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Tzo bej van vo, jig Kuzaniij, tzo takij sa gejukh Kuzanii no Sojini. Tzo sajij sa khej Kuzanii, sa Kuzanii no jo ji tourz. Khetano sarni varij ggour Kali. Khetano tak sa Sojini...
That prophecy can never come true. Never. I will not let it come true. Even if Tourijan must be destroyed. It cannot come true, it cannot...
The prophet has been brought in, sir.
The Kuzani shuddered to life. Blinking his eyes several times, he looked wildly around the room.
Bring him in, he said. His voice sounded distant, and garbled. He dug a finger into his head, and the world spun. Shaking his head, he straightened his back, dusted off his robes, and cleared his throat.
Here he is, sir.
The prophet looked nothing like what Farsi Sojini had expected. He had expected some kind of wizened old graybeard, but this man was young. Couldnt be past his teens, he thought dimly. Not shaven, but that was to be expected, especially after they had hauled him in from Aluji.
You are Kuriji Ayajo of Aluji, he said.
The same, the prophet said, standing straight and looking right into his eyes. His voice bore a sneering arrogance.
Dare you speak to me like that? the Kuzani said, scowling.
I do.
Youre very tone carries defiance, the Kuzani said, now simmering with rage.
I bow for no man. I kneel for no man.
Now positively growling, the Kuzani gestured to one of the guards. A gloved hand smashed across the prophets face.
Speak with respect! the guard barked.
Kneel before your king, The Kuzani said, regally calm. The prophet seemed to literally be chewing on something. NOW!
The prophet stepped forward, as if to kneel. But instead of falling to one knee, he opened his mouth and spat in the kings face. Bloody, snotty saliva splashed into his face, into his eye.
YOU! the Kuzani shouted, furious. He wiped the spit off, but he couldnt see out of his right eye anymore. Take him to the dungeons!
The guards immediately seized the prophet by the shoulders. And inform the public that there will be a burning of a heretic tomorrow.
Momentary surprise flashed across the mans face, replaced immediately with grim determination. Not even a hint of fear. The Kuzani respected the man even as he hated him. He nodded to the guards, and they hauled the prophet off, still staring at the Kuzani with a searingly calm gaze.
He blinked his right eye several times, but it refused to see again. What had that man done? Had he been cursed by the gods?
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The strangely shaped, multiple branched stake stood in front of the royal palace, right under the balcony that the Kuzani could watch from. Even as he stepped out onto this promontory, the proceedings began. A great fanfare of the long, slightly curved tulila blared to announce his arrival. He smiled a savage grin.
Bring forth the prisoner!
In chains and rags for clothes, they dragged for the prophet.
I charge you for heresy, and spreading false lies and slander of the crown! What answer you?
The man looked calm, and opened his mouth.
I spoke only as I saw. I talked only as the gods instructed me to talk.
THE GODS DID NOT TELL YOU WHAT TO SPEAK! the Kuzani thundered.
They did. And I will speak as they speak.
Silence, infidel! he roared. As a clear enemy of the state, I order his execution! Guards, tie him to the post!
The crowd fell silent in eager anticipation. The stake had four prongs in an X shape extending from it. The guards tied his hands to the upper two and his legs to the lower two. He was now hanging from the post, unable to move. Hanging by his arms and legs.
The prophets face grew red. But he did not try to act against the weight. He didnt scramble to compensate. Instead, he opened his mouth, and began to sing.
Khetano sarni varij ggour Kali. Khetano tak sa Sojini...
From the first word he knew it was horribly, horribly wrong.
Begin! he roared to the guards. Methodically, they picked up their bows. The singing droned on. It seemed more a chant than a song. A dark chant.
Khetano sarni varij ggour Kali. Khetano tak sa Sojini...
NO! GUARDS! KILL HIM!
The guards drew arrows from their quivers and set them to the bowstring. The chanting went on. The condemned face was getting redder from the exertion.
Khetano sarni varij ggour Kali. Khetano tak sa Sojini...
The guards drew back the bowstrings, and took aim...
Khetano sarni varij ggour Kali. Khetano tak sa Sojini...
They released. In a moment, four arrows flew towards the prophet and slammed home with a meaty thunk. A piercing scream issued from the prophet as his flesh was torn wide open. Arrows were in the palms of his hands and the ankles of his feet, driving into the wooden stake. Blood poured from the wounds, astonishingly red. The prophet regained composure, and began to chant again.
Khetano sarni varij ggour Kali. Khetano tak sa Sojini...
The guards took second arrows, drew back, and released. Another scream issued from the condemned. His shins and lower forearms were driven through. Blood poured more profusely. The prophet said in his last breaths.
Khetano sarni varij ggour Kali. Khetano tak sa Sojini...
The guards fired again, into his shoulders and thighs. The condemneds face was purple. He shouted out his last words:
Now we see for whom the Kiriji calls!
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Two more sections to go.
the rest of the world is either empty sea - or they may be more land. I havent decided. depends upon whether another landmass would be useful. Or maybe the world is flat?
It's also rather more efficient than English, because it loses a lot of the conjunctives.
