Mourning Akibu (experimental fiction)

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is technically a lore document that I wrote for my world in 2024. It is not a traditional lore document, nor is it traditional fiction. For those who don't know, I'm a professional historian and I wrote this document as an experiment; an in-world scholar writing about a forgotten civilisation, and translating one of the civilisation's poems. The poem itself is based on the oral traditions of things like the Illiad/Odyssey/Ramayana/Mahabharata. Tell me what you think!
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I Shall Mourn You, Akibu – Translation of Scroll No. XVII of the Jhelail Epic, Usurpea
Translated by: Dr. T. E. Leneck, Department of the Classics, Imperial University of Adhikabad, 1254 3ARH
Translator’s Note:
About 120 kilometres south of the ancient city of Afor lie the ruins of Marud – a city of the Jhelail civilisation. Though not quite as impressive as the city of Jhelail – which is itself located about 200 kilometres south of Sunrise on the Jabal Coast – it was, archaeology suggests, far more important to the civilisation’s people. Evidence found by J. Klein’s and F. Massey’s excavation 12 years ago, points to large numbers of people making pilgrimages to this city every year from all across the civilisation’s boundaries.[1] Offerings from cities on the furthest reaches of its territorial extremities – such as Gherai on the Gonda River or Emasi on Jarurat Island – confirm this. One of the primary reasons for these lengthy pilgrimages was religion; the Jhelail believed in a vast number of gods and their grandest temples were located here. The second, and what I (along with others such as I. A. Khan[2]) believe to be the most significant reason, was the Grand Concert of Marudi – an annual concert in which the civilisation’s best poets and writers would narrate their epic, Usurpea – which continues to inform our literature to this day.
A Word on Usurpea:
To those who do not know (though, I am certain there are not many who count themselves in that number), Usurpea is a story written by an unknown author or authors and set in the city of Marud. It is believed to have been written in the 453rd year of the Age of Recorded History – over 15,000 years ago.[3] Before understanding the plot, it is important to understand that Usurpea pre-supposes that Marud has existed for millennia longer than it had – thus explaining its opening words make sense: “In those days, those ancient days, those forgotten days, those fading days”. Usurpea narrates the story of the city’s cruel God-King, Kefi, and the various rebel heroes who tried to “usurp” him.[4] Among the more famous ones are Gaita (a slave girl turned freedom fighter), Koli (a farmer who leads a peasants’ rebellion) and of course, Akibu – a demigod sent by the Goddess Ananu to kill Kefi when all others had failed. The story is narrated in various forms – from poetry to first person narrative – across 22 scrolls. Though versions of this story have existed for the past 15,000 years, and they have influenced the greatest writers of all the ages, these scrolls were first translated for a modern audience 122 years ago by the great Jhelail scholar Dr. Ammi Ka Das of the University of Priestfall. While I cannot better her translation, I have below given my own translation of Scroll No. XVII.
Introduction to Scroll No. XVII:
Scroll No. XVII, henceforth scroll 17, continues the story of Akibu the Demigod. Scroll 17 serves as the end to the “Battle of the Gods” arc, which is begun in scroll 15. Scroll 15 is also known as the Scroll of the Godly Battle – where Akibu openly challenges God-King Kefi. In Scroll 16, known as the Scroll of a Hero’s Death, Akibu is vanquished by God-King Kefi. Scroll 17, known as the Lament to Akibu, serves as an “account” of the peoples’ reaction of his passing. Unlike the two previous scrolls, which are poems presented as if to have been penned by Akibu himself, scroll 17 is a first-person account written through the eyes of Naridu, son of Akibu’s friend Kabani.[5] The translation is given on the next page.

