiculous threats that he would never fulfill, but not this time. I tackled him to the ground before he could.


From that point on, the time decided to move faster than its usual slow march. We were younglings then, so we did what younglings were meant to do: forget all the bitter dangers that lurked around the corner and simply play. Being exposed in the Forbidden Valley was a heresy that could shatter every rule set down by the elders many ages ago. We knew this well, but the fact that it was taboo made the experience all the more fun.


Maybe the three of us stayed for the mark we had agreed on, maybe we stayed for a whole circle. We were enjoying ourselves too much to keep track of such a tedious and depressing thing as time. We wrestled (where Kepik had the upper hand), we had races (the smaller, faster Parrin had the advantage – especially when he had to flee from Kepik after he won), and we drew various scribbles on the cliff walls with charcoal (which everyone agreed I had a bit of talent in doing so).


Just then, as I was sketching a drawing of the fireflies, I felt… I can’t describe it exactly. A presence, one would say, but it was more than that. The air rushed in a way that it wasn’t supposed to, like it was running away from something. An eerie sound echoed through the air; like a low groan of pain, together with a hum of pleasure and the shifting of sands. Only, it didn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard before in my life, and it sent a cold chill down my spine.


Even as the supernatural sound was whispered against the cliff walls, I felt the wind rush in an unnatural manner, like it was fleeing from something. Someone – or something – was there that had not been there before.


At first I thought it was the wind. After all, the sky was beginning to darken, and the storm was coming. But then, I heard yet a different sound, soft and short, but strong and with a fast pace. TAP, tap, TAP, tap, TAP, tap. Whatever it was, it was coming toward us.


I turned to Kepik and Parrin; they, too, had heard the noises. Kepik, always the one in charge, grunted, “Hide.†I could tell that he, being the brave one among us, resented issuing this order, yet it was necessary. Kepik clambered up the cliff wall with his sharp claws helping him. Parrin hid behind a boulder – a foolish thing to do, for whatever it was that had arrived, it would be able to find him before Parrin could peer out from behind the stone and realize it. I took behind a leafy flower bed, which happened to be very convenient. The cover was thick enough to conceal me almost completely but allowed me to see enough of what was happening outside.


Darkness blanketed the Age, and the rain began to pound down on the earth, yet with my sensitive eyesight together with the glow from the fireless torches (another D’ni anomaly), I saw a vague figure silhouetted against the limestone wall. At first, I assumed it to be another Bahro, for I did not know of any other moving creature that could be so tall. But soon, I realized that it couldn’t be. It was far too slender to be a Bahro, and walked upright. And the way it carried itself was differently; its claws were behind its back, and not held in front of it like a Bahro would. Stranger still was the way it walked. Its legs were not bent at the knee, and it walked very leisurely and with fluid grace.


What was this creature, some sort of spirit or a messenger of the Maker?


My thoughts were interrupted when a bolt of lightning emerged from the heavens, striking against the rim of a nearby cliff, which made it dangerously unstable. The cliff began to crumble, sending a barrage of rocks down onto the poor creature. The being let out a low-pitched wail of terror before being knocked out cold.


As the rain receded, I scrambled towards the unconscious organism, followed by Kepik, who almost flew off of his hiding place, and a worried Parrin. The three of us stared at it, not knowing what to do, before Parrin summed up our alarm in one simple question, “What is it?â€Â


Kepik looked closely at the limp form, before announcing coldly, “It’s a D’ni.â€Â


Parrin and I looked at him inquisitively, “That’s a D’ni?†I asked.


I looked back down at the body. I have always heard from the ancient texts that D’ni had soft, oily, almost wormlike skin, grew a crown of reeds from atop their heads, and clothed themselves with soft tapestries. The first thing that came into my mind whenever I heard this was a gigantic worm with grass growing out of one end and wearing a tattered, brightly colored tapestry around its middle.


This ancient description, I learned, proved to be horribly inaccurate. The form of the comatose closely took that of a Bahro, yet its figure was softer and frailer. There was a light material wrapped and closely fitted around its whole body, leaving every part covered except its head and its hands.


There were so many mysteries around this creature; the thick leathery substance where its feet should have been, the delicate features of its face, the weak claws which would have served very little use in climbing rocks. It was the most fragile thing I’ve ever seen. Such an animal could not exist in the wild, since it would make a terribly easy target for predators.


“Is it… still alive?†asked Parrin, his eyes filled with guilt and pity.


“Let’s hope it’s not,†growled Kepik, “miserable parasite…â€Â


Parrin looked at Kepik as if he offended him instead of the creature.


“What did that thing ever do to you?†snapped Parrin.


“It’s not just him,†snarled Kepik, “it’s all of them. Ronay, D’ni – doesn’t matter. Remember what it said in the Runes of Neglect? ‘A people of wisdom and brotherhood, they claim to be, yet it was they who denied us their Art and it was they who captured the Tablet.’â€Â


“So,†Parrin scolded, “that doesn’t mean the D’ni’s at fault.â€Â


“Treachery runs in their tainted blood!†howled Kepik, “they murdered, beat, and tortured our fathers. I wouldn’t be surprised if this creature’s father lashed your own! And you want to help the poor slime?â€Â


That’s Kepik, all right. Not only is he the strongest of the three of us, but he is also the most knowledgeable of the ancient texts. Yet the texts only fuel his anger; the stories of oppression and cruelty make him more enraged at the D’ni.


