The Rising
Page 2
“Same sword, different man,” Rork replied.
“How do you know?” Dago asked.
“I squeezed the penis of the man too hard I’m sure he won’t be able to walk properly.”
Dago laughed. “I know you fight dirty.”
“That’s how he beat us in the dance of the ganga,” another piped up.
“The sword is remarkable,” the son of the swordsmith was still obsessed with the sword.
“What’s he waiting for?” Dago asked impatiently. He was always too eager to use his fighting or magical skills.
“I think he’s trying to decide where to start from.”
“Who to start with,” Rork murmured.
As they watched, the man spat on the ground and ran back into the bush. Rork released a deep breath. Eyes on the scene and mind on the attacker last night, Rork narrowed his eyes. This man was shorter than the one from last night and thicker too were the other was lean. Why him?
“Why did you take so long?” Dago asked.
“I had to plant gea and do some other things. I’m almost done. Wait here let me get the firewood home.”
“Why do your mother come to farm if she’s going to sleep all day?” Dago muttered in frustration. He loved hunting and hated when they couldn’t spend more time in the bush with the animals.
“And how will my answer to that useless question help you?” Rork snapped.
“Sorry.”
“Go on,” one of the boys suggested, “I will get the firewood home for you—”
“No,” Rork shook his head, “I can’t let you do that. It’s my work and our home is far and the load is heavy and—”
“He wants to help, let him,” Dago urged.
“When I was sick you and Dago helped my mother with the firewood. Go on, I know where to meet you.”
Dago grabbed Rork’s arm and led him a few feet from the other two boys. Rork’s eyes pierced the forest glade and his ears prickled, listening for the familiar sounds of the animals making their way around their home. Dago stopped a few feet away and studied his friend. He hated that he had to look up since Rork was taller. He would need to petition Divina harder since he didn’t wish to be as short as his father.
“Are you alright?” Dago asked.
Rork nodded. “It was just a small attack. We don’t need to act like girls over it.”
Dago nodded. “An attempt on one’s life is a small thing.”
Rork grimaced. “I really thought he was after my father.”
“Well, now we know it’s you he wants. The question is why?”
Rork rubbed the back of his neck, and shrugged. “Like Iz said, I’m not special.”
“You are the heir.” Dago looked away and back again. “Why didn’t you hear him come in?”
“You talked to your father?” Rork gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Why are you still asking questions after talking to him. is there something you want to ask me?”
Dago swallowed. “I am not asking about your magic. We all know what happened during the last dance. I figured you’ll tell me when you’re ready to. But this man knows when to strike. He knows you. He knew you’d be exhausted from working on the farm at this time.” He broke off abruptly. “Who apportioned work to you because you usually do not stay so long at the farm that we have to go hunting so late.”
Rork swallowed. “My mother.”
Dago sighed wistfully. “It must be exciting being attacked like that.”
Rork eyed him askance. “Exciting?”
“You get to fight real fights, matured fights. Just be careful because you’re the best hunting partner.”
“ARE THERE STILL DEJIS in our time?”
The question surprised Rork. He’d always thought all the Dejis had been taken up to continue immortal lives above in the ancestral realm. The possibility that one more Deji can be chosen in their time was surprising. He paid attention to the First Priest’s reply.
“No one knows for sure,” the older man answered, smiling slightly at the enthusiasm of his students for all things Deji.
“Why not?” Dago asked sharply. “I would think we need to know so we can...” he trailed off.
“Do what?” Rork asked, “start worshipping a Deji that hasn’t even been taken up?”
“No mortal knows,” the First Priest repeated.
Rork eyes narrowed and the older man felt the glance everywhere. The young heir would have made a great ruler. He had kindness, empathy and a leader’s heart. But without power he couldn’t rule the twelve villages.
“So you’re saying there’s absolutely no way to know who will be taken up?” Yemi one of the boys asked.
The First Priest tugged on his white beards. “None at all. Our creator, The Ancestral Mother determines who joins her in immortal life. I’ve also heard the one to be taken up also knows.” He shrugged. “But I can’t say exactly since I’ve yet to meet a Deji.”
“How does the AM choose a Deji?” Iz asked.
The First Priest of Virai rose, white robes swirling around his thin legs. Rork glanced over at Iz past the heads of the other attentive students and smiled. He cut his eyes across to Dago and saw his smirk. They all knew what was coming.
“Exactly eighty students of your age group are opportuned to pass through my class every year,” The First Priest began a diatribe every student heard at least three times a day. “And you all know my rules. The Ancestral Mother is the creator of all things. She alone is the reason why you’re alive and seated here. Never, never call her ‘AM”
“I won’t do it again,” Iz said hurriedly, eager to escape a familiar lesson.
“You were about telling us how The Ancestral Mother choose a Deji,” Dago prompted.
The First Priest sighed. “It’s another puzzling thing. But we’ve noticed that every Deji chosen are all very powerful witches with a special ability to control and limit the use of their powers.”