 I Shall Mourn You, Akibu
Scroll No. XVII
I remember, first there were screams.
There was wailing.
It was late at night – I remember the glittering sky above us – and the earth had trembled for days and days; I had lost count in the rumbling.[6]
Those hesitancies in belief that, before, I had held were, by manner of their bloody combat, belayed.[7] So fiercely did the tremors assault us, that we became sick to our stomachs by the movement of the earth – like the water of a raging ocean, or sand in a moving desert.
Though Akibu, forever blessed be his name, roused the fires of rebellion in our hearts, we knew little about fighting. It saddens me now to think that when he marched to challenge that Devil-King’s great army, only my father marched alongside him. I watched, for the first part, from the edges of the field of battle – as did countless others.
We were, if I were to be honest, simply resting upon the ground – as if we children waiting for a nightly story. Hidden among the bushes and lying among the rocks, we watched those fierce warriors fight. Akibu and my father, honoured be their names, fought as though they were possessed.
By the second day, we grew tired and the crowd thinned to a sliver. I was the last to leave. I had seen, I hoped, my fill of death.
But then, weeks later, I heard the screams.
The wails.
That night, I cannot erase from my eyes – it is all I see, all I remember. I fear I will haunt that night, as yet another ghost, long after my mortal body has perished.
Perhaps, more so than the mournful wails, I shall remember that moment of silence, of stillness, of peace. It is a silence I have only ever heard once – that moment when the battle was done and the Devil-King Kefi stood victorious over the body of blessed Akibu and the body of my beloved father.
The news spread like fire through a dead forest. I stumbled out into the street – the sky above me, once made so bright by the shimmering stars, seemed dimmed – as if the passing of Akibu had raked the light from the world. It did not take me long to puzzle it out – the wailing of our women, those most at the mercy of the devil-king Kefi, was all that I needed to listen to.
Something in me stirred – I felt it first in the depths of my soul. It was, I remember with great clarity, a fear of such virility and vitality that I could not think.
I stood there, in the mud and the dirt, as the city and her people came crashing down at me.
In the crowd, in the rush, I was jostled – pushed and tackled. I fell – this is no surprise.
When my eyes next opened, I knew not how much time had passed. I saw above me – far above the shaped clay and the baked brick of our darling Manub – the sky had gone dark. It was as though smoke, a heavy and thick smoke, had carpeted us – but I could feel the fresh air on my face and in my nose. There was no smoke.
The light had disappeared from our world.
My blinking eyes felt deceived, my body in pain – yet, I got to my feet.
The streets were empty. There was no sound.
The wailing had stopped, but I felt my ears still rung with it.
Deep inside, I reached, and I found that the fear which rendered me unmoving had given way to a calm.
A calmness of my spirit.
A stillness of my body.
A certainty in my mind.
I felt strength – perhaps for the first time in my life. Greater still, I felt courage. The courage to stand against that Devil-King.
I turned, as if to face the inevitable march of the Devil-King. I turned and readied myself to fight – all I had upon me were rags.
I stared into the dark of the night – no light now remained to guide me.
My courage dissolved quickly and I felt myself collapse to my knees.
My belly wrenched – grief took hold. For the first time it dawned upon me that I shall never see my father again.
That we were doomed. That Akibu, may our Lady forever watch over him, was no more.
Such is the way of hope.
Tears welled in my eyes – I made no effort to intervene.
They streamed down my face and were absorbed by the mud of our home.
Such is the way of hope.
As the last reserves of strength drained from me, I fell once more into the mud of our home.
The Devil-King would bury me there – I knew in my heart.
By some miracle, I opened my eyes, knowing I would never again see our beautiful sky.
Above me, above the shaped clay and the baked bricks of Manub, I saw that smoky sky and for a moment, a sliver of silver.
Bathed as I was in that shadow of lunar light, I wept.
The ground beneath me shook once again.
The Devil-King was coming.
The last strands of what I was recoiled and turned and twisted – until they were nothing. Until I was nothing.
My doomed fate I accepted, lying quietly in the mud.
I closed my eyes – awaiting my final breath.
The ground trembled.
Then – miracle.
A sound reached my ears – a tone. Then another and then one more. My ears were in disbelief at first, but then they feasted.
I had never heard such beauty before. The tones grew louder and more structured, my eyes shot open.
Once again, they could not bring themselves to believe – the sky was awash with stars, with silver and white light pouring down upon our darkened city.
The tones now were stronger and more confident, corralled into order by some force otherworldly. And then, I heard a voice – my heart jumped for joy.
The tongue and the words I recognised – they were my own. But the manner of speech was alien – it was as though listening to our Lady speak.[8]
I scarcely realised I was on my feet as my eyes feasted on a celestial sight.
Sitting in a chair in the middle of the street, atop the mud and the dirt, facing whence the Devil-King would approach was a maiden.
I never saw her face – but her hair, her long, silver, shimmering hair, I shall never forget. She fiddled with a shaped piece of wood on her lap.
I know now that she played the lyre and she sung a song – such things we had never heard of before in our darling city.
Her song was one of misery and grief. With her words, her mesmerising words and her becalming tones, sung a great lament of Akibu, hallowed be his grave.
Such power had she, such force of will, of nature, that the night itself seemed to answer her calls.
O! Hear me!
The tormented and the damned!
Hear me!
 
