Anak screamed as he plunged to the ground, falling with his face in the dirt. He heard giggling behind him and spun around glaring, seeing Tzipora highly amused with her prank. Yothr chortled heartily as he leapt down to the dirt floor with a thud. Tzipora clambered down after them on handholds in the wall by the trap-door. Anak stood up, dusting himself off, and noticed all the slaves aiming curious glances his way. Apparently his entrance had left an impression.
"Friends, this is Anak. He's a friend." Yothr stepped up and vouched for Anak.
"Anak? I've heard about him. Didn't he do the work of a thousand men in a mere three hours?" One young man of about fourteen excitedly inquired.
"A thousand? A thousand men couldn't have made ten thousand bricks of that quality in their lifetime, let alone a single day." A middle-aged man with a thick beard who was more informed about the situation spoke up. Unfortunately for the slaves this wasn't hyperbole. The average lifespan of a slave was only 30 years; the old people among them hadn't lived most of their lives as slaves. Even poor fishermen in these days had an average lifespan of 100 years, and that was considered short.
A bald man with a ruddy face approached Anak with his hand extended, " Good sir, I was working the ovens the day you came. I'm more grateful than you can imagine. I'm called Susiki, if you please."
Anak took Susiki's hand grimacing as he recalled the horrid temperatures around the enchanted ovens, and the blistered, baking skin of the people working in those conditions. "I'm glad to be able to help. Did the wind enchantments my friend and I set up help at all today?" Anak hoped that things might have been a little better during this day he chose to spent in leisure with Tzipora.
"Wind enchantments?" Susiki tried to recall any new enchantments around the quarry. "I only remember the same as usual; plant-killers, heaters, nothing else." He scratched his shiny scalp helplessly.
"Damn. Bastards." Anak muttered. Clearly all his arrangements had been undone by the next day. They were determined to keep these people down. Anak recalled Aru's warning.
'All I can say is things won't go as you wish.'
"Hey, no frowning," An old woman admonished with a gentle smile. "This is the Emuri, a time of praise and celebration."
"Celebration?" Anak looked to Yothr for an explanation. Just what did these people have to celebrate?
Yothr gave a knowing smile, and gestured for Anak to sit, and for everyone else to carry on as before. As Yothr and Anak sat at the side the voices once again rang out in their joyous tones and catchy melody, while others beat out the rhythm on their thighs and chests. Dancing also started back up in a wildly dexterous display of reckless rollicking.
"These people here are all of different tribes," Yothr began, "but in bondage we've been united. When the tribes-people decided in these conditions to throw away old divisions, they declared an Emuri, a day of gathering and celebration. We celebrate that even in the worst times for our people, we can still hope, and grow." Yothr placed a hand on Anak's shoulder, who's eyes were starting to glimmer with understanding.
"Also," Yothr wasn't finished, "When united, something else came to light. In the first Emuri light shone upon the wall," Yothr gestured to the far wall in the room where they sat, "and upon it shone an image, A man with a divine aura, and a face filled with torment shouted, 'I'll do everything in my power to free you from this! I'll be back!' before the image faded away. All this was written down instantly by one of the leaders who united the tribes. We also celebrate our hope in the God who loved us enough to promise freedom." Yothr finally concluded.
Anak felt a shiver run down his spine. He knew those words. They were words Edo and Eva could never forget, ones they never failed to quote when they told the story of them and Triac to Anak growing up. Anak closed his eyes and took a deep breath, thinking it over. Anak stood up slowly and bent over at the waist towards Yothr, "Thank you. I understand." If these people believed in the God of his father, then they were his people too.
Anak leapt into the midst of the dancing people, busting out some dance moves that were popular among the upper classes of Ischuros. They involved bending the joints at odd angles, and occasional powerful feats of strength, but Anak made it all look easy. The surrounding party-goers all cheered him on, and a few attempted to emulate his moves, mostly failing miserably.
Tzipora, who was among the singers at the side, demonstrating a strong but unfortunately tone-deaf voice, laughed at Anak's display. Her laugh was leagues more pleasant sounding than her singing voice. However, no one here would judge anyone, tone deaf or not, for singing at the top of their lungs. It was all praise and celebration, like the old woman had said before.