Kepik, I think, was the exact opposite of Parrin. The latter was compassionate and gentle, while the former was cunning with a foul temper. It still surprises me why the two were friends, since they detested each other. But whether they liked it or not, they needed each other.


Naturally, neither of them admitted it.


“The masters said that we’re supposed to be forgiving, remember? It’s the Bahro way!†cried Parrin.


“The Bahro way? To Jaktooth’s Age with the Bahro way! That’s what’s keeping us fifty feet below the ground where nobody can find us.†Kepik retorted.


“If the elders heard you,†roared Parrin, making himself sound as imposing as he possibly could, “they’d banish you!â€Â


“And are the elders here, O mighty and righteous Parrin?†Kepik scoffed.


“W-why you…†Parrin stuttered, unable to think of a good retaliation. Kepik let out a short chirp of satisfaction; he had finally got to him.


“Why me… what?†smirked Kepik.


I had enough of this. My claws clenched into a fist, I struck Kepik in the back of his head.


“Kepik,†I scolded, “stop it already!â€Â


With a light flick of his wrist, Kepik smugly pushed away my arm. “Why,†he asked in mock astonishment, “I was only asking ‘why me?’â€Â


I rolled my eyes. Kepik always took everything too far, especially when it came to taunting poor Parrin. Yes, true Kepik blasphemed against our traditions, but I often doubted the validity of them myself. But Kepik and Parrin – they were my friends. And Parrin’s well-being was as important as the Tablet any day.


So what if we were slaves? No-one said we had to act like it – the three of us always made the best of our situations! In fact, I rarely took our rituals seriously. Why was there all this commotion about a Tablet we lost eons ago? We could make a new one, couldn’t we? Our elders warned us time and time again never to come in contact with the D’ni, but what for? Here was an unconscious D’ni right in front of us!


Who was slowly coming to…


The human gave out a deep groan, like that of a falling tree. It then twitched its delicate hand. Then its head tilted upward, preparing for its ascent from the ground.


“It’s waking up!†screeched Parrin. He then realized how inconveniently loud he was, and clamped his claws over his snout. As if that would help, anyway. The D’ni had already opened his pale grey eyes, and was staring right at him.


At first, it did nothing. It simply stared in our direction, as if it was looking right through us or at nothing at all. Perhaps it felt that we were just an illusion of its hazy mind that would vanish very soon. It blinked several times and ran its dull claws over the corners of its eyes before it finally realized that what it was seeing was real.


Now looking straight at us, alternating its panicked gaze between me, Kepik, and Parrin, it began to breathe quickly. Finally, it spoke in a strange, flowing language, “Kamrov… kamrov kentee?â€Â


Parrin looked at me, as if expecting a translation – we had never heard such communication before, since we were only adapted to understanding short chirps and growls. The D’ni had begun to scramble to its feet, crying, “Kamrov kentee? Kahm kentee?â€Â


Kepik looked at the startled creature menacingly, and began to slowly rise himself, raising an arm to strike it down. For him, this would be a dream come true: to strike down a son of the oppressor. But he never did. For some reason, he simply stood there and began to tremble, like he was trying to evade the powerful grip of an unseen adversary. For the first time in many circles, I could see alarm in his eyes.


Suddenly, I saw a flash of blue light and the sound of something rushing. When it cleared, Kepik was on the ground, groaning in agony. Parrin and I had no idea what to make of this. We looked back and forth between the two anomalies that came within our midst: Kepik’s sudden injury and the now-bewildered D’ni.


Parrin immediately catered to the former problem, trying to help Kepik off the floor. As he did this, I tried to make peace with the D’ni.


I slowly approached the terrified creature, extending my arms as if to embrace it. “It’s alright,†I muttered, “We will not hurt you. I swear by the Tablet.â€Â


But the D’ni had seen enough. He (at least, I assumed it was a he) looked back at the wounded Kepik, then at me, and then sought an escape route behind him. He shrieked, “Rihl! Vehrehnehmah! Vehrehnehmah, mahnshooth!â€Â


Although this might have been foolish, looking back, I stepped even closer. Immediately, the D’ni scuttled backwards. My words of peace did not seem to convince him. Finally, he picked up a rock, and held it in the air warningly. I doubted he could harm me, but I moved backwards nonetheless.


“Ken Esherokh D’nee,†he cried, “Koozahehmah!â€Â


With this finally word, we stood staring at each other, not knowing what to do. Finally, he ran as fast as he could, down the valley. After time passed, I heard the strange noise again – the mournful hum and the shifting sands – and then nothing. The D’ni had vanished from the world.


However, the Maker seemed to be in a very peculiar mood that day. Just as the D’ni vanished, another being came into existence, this time with a strange screeching sound.


I looked behind me…


“Nraavat Ai! What brings you here?â€Â




D’ni Phrases (shown as D’ni – literal translation – English meaning):


Kamrov kentee? – What-person are you-plural? – Who are you?


Kahm kentee? – What are you-plural? – What are you?


Rihl! – No!


Vehrehnehmah! – stop-you-command! – Stop!


Mahnshooth – death-bringer (sort of the D’ni equivalent of the Grim Reaper. It is the closest thing I could find for “demonâ€Â)


Ken Esherokh D’nee – I am Esher of D’ni


Koozahehmah! – Leave-you-command! – Go!

Link to comment
Share on other sites


  • Create New...