Savages of the Sacred Salvage
Only the breathless warning of the girl in the marketplace allows you to save your son Chameek in time. Stumbling over your rolls of painstakingly woven cloth and leaving them scattered on the ground, you race to the Pavilion of Oaths, your husband's sister Paita right behind you. Together you drag him outside, and though he is as tall and strong as a man grown, once you're sure he's safe you take turns slapping him as though he were a misbehaving child the age of one of Paita's brats.
"You idiot! You cruel, ungrateful child! You're my only son! And you would do this to me? And you would do this to your father?"
Chameek's face has turned an ugly, blotchy red, drenched in tears and snot. "You don't understand! Akema was everything to me! She was supposed to be my wife! And now her father has traded her away like cattle, and there's nothing for me to do but descend into Hell!"
He sinks to his knees, still weeping. Paita spits on the ground, and you aim a disgusted, half-hearted kick at him. "Why did the Bright Gods curse me with such a son?" you wonder aloud, and not for the first time. "Weak hearted as an old woman. Get up, Chameek, you shame yourself. Everyone is staring at you."
It's true; the three of you have become quite the spectacle. Worshipers in the field across from the Pavilion are pointing and whispering, and nearby an old man is doubled up in laughter.
All very well and funny for them, of course, but as your only son had been moments away from taking the Oath and seeking out the locusts of Hell on a suicide mission, you aren't nearly as amused. You drag him to his feet and start marching him home. "Chameek, you are an utter fool. Warriors train for years to face Hell and never come back. They die in the blue fires, for all we know. What are you but a love struck pup? You don't have a chance. There is no returning from Hell, and there is no wish to be granted. That's only a story."
"Hell is a place for murderers and thieves," Paita says, with a savage twist of his ear. "And utter fools, perhaps, but ungrateful ones who are worse than thieves and think only of the glory to be gained, and not of the parents who gave them life. YOU are an only son. Your father grows old, and so does his wife and his sister. You must marry a girl, any suitable girl who can make children to work and to hunt, and there will be no more moaning about this Akema." .
That night you sit up late with Paita and your husband Bainto, as the fire burns low. "Yavinta," your husband says to you. "Chameek is as stubborn as he is foolish, and will surely slip off to take the Oath again, and then he will die."
You gnaw on your lower lip as you think the problem over. If Chameek has his way, none of you will be permitted to stop him, as he will have sworn himself to fight the forces of Hell on behalf of the gods, an act even more binding than swearing to be a warrior of the Chief's household. And unlike the Chief, the gods will take anyone, even idiots like your son. It's said that anyone who is carried to Hell and successfully returns is granted a wish--or at least wealth and success enough to marry anyone they like--but it's only happened once that you're aware of, long ago, and the details have been lost to time.
Bainto speaks up regretfully, "If I were a wealthier man, we could approach that Akema girl's father. What she sees in Chameek I don't understand, but they care for each other, and her father only cares for the bride price."
Paita shakes her head. "It's too late for that. She's already been taken to the chosen groom's tribe to prepare for the wedding. Veltan? Whatever his name was. It can still be called off, but her father won't be the one to do it."
"I wish something could be done, I really do." Bainto sighs. "I'd like to hope Chameek sees reason in time, but I know our son. Everything is extremes with him. And he'll only get worse after that girl is wed. I feel like this is my fault, if only I'd--"
"Nonsense," you say, cutting him off. "Look, here's what we'll do."
"You idiot! You cruel, ungrateful child! You're my only son! And you would do this to me? And you would do this to your father?"
Chameek's face has turned an ugly, blotchy red, drenched in tears and snot. "You don't understand! Akema was everything to me! She was supposed to be my wife! And now her father has traded her away like cattle, and there's nothing for me to do but descend into Hell!"
He sinks to his knees, still weeping. Paita spits on the ground, and you aim a disgusted, half-hearted kick at him. "Why did the Bright Gods curse me with such a son?" you wonder aloud, and not for the first time. "Weak hearted as an old woman. Get up, Chameek, you shame yourself. Everyone is staring at you."
It's true; the three of you have become quite the spectacle. Worshipers in the field across from the Pavilion are pointing and whispering, and nearby an old man is doubled up in laughter.
All very well and funny for them, of course, but as your only son had been moments away from taking the Oath and seeking out the locusts of Hell on a suicide mission, you aren't nearly as amused. You drag him to his feet and start marching him home. "Chameek, you are an utter fool. Warriors train for years to face Hell and never come back. They die in the blue fires, for all we know. What are you but a love struck pup? You don't have a chance. There is no returning from Hell, and there is no wish to be granted. That's only a story."
"Hell is a place for murderers and thieves," Paita says, with a savage twist of his ear. "And utter fools, perhaps, but ungrateful ones who are worse than thieves and think only of the glory to be gained, and not of the parents who gave them life. YOU are an only son. Your father grows old, and so does his wife and his sister. You must marry a girl, any suitable girl who can make children to work and to hunt, and there will be no more moaning about this Akema." .
That night you sit up late with Paita and your husband Bainto, as the fire burns low. "Yavinta," your husband says to you. "Chameek is as stubborn as he is foolish, and will surely slip off to take the Oath again, and then he will die."
You gnaw on your lower lip as you think the problem over. If Chameek has his way, none of you will be permitted to stop him, as he will have sworn himself to fight the forces of Hell on behalf of the gods, an act even more binding than swearing to be a warrior of the Chief's household. And unlike the Chief, the gods will take anyone, even idiots like your son. It's said that anyone who is carried to Hell and successfully returns is granted a wish--or at least wealth and success enough to marry anyone they like--but it's only happened once that you're aware of, long ago, and the details have been lost to time.
Bainto speaks up regretfully, "If I were a wealthier man, we could approach that Akema girl's father. What she sees in Chameek I don't understand, but they care for each other, and her father only cares for the bride price."
Paita shakes her head. "It's too late for that. She's already been taken to the chosen groom's tribe to prepare for the wedding. Veltan? Whatever his name was. It can still be called off, but her father won't be the one to do it."
"I wish something could be done, I really do." Bainto sighs. "I'd like to hope Chameek sees reason in time, but I know our son. Everything is extremes with him. And he'll only get worse after that girl is wed. I feel like this is my fault, if only I'd--"
"Nonsense," you say, cutting him off. "Look, here's what we'll do."