The Rising

by SC Huggins

  Unable to stay still, she swung around to stare at her son. Head cocked to the side, she studied him. The boy had no magic and he compensated for it with the strength of a grown man but magic would win over physical strength any day. Following the death of the powerful witches, Rami was the most powerful in the clan, yet, the villagers respected the child more than they did the father.

  Jani moved to stand over son where he lay watching her warily. He didn’t flinch away, but met her gaze boldly. Whatever did the villagers see in him? Nonplussed, Jani’s brow furrowed and she frowned. They favored him, no doubt. The fear and hope the villagers had openly shown during his defeat at the dance of the ganga, their shouts of triumph when he returned from any hunt, none of these they spared Rami.

  “How did you hear what was said at the meeting?” Jani kept her tone quiet, smooth and non-threatening. She might have been preoccupied since she heard of the war, but that little detail niggled at her like insects eating away at her crops.

  Eyes wide but unflinching, Rork shook his head and opened his mouth, but before he would speak, Jani leaned into his face to bare her teeth at him.

  “Don’t you dare say you don’t know, if—”

  Rork went pale. “Mother,” he said, bringing his right hand over his stomach as he looked up at her with anxious eyes.

  Shaken, she stretched out her hand towards his stomach, hand trembling in awe.

  It worked.

  Right before her hand made contact with his stomach, she jerked away and swung round sharply, causing the end of her tunic to slap Rork across the face. She dashed to a corner of their hut with a curious Rork at her heels. Jani ignored him.

  She pulled frantically at a corner of the bedding she shared with Rami, fought with it for a while, and sobbed in relief when it finally gave. Beneath the bedding was a locked box partially buried in the ground. It had been easy to hide the box since Rami was quite particular about sleeping on the left side. Hastily, she worked on the lock with unsteady fingers.

  As she worked the lock, Jani cast her son a quick glance. Rork’s lips trembled in his fear and he quickly sank his teeth into it to stop the trembling.

  She cursed under her breath when the lock fell away with a thump, still unlocked. Pressing a thumb to the side of his head, Rork took a deep breath to quell the tide of panic rising up his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He tried again. “D-d-d-does that mean father is dead?”

  Jani paused and looked at her son. She held his gaze for a long moment. Unable to control himself, a light sheen of tears sprang into Rork’s steel-gray eyes. He blinked it off fast, but not before Jani saw it.

  Her open palm cracked against his cheeks with an overly loud sound in a room already fraught with tension. Rork stumbled, fell and righted himself fast. He blinked away the pain and met her eyes, though the red stamp of her fingers across his face was just as visible as if she held out her fingers before him and waved.

  “You are still the heir. Behave like one,” she whispered so harshly that drops of spittle fled her mouth to land on Rork’s chin.

  She turned her attention back to the troublesome lock. When the lock gave, she opened it and took out a shiny egg, an awed expression on her face. The egg glowed shiny and white, and it was unlike anything Jani had ever seen. Unable to tear her gaze away, her eyes stayed glued to the egg, as much as it had when Wereu entrusted it to her. She’d kept it well even if she had no idea why Wereu insisted on it before she agreed to help Jani with her plans.

  Jani rolled the egg once from one palm to another, her breath came in spurts as she waited in tense anticipation. Rork’s breath hit the side her face where he leaned over her shoulders to see better. She couldn’t tell if he was getting stronger or if his curiosity just won out his fear. Jani rolled the egg again, eyes roving frantically from the egg to the door, and in her anxiety, she saw time slipping away to be replaced by the council chiefs barging in to steal the throne.

  If Rami failed to return.

  Why the sudden decision to war with Chaldi? Jani frowned, something wasn’t right. When she left this morning for the farm, Rami was still asleep, and Rork too, uncharacteristically. But she knew running to the forest for the wood and game must have tired him out while for Rami, it was normal to begin his day late in the morning. There had been no news, no sign of previous conflict. If Rork was being truthful.

  “How did you—”

  The egg glowed brighter and even brighter still, illuminating their faces and casting shadows along the walls.

