Rising

by C B Samet

  Lisha, the youngest, noticed the blue tattoo on my palm. She looked at it and stroked it inquisitively. Showing it to Leena, they shook their heads together.

  “What is this marking, Abigail?” Leena asked.

  “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “It was put there inexplicably at Winter Festival over a year ago.” I rubbed my fingers over the smooth surface. I had looked in every symbology book I could find at Oxville—the continent’s largest library—but I hadn’t found anything explaining its meaning.

  Lucia, the eldest, looked at the symbol from over my shoulder then resumed braiding. “You can ask the Gunthi monks,” she offered, softly.

  “Have you ever been to the sanctuary?” I asked.

  “Every Caballus member goes before age twenty.”

  “Are they ... pleasant?”

  “They are what you need them to be,” she replied, making no sense at all.

  Deciding not to pursue her cryptic language, I asked, “Has anyone ever died going there?”

  “Yes. That is why we do not go during the rapids season.”

  My stomach churned. I was not enjoying the Caballus propensity for rigorous honesty.

  When she was done braiding and her sisters done drawing steep canyons and glistening trees on my hands, we exited the cave. We walked to the camp where I saw Joshua in the distance.

  As I approached, I saw him swaddled in the same cloth. But rather than looking absurd—as I felt I looked—he was amazing. I could see every bulge of his muscles and broad shoulders. I felt a sudden rush of heat and fluttering in my chest. I tried to attribute the sensation to a lack of breakfast, but I was experiencing a different type of hunger. I couldn’t stop staring at him. The closer I got to him the more magnificent he appeared.

  For just a moment, I imagined he was looking at me with the same intensity and desire.

  He tugged uncomfortably at the cloth around his chest. Leaning toward me he whispered, “You neglected to mention that I’d be dunked in ice water, doused in aloe oil, and wrapped like a shullby ball.”

  “Minor details.” I shrugged, smiling.

  Laos walked to us and explained the river ride. The directions were simple enough. Ten kilometers from the start of the river was the Gunthi monk sanctuary. We were to raft to the cove and disembark there. If we missed the cove entrance, then we would surely die at the Aithos Falls, a fifty-foot drop onto a bed of rock.

  Fortunately, we were provided with Allis, a member of the First Clan who knew the way to the cove and was willing to be our guide. He was stocky with a disproportionately rotund belly, thin legs and a perpetual pleasant smile. He wore brown shorts; apparently the ritual was only for first-time travelers.

  We stood at the precipice to the winding path down to the river. Allis and Joshua were carrying the raft, a lightweight, tightly woven mesh of tall prairie grass.

  I turned to Laos. Many clan members stood behind him, having come to watch us depart.

  “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  He nodded. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he squinted down at me. “I will meet you at the top of the canyon in one day with Madame Q. We shall have horses and food ready for the next part of your journey.”

  I thought that seemed presumptuous since the monks could recommend I stay put and hunker down in the caves. No, Laos was right: there would be another part of the journey. We would not stay in one place for long, but the kingdom was a finite place. How long could we remain on the run?

  I nodded in affirmation, and we crossed hands in farewell.

  The trek down to the river was uneventful, aside from the rum- bling of my stomach. Part of the ritual before river travel was fasting, and now I wished I’d eaten more turtle stew last night.

  I watched Joshua and Allis carry the raft skillfully down the path. They strained more from its bulk than its weight. Sweating profusely by the time we reached the riverside, they set the raft in the water and held it steady for me. I climbed in awkwardly with a bulky bag of rations, a long cord of wound rope, and three oars.

  The water was crisp, blue and inviting at the embankment. In the distance, the sobering sound of tumultuous rapids beckoned us. Allis took the stern to steer us while I was starboard and Joshua portside. The steep canyon walls surrounded us, separated at the top by a blue stripe of sky. Without delay, we were underway and swiftly moving toward our fate.

  The racing rapids swept us into their tentacles. Allis shouted our name, depending on who was to start or stop rowing. I felt a surge of adrenaline with every peak and trough of the raft as we rushed over rocks. We seemed to be working together, swaying to and fro almost harmoniously. I looked at Joshua, and we grinned together on the verge of enjoying the challenge.

