The Feather of Simurg
Amidst the eternal river's currents, two brothers clash. Can the river's flow be tamed, or will it consume them all?
Fazal Khayyam’s mouth filled with the taste of dirt and blood as his brother, Ameen held him over the edge of the cliff. The mythical dagger tied around Fazal’s waist edged out of it’s scabbard but Fazal pushed it back in.
“I’m tired, brother!” shouted Ameen over the roar of wind that threatened his grip, “I’m tired of this farce!”
Fazal raised his head to look up at his enraged brother. The glint of the high sun blinded him.
“Give it to me!” said Ameen. He held out his hand to receive what he believed was rightfully his but his grip slipped momentarily and he grabbed with both hands again.
Fazal’s fingers were slipping. Ameen knew the torrential river below would rip his brother limb from limb. He couldn’t risk losing the dagger.
Ameen hoisted Fazal back up. As his brother doubled over on the ground, Ameen could see the the sun glint in the ruby encrusted hilt of the slender dagger.
Ameen remembered the night he first laid eyes on it many years ago..
.Their father had returned from battle, wounded and weary. The ruby encrusted hilt of his dagger glistened by firelight. Ameen and Fazal peered into the room from the window. Their father noticed the tops of their heads and called them in. Sheepishly, the two boys entered.
Their father extracted the blood-stained dagger from its rest and showed it to the boys. “Do you know what this is?”
Fazal nodded, “It’s The Feather of Simurg”. Ameen was surprised, “It doesn’t look like a feather.”
Their father smiled warmly, “And do you know it’s purpose?”
The boys fell silent.
“It is to protect the eternal flow of the river.”
“You mean where we get our water from?”
Their father shook his head, “The eternal river of life.”
Fazal looked from the dagger into his father’s amber eyes. Ameen continued to stare at the blood-stained blade.
“It’s a sacred calling. It chose us, to protect our people’s access to the water.”
“From who?” asked Fazal.
“From those who would dam the streams and fence the lakes all for themselves. Those who would condemn us to the desert for the colour of our eyes...”
Ameen’s eyes grew wider as he inched forward slowly to touch the dagger.
“But isn’t it yours?” asked Fazal.
“The dagger is no one’s. It chooses it’s wielder. Our purpose is to serve the eternal river.”
Ameen wasn’t listening. His eyes were transfixed.
“What is the eternal river?” asked Fazal.
“It is… Everything. We flow through it as we speak. Our lives are a journey down this eternal river, our bodies merely boats we change on our journey to the end.”
Ameen touched the dagger gently but it twitched and cut his finger. No more than a papercut but it was enough to make the child wail. Their father put the dagger aside and comforted Ameen.
“But if the river is eternal, why does it need protecting?” asked Fazal, annoyed at his younger brother.
Their father thought for a second, “When you look at a river, can you tell one drop from another?”
“No…” said Fazal.
“Yet there are people who believe they can,” their father rose, “Enough talk. Time for bed. I’m going to teach you a prayer tonight...”
Ameen watched the drop of his blood drip down the blade and melt into the ruby hilt of the Feather of Simurg.
Fazal coughed and spluttered blood as he got to his feet. He could feel the Feather of Simurg vibrating in his scabbard.
“It wants me to kill you, Ameen! I can feel it!” shouted Fazal as pillars of dust swirled around them. Fazal’s soul was sapped of energy. He fell to his knees. “I can’t,” he whimpered, “I won’t.”
“Forget these delusions of divine protection, brother. They’re nothing but coward’s tales. Hand over the dagger and I’ll show you the truth.”
“We must simply uncover the flow and nothing more. We don’t choose the fight, the dagger guides us!”
“The dagger is waiting for its master! Can’t you see?” Ameen dug his heels into shifting sand, “The river isn’t meant to be preserved, it’s meant to be tamed!”
The Feather thrashed out of the scabbard and dropped on to the ground. Ameen’s eyes lit up. Slowly, he inched towards it.
“You see? I was right,” Ameen hovered over the glowing ruby hilt, “It was waiting for me… It chose me.”
“Don’t be a fool!” cried Fazal, “Our people need this! The desert will consume us all if we-”
“I will slash water from the sand, brother! I will stomp an oasis every step of my campaign! Tell the people not to fear!” Ameen picked up the Feather of Simurg and held it aloft, “So long as they worship me, they will never be forsaken!” Thunder and lightning formed a crown around his head, a tear fell from the overflowing madness bulging in his eyes.
Ameen looked down at Fazal.
“What’s wrong, brother? Do these tides not satisfy you?”
Fazal breathed his father’s prayer, “Guide me, oh Eternal River. Grant me the wisdom to uncover your flow. Grant me the courage to submit to your current.”
Ameen’s face soured. Their father had said the soul of Simurg whispered this prayer to him every night.
“My brother,” sneered Ameen, “The first blashphemer.” Ameen held the dagger aloft, his eyes manic and red. As he slashed down; the Feather of Simurg took over and plunged itself into Ameen’s heart.
Fazal watched as his brother tripped over the edge of the cliff and fell into the surging river below. The Feather of Simurg went with him. Fazal, anguished, knew he was no longer worthy
.Ameen’s body, mangled by the current, unable to resist the flow, eventually crashed against rocks. The river would continue its listless flow, mocking the madness of pride that lay dormant in the hearts of fools.
The Feather shook itself free from Ameen’s still heart and continued its endless voyage.
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Author’s Notes & Audio Read Along:
This story was written as a submission to the Fictionistas May 2023 Prompt.
The prompt was: Your enemies have backed you against the edge of a cliff. Far below you is a treacherous torrent of water. What happens next?
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