by Aaron Oster
He, on the other hand, was almost sixteen, and had it not been for his accursed lungs, he was sure he’d have been able to turn their small bit of land into a thriving farm capable of providing for their needs through the dry season.
Dabu licked his dry lips, finally reaching out and wrapping a dark-skinned hand around the stalk. This was it, the deciding moment.
With a sharp tug, Dabu pulled the plant from the ground. Or at least, he tried to. His chest tightened as his muscles flexed, constricting like bands around his lungs. But he wasn’t about to give up that easily. The mere fact that this turnip was putting up a fight meant that it was most likely ripe and would be good to eat.
Grabbing onto the leafy stalk with his other hand, Dabu rose to his feet, planting them low and wide. Then, with a monumental amount of effort, he tore the long, bulbous vegetable from the ground. He staggered, falling back on his behind, but despite the feeling of the sharp pebbles digging into his skin, Dabu couldn’t help but laugh.
They would finally eat well, at least for tonight.
Slowly rising to his feet, Dabu took a few moments to allow his breathing to calm and the bands around his chest to loosen. He took the time to look around, noting the towering walls of Shukka Basin, where their small village lay, protected from the ravages of the outside world.
The Tyrant King’s war had left the Four Kingdoms ravaged and broken, and the entire world felt the aftershocks of his actions to this very day. However, here, in this small, untouched part of the world, they’d managed to stay out of it.
Dabu heard a scream from the direction of his house and felt his heart skip a beat.
Mother! he thought, taking off toward the clay hut at as fast a pace as he could manage.
The gravel dug into the hardened soles of his feet, sending small plumes of dust into the air as he ran and aggravating his lungs even further. By the time he reached their house, just thirty meters down the path, he was already feeling lightheaded.
“Leave her alone!” he shouted, skidding around the side of the hut and lunging at the man standing next to his mother.
“Dabu, wait!” she shouted, but it was already too late.
Dabu caught the man around the midriff, attempting to take him down to the ground. But, as always, the man was unmovable.
“Back for another beating, are you, runt?” Makai asked, grabbing him by the back of his fur tunic and hauling him clear off his feet.
Dabu thrashed in the larger man’s grip, trying in vain to hurt him. His blows were ineffectual, merely bouncing off the man’s skin as though it were made of stone — and, for all intents and purposes, it may as well have been, as far as Dabu was concerned.
Before the Tyrant King’s war, people would be born with magic, awakening their true calling and full power in the blink of an eye. The gods had cursed them, and because of the man’s warmongering ways, the laws that governed their world had been forever changed. Now, anyone could acquire magic, but ‘acquire’ was the key word in that sentence.
In order to be granted the gifts that had once been readily available, one would have to go through the Trials, also known as The Trials of the Ancients, which was what the few remaining people of the Sandstone Kingdom called it. These Trials were put into place to ensure that, while anybody could gain magic, they would have to work for it. Additionally, no one received all of their power at once, instead receiving it in stages called ranks.
Of course, one would have to go through those Trials to receive their magic, and unfortunately for Dabu, he had not.
“Leave my mother alone!” Dabu yelled, his voice coming out as more a wheeze than a threat as he pummeled Makai uselessly, doing more to hurt himself than the Puru.
The Purus had come into Shukka Basin nearly a decade ago, quickly setting themselves up as the rulers of the small area. Rumor had it that their leader, Orcco, had been a soldier in the old Sandstone King’s army. However, seeing as the end of the war had left the Four Kingdoms shattered and broken, there was no one left to protect the citizens from their rule.
What little air remained in Dabu’s lungs was driven out as Makai drove a fist into his stomach. Dabu felt the power in that punch radiate throughout his entire body. Unlike him, Makai had passed through one of the Trials scattered around the Four Kingdoms and had attained his power. It was a Super ability, one that relied on physical might, and at rank 8, he was one of the toughest fighters in Orcco’s group.
“Please just let him go!” Aho begged, grabbing onto Makai’s arm. “He’s just a child. He meant no harm!”
“How am I supposed to command respect when this little hoodlum keeps attacking me at every turn?” Makai asked, pausing in his glorified torture to address the woman.
“I’ll talk to him,” Aho said, clutching harder to the man’s arm. “Please just let him go.”
Dabu wanted nothing more than to spit in the man’s face, to break every bone in his body, and drive their group from the Shukka Basin, but in his current state, it took all he had to just keep breathing.
Makai stared up at him, his arm still holding Dabu’s collar and keeping him suspended in midair.
“Fine,” he said, unclenching his fist and allowing Dabu to drop to the ground, where he lay, wheezing. “But get in my way again, and the next time, I’ll end you for good!”
Makai followed this threat up by allowing a flicker of red lightning to crackle across his fist.
“Oh, and I’ll be taking this,” he said, leaning down to scoop up the radish Dabu had dropped. “The Purus appreciate your contribution.”
He walked away, laughing to himself as Dabu glared after him through teary eyes.
“What the hell were you thinking, attacking him like that?” Dabu’s mother snapped as soon as the man had vanished from view. “He could have killed you!”
