The Rising

by SC Huggins

  And the throne meant more to Rami than anything else on Uwan.

  An eerie mortal cry jerked his head up and Pena stared hard into the sky.

  Nothing.

  He gave his head full of white hair a sharp shake, chagrined. A woman wouldn’t be this scared of nothing. He would go home to his sons, teach and remind them of the old ways and sleep.

  THE CHIEFS HAD LONG since gone. The weather was mild, the crops in full bloom, the village quiet, as was usual in the harvest season. The farmers of Virai worked hard and long on their farms, especially those without much magic, since they had to work thrice as hard.

  Rami ensured the good weather.

  He thought of Rork, mildly irritated that his thoughts were filled with the boy, even now.

  The boy could sit for hours on end, eyes closed, inhaling deeply with both palms pressed to the earth. Watching, feeling the land breath beneath him, he explained one day when Rami bothered to ask why. With an exasperated sigh, Rami sat back and breathed in the fresh scent of a bright, happy day. He held his breath and released it. For just a moment he enjoyed the freedom and the taste of hope. The hope and now, surety that his worries would soon be erased.

  Now, Rami could almost begin to understand Rork’s fascination with the land. Almost. Lush green grass, fertile farmlands, a thick forest bordering the outskirts of the village and a clear sparkling stream to the south made Virai an attraction for travelers from other clans looking to settle down. The years have seen thousands and thousands of migrants make the long, arduous journey, just to see if reality matches the stories they have heard about the land. A paradise of almost sensuous beauty, with just enough food, water and every other necessity required to keep the village thriving. Virai had it all.

  The Wakay clan consists of twelve outlying villages, including the two largest villages, Virai and Chaldi, with each village clustered in families. Each family had its power and overall head. Rami was head over his family, Mapu, his village Virai, and the whole Wakay clan. For more than twenty years, the Mapu family ruled Wakay after successfully usurping power from Chaldi.

  The choice of rulership was simple; the family with the greatest power, the most cunning sorcery rules. A serving priest from any of the neighboring lands was called on to pick the strongest family and crown the new ruler in the Ferti ceremony. Ferti was usually more a formality than an actual ceremony. Rami tugged on his beards in frustration, because it was impossible to hide powerful magic, right from infancy, the whole village would already know their Qiga and begin serving him long before the Ferti made it official. So, everyone knew Rork had no power. The Mapu family was the most powerful of all the families now. It was unheard of that the rulership should change suddenly and overturn the decision of the Ferti. Only once had it occurred, during the Chaldi Holocaust.

  “If you can still feel the person, we can go to Chaldi and back before the witch undo our plans. We can still follow the plan, if the person had the power to do anything, he would have done it,” Tafik said, breaking into his thoughts.

  Rami rose abruptly and walked to the door. Tafik joined him. Their magic combined would be enough to handle any threat Chaldi might pose.

  “Did any family of the old Qiga survive the holocaust?” he asked his brother quietly.

  Tafik flinched. It was a subject they skirted around because the blood spilled those days still weighed on their minds. “You know none of them lived.”

  “Even the mad heir?”

  “Yes.”

  Rami released a breath and his eyes tracked the surroundings but the worry in his heart refused to go away.

  “It was a good idea to kill off all their witches,” Tafik muttered.

  Rami only grunted in reply. Tafik was a fool, he didn’t bother to think ahead, but Rami tried to think of everything. He was a planner. If only he had the power to see into the future, he wouldn’t have married Jani. He wouldn’t have Rork for a son. It was because he made sure to think of everything that he wasn’t expecting any problem. Their attack would be a surprise- unless the eavesdropper managed to get all the way to Chaldi before them. Which was impossible.

  Studying the downward curve of his brother’s mouth, Tafik marveled at his ugliness. Rami should bless the ancestors every day as his powerful magic more than matched his ugly face, if not, he would have had nothing to recommend him.

  “Stop worrying,” Tafik said, “the triga will get us ahead of the person, no one else possesses such a powerful ancestral object or anything like it.”

  Small and shaped like a wooden box, the brown object passed down the line of Qigas was used for traveling long distances. It only required a trigger or a great power to give it a push needed to work. Tafik had the privilege of only touching it, and not the power to use it. Without his brother, he couldn’t even use it. His power alone wasn’t a big enough trigger.

  Now, Tafik handed the triga to Rami. Eyeing the three-stemed object with distaste, he hid his displeasure with effort, there wasn’t anything special about it. Why restrict its use to the Qiga only? If Virai suffered an emergency in Rami’s absence, Tafik would rule in his stead, how then would he use it?

  Rami could only power it up half way since he could barely focus. With a smirk, Tafik cupped his brother’s elbow at the same time he called out. “Sema,” the word was uttered with deep respect and acknowledgment of his position.

  A light flashed twice, the second time, it enveloped the two men just before they disappeared.

  LIGHTNING QUICK, RORK used the broom to gather the dirt into a heap, gathered it and raced off to join mother on the farm.

  Jani picked up the sound of her son’s running steps in the light breeze of the morning long before she saw him. Giving her head a quick shake, Jani smiled to herself, surprised a little of her magical powers remained.