O! Hear me!
For love and for sorrow!
Hear me!
 
Hear me!
O! City of Manubi!
Hear me!
 
Akibu
A saint among men
Has Passed
 
O! Hear me!
Akibu, who looks down!
Hear me!
 
I shall mourn you, Akibu
As shall the sky
The trees
The wind
The dirt
 
I shall mourn you, Akibu
As shall your home
Your city
Your people
Your friend
 
I shall wail, Akibu
I shall cry and scream
For you, Akibu
 
I shall wail, Akibu
I shall cry and scream
For you, Akibu
 
I shall lament
Evermore
Akibu
 
As shall
The sky
The trees
The wind
The dirt
 
Fear and despair
Fill your home
Akibu
 
I shall mourn you, Akibu
But
I shall not fail you, Akibu
You were the whole of my delight
Akibu
The subject of all my dreams
 
I shall mourn you, Akibu
But
I shall not fail you, Akibu
Concluding notes:
It is typical of the Usurpea to end its scrolls abruptly. As this epic was designed for live performance and not to be read, it allowed for the second performer to pick up immediately where the previous left off – telling the same story in the new voice. Some scrolls are meant to be performed in sets by the same performer – such as scrolls 15 and 16. Scroll 18, however, adopts the voice of the singing woman – who we learn is Kerabi, the wife of Akibu and another demi-god sent by Ananu. Scroll 18, known as the Scroll of the Singer, depicts the battle between Kerabi and Kefi – where Kerabi is able to harness the power of nature to subdue the wounded Demon-King.
Scroll 19 and 20 adopt the perspective of the mortally wounded Kefi – and were subjected to the most raucousness from the audience. After Kefi’s death in scroll 20, scroll 21 jumps back to Naridu and it narrates the burning of Kefi’s corpse. Scroll 22 deals with the funeral of Akibu and Kabani. The last scroll, which we know existed but has not yet been found, almost certainly narrates the story of Kerabi’s coronation as the new Queen of Manub.
References and Notes:
[1] Considering the Jhelail civilisation stretched from the modern city of Port St. Peter, on the far east of the Nirastan Archipelago, to the very western edge of the Old Iron Forest, this is a vast journey for many to have made – with a considerable number of people having had to travel well over 1,000 kilometres to reach Marud.
[2] For Khan’s discussion of the topic, see his most recent paper and lecture presented at the University of Priestfall. It will be available in print very soon, I am in no doubt! I count myself fortunate to have been attending – though I was on the same panel as he!
[3] As a reminder, there are 4 ages of recorded history: The Age of Recorded History, 1st A..., 2nd A… and 3rd…
[4] The story’s title lends us our modern word. Its meaning has changed significantly since – from liberator, to one who replaces someone in power.
[5] It must be noted that it does not become clear that scroll 17 is narrated by Naribu until the first lines of scroll 18.
[6] A reference to scrolls 15 and 16 – the fight is said to have lasted weeks.
[7] Naribu had, in scrolls 12 and 13, previously expressed doubt that Kefi and Akibu were demigods – he thought them to be arrogant mortals.
[8] Our Lady in the Usurpea always refers to the Goddess Ananu.