I suddenly felt overwhelmed with dread as I contemplated how to bring up the subject of a possible trip to Tarmon Farrin with our Akoni Clan High Leader, Ngangi. What if the dream I had was simply a hallucination? But I’d received very clear directions in the night vision. I’d been summoned to the feared land mass everyone was terrified of.
My whole body shook as I stood before my driftwood door, within my home, deciding whether to go through with the plan or not. Before I could conjure up the courage to move, to open my door and head toward Ngangi’s home, someone knocked from the outside.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s Ahiga. Let me in.”
I stepped toward the door, unlocked it and pulled it wide. A strong gust of wind and debris blustered into my house.
Ahiga, one of our mighty warriors, strode in and I closed the door behind him, shutting out the fierce, relentless wind. Blinking my eyes to get rid of the dust lodged there, I gave him a hard stare and waited for him to say what he came to say. Ahiga was one of the clan leaders, outranked only by the High Leader himself. Ahiga and I were very similar in age and had trained together as children. We were close once, as close as two warriors could be in this place. When he was inducted into the clan leadership, he no longer paid much attention to me. I was suddenly beneath him and unimportant.
He removed his goggles and stared at me. There was uncertainty in his eyes but I also saw curiosity there. He finally said, “I saw you last night while I slept.”
“I don’t understand. Where did you see me?”
“I saw you on your vessel, heading into the mist of Tarmon Farrin.”
I thought it best to wait for him to explain, I didn’t want to give too much away too soon. Assuming he approved of a possible trip to Tarmon could be risky. If he was here to discover my loyalty to our clan I needed to be careful. Allowing a look of confusion to cover my face, I asked, “You saw this while you slept?”
He cautiously nodded. I could tell he was afraid to speak of it. To share thoughts of any kind was dangerous. To say what is expected was always safer.
Ahiga continued, “At first I was terrified. I thought it a premonition of your demise, your death. After I saw you vanish into the fog, I heard a voice speak.” He looked unsure of himself but his eyes betrayed desperation and a desire to learn the truth. The dream he had clearly spooked him badly.
The goosebumps forming on my arms was foreign to me. I tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation and kept eye contact with Ahiga. “What did you hear?”
“The voice told me that you’ve been summoned to come. The voice also said that you are already aware of it and are waiting for permission.”
I kept silent, waiting for him to continue. I didn’t trust him and I knew he didn’t trust me. To confide in anyone to this degree took a great deal of courage. Never had Ahiga come to my home before to speak to someone as lowly as me, at least not since he became a clan leader.
Ahiga took a deep breath before saying, “Turab spoke with me earlier.”
“Turab?” I asked.
“He told me that he’d had a dream of you.”
“That can’t be!” To have two clan leaders having dreams about me in the same night terrified me. What if they thought I was defecting? If they began to suspect that I was working against the clan my life would be over.
Ahiga said, “In his night vision he saw nearly the same thing that I did. He also heard the voice and the exact words, only he insisted the voice came from within the mist.”
I shook my head as terror invaded. If they suspected that these dreams were warnings of me selling out to Tarmon, abandoning my clan, I didn’t stand a chance.
The look in Ahiga’s eyes looked fierce. “It’s true. I’m telling you the truth, Xiomara!”
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“Turab and I are unsure. Have you received a night vision?”
I shook my head again. “No.” Lying seemed safer and denying it seemed wise.
“There must be some reason we both had visions at night. That’s never happened before. I can’t remember ever having a dream before and neither has Turab. He was shaken by it.”
“Why did you tell Turab your dream?”
“I didn’t. We, the leadership, had a meeting early this morning. Turab looked bothered and was acting strangely. Later, when most of the leadership left, Turab told me his dream.”
“And, you told him about your dream?”
“Yes.”
“What would Tarmon Farrin want with me?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here.” Fear radiated from Ahiga.
I couldn’t blame him for being afraid. I was fighting to keep panic from taking me over too.
“Did you see anything else in your dream? Did you or Turab hear anything else?”
“No.” He grew contemplative. “Although, I did hear something in the background.”
“What?” I asked.
“I think what I was hearing was the absence of wind. The atmosphere was very strange and quiet.”
His description aligned with what I’d seen. The mist I saw in my dream was in a state of rest. The fierce winds that are a constant on our farrin and those that pummel the waters of the Talulah Sea were impotent in effecting the mist that surrounded Tarmon Farrin. I’d suspected that there was a superior power that emanated from the mystery land mass.
I asked, “You’re sure about this? Our winds had no effect on the mist?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I only said that I heard silence.”
“Did you see any difference?”
“I don’t recall,” Ahiga said.
“What am I to do?” I asked. “What do you think this means?”
“I don’t know. We can’t afford to lose you.”
So he was afraid that I would die if I went. It was a common and shared dread. Everyone was terrified of the mystery land mass. All the myths about Tarmon Farrin were filled with woe. No one went near the slow-shifting fog for fear of being swallowed whole and never returning. And yet there were also old tales told from generations ago – tales of hope, that perhaps Tarmon Farrin could assist us in our beggarly lives and usher in change. I usually pushed those thoughts away. Nothing had changed in generations, why would they start now?