  Allis barked at me to row, and I dug in hard, feeling my muscles burn. The cold spray of water was a welcome relief. But I felt my side of the raft dipping too steeply as the next drop approached. We plum- meted starboard and the raft bucked. As water doused me, I braced for us to tip over, but we stayed upright.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and licked the cool water from my lips. I looked at Joshua beaming, then followed his dismal gaze to the stern. Allis was gone. I searched the frothy surface and saw no one. He had been engulfed by the angry waters. Our guide and our rudder were lost. We spun wildly out of control.

  Joshua maneuvered to the stern to take control. I tried to curb the dizzying descent, but the brisk water laughed at my weakness. Suddenly, I saw the cove, an out-pouching of pooled water where we were to disembark. I screamed to Joshua, but we were already recklessly zipping past it. Pouring my strength into my arms, I tried to back-paddle but the vicious rapids snapped my oar like a twig.

  I heard Laos’s voice from that morning, If you do not exit at the cove, the perilous falls await you.

  Perilous falls.

  “Mother Moon,” I gasped.

  Joshua lassoed the anchor rope around me before the deafening roar of water surrounded us. Then I was falling, and the raft disappeared beneath me. I felt so small plummeting in the spray of water. I could see the rapids stretch out in the distance, but immediately beneath me was only white froth and fine mist. There was no way to differentiate water from rock. As I couldn’t exactly change course, perhaps it was better not knowing.

  For a brief moment, I wondered if I would survive this. Death on a quest for knowledge seemed such a waste.

  Striking the water feet first, my legs crunched against rocks beneath the churning surface. Excruciating pain shot through my leg as I was pushed beneath the foam by the force of the waterfall on top of me. It felt like an ox was sitting on me, pushing me under. I fought against the torrent to no avail, exhausting my energy.

  Then, I came up briefly, drifting down the river, until the next trough sucked me under. I floated listlessly like a petal on the surface with no control over the way I twisted and turned down the river. No part of my battered body was willing or able to move, and the darkness was encasing me.

  Then something tugged at my chest, creating a burning sensation. The rope was cinching tighter. Pulled from under the blanket of water, I sucked air into my lungs.

  Sweet, precious air.

  I managed to grasp the rope with both hands as Joshua pulled me to shore. As he lifted me to dry land, I screamed in agony. Looking down, I saw that my left leg was a mangled, bloody heap of bone and tissue. I once saw a dead rabbit look like that, after a cattle stampede had trampled it. My linens had unraveled and formed a tangled pile around what was once my leg.

  No wonder I couldn’t swim.

  Gingerly, Joshua set me down on the warm grass.

  I tried not to cry, but I knew that if I didn’t bleed to death, I would certainly never walk right again, if at all. I would be unable to mount a horse or scale the mountains of Karnelik, much less outrun Malos. Joshua agonizingly applied pressure to stop the bleeding as he reached into the folds of linen on his side. I could barely see him through my vision, blurred by pain.

 
“Do you remember that I was studying history at the university early on?”

  I nodded, tears streaming down my face from agony and dismay. “That and spirit consumption.” I winced. “Oh, and apparently mythology.”

  He pulled out a familiar-looking stone. “Well, I switched my studies to medicine after I got this.”

  I focused on a small black Che stone that lay in his hands. The sun danced on its surface as he rolled it between his fingers. I caught sight of a white stripe down the center.

  My Che stone!

  I gaped at him in disbelief. “You told me you lost it in a card game!” My anger detracted from the pain, and I stopped crying.

  “Well, that was just for fun,” he replied, laying the stone on my thigh above my mangled calf and laying a hand over it. “Later, I discovered quite by accident after a broken nose that your stone has the power to heal.”

  A warm, tingling sensation spread over my leg. The heat increased to the point of discomfort, then almost burning pain. I sucked in a sharp breath.