“Stole…Our…Food,” Dabu wheezed.
His mother clucked her tongue in annoyance.
“You’ve pushed yourself too far again. Kahi, bring the sack!”
Dabu winced. He hated the sack. It always made him feel queasy after he used it, but it was the only effective way to stop an attack, which was clearly what was happening now.
His little sister, dressed in a short skirt and loose top made of old pelts, came running around the corner of the thatched mound of clay they called a home. She lugged a clay pot filled with water and held a couple of tubers in her free hand. Dabu had no idea how his mother knew she’d returned – she always seemed to know when they were around – but he was grateful she was here.
His sister ran into the house, returning a moment later with a small leather sack clutched between her fingers.
“What did you do to yourself this time?” she asked, crouching next to him.
She had the same tone of exasperation as Aho, a trait she’d picked up after the many times Dabu had tried to help, only to end up on the ground, trying to stay alive.
“He was working in the garden again,” Aho said, pushing the mouth of the sack over Dabu’s mouth.
Although it was only a partial truth, there was no need to be telling her what had really happened. Their lives were hard enough as it was, and there was no need to worry her unduly.
“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” she asked as he inhaled the nauseating mix of herbs and spices inside the sack.
Even as he took in the sickly sweet and pungent aroma, Dabu could feel the bands around his lungs loosening, allowing air back in for the first time since Makai had punched him. The pain from that strike was still very much prevalent, and he was sure it would bruise. Luckily for him, both his dark skin and thin shirt would hide that well, and so long as he could put up with the pain, his little sister never need know what had almost happened today.
“I was just checking to see if there were any edible turnips,” he said, his voice sounding muffled through the bag.
“Why didn’t you call one of us to do it?” Aho asked, all but glaring down at him.
“Well, you w
ere busy with the wash, and Kahi was fetching water. I thought I’d make myself useful.”
Aho let out a long sigh, removing the sack from Dabu’s mouth and closing the neck up tight.
“You’re practically a man, yet I feel like I have to keep treating you like a child,” she said, rubbing at her temples. “You need to stay inside, especially on hot, dusty days like this. Now, come on. Up you go.”
Dabu got to his feet with the help of his mother and little sister, feeling like the most useless older brother and son in the world. Had his father or older brother still been around, he knew they could have driven off the Puru and provided for their family. Instead, his mother and sister were stuck with him, and in place of him being the protector, they were the ones who needed to shelter him. He hated feeling so useless.
They helped him inside, where they guided him into one of the rough indents carved into the wall. Inside, it was far cooler, thanks to the combination of the shade and narrow doorways, which encouraged airflow. Although, in this climate, where there wasn’t much air to begin with, that wasn’t saying much.
Dabu watched as his mother and sister moved to the small fire pit in the center of the hut, his mother using the flat of the stone knife to crush the tubers Kahi had collected when retrieving the water. His younger sister leaned over the pit, getting a fire started by painstakingly twisting a length of wood into the fireboard.
Because of the war, all of the bronze implements and weapons had been taken, sending them back to the stone age. Then again, seeing as Aho still remembered a time before the metal began to become prevalent, it really wasn’t all that long ago. However, losing over thirty years of advancement and all the wonders that had come along with it was a devastating blow, especially to a small town like this one.
Now, the only bronze to be found was in the Purus’ camp, set on the far side of the Basin. As far as Dabu had heard, they even had a cooking pot, something that his mother would have loved. Instead, they were stuck using a clay bowl, which they couldn’t heat too far, for fear of cracking the only vessel they had.
Dabu shifted in his seat, planning on helping as his mother rose from dropping the tubers into the pot, but all it took was a single glare to get him to relax once again.
Okay, he thought. Maybe I’ll just sit here for a little bit longer.
2: The Meaning of Names
“Do you have any idea how close you came to dying today?” Aho asked, the light of the dying fire reflecting the unshed tears in her eyes.
“No closer than any other,” Dabu replied, crossing his arms and staring back at her.
Kahi was fast asleep on the other side of the room, her back rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
“You need to stop being so reckless,” his mother said. “You can’t stand up to them. You’re not strong enough!”
“I would be if you let me go into the Trials,” Dabu shot back.
There was a long moment of silence that stretched between the two of them, finally broken by Aho, who let out a snort of disgust.
“Have you forgotten what happened to your father and brother?” she asked, the lines above her brow deepening. “They were both fit and strong, but do you see them sitting here with us?”
Dabu bit his lip from firing back an angry retort. Aho didn’t have to say what she thought out loud. The insinuation was more than enough. Both his father and brother had attempted the Trials, yet neither had returned. Unlike him, both of them had been strong men, fit for battle. His father had been gone for over eight years, having finally gone to attempt the Trials after Orcco and his men had gone too far and killed one of the village families.
He’d promised to return in a month, the length of time it took to complete. However, he never did. Dabu’s older brother, Toka, had left nearly four years ago, heading into the Trials to try and forge a better life for them. He had never returned either, and although Dabu had once hoped that they would one day make a miraculous return, life had taught him differently.