  Rork inhaled sharply.

  An annoying habit Jani would not have tolerated if she had the time, but her awed gaze was fixed on the egg. Yes, it lived. She could still hear the mad witch’s annoying whine, going on and on about how the egg must be kept alive, whatever that meant. Well, as much as she knew, it lived.

  But it didn’t explain her other strange request to bring Rork along or not come at all. Jani hadn’t cared enough to ask why because she’d been relieved the great witch finally agreed to help her with the plan. Now, added to the many odd events of today, she wondered, why Rork? Wereu had even instructed Jani ensure Rork had the egg on him whenever she chose to go ahead with her scheme. Why?

  Rork stumbled back when Jani rose and shoved the glittering egg into his hands in one quick movement- as eager to let the odd-looking egg off her hands. He stared at her suspiciously but she didn’t spare him a glance. Her breath left her nostrils in hot puffs as she looked around the room she had cried and hidden in for more than a decade. She walked around the room, picking and discarding objects fondly.

  He frowned, puzzled. But his puzzlement soon shifted to bewilderment when she pushed past him and looked outside. Jani blinked in surprise, while she was searching for and checking to see if the egg still lived, daylight had slowly trickled out to usher in the night. Seeing that the compound was clear of people, she urged her son out of the hut, pushing him into the darkening courtyard and dashed inside.

  Rork stood outside, egg in hand, Dago’s words of just a few days past reverberating in his skull. ‘Watch your father and listen closely to the meetings.’ While he stood there, feeling foolish, mother ran out to the side of their small hut. He hesitated as a rush of uneasiness gripped him.

  Almost immediately, Jani rushed out to see him, egg in hand, studying it closely. It glowed brightly again, illuminating his face. Suddenly, his steel-gray eyes glowed an eerie white. Her mouth dropped open in shock, as she watched, he hastily shoved the egg into the pocket of his linen like it burned. She blinked.

  The egg teetered on the edge of his pockets and Jani cried out in alarm and Rork jumped in shock as her sudden shout pierced the quiet of the night. Jani took a step forward before she knew it.

  The egg rolled out of his pockets and fell.

  Jani dropped on all fours and caught it just in time.

  For a moment, she clutched the egg to her chest with her eyes closed, relief a great weight holding her down. Finally, she opened her eyes to look into the frightened ones of her son. His wide eyes met hers, and he slowly took a deep breath. Council chiefs a long-forgotten memory, with slow deliberate movements, she rose and placed the egg carefully into his pockets, making sure her hand touched the bottom of his deep pockets before letting go.

  Rork didn’t move, but his chest rose and fell quickly as he panted in fear. Jani withdrew her hands carefully.

  She turned to Rork.

  “Why did you drop the egg so?” She drew each word out as slowly and deliberately as she had dropped the egg.

  “It grew very hot when I held it up and—”

  She struck him hard across the face, and stood over him, breathing harshly. If the egg had broken, how would she meet up with Tafik? No way, because Wereu would never help her. This was their agreement, keep the egg alive and with the boy at all times. She held her burning hand by her side stiffly as she surveyed the boy. He groaned softly and bent at the waist, clutching at his head, he pressed a thumb t
o his temples and rubbed vigorously.

  “What’s wrong with your head?”

  “Nothing,” he said, and winced.

  “What. is. wrong. with. your. head?” Jani bit out in harsh tones. “We are off to Chaldi and I will not stop until we get there.”

  “It aches,” he pointed to his temples, “especially here.”

  Jani frowned and stared at her son, then her expression cleared. “Wait here.”

  Working quickly and silently, Jani walked back to the house and picked some things which she hurriedly threw into a bag. A blade and a small pack of the remaining food from this morning. She didn’t want it obvious they were gone. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Rork watching and waiting with a puzzled frown on his handsome face. She laughed.