“Are girls chosen as Dejis?” Yemi asked.
“Yes. The Matriarch, the Deji through whom I approach the creator is female. Divina, the Utay to The Ancestral Mother is also female. They were all powerful witches as mortals.”
“Why then are girls not allowed in the classroom?” Yemi asked.
Hot color flooded the face of the First Priest. Everyone knew Yemi’s sister, Zada was the most powerful witch for her age group of fourteen, both male and female.
“This class should have been over,” the First Priest replied turning away to grab a walking stick he didn’t need.
“Wait,” Rork called, surprising everyone including himself. “If Zada were to be a child of the Qiga would she be allowed into the classroom?”
The First Priest sighed. “Maybe. You all know I can’t answer that question.”
As the students walked out minutes later, Rork sought out Dago. “Are we still going hunting?”
“Why?” Dago frowned, brushing the dust off his tunic. “We all went together yesterday. You can’t have eaten all that meat so quickly.”
Rork dodged a mock hit from one of the passing boys. “My mother needs more.”
“What does she do with—”
“Are you going or not?” Rork asked sharply.
“I need to get home first,” Dago murmured. “See if I’m needed.”
“Rork.”
Rork walked over to the First Priest. A glance around his hut showed four wide patches of missing palm fronds through which sunlight and rain could leak through. His home consisted of a waste bowl turned over in a corner and a spread tunic for pallet. The meat Rork delivered four days ago was spread over a thin fire. His living conditions were a stark contrast to how the Yas’ Priest lived. It was a sin for a priest to serve any other Deji than the Qiga’s in Virai, no matter how powerful the priest proved to be. The small flames threw a part of the room into shadow.
“You called.”
“Sit.”
Rork sat before the First Priest and watched the older man with interest. With h
is eyes closed and a half of his face in shadow, the man had never looked so old. He opened his eyes and fixed Rork with a hard stare.
“Why does my family serve Yas?”
The First Priest started. “Shouldn’t you be asking Yas’ Priest or better yet, your father?”
Rork held his gaze until the older man sighed and looked away.
“You have never asked about the holocaust,” he said suddenly.
Rork shrugged. “It happened more than two decades ago and many people died. I have my own problems.”
The First Priest gave a rare smile. “You have, don’t you?” he looked away. “The holocaust is more important to your family than you can possibly think.”
“It doesn’t concern—”
“It is affecting you even now!”
Rork frowned. “I’m listening.”
“Why?”
Rork raised an eyebrow. “Why am I listening? Because you just said it concerns me.”
“Who ruled before the holocaust?”
“The Chaldis ruled the Wakay clan and it’s twelve villages.”
“How does a power shift occur?”
“In order to better protect the clan, the most powerful witch rule or if the most powerful cannot be chosen, power is rotated among the twelve villages.”
“Good, you’ve always been an attentive student. Was your father the most powerful witch at the time before the holocaust?”
“I wasn’t even born,” Rork said.
“The answer is no.”
“No,” Rork repeated faintly.
“Was it time for a rotation or a shift of power?”
Rork shook his head. “I don’t remember.”
“You do, and the answer is still no. These precedents laid the foundation for the bloodiest war we’ve ever experienced and put the Mapu family and Rami on a throne not theirs.”
The First Priest leaned forward. “Make sure you pay attention to my every word.”
“I am.”
“The entire lineage of Yas, the Deji was wiped off during the same holocaust. I heard one of your early descendants might have been a bastard of the mortal Yas. Perhaps that is why your father chose him to serve.”
Rork nodded. Like the pile of firewood he spent hours gathering yesterday, he tied the words of the First Priest together and placed it somewhere to examine later. “May I go now?”
The First Priest gave him a sad smile. “I can’t speak too clearly, not now. And I don’t need to. Events are aligning like an animal caught in a hunter’s trap.” He rose abruptly without the cane. “I heard what happened yesterday. Your father is determined to maintain peace in this clan and that’s a good thing. Be careful.
The Deji
2367 AME
The Ancestral Realm
“How does it feel to have this much power, Mother?”
The Ancestral Mother looked up as her Deji dropped down so sharply he nearly clipped her with his large wings. His white glittering powerful form stretched out so wide; it dwarfed the great expanse of the ancestral realm.
“Why do you ask?”
“I just returned from Uwan,” he breathed, “I saw so much...life,” he gasped.
I am filled with so much awe and love for you Mother. You are great and powerful, and I will spend the rest of my immortal life, serving you, pleasing you. She watched him calmly as she read his mind.
“I am filled with so much awe and love for you Mother. You are great and powerful, and I will spend the rest of my immortal life, serving you, pleasing you,” he whispered and bowed low.
He bowed low with his wings spread out so wide he looked in danger of tipping over.
She sighed. “As you should.”
“Yes,” he whispered fiercely, earnestly. “I will remain by your side for all time, and I will do whatever—”
“Don’t you tire of these words of praise?”