  He should have been here long before now.

  As was the custom, a woman’s powers reverted to their husbands on consummation of the marriage. As a result, choosing a marriage partner involved more than just finding the woman attractive. The great Matriarch in the genealogy of her family who had been blessed with the gift of prophecy never married, so her powers died with her. Jani wasn’t even sure she was descended of the great witch, especially since her clan was nowhere near Virai.

  But that had been more than a thousand years ago. The likelihood of the powers making a reappearance was about as possible as Rami turning handsome and considerate.

  Or Rork growing into the most powerful witch in Virai.

  Or Old Pena transforming into a young man.

  The Mapu family went from hoping for a manifestation of the gift to doubting the existence of the great Matriarch. Her existence being a tale cooked to give the Klauser family importance.

  But Jani knew this was not true. She knew it was a fear of the gift that caused every female from her family to be snapped up quickly by eligible ruling Heads despite their less than spectacular looks. Even as they doubted the Matriarch’s existence, nobody wished to miss out on the chance she might have existed and passed on her powers to later descendants.

  Hence her marriage to Rami.

  Never would she have thought she would enjoy being married to the Head of Virai. But it had not been an entirely bad ride so far. She smiled slightly with a satisfied smirk. Certainly not.

  She sat up when she spied Rork’s blond head moving quickly among the crops and stood so he could easily see her. Rork raised his head briefly, saw her and ran flat out. He knew he was late.

  He stopped abruptly before her. Jani struggled to hide her irritation as she surveyed his dusty form. Must he run everywhere, couldn’t he be graceful like his uncle Tafik? Wondered the woman with the straggly hair and dull skin no amount of bathing would cause to glow.

  Angry, Jani turned away but a gleam- perhaps a trick of the light, caught her eye and she swung around to study her son, his steel gray eyes shone as they always did.

  But this time they glowed white

  She t
ook two steps towards him and stopped. Tipping his head back, she cupped his face between her hands and studied him closely. It was like looking back at her own face, same straight nose, high cheekbones and of course the cursed unruly blond hair. But the same features that merged to create an ordinary looking woman merged in a strange way to produce a stunningly handsome boy.

  He would be even better looking than his uncle in the future, she thought sadly.

  There was almost nothing of his father in him, bless the great Matriarch. Just the dark brows and the stubborn jaw, maybe. Big maybe, especially since the father’s jaw was hidden beneath his huge unsightly beard.

  She looked into his eyes and knew something was wrong.

  “What happened?” she asked him and smoothed a thumb through his dark eyebrow.

  In the carefree way only a child could muster, Rork forgot his initial resentment at his mother’s irritation and excitedly told her everything. Jani only heard two things -he had somehow listened in on a council meeting which she found difficult to believe, and the planned annihilation of Chaldi that would affect her friend, the eccentric Wereu.

  Why would Virai go to war with Chaldi? It didn’t make any sense simply because there was no reason she should. Yes, Jani knew from the Chaldi villagers who were willing to talk how much it irked them to have to defer to a smaller village like Virai.

  She picked the easier of the two to tackle. “How were you able to listen in on their conversation?”

  “I don’t know,” Rork said.

  If only she still had her full powers, she would have sent a message to Wereu, Jani thought gnawing at the tender skin of her lips worriedly. Only Tafik could push Rami towards such a decision.

  What to do? The boy had no such power to listen in on a council meeting. So, he might be lying.

  But Rork rarely ever told a lie and there was no reason why he should. She gnawed at her lips anxiously as another realization hit her- he couldn’t have dreamed up the war plan, so where could he have heard such a strange talk of war? Should she go on to Chaldi now? Or wait for the brother’s return? Surely, they must be an explanation for this sudden talk of war. The Chaldi’s had long accepted their place, they had no choice especially since they had no witch powerful enough to challenge Rami.

  Jani forced out a breath, she planned making a trip to Chaldi tomorrow anyway, so she could still warn Wereu whether it be true or not. She directed Rork to pack up her tools. Soon, they headed home.

  The betrayal

  Jani shivered, and the weather had nothing to do with it. Rami had still not returned. More than six hours since he left with Tafik, and he still had not returned. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, Jani closed her eyes to the sound of Rork preparing for bed. The usual rustling sound of the broom brushing the ground as he tidied up and the bedding being shaken to drive off insects should have been as comforting as it normally was, but not this time.

  Was it her imagination, or where the chiefs loitering around even more than usual, hours after the council meeting? Perhaps, it was nothing, Jani decided. She moved to the window and looked out at the beauty spread out before her. Say what you will about Virai, but her environs were breathtaking. It was her favorite part of the day, that short time between her return from the farm and when she had to begin the evening meal. Rork would have been out hunting or farming someone’s farmstead for much needed coin or whatever else he did to keep the family going while his father did his rulership thing. Jani grimaced at that thought, Rami was a lazy fool- well, never a fool, for he was too cunning to be called a fool. She bit her lip in frustration, ugly as he was, he didn’t have anything else to recommend him. There was nothing wrong with being unattractive, Jani knows she was aware of what she looked like. But to be slimy, cunning, wicked and lazy right along with it? It was unforgivable. This period was her respite, and she meant to enjoy it while he was out. She’d have liked to have the hut to herself, but she’d just block Rork out as she always did.