  The sound loud, dry and hysterical in the tense silence, it reminded her of Wereu and that sobered her quick. His headache couldn’t mean what she thought it meant. Young witches with great power suffered flashes of pain in the head as they grew into it. She shook her head, Rork was already far past the age, and he had no power. There was no time to deal with his headache any way. Before they reached Chaldi, the ache would be gone.

  Next, she took her harvesting tools, best for her if they thought she had gone for some work in the cool night air as some farmers were wont to do. She had done it before, so it shouldn’t arouse suspicion.

  Jani stopped at the back doorway and looked back at her home of many years. Quietly, she locked the door. Quickly, she harnessed the horses to the cart and urged Rork over.

  Jani jumped on the cart and urged the horses forward even before Rork climbed in.

  “So, you couldn’t get in and wait for me?” Jani hissed, “what were you waiting around for?”

  They moved off and she urged the horses to go faster. They rounded the corner and entered the path leading up to the forest connecting Virai to Chaldi. Heart pounding in tandem with the horses’ hoofs, Jani decided it was funny how the two rival villages remained close and linked to each other by a strip of forest. It made it easy for conflict to spread during a war as she’d heard about the Holocaust. Suddenly, shouts reached her ears and she swung around. Her eyes widened in fright when she saw two chiefs behind them.

  “Hold that egg well!” she screamed. Ignoring the curious gazes of a few sleepy villagers who left their huts to see what the commotion was about, she sped past.

  The cart tipped and Jani cursed under her breath. “Ya!” she shouted, struggling with the ropes. A quick sideways glance revealed Rork had turned to keep Virai and home in sight as it got smaller with increasing distance.

  “Sit and don’t move,” she snapped.

  “Mother!” Rork called out, his voice rife with alarm, fear and grief that Jani turned around. Far in the direction of where their house would be, huge tongues of fire rose high into the sky. Rork gasped and swung sharply to stare at his mother, accusation and anger clear as day on his face.

  The icy hands of fear gripped her despite the heat from the ride. She faced forward slowly. “If you don’t turn around right this moment and face foward I will slap you so hard you’ll fall off this cart,” she warned without taking her eyes off the road.

  The light from the distant flames drew patterns that mirrored the confused and shocked look on Rork’s face. He bounced right along each time the cart tilted and bumped along the rough path.

  Jani cursed loudly when the cart tilted again!

  “Sit still!”

  Jani blessed the gods for whatever or whoever put the thought of the ancient old family arrangement in the minds of the previous ruling families. Placing the more prominent families at the periphery of the village for easier and faster escape during an unwinnable war helped their escape a great deal.

  She spared her farm no glance as the cart raced past it, racing towards that sweet path in the forest, that neat divide that glowed like dark hair parted through the middle. Jani had prayed so much for this day, prayed too hard to leave this life that she nearly sobbed in relief.

  “Mother, father is back, look,” Rork said, excited, pointing a finger back in the direction of the flames.

  Jani turned. Her farm was ablaze, the farm they’d just run past? How was that possible? She stared at the pure yellow flames, and trepidation danced a happy trail down her spine. That yellow color of fire and the sudden fury of the flames, Jani shook her head. The scepter. It meant Rami was back and it also meant... Jani hesitated. No.

  She cursed, stopped the cart and turned around fully. She stared.

  Two familiar figures stood there.

  Just beyond the flames, Rami stood. Jani blinked, for she must be seeing things. Shocked, she whipped her head around until she faced the road. Tafik should be in Chaldi waiting for her, that was the plan. What was he doing in Virai with Rami?

  In total consternation, Jani laughed mirthlessly, she swung around and blinked- yes, that was a scepter in Rami’s hand. The old object used to magically draw up fierce flames of fire.

  Jani spoke without drawing her gaze from the flames.

  “What is that in your father’s hand?” she asked in a faint whisper.

  “A-a-a scepter.” Rork replied shakily.

  Why would Rami burn down the farm? Shouldn’t he be overturning the village searching for them, his family? Jani suspected she would only know the answer to that question if she knew why they went to war with Chaldi without even deigning to alert the village. They had acted as if they were going for a quick skirmish, to settle a rebellion rather than an all out war.

