Kalon

Chapter One-Hundred-Thirty-Six: Vitar Ul Ilem - Part One

Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant

Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation

Solar System: D-447

Planet: Ora

Location: Orarak City, above the planet's surface.

The rage is flowing into me like a venom, why must we continue the cycle of pain? Before me is the man who tried to kill me, Henek, and his cousin kneels next to him. Their faces are battered and bruised, more so than I have ever seen them before. Even on the sparring mats, we would not beat our own like this. It is like Nevari said in her last message, they beat them daily. Their flesh is a testament to her words. My stomach churns, and my jaw is clenched as it holds back the words that seek to cut instead of bind. My people claw at those who help them to rise. They resist change so readily.

"You have returned." I hear a woman say, moving through the crowd now. As she draws nearer, I realize it is the fierce woman, Ira, her hands are free of blood unlike most of the others.

"What have I returned to?" I ask not to her, but to the others as I spin in a circle.

"Alakin," a man says in the crowd.

Their eyes are just like the ones that Amara helped me to heal, they seek something or someone to give them hope… when they don't have it, they do things like this. Things that need not be done.

"We punish him for what he has done, he tried to kill you, Alakin," another man says.

"They are Ulima," a woman says, spitting towards Henek and his cousin.

They do not defend themselves, they allow themselves to be ridiculed. To be beaten and shamed.

"What did they do to you?" Ira asks coming closer to inspect me.

The medibot and the Bipki are closing in on me now, approaching slowly to tend to the cuts on my hand and watch what I do, no doubt.

"What did they do to me you ask… but no one speaks of what has been done to them?" my voice grows louder as I walk among the crowd, brushing against them. The anger in my eyes burns brightly, but it is not wild in its blaze, it finds focus through the chaos.

"They are Ulima, you may have forgiven them, but the others do not," Ira says, meeting my gaze, she is not timid like the others.

"They all call me Alakin, why is this?" I ask her, coming closer.

"Because, they believe you returned by the will of the gods, that you are protected by them even," she says, her brow furrowing a little, "Those that witnessed it have spread the story… myself included."

"Because you told us all T'Akor!" someone shouts from the back.

"It was carved, it saved our lives. You saved our lives Alakin," a woman says coming close and touching my shoulder, her head bowed in reverence.

Pulling away from her touch, I shake my head walking over to Henek and his cousin who still kneel.

"Ira, you were there. What did I say?"

"You said we as a people must rise."

"T'Akor!" the crowd yells.

My mouth strains as my tongue holds back the bile, sifting the muck and only allowing words that will bind us together to come forth.

"You want us to rise?" I ask of everyone.

"T'Akor!" they yell.

"You speak of these men as though they have wronged you."

"They have wronged us. They are Ulima now," a man says, trying to touch my shoulder.

"All of us are Ulima!" I yell, spinning around and grabbing the man by his shirt.

His eyes do not understand. I move to another and grab them before I speak, putting a finger in their chest.

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"You are Ulima."

I go to the next and say the same, until I have said it to all of them. There is confusion on their faces, some whisper.

"We are all forsaken, how can you not see this?" I ask them, returning now in front of Henek.

"Alakin, this cannot be so," one of the crowd says.

"False prophet," another whispers.

"We the Kuwathi die for the amusement of others, we are made to grovel to survive, and you would step on your brothers and sisters to feel better?" I ask pointing to the ones they have beaten, "Are we not better than this? Can we not rise?"

"They tried to kill you Alakin."

"Forgiveness is weakness, false prophet," another hisses.

Turning to the man who said it, I grab him firmly and put my face close to his.

"You say forgiveness is weakness, but forgiveness is why you still breathe."

He does not understand, he struggles to be free, but my grip is firm on him.

"These men that you beat, making them the object of your scorn, they are the very men who saved you."

There is a hushing to the crowd as I say this, and I begin to kneel in front of Henek. Grasping the same hand that tried to kill me. I show them the flesh that is still torn from carving the words that saved them.

"These hands are the first that carved T'Akor, the first that bloodied themselves so that the next wave might fare better. You say forgiveness is weakness. If I did not forgive him, if I chose to slay him… where would you be?"

No one gives an answer, for a time there is silence in the crowd as they take in what I have said.

"Vitar Ul Ilem," I say to Henek, unwrapping both of his torn hands, he turns and looks up at me, there is hope in his eyes. Eyes like his grandfather's. It was Barnak's hands and eyes that gave me strength before in the Realm of Dreams. He was punished for me.

