Avtandil left the plains of the Arabian frontier, flying at an impossible pace in his haste to find news of the mysterious Knight in the Panther Skin. He roamed over foreign lands and into places unseen by him or anyone he knew.
His road was long, and he often reflected on the predicament he was in. Separation from Tinatin robbed a part of his life, but he pressed on, crossing from one country to the next as the days stretched into months.
Though he was friendly to everyone he met, none of them knew about the man he sought. Between towns and cities, he asked news from merchants, travelers, and wayfarers, but learned nothing from them. No matter where he looked for information, he found nothing.
As the seasons marched into the second winter, his heart became tattered and forlorn. Loneliness took its toll on him, and fresh snow blasted his frozen soul. At times he cried out in agony from the pain and solitude of his plight, lifting his knife to the sky and shouting.
“Dionysius and Eros, you who witnessed the rose of my love blossoming, can you not see me? Where is your aid to lovers who have become lost? I am far from her, who the fabled ruby of Badakhshan cannot compare, and all joy has fled my heart. These bones ache for home and hearth, yet I have no harp nor lyre or pipe to soothe me.”
But his cries were never answered. His sorrow went unnoticed, and he was left with no choice other than to continue his journey. To him, it felt he carried the weight of the world, balanced as it is between the vows of lovers.
In time he crossed strange lands and distant places. The earth became a couch to him, and his arm a pillow. Sometimes he could only go on by reminding himself to be patient and trust in God. Meanwhile the reed stem of his form faded into ruin with the endless procession of days.
The burden of his quest rent his spirit like a rose separated from the sun. He missed Tinatin more with each passing day and often spoke aloud, with none but his horse to hear his words.
“I am far from my beloved. Though my heart stays with her, perhaps my death would be a mercy. It would spare her from sharing the torment and pain of our separation.”
He rode all over the face of the world, leaving no place beneath Heaven where he had not been. Yet, no one had knowledge of the Knight he sought. The days flew by, a constant reminder of the leagues he crossed.
Seasons came and went like the wind. Spring bled into summer and died with the kiss of autumn. As the golden leaves fell and were forgotten, the land became lost once more to the barren wastes of winter. Still, the road to nowhere continued to stretch before him. Eventually flowers blossomed again, and he counted his journey as spanning nearly three years with no sign of an end.
In time he crossed into a rough and dreadful land. For a month, he did not meet a single son of Adam or daughter of Eve. All he found were wild beasts until he began to become more beast than man. More alone than at any time before, he considered the weight of his woes and believed they even surpassed those of Vis and Ramin. All he could think of was his beloved and the day he would return to her arms.
At last, he came to a towering mountain and found a resting place high up in the peaks. Looking down one side, he could see a nearly endless plain stretching to the horizon. On the other, a forest ran down to the edge of a deep and wide river he couldn’t hope to swim.
As he made camp, he considered what lay ahead of him and what was behind. Of his three years, only two months were left, and he knew nothing of the Knight. If he met him, the journey would end, but how was he going to make someone appear who did not exist? It would be easier to turn evil into good or be born again by his own hand.
He sighed bitterly, calling out to God in frustration.
“Why have you taken the joys of life and love from me and left a nest of grief in their place? If I go home now, what was the purpose of my journey? Why have I wasted so much time? I have not learned a word of gossip concerning this Knight in the Panther Skin. How can I present myself without a whisper of what I vowed to seek?”
“If I stay here, I must continue searching, but what of my agreements? What if I travel everywhere and still find nothing? Shermadin will give news of my death to King Rostevan and Tinatin. The loss of me will be bitter to those I love. Meanwhile, I will make my friend a liar and lose the woman I sacrificed everything for. How can I return to the ashes of all I loved?”
Distraught and bereaved of heart, Avtandil finally slept. He was weary of roads and heartsick from longing for his beloved. Yet, in the morning, he woke from a dreamless sleep, rested and clear of mind for the first time in many months.
As he rubbed the sand from his eyes, his thoughts turned to how far he had come. He had much left to do and did not want to fail. Strengthening his fortitude, he drew a measure of peace from his surroundings.
“A man may conquer all the world, but in the end, time conquers all men. Without God, I can do nothing, for none can change what He has decreed. Those things which are not to be will not be. Therefore, I will not cast down my heart a day too soon. Better I find patience, or these many years will have flown away to nothing.”
Lost in his thoughts, he broke camp and packed his belongings. Finally, his mood lightened. He sighed to himself, voicing a mix of hope and cynicism.
“Perhaps I should die, for it is preferable to living a life of shame. But, if I go back, Tinatin, who brightens the sunniest of days, will meet me. She will ask for tidings of that radiant youth. What will I accomplish if I have only my failure to complain of?”
“At the same time, why should I pity myself in vain if it offers no reprieve to my plight? I have passed every man and creature under the sun but learned nothing of this Knight. If he is a Devi or Kadj Sorcerer, perhaps I should be wondering what will become of me if we meet.”