  Jani propped her elbows carefully on the steady part of the windows. At the sight of the dilapidated wood just supporting the windows, Jani flushed in anger and turned to Rork, but an image of her son with his message of war stopped her cold. What was window when her future hinged on the outcome of the unnecessary war. What had her husband done now, she wondered snidely.

  “Will the troops be meeting them there?” she asked.

  “Father and Uncle went alone—”

  “Of course they did,” Janai snapped, “will our soldiers meet them there or will it be just the two of them?”

  “I never heard talk of our soldiers.”

  “A skirmish not a war then,” Jani murmured absently.

  Wereu.

  Whatever else he desired, he could go right ahead and do it, but she needed the old witch safe. The—

  A twig snapped to the left of the compound and Jani jerked her head in that direction. She froze. Across the distance, her grey eyes met startled old green ones, before they glanced away guiltily. One of the council chiefs ambled past, making stops to greet villagers here and there. But his eyes tracked the house and the throne room for signs of activity, a sign that the head of the house had returned. Jani didn’t know his name, she hadn’t cared to, but Rork would know it. Not long after, another member of the council walked past, greedy eyes set on both the house and the woman standing by the window. Jani shivered. There was no doubt the chiefs were hovering, for a reason. For long moments, she remained frozen by the window, Jani shook her head and tried to bring her racing pulse under control. She needed her wits about her. Distractedly, she walked out into the cool air, strolling through their neat little compound in short strides.

  She nodded absently at some and suffered through small exchanges with a few villagers as they walked past. Soon, the news of an impending war spread like a crawling animal slithering across a rock surface through the village. How it spread, Jani didn’t know, but the anxious faces around her and the pounding feet of the people as they ran for their homes said it all.

  Her eyes narrowed. There was no way Rork would be safe in Virai if Rami was cut down in battle. But how did they move from the peaceful day to talk of a war so quickly? The chiefs wouldn’t waste any time mourning their Qiga before making a dash for the throne, she knew. Rami had not been a fair ruler. They needed to flee, now.

  RORK SAW THEM FIRST.

  As young as he was, he was very patient. Too patient Jani thought. Though, it made him a good hunter, his quiet observance and constant awareness of his surroundings usually annoyed her, but there was nothing usual about their present circumstance. Rork would always stay wide awake and alert whenever his father left for any skirmish with other villages. Legend had it the surviving family member would experience a fleeting sensation of fullness whenever a loved one dies. Jani had no idea how or if it happened, but every mortal knew the power must end up somewhere, from wife to husband on consummation of marriage or from father to son upon his death. She didn’t know how true it was, but Rami had sworn he’d experienced the feeling akin to being overfed when his father died. Not that she believed anything he said, since that man would say anything to lift the value of his worthless family.

  Jani turned to keep Rork in her sights, and was gratified to see his slanting dark brows drawn together as he waited tensely, watchful for the sign of fullness. It was their little ritual whenever Rami went off to war. Though Virai had enjoyed such a long period of peaceful times, that it had never happened. The few times Rami went off to settle skirmishes in the other villages, they would wait up for him. Wait for that feeling of fullness that would confirm his death.

  “Better be alert and awake,” she warned, unnecessary for Rork was calmly waiting.

  “I know,” he said.

  “So, you might inherit the throne and gain the respect of the village through your father’s death, how do you feel about it?” she couldn’t resist taunting him.

  Rork felt sick to his stomach and his only reply was to
turn away.

  “Remember it will never be enough. The other villages will never accept you because you need your own magic.” Jani raked her eyes over her son’s form. “There’s great magic on your father and mother’s side, and yet...” she looked overcome as her lips twisted contemptuously.

  “The First Priest said the powers goes into the Blackstone,” Rork replied.

  “He’s an old man.”

  “Old Pena said the...” Rork trailed off.

  Bitterness and anger clawed their way up Jani’s throat to suffuse her face an unbecoming red.

  “Who cares about Old Pena, we were talking about your weakness. Are you content to remain like this?” she spat.

  Rork looked away, wishing she would stop.

  In two steps, she stood over him, the bare sandy floor and wooden walls that they called home, an unwelcome reminder of the poor state of the house.

  An ugly home, an uglier husband, and to make matters worse, a powerless son content to remain so if his reply was anything to go by. His very presence a mockery of her strong family.

  “You are,” she whispered, stunned.

  The boy’s face went so pale the unusually dark brows stood out against his white skin. Jani shook her head, hand itching with the urge to strike him, but she pulled back.

  Jani turned to stare out the courtyard instead, if Rami wished to return, he should do so now. For one, she had no patience to deal with the chiefs and the confusion that would follow news of his death and another, she had important matters in Chaldi.

  Jani bit her lip, despite herself, she was more than a little bit apprehensive. Her teeth formed ridges in the soft skin of her mouth where she sank her teeth into it and she ran her tongue over the slight depression, thoughtfully.