I feel Neeba at my side as he kneels next to me, with him he brings a wet towel and begins to wash the blood from their faces.

"Vitar Ul Ilem," Neeba says to them, giving me a nod.

Ira is next to kneel with us, repeating the phrase that means strength through forgiveness. After her, others slowly follow, swallowing their pride and saying the words. Those who called me a false prophet are the last to lower themselves, though I can see in their eyes that their hearts begin to soften as they say the words. However, there is still apprehension in them. In time, I hope they will truly understand.

When all have said it, the medibot finally approaches and tries to do its work on me, but I point to Henek and his cousin. The medibot surprises me and moves to them first. Injecting medigel and spraying foam that hardens on their cuts.

There is a Bipki that seems to be watching me closely, I cannot help but wonder if Warden Adona watches through it. My words were also meant for her, my hope that she might listen to them. Perhaps there is still a flicker of Kuwathi in her.

When they finish, I see Nekam using Nevari as a crutch coming to me. My spirit sinks a little as I see he is missing a leg, finally understanding why his children messaged me about him. The arm they gave him is gone as well. In his eyes, I see a hollowness, one that only forms in a person who has lost their will to fight.

He moves past me, giving me a weak nod, his face seems older now, the stress wearing on him. He moves to Henek and his cousin, lowering himself down slowly with Nevari and Neeba's help, saying the phrase as well. There are more people coming from the other rooms as the whispers of truth find their ears. People who had vented frustration upon those who saved them, coming to ask forgiveness. It stirs something in me to see this, the Kuwathi are a proud people, they do not apologize easily. In the changing of their hearts, I begin to see a future for our people. One that will become etched deep upon every stone.

***

It has been an hour since I returned, having since managed to wash and find fresh linens. The Bipki scanned my hands, but the wounds had already sealed. Now the Warden knows I heal faster than I should. My pace is slow as I round the corner, there is a tightness in my chest as I see the stump where Nekam's leg used to be. He stares at the wall, the inner peace seems to be gone from him. Even when he said the phrase with the others, it felt like he was going through the motions.

"Nekam," I say, kneeling down next to his bunk.

He does not turn to meet my gaze.

"Nekam," I repeat a little louder. He turns slowly to look at me.

"Do not ask your god to help me."

I pause weighing his words.

"I don't deserve it."

His head lowers, regret tracing his eyes. A broken man sits before me. The missing arm and leg are nothing compared to the emptiness I feel in him.

I want to leave him to rot… part of me at least. The other part, it remembers that he took me in when I was a boy, that he taught me the way of the blade. Gave me the tools I needed to become formidable. Even if he used me, even if he sold me… he still helped forge me.

"Where is the man that taught me courage?" I ask, holding back the hate.

"I cannot fight, a man who cannot protect his own, is no man at all. He is a waste."

"Is there nothing you can do?"

"They told me to ask my sponsor for a replacement arm and a new leg. But no one will sponsor someone who is already dead," he chuckles, not joyously but spitefully.

I should be happy that he has failed, that he's broken, but I am not.

"Leave me."

My chest tenses and feels tighter, there is pain in the way he says it. Something will need to be done to help him, even if I don't forgive him, he is useful to me whole. Perhaps I can ask the Keeper for advice.

Making my way into the main room, I see Keeper Dargo still sitting on the pedestal in the center of the room meditating, as I move to join him, I am pleased to see nearly everyone doing the same now. Looking for peace within. Taking a place near the edge, I begin to try and find my inner peace. Thinking of all the events that have transpired. It is not long after I have sat down that Keeper Dargo begins to stand.

"That is enough for today. Practice amongst yourselves and rest well."

There is a deep respect given to him by my people as they bow to him and spread out, a respect he earned through sheer ability and wisdom. Some take positions to practice, and some return to their bunks to find sleep. As I stand, I see he is walking amongst the crowd giving pointers to those who seek instruction. Finally, he begins walking towards me.

"Follow," he says as he walks by me, I do as he bids, walking in his shadow.

He takes me towards the pedestal in the center, people begin to point and whisper as he bids me stand on it with him. It slowly begins to rise upwards, and the silver dome begins to retract bringing us into a room. There is the smell of incense burning around us, and the lights are dimmer than in the assembly hall. There is something else I notice that is strange. There are no Bipki drones in this place, no one to observe, besides us.

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