Anak was caught up in the rhythm as he danced, but he began to listen to the lyrics. This song he was dancing to had a nice, jaunty beat and was sung joyously and harmoniously.
Praise be heard
From this cursed world
Let God come and set us free
Dance and sing
'Pon the Demon King
Crack his antlers with your heel
The Kingdom comes
Of the God of Love
And life and of creation
So we praise
Even in these days
of bondage and domination
Anak laughed aloud when hearing the last line of the first verse. Thinking about cracking apart the wretched Demon King's crown by dancing on it was both amusing and tempting. The second verse made him feel as if his body was floating, as he envisioned a day when the dark clouds hovering over their world vanished. It was a song full of hope and joy, and Anak was swept away by these feelings.
The song wrapping up, and finally having his fill of dancing, Anak joined Tzipora. "You're dancing is terrible." She elbowed him playfully in the ribs.
Anak just beamed at her, "Well your singing is beautiful." His eyes didn't display a hint of sarcasm.
Tzipora blushed and looked away. She had always thought so, but no one else had ever told her she had beautiful singing voice.
Anak looked at her, and his gaze was drawn to the collar on her neck. He looked to Yothr, observing from the side, then around at the others, singing, dancing, talking with expressions of joy on each one of them. And on each one collars and chains. Anak felt an overwhelming sorrow flood his heart, and unbidden a verse rose to his lips, his angelic voice ringing out and silencing the surrounding clamor.
We rattle our chains to heaven
We cry out oppressed
God, Most High Triac
Rescue us!
We raise our searing brows
And with heaving chests call
To the one who breaks all chains
Rescue us!
Sheep tended by wolves
Raised only for slaughter
Send us a shepherd
And Rescue us!
As the last 'Rescue us!' echoed out into the cavern, the entire crowd was silenced, tears streaming down their faces. They looked at Anak enraptured by his words and voice that sounded like a chorus of the heavens. With this song he had perfectly captured the burden they carried, and the desperation with which they hoped for deliverance. Finally, and more importantly...
"Did you say Triac?" Yothr asked with a shaking voice. Anak had placed a name on the One he had only told him about moments ago. Where did this come from?
Anak started, and he recalled his words that purely from the inspiration in his soul and on his heart. Triac's name came to him in that moment, and it flowed out naturally. Anak bit his lips hesitantly, then came to a decision.
"Yes. The one seen in the vision you described is named Triac. He is the God of life, of love, and of creation," These words caused a clamor through the crowd. Their own traditional song of praise included this very description. "And," Anak took a deep breath, " He was once a personal friend of my parents. He created them personally."
This declaration raised a chorus of shouts in response, some lifting up praise, others condemning Anak for speaking lies.
Yothr waved his arms attempting to placate the crowd, and they quieted down, "What do you mean, Anak? Do you have proof?" Yothr asked sharply.
Anak shook his head. He didn't have any direct proof of his claims. "The only proof I can offer is the revelations brought by my parents when they first arrived, the stories my parents taught me, and..." Anak grimaced. He didn't want anyone to know this, he felt ashamed of it. "...My blood."
'Your blood?" a few people cried out in unison, disgust lacing their tone.
Anak closed his eyes and explained, "Edo... isn't my birth father. My father is called Azazel. He's a star." He finally admitted his true parentage.
Yothr deeply inhaled. While Edo and Eva had revealed a good amount of the revelations' origins to King Gel-ad, the information wasn't widely known, and even the king didn't know that Azazel and Armaros held the status of stars.
"Prove it." A cold voice from the crowd declared. It was hard to trust someone who wasn't originally part of their tribes to begin with, much less someone making odd claims.
Anak looked in the direction of the crowd, his face firming into a determined expression. Anak drew a divine copper dagger before slicing across his palm, drawing gasps from the surrounding people. Then their gasps changed from ones of horror to ones of awe. Anak's blood that spilled from the wound glowed a vibrant blue color, shimmering with light. It was most certainly not human blood.
The atmosphere that had undergone change after drastic change once again exploded with fervor. This time the people began singing praises to Triac's name, and dancing with more energy than ever before.
Tzipora nudged Anak delightedly, "I knew your grandfather was someone amazing." She laughed.
Anak smiled back, "Yeah, I guess so."