“I don’t want to hear about those accursed Trials anymore,” Aho said after the silence had dragged on for several minutes. “We’ve managed to survive until now, and we will continue to do so as long as we stay together and keep our heads down.”
“How can we survive if they keep stealing our food?” Dabu exclaimed. “We’re barely making it by as is, and they take almost everything we manage to grow!”
“Quiet!” his mother hissed as Kahi stirred.
The two of them watched her for several moments, making sure she settled down before continuing in lowered tones.
“We can always ask for food if we need,” Aho said. “Our neighbors are understanding…”
“And how much longer can we depend on their generosity?” he shot back, cutting his mother off. “I’ve seen the way they look at us and hear how they talk behind our backs. It’s only a matter of time before they refuse us aid, and then what?”
“Let me worry about that,” his mother said. “I’m your mother, so it’s my responsibility to provide for you, not the other way around.”
Dabu let out a low growl, then rose to his feet and began pacing. It was bad for his lungs, but he didn’t care. He was just too frustrated to sit still.
“If I could just go through the Trials —” he started, but his mother cut him off.
“Absolutely not!” she said, her eyes hard as flint. “You are not strong enough to make it, and you are not a fighter.”
“I can fight!” Dabu defended himself.
Aho let out a long breath, then rose and walked over to him. She placed a hand on his chest, holding it there and feeling the irregular beat of his heart.
“Do you know why I gave you your name?” she asked.
Dabu just glared at her sullenly, unwilling to go along with her change of subject.
“It was because I could tell, even from the moment of your birth, that you did not have the soul of a fighter. You were calm and gentle, and I chose the name of nature to reflect that.”
Dabu ground his teeth together in annoyance. He hated it when his mother brought this up. Everything about him was non-threatening, from his weakened constitution to his scrawny frame, to his very name. Dabu, in the old language, literally meant ‘nature.’ It wasn’t strong like Toka, which meant ‘boulder,’ or majestic like Kahi, which meant ‘pride.’ It wasn’t even beautiful like his mother’s, which meant ‘shine.’
No, his name, just like everything else about him, was weak.
“Why do you not believe in me?” he asked, feeling his throat beginning to tighten.
His mother shook her head, tapping the center of his chest and looking him in the eye.
“I believe in you more than anyone else, Dabu. Anyone can be strong or fast or brave, but you have what most others in this world lack — compassion, resolve, a sharp mind. You may have been born with a weakened set of lungs, but your mind and spirit remain unbroken. Even after all we have lost, you still have the strength to go on, and that is the essence of who you are.
“Nature is everlasting, and your legacy will be as well. I just know it.”
She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, turning quickly and heading to the smaller second room, hidden behind a hanging pelt.
Dabu felt the wetness on his cheeks, but he did not attempt to wipe away the tears. His mother always had a way of breaking down his walls, no matter how many times he tried to build them up. He let out a shuddering breath, then turned and headed out of the small house. He needed some fresh air and some time to think about what she’d said.
***
Dabu jerked awake, nearly smacking his head on the small lip of the overhang he’d sheltered under for the night. After sitting up for nearly an hour, he’d finally decided to sleep where he was, not having the mental strength to crawl back inside. It wasn’t like he didn’t do this often enough, so he’d simply curled up beneath his favorite spot, tucked his chin behind the small lip to block out the light of the moon, and dri
fted off.
He lay where he was for several moments, trying to figure out what it was that had woken him. There were no predators inside the Shukka Basin, as the Purus defended the only pass they could use to get inside. Tonight, though, there was a very distinct absence of the night sounds he was so used to. There was no chirping of insects, and the wind seemed oddly still.
It was only once he took a deeper breath and nearly choked that he understood what was happening.
Smoke.
Dabu rolled to the side and sprang to his feet. He was inside the house in an instant, his eyes flicking to the fire pit. Everything was fine. The house was quiet, and after checking, he confirmed that both his little sister and mother were asleep.
Heart still racing, Dabu headed back outside, realizing that there was only one other place where the smoke could be coming from, and he felt a cold dread overcome him as he raced toward their fields. Even before he reached it, he could tell everything was gone, and despite the heavy smoke hanging thick in the air, Dabu raced in, trying to quell the fires that were eating up what little remained of their food.
His lungs forced him to abandon the task just moments after he entered, sending him staggering out of the cloud, wheezing and coughing for air. He staggered, dropping to his knees, and found the air quality to be much better closer to the ground. A pair of legs came into view then. Still coughing, Dabu looked up and saw Makai through teary eyes.
The man grinned down at him, his white teeth flashing in the darkness and standing out against his dark skin. It wasn’t a friendly smile, but rather, one filled with malice.
“Stand up to me again, boy, and it’ll be your house next time.”
The man spat on the ground, then turned to walk away. More than anything in the world, Dabu wanted to attack the man who’d most likely doomed his family to starve. But his body betrayed him at that moment. His lungs seized, locking up tight and dropping him like a sack. Dabu lay there, gasping for air, but none would come. As blackness crept in, he briefly wondered if this was how his mother would find him when she finally woke up — dead, next to their burned field.