  “So I did a little investigation on Che stones, courtesy of Sebastian Slade. As it turns out, they only manifest their magical abilities when paired with the right owner. You have to sort of connect.”

  I shook my head in confusion, the blood loss and pain clouding my mind. “You’re studying to be a Healer?”

  The pain reached a crescendo, and I screamed again. There was a twisting, stretching torment in my leg with the sensation that it was on fire. I dug my hands into the soft dirt and grass around me.

  As the pain eased, he lifted the Che stone—the white stripe glowing brightly—off my leg. Panting, I reached down in amazement and felt my calf. The skin felt feverish. The pain was replaced by a dull ache. The bone was whole again with no bleeding, no scarring. My leg was completely intact.

  “No, Abbey. I am a Healer.” He stepped back and stood over me, surveying his work.

  I thought back to Taxco and how the touch of his hand had eased the pain in my bruised jaw and ribs. Those were injuries I had surprisingly walked away from with little hindrance.

  “Joshua!” I stood, shakily, and leaped into his arms. “You are wonderful! Why did you even keep that silly stone?”

  “I liked having something that reminded me of you,” he said meekly.

  My head spun dizzily.

  “Take it slow. It has to finish healing, and you’ve lost blood.”

  I slowly loosened my hug and slid down his muscular body until both of my feet were back on the ground. The leg was still weak and sore, but miraculously working. Staring into his playful brown eyes, I let my fingers wander into the base of his wet hair. His face lit up with an expression of fondness.

  “Something to remind you of me?” I asked, swallowing.

  He rested his arms on my waist. “I admire you, Abbey. Your black curls and beautiful eyes, and the way you always smell of honeysuckle in full bloom.”

  I stared at him, speechless.

  “I want you to have something to remind you of me,” he began. He started to shift his weight but straightened abruptly, and his gaze shifted behind me.

  I turned slowly around and met a pair of vibrant blue eyes. A Gunthi monk.

  I fell to my knees in reverence and exhaustion and relief and pain. We had arrived.

  With a gracious smile, the white-haired monk introduced himself as Zack.

  “I’m Abigail Cross, servant to Queen Rebekah the Fourth and student of science at Oxville University. This is my dearest friend, Joshua Colt ... a Healer,” I added, still stupefied.

  Joshua helped me to my feet.

  Zack’s blue robes ruffled as he put his palms together. “We are truly blessed to have the pleasure of such company.”

  “The pleasure is ours, and we seek your counsel.”

  He nodded, as if to say he already knew our purpose. Why else did anyone visit?

  We followed him to a quiet, grassy knoll. Lush green grass was adorned with red tulips. Wisteria trees swayed their purple arms harmoniously in the breeze.

  We sat at a wooden table surrounded by meandering monks in blue cloaks who seemed not in the least distracted or disconcerted at the presence of two soaking wet and half-naked intruders.

  Another monk brought us warm cider and soft, flaky pastries. Famished, I ate two without speaking. Much to my relief, the same monk returned with two blue cloaks and we covered ourselves.

  Zack waited patiently. I wasn’t sure what came next. Should I politely comment on the weather or compliment their lovely garden? I played at the streaks of gold paint on my hand where the Aithos trees were now fading.

  A man approached in a cloak, looking disheveled. Allis! A wave of relief swept over me. He had survived after all and must have swam to the cove and descended by land. He acknowledged us with a smile and a nod and veered off to another table with other monks.

  “The Queen’s life is in danger. I need to know how to keep the Queen safe,” I blurted out. I didn’t bother with the details of our travels or how the evil threatened the land like a plague.

  “That is the initial task you were charged with, but that is not the question you are here to ask,” Zack replied.

  I bit my lip. There was a burning question. I had known it since the moment I accepted that Paul was dead. It flared whenever I thought of Malos or Swallowers or Scouters. I thought of it when I saw the Caballus horses and people and the impending danger to them. Every vision I had of Malos grew the question louder until it was screaming to leave my lips.

  “Can the Malanook be defeated?” I asked.

  I felt Joshua take hold of my hand in a gesture of encouragement.

  “You know that they can,” Zack replied. “They have before.”