“What will you have me do Mother? You created me to serve you, didn’t you?” he asked and took a step forward to kneel before her.
“Yes,” she replied softly, the intense light of adoration and love in his eyes shining brighter than his white-gold form. It left her discomfited, and she looked away uncomfortably. “I thought that’s what I wanted,” she whispered.
He stretched his hands out in supplication. “You gave me life I will do anything for you. Just tell me what you want—”
“What did you see that had you rushing in?”
He rocked back on his heels and blew out a breath. The air positively pulsed with excitement. Despite herself, The Ancestral Mother was almost intrigued.
“What did you see?”
“Life,” he replied quietly.
She stared at him nonplussed. “Life,” she repeated flatly.
“Yes, Mother.” he grinned widely and rose to his incredible height of a little over nine feet. “Please, let’s go down and see.”
What was she thinking creating so powerful and great a Deji? The Ancestral Mother leaned back and eyed his white glittering form in amusement, for he had no idea he was powerful, and his power grew with each passing day. He towered over her easily, her dainty five foot form no match for his height.
A sigh gusted out of her. She was so bored it grated. Endless days of emptiness stretched out ahead of her like the limitless space of the ancestral realm. There was nothing new, no surprises, and certainly no excitement. The dancing light in her Deji’s eyes would say otherwise, but she already knew what he wished to show her. His tomorrow, his very thoughts, she knew it all.
“Let’s go.”
“Thank you, Mother,” he laughed excitedly and floated ahead of her in the direction of the shiny boundary delineating the ancestral realm.
The silvery tiny seal separating the realm from Uwan glimmered; unbroken, it held the ancestral realm together. She alone had the power to break it open and descend to Uwan. Well, up till some months ago.
As she watched, he stretched out his right powerful wings and brought the sharp lower edge sharply on the glimmering seal. It snapped open, and without hesitation, he moved past it and began the descent to Uwan.
The Ancestral Mother grimaced at yet another evidence of his growing power.
He stopped mid air and turned.
She studied the sturdy legs and outstretched wings and sighed. But for the Deji's unstable power, she'd done a great job bringing a creature of such beauty to life. Reluctantly, she drew her eyes to his face.
I’m so sorry Mother, I should have sought your permission first, but I was too excited to see Uwan again. I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t break the seal before, but suddenly, I thought it and broke it.
“I’m so sorry Mother, I should have sought your permission first, but I was too excited to see Uwan again. I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t break the seal before but—”
“I already know,” she said with a sigh. “Go.”
He laughed in relief and almost contagious excitement and dropped from sight.
The Ancestral Mother shook her head and followed. All these for a piece of leaf.
As she floated down the skies towards Uwan, the creator thought of what she must do.
“Mother,” her Deji called reverently, “see what you created.”
In his palm, he held out a piece of leaf, the green a stark contrast in his silvery white palm. “Life,” he whispered.
“See how the waters and the sky shine the same way,” he continued in an awed tone. “See how strong what we are standing on is?” he shook his head. “Mother you’re mighty and more than worthy of the love and worship I have to give.”
“That’s right,” she murmured.
“Look!” he pointed excitedly. “The trees are growing as tall as you said it would.”
“Yes.”
“But do you know what’s missing?”
“A creature to enjoy it,” she replied.
He laughed. “I love the way you read my mind and actions. It reminds me of your mighty power.”
He frowned. “Is that good or bad?”
She hesitated and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Bad I think.”
“How can your being able to read my mind a bad thing?” he asked, puzzled. “But you created it that way.”
“Yes.”
“How then is it a bad thing? It doesn’t spoil anything.” He spread his hands wide. “See the beauty you created Mother. So much po—”
“Mother!” He screamed as the sharp edge of his great wings snapped in two.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you doi—”
He screamed. The sound loud, guttural and filled with so much pain The Ancestral Mother blinked and looked away.
“Mother!” he gasped and crawled frantically towards her, his clipped wings dragged across the sands as he moved, and she knew exactly how much pain he was suffering.
Because she felt it too.
“Immortality,” he gasped, “we were to spend it together.”
She forced herself to return her eyes back to his. The beautiful white eyes that brimmed with laughter and excitement constantly were wild and tortured.
“I never said so. Do not assume where I haven’t spoken,” she added sharply.
He clutched his chest and groaned. “But you knew I thought so,” he shouted wildly, angrily. “And you let me go on believing—”
The left wing snapped, and he keeled forward to crumple at her feet.
“Mother,” he gasped, “I have no right to ask anything of you, but—”
“I’m sorry.”
“And no one can question you,” he whispered bitterly.
“Yes.”
“Please, Mother,” he breathed weakly. “I’m all you have—”
“I will create another.”
He glanced up sharply, a crack of clarity shining through the madness of pain in his eyes. “Mother,” he whispered in shock.
“Yes,” she confirmed.
“But why?” he cried. “What have I done to deserve this?” he swallowed. “My worship wasn’t enough?”