Ahiga sighed loudly. “You should go speak with Ngangi. He’ll know what you should do.”
“Does he know of your dreams?”
“Maybe.”
What kind of answer was that? His evasiveness infuriated me. “Does Ngangi know or does he not?” I demanded and felt for the knife tucked in my belt at my back while I eyed up the large vein in Ahiga’s neck.
His eyes grew dark as he reached for his own weapon at his back. “Yes. Ngangi was there when Turab and I spoke but he didn’t join in. After Turab left Ngangi’s home, Ngangi advised me to speak with you, tell you what I saw in the night. That’s why I came to see you.”
I nodded, let go of the knife at my back and allowed my hand to drop to my side. “Then he does know.”
Ahiga also lowered his arm and said, “But how much does he know? It’s what he didn’t say that makes me wonder if he knows more than he’s willing to admit.”
“So, I should go speak with him.”
Ahiga nodded. “Yes.”
“All right. I’ll go.”
Ahiga nodded once more, turned, opened the door and walked out, the wind hurtling through my small place, leaving a haze of dust in the air. I followed him out, shut the door and pulled my well-worn, dirt-pocked goggles down over my eyes. Ahiga did the same. He walked off in the opposite direction, toward his shack. I turned and went another way, toward Ngangi’s abode.
I walked between the homes nestled within the valley, two mountain ranges isolating us from the strongest winds that are a constant on our farrin. Keeping up a good pace, it took about twenty minutes to reach Ngangi’s home. Being High Leader comes with some privileges. He has the largest of all the driftwood homes on our farrin. This is where all the clan leadership meetings take place. No one goes to see Ngangi unless he initiates it. I wasn’t sure if Ngangi had actually called for me or not. From what Ahiga said, I almost thought so but I suddenly felt unsure what my reception would be.
Stopping a few steps from his door, I heard the soft bleating of sheep. Rarely had I seen one. Only on special occasions, during clan celebrations, are we allowed the privilege of a sheep roast and eating the tasty fresh meat. My mouth watered thinking of the soft meat between my teeth.
Ngangi kept the sheep locked up in a high-fenced pen, away from prying eyes and the possible temptation to steal. We are one of the few farrins that have this animal. Of all the land masses I’ve been to, I’ve never seen any other sheep. Ngangi’s farmers take care of them, sheer them occasionally, providing plenty of wool for everyone in our clan. These creatures are also the source for our leather clothing.
I finally found the courage to step toward his door, knocked softly and waited.
“Who is it?” I heard Ngangi say from the inside.
“Xiamara.”
Footsteps grew louder as he came. The door opened and his larger than life persona filled my view as he stared at me expectantly.
“I have been waiting for you. Come in,” he said in a deep voice. He turned and left the door open.
I walked in and closed the door, shutting out the worst of the wind. Some draft made its way through the cracks and crevices between the driftwood planks of his shack but I was used to this from my home. There was still significant relief indoors from the constant tempest that raged outside.
Ngangi sat on a chair at his driftwood table and glared at me, his eyes dark and hard to read. There was no offer made for me to sit and I didn’t expect one. I’d never been in his home before. I noticed a lot of detail without actually looking. Being a warrior from childhood had taught me to see without seeing, noticing without letting on, knowing my surroundings instinctively. There was a coal burning hearth centrally placed in his home, a shoot through the roof to exhaust the fumes. I noticed walls erected within the place. I’d never seen that before in anyone else’s home. There was no sign of a bed. Perhaps he had a separate room for it. On the far side were multiple fur mats placed in a circle on the floor. I deducted that this was the place of the clan leadership meetings. On the other side was the table where Ngangi sat, with four chairs in total situated around the table.
A small cabinet hugged the wall behind him filled with hammered steel plates and cups. On one side of the counter stood a wide rimmed, large steel bowl, filled with dingy water. Strung across the room above my head was a woven reed braid. Hanging from it were strips of cadaver, meat from the animals that lived on our farrin, left to dry for eating later. Very few wild animals reside on our land mass, some rabbits, rats, snakes and if we’re lucky, occasionally some catches of fish from the sea.
Everything about his residence proclaimed that Ngangi was a wealthy man. The fact that he has two children, which is virtually unheard of, declares his affluence. That he’s been able to protect them this long is surprising. They are getting up there in age. One is ten and the other twelve, the youngest a girl, the oldest a boy, both mighty warriors already. They were not at the house, likely at battle practice at that time of day.
I looked at Ngangi and wondered what to say. Could he be trusted? What was he thinking? He had admitted that he’d been expecting my arrival. I agonized over how much to reveal about my dream and whether I should speak first or wait for him to begin our dialogue. The palms of my hands grew moist as I nervously paused. My fate rested in Ngangi’s hands. If he had any doubts about my loyalty, I wouldn’t live out the rest of the day.
My hope rested in what the mist-face had told me in my dream. That I had hope at all was stupid but that’s all I could hold on to. If what the face within the fog said was true, then Ngangi already knew and he’d allow me to travel to Tarmon Farrin.
