The Rising

by SC Huggins

  She laughed out bitterly.

  They had made a huge mistake.

  She brushed away the tiny stones stuck to her palms from leaning against the wall of the cave. Her mind rapidly examined all the facts. Jani recalled the look in Wereu’s eyes when she brought Rork, the satisfaction. She sifted through their conversations and realized with a sinking heart that Wereu had never committed herself to helping her. Not really. She recalled their conversation clearly. ‘Bring the boy, make sure he has the egg on him, and I will help you’. Where was the assurance in that?

  What had she gotten herself into?

  Jani paced away from the caves, eyes wide with fear, she had to do something, but what? She took a step forward and pulled up short. A rider approached.

  Legs flying in a flurry of limbs, she walked backwards, eyes roving the caves for a hiding place. in that moment, with her blond hair in strags down her back, there was not much difference between the mad Wereu and the lucid Jani.

  Open and rocky, the path leading to the caves held no hidden corners. She could only hope it was Tafik coming to see what was taking so long. Jani held her breath and stared expectantly into the distance. Then, her breath left her in a rush when she saw the rider. Tafik.

  THE UNCLE WAS HERE.

  Wereu moved fast, she had lusted after revenge too long for her physical weakness to deny her now. She kicked away waste, rummaging through discarded rags, old tunics, leaves and Mother knew what else, in her search for the kappa. She could hear herself hyperventilating as desperation clawed at her innards. The idea of creating another kappa crossed her mind, but Wereu brushed it off with the same violent reaction she had used on the insects. She couldn’t lift herself, let alone use her powers.

  No strength and no time.

  Wereu gnawed her lower lip in frustration.

  The kappa was one of the toughest and the lightest containers. Ancient magicians used it to transport large and delicate materials over long distances. And no matter the difficulties in travel and the distance, the transported item would arrive at its destination with nary a scratch.

  Wereu needed the kappa to take the boy far away. It was the only way. She sighed, kicked over a pile of rags, wrinkling her nose at the wave of smell that rose and continued rummaging. The dirt and waste seemed to grow higher before her weary eyes. With a moan, Wereu crawled over to another pile, unable to support her slight weight, she trembled, and fell on it instead.

  Winded, she struggled to rise on her elbows, she moved and the strength in her arms gave out, leaving her to fall back in a cloud of dust and rags. She coughed and waved frantic hands at the dust. How long did she have? Forget the kappa, Wereu decided and pulled herself to a sitting position.

  The non-existent muscles of her legs shook as she struggled to stand, but her left leg caught on a rag, halting her. Wereu gave a small sob as she forced it out, dragging dirt and rags everywhere. Something flew out and landed before her on the ground and she blinked. It was the kappa.

  Black and simple, the magical bag had not aged a day for the past century since it had been in her family. She shoved one hand into the kappa and rummaged with frantic hands for any forgotten item, and froze. Wereu closed her eyes in remembrance and pulled out a shiny, clean linen of the highest quality. Another gift from her papa. Eyes closed, her smile rolled back the years and she rubbed the fine linen between her fingers. Tears rolled down her sunken cheeks. Wereu pushed the linen into the bag and sniffed, it would be her gift to the boy.

  She looked towards his prone body on the platform and brownish teeth glimmered with her spittle when Wereu saw how far off from the boy she stood. With a grimace, she shuffled to the platform, placed the kappa beside him and closed her eyes.

  “Minuhytolo, locofaga. Minuhytolo, locofaga,” she chanted and immediately opened one eye to check on him, nothing.

  Wereu opened both eyes fully to stare at the kappa, puzzled. Why wasn’t it working? The uncle would soon be here, she cast a worried glance at the rock blocking her part of the caves.

  “Minuhytolo, locofaga. Minuhytolo, locofaga,” she chanted.

  Nothing.

  The kappa retained its crumpled form next to the boy. Wereu dropped her head to her chest, exhausted. She who had lost her mind for being too powerful, was now too exhausted to use a kappa.