  The scepter was a black rod with a hollow center used in magical arts to conjure up huge flames. The one Rami still held had smoke trickling out of its hollow center, which meant the scepter had just been used.

  No, surely it didn’t mean what she thought. Face set and expressionless, Jani turned away. “Come,” she snapped at the boy.

  Rork hesitated. He looked back again. “But father-” he began. “Come,” she snapped, cutting off his whining.

  “Ya!” she spurred the horse and they clattered off at a slower pace than she liked.

  “Mother!”

  She ignored him, jaw set at a determined line as she sought to increase the distance between them and the brothers.

  Rork flung himself from the horse driven cart, landing deftly on his feet. “We should wait for father. I want to go back,” he replied in a strong but quavering voice. He was trying to hide it, but recent events confused him.

  Jani stopped the cart and stared down at Rork, his sudden defiance surprised her. He never figured into her plans to run off with Tafik. The only reason he was with her was because Wereu insisted on it. Well, she could still meet up with Tafik in Chaldi on another pretext.

  Her eyes roved over the youthful lines of his features sadly, there was nothing to connect his chiseled jaw, steel-gray eyes and silver blonde hair to Rami’s brown haired and shaggy brown bearded appearance. Pity for what he would soon suffer almost unfurled in Jani’s heart when she observed how he met her gaze with a stubborn lift of his chin. He held his ground, the egg in his pocket so unnaturally heavy it caused his tunic to drag downwards cutting into his shoulders.

  Swallowing down her impatience, Jani also jumped down and moved to her son. She knelt before him, pushed his hair off his face and studied him closely. It was a pity the boy had no powers, for he had the courage most grown men prayed for. Her eyes narrowed on Rork, fixing on his eyes, she held her breath as the steel gray orbs shifted to pure white. She blinked. There was the natural gray color again.

  Rork rubbed at his temple. It was annoying. She shook him sharply. “Stop it.”

  No, she must be seeing things. Jani laughed out humorlessly and sobered up when Rork looked even more puzzled. “Your father is not who you think he is. We have to move, now.”

  She gripped Rork by the elbows and attempted to propel him forward. He didn’t give. Jani glanced down desperately. “We have to go,” her words were rife with urgency.

  Rork
simply stared back, unmoved.

  Jani shrugged and turned away to hide her frustration. She admired his courage, even though it was too late. It was time Rork knew who his father really was- a mass murderer and a thief. Yes, Rork should see for himself how much his father hated him for undermining his grip on his kingdom. It was the least she could do for him, Jani decided.

  Walking leisurely now, in stark contrast to her earlier show of frustration and urgency, she moved towards a nearby outcropping and sat to wait.

  “You need your father?” she asked in a slightly more reassuring tone.

  Hesitantly, Rork nodded. “Come sit down while we wait,” she suggested calmly.

  Rork eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then walked over and stood beside her. “Thank you,” he acknowledged after a moment.

  Jani studied him, then looked away abruptly, dirty blond locks swinging. “Don’t thank me,” she snapped.

  “Mother,” Rork began hesitantly, “can I put the egg down?” he turned his tunic over to display red streaks on his shoulders where the weight of the egg caused the tunic to cut into it.

  Jani eyed him dispassionately. “Carry your own load,” she snapped.

  “WHERE’S SHE, HOW DID she know we were coming?” Rami asked his brother for the umpteenth time.

  “How am I supposed to know that? We were together in Chaldi. I don’t read minds. You keep asking like it’s all my fault. What has come over you? We are in this together, aren’t we?”

  “Are we?”

  Tafik frowned at his brother, while resentment ate away at his insides. He hated their tradition, hated their culture and hated their village. But he loved the privileges that came with being related to the Qiga. Tafik shuddered to think what would have become of him if he was descended from a common family. He was careful to hide his resentment, some things where better left unsaid. Who knew what his brother would do with the knowledge?

  Where his brother had everything- magic and rulership, he was left with nothing. What he had to call his own were his looks, and he made sure to put it to good use.