  “I want to know how,” I said firmly.

  “Indeed you do.” Zack smiled.

  I sat resolute, waiting.

  “What if there is someone capable of mobilizing the kingdom into an offense against the Malanook? What if you could help? What if helping meant traveling to the edges of the kingdom and risking your life?” Zack asked.

  “It’s better than running and hiding, waiting for the Malanook to kill everyone.” Beady eyes haunted me. Besides, I was already traveling to the edges of the kingdom and risking my life. I shuddered at the remembrance of almost dying at the falls.

  The Gunthi monk considered my answer and then nodded. “I will tell you the items to collect and, once you do so, a Champion can be summoned to lead the kingdom to freedom.”

  He went on to explain the items needed—a Che stone of strength, a Ballik blade forged in the icy mountains of Karnelik, and the ashes of an elephant from the graveyard of the Optato wastelands.

  “A Champion?” It sounded vague, yet hopeful. If mythology was actually reality, blue charlatans were truly fortune-tellers and Che stones really did have powers, then why couldn’t a Champion rise from the ashes of an elephant?

  “The Avant Guard,” he added. “As a servant to the Queen, you have seen previous Champions immortalized in the inner ward of Marrington Castle.”

  I thought of the larger-than-life white statues—six marble statues—in the castle courtyard. The Seventh Champion to be summoned in the year 7077. The Avant Champion.

  “If you succeed, this Champion will lead the kingdom to victory on the battlefield at Marrin Beach when the moons are united.”

  Marrin Beach.

  Did it have to be on a beach? All my life I had avoided the beach. It was the gateway to the vast, icy ocean with her black abyss. Prone to violent mood swings, she was calm and tranquil one moment, then swelling tides and tsunamis the next. She would bestow the most serene peace before tearing her victims to shreds. The ocean had stolen my parents, and I had never for- given her.

  My mind raced. The next united moons would be in fifteen days. Fifteen days didn’t leave much time to go halfway around the kingdom.

  I contemplated asking about the tattoo on my palm, but it seemed so frivolous compared to saving Queen and
kingdom. Sipping the cider, I thanked Zack for his insight.

  We went on to discuss the details of our travel—Optato to Karnelik to Marrin Beach. The monks would spread the word of the upcoming battle. Joshua, the Queen and I would gather the artifacts and join summoned soldiers from every edge of the kingdom.

  I felt called to arms and a soothing ease all at once. There was something concrete, resolute and reassuring about having a purpose and a plan. The plan held the promise of a solution in stark contrast to running away from danger.

  “Walk with me,” Zack commanded.

  I followed, leaving Joshua alone at the table. We wound through a garden with a central sitting area surrounded by bluebonnets. My healed leg still ached. The sun filtered through the swaying leaves of orange trees and danced around us. Beyond the edge of the garden, we came to a pool of shimmering blue water fed by a cascade streaming down off rocks high above us.

  “What if I fail?” I asked.

  Zack crossed his arms reflectively. “The Gunthi monks believe that there is a common thread woven throughout life, the world, the sky and the universe—a bond that links us all.”

  We silently stared at the beautiful water.

  I wondered at his avoidance of my question.

  “The Universal Deity?” I asked.

  “We don’t like to give it so tangible a name. To call it a god or be- ing implies that it exists external to us. It is not from without, but from within. It is part of our soul—pure and harmonious. It is the power, the strength and the virtue in all of us, connecting all of us to each other, and to all things in the universe. Like an endless thread it is woven through all matter and all time—past, present and future.”

  Rather than one streaming, glowing thread, I was starting to visualize a tangled ball of yarn.

  “But it is invisible?” I asked skeptically, the scientist in me wondering how such a belief could be proven or refuted.

  “It is often invisible to perception with the eyes,” he conceded. “But it can be perceived with many senses in a subtle way. You might feel it in the crisp air after a storm. You might hear it in the song of a bird. You might see it in the burning embers of a fire. You might sense it in the embrace of someone you love. Whenever we experience a moment of tranquility, we are experiencing the divine.”