  A shuffling sound had her swinging around. It came from the alak. An ancient source of power she had forgotten about. Stunned, Wereu watched it slowly change shape, unfurling from circular to a three sided form. Clearly, there was enough power there to place the boy in the kappa for travel. Briskly, she laid the ancient bag on the open mouth of the now triangular alak and began her chants.

  “Minuhytolo, locofaga. Minuhytolo, locofaga,” she said over and over, as unhurriedly and carefully as she could.

  The kappa swelled, until it grew to the size of an egg big enough to envelope the boy. Wereu kept up her chants till the swollen kappa solidified with a tougher outer layer. After the transformation, the ‘egg’ sliced into two clean halves and opened with both sides facing upwards, ready and waiting.

  Wereu changed the cadence of her chants and watched the boy rise. She smiled and threw her hands upwards in exultation as her chants increased in volume. The unconscious boy rose in the air with his legs outstretched. Directly above the egg, his legs curled slowly beneath him and his whole body curved inwards much like that of a matured unborn babe.

  The alak swished, powering her chants until the boy dropped into the egg. The two halves of the egg closed around the boy and sealed itself. Still chanting, Wereu turned toward the waterfalls.

  The egg made the turn with her.

  The alak made a louder swishing sound and alarm lit up Wereu’s white eyes, she had to work faster. That sound signified the power of the alak would soon go off. The egg moved with her, floating slowly above the ground in the ancient movement of the Dejis.

  The closer they got, the more deafening the roar of the waterfall became. Bent almost double from her exertion, Wereu panted through the chants as her breath left her bowed form in spurts. Worn out and completely empty, Wereu slipped to the ground panting. The egg stopped moving and she grimaced, struggling to remain conscious. She forced her lips to shape the words to fuel her chants. Finally, the egg moved and crossed the edge of the waterfall. The sound from the rushing waters drowned out her chants, but Wereu continued, for if the egg should drop from that height all her work would be in vein. Her raised arms ached badly and began to lag. How she wished she could moan or cry to relieve the pain, but any other sound or word from her aside the chants and everything would be ruined.

  Wet and shiny from its fresh bath in the waterfall, the egg dropped slowly, so slowly that Wereu wanted to scream. But she watched with tired eyes as it dropped, then it went out of sight and she closed her eyes to view its vision until it nestled gently in the water. The muscles of her arms ached, trembled and unable to hold it up any longer, she lowered her arms, gasping weakly. Wereu cursed under her breath when the alak suddenly went off and she collapsed in a heap on to the side of the caves to await the uncle. Her mind wavered somewhere between the ancestral realm and Uwan and Wereu could already feel herself floating. If the task needed a little more, it would have killed her.

  Far below in the stream created by the waterfall, the rushing waters snaked beneath the caves for most of the way through Chaldi into the next clan. Eyes closed, Wereu she breathed deeply and wondered where the boy would end up. A friendly clan, she hoped, but with her powers and those bequeathed him by The Ancestral Mother, he should survive almost anything, even a journey that would take him to and back to his origins. Whenever he emerged from the egg in a rebirth, he would remember every detail of his betrayal, she had made sure of it.

  TAFIK PULLED THE HORSE to a halt in front of a relieved looking Jani. She rushed towards him, barely giving him enough time to rein in his horse. She looked pale and vastly older than her age, Tafik thought as he looked down at her. Hair was unkempt
and a dull blond like those of unclean waters, her dusty form and unremarkable features begged the question- whatever had he seen in her? But he’d used her to get at his brother, if he knew Rami wouldn’t care, he needn’t have bothered.

  Holding on to Tafik’s leg, Jani muttered unintelligible words on how they might have made a huge mistake, that the curse of the Dejis will be upon them and a lot of nonsense. Tafik shook his head at her, he didn’t understand a word of what she was saying.

  He jumped down from his horse and the end of his tunic snagged on the end of the bridle with the movement. With a curse, he snapped at it, tearing his tunic. Jani watched disbelievingly when he stopped to examine the torn tunic carefully.

  “Forget about your tunic,” she snapped, “didn’t you hear a word of what I have said? we might have made a huge mistake,” she said. “I think Rork has power.”

  As he listened, Tafik struggled to keep his face expressