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NATHAN MACHADO'S
THE WIND'S PATH
He stood there facing the cave; the hot dry wind whipping through his long gray hair. His name was Ka-Tell and he was the leader of the Ten Tribes of Perma. The greatest warrior of his time, he had led his people to countless victories over their most hated enemies. A selfless leader, he had always placed the needs of his people before his own. And in doing so had earned the respect, trust, and admiration of all those who comprised the Ten Tribes. Destiny had called upon him to lead his people to greatness, and he had heard and obeyed the call. But today, standing in front of the dark dank cave, Ka-Tell was obeying the words of another call. This one, however, did not directly involve the Ten Tribes, but instead involves himself. This was his own personal destiny summoning him, and for once, Ka-Tell would not ignore it.
As the hot dry wind continued to blow, it swept up small pebbles and hurled them into his hardened bare legs and chest. Having reached the age of ten moons, Ka-Tell was now duty bound by the warrior code to undergo the Rite of Ma-Kii. Practiced for centuries, all the great warriors of the past had partaken in the ritual. The local tribal priest would administer special potions, made of roots and herbs, from the surrounding forest, to the chosen warrior. As the potions coursed through his veins, it would p oison his body, freeing the warrior's soul, and upon death, his spirit would soar free to the heavens. Then, upon the birth of the next generation, the warrior's spirit would be reincarnated into a new vessel of flesh and blood; guaranteeing the continued strength of the Ten Tribes. Tomorrow was to be the day Ka-Tell performed the ritual, but in all good conscious, he could not. Ka-Tell perceived the Rite of Ma-Kii as a waste; a ruination of the lives of men who had only just begun to serve their people. M en who had not yet fulfilled their destinies and therefore had not yet learned the true meaning of the word Warrior.
The hot dry wind blew harder, catching a blade of grass on its' wings and hurtling it onto the sharp edge of his Katra spear; slicing the blade of grass in two. Ka-Tell had the power and authority to challenge the Rite of Ma-Kii, but he knew better. If he challenged and won, it would split the Ten Tribes, forcing him into a civil war where he would be forced to kill his own people; something Ka-Tell wanted desperately to avoid. The Ten Tribes had been united for centuries, and he would not be remembered as the man who destroyed that perfect union. If Ka-Tell challenged and lost, he would be branded a traitor to the Ten Tribes for challenging its' most scared ritual. He would then be stripped of his title and put to death through slow torture; dying in disgrace. Again something Ka-Tell was trying to avoid. He would not sacrifice his own personal honor in a conflict with no hope of victory. That was not the way of the enlightened warrior. For days, there seemed to be no way for Ka-Tell to resolve the turmoil and conflict buried deep within his heart and soul. Until destiny called him to his place, standing in front of the entrance way to hell, Ka-Tell knew he had found his answers. Here he would fulfill his obligation to the Ten Tribes and his obligation to himself.
The hot dry wind would not abate and his loin cloth flapped in the breeze as the wind continued to swirl around him. The cave's name was Jamedi, and it had stood for centuries. Within its' dew covered walls dwelled a pack of Thesaurs: large vicious animals who would cleave the head off a man with one swipe of their claws. Dangerous did not begin to describe these creatures. Ka-Tell was aware of an old tribal legend and prophecy which stated that the warrior who could defeat an entire pack of Thesaurs would be proclaimed Yosus; the ultimate warrior. And he would then lead the Ten Tribes into a golden age not seen since before the dawn of time. Ka-Tell saw this legend as his answer and his destiny. This was the challenge he had longed for; a chance to finally fulfill his own personal destiny, while still serving the Ten Tribes. If Ka-Tell defeated the pack he would then have sufficient power, authority, and respect within the Ten Tribes to query the Rite of Ma-Kii and forever abolish it from being performed; thus sparing the lives of warriors who would then continue to lead the tribes onto greater and more illustrious achievements. However, if Ka-Tell was defeated by the pack, he would die a hero; a warrior attempting to fulfill a grand prophecy. His inner conflict would be over and his people still united. Standing there in front of the gaping maw of eternity, Ka-Tell could feel his destiny upon him. It was like the call of the wild. This was what he was born to do.
The hot dry wind blew strong and it kicked up a cloud of dust which pelted his worn torn body. Picking up a rock, Ka-Tell threw it into the cave. It landed with a thunderous crash and a painful yelp erupted out of the cave. Ka-Tell then heard the beasts begin to stir within the cavern. Within seconds, the Thesaurs emerged from their den. Encircling Ka-Tell, the four animals were clearly enraged at having been disturbed from their afternoon nap. Their gray hair was standing on end; claws were digging into t he dry ground and fangs were dripping with saliva. Taking a warrior's stance, Ka-Tell prepared himself for battle. The first attack came from Ka-Tell's left; the Thesaurs charging at him, chopping at the dry air. Ka-Tell stepped to his right, avoiding the beast's lunge. Them, taking his Katra spear, he drove it into the beast's head as it charged past him. The blow killed it instantly and Ka-Tell quickly removed his blood soaked spear and turned to face the other three. Circling him, the remaining Thesaurs searched for an opening. Quicker than lightning, two of the three Thesaurs attacked. Ka-Tell dodged the first but failed to avoid the claws of the second. A huge cut opened up on Ka-Tell's right side and blood poured forth like a mighty river. Ignoring the pain, he swung his spear around and stuck one of the attacking Thesaurs in the stomach. Staggered, it pulled back. Pressing his advantage, Ka-Tell struck again, this time right at its' heart, killing it.
However, before Ka-Tell could recover, the third Thesaur pounced on him. Sinking its' fangs into Ka-Tell's shoulder, it started the process of trying to rip him apart. With a warrior's mind, Ka-Tell endured the pain and reached under the animal. Grabbing it by the balls, he pulled as hard as he could, until they tore away from the animal's body. Howling in pain, the Thesaur rolled off Ka-Tell and began writhing on the ground in pain. Picking up his Katra spear, Ka-Tell drove it into the beast's head and en ded its' suffering.
Tired and bloody, Ka-Tell turned to face his last opponent, but the beast had disappeared. Without warning, Ka-Tell was struck from behind and slammed hard to the ground. The Thesaur positioned himself over Ka-Tell and began to claw him to bits. Within seconds, its' bloody job was completed and the Thesaur sauntered back into its' cave to finish its' afternoon nap.
Lying in a pool of his own blood, Ka-Tell waited for the end. Death would come soon and his spirit would be released to the heavens; until the day when it would be reborn. Wheezing in pain, Ka-Tell's mind was content. He had finally not only served his people's destiny, but his own as well. And neither had caused unwanted destruction of the other. Awaiting death's embrace. Ka-Tell noticed for the first time the hot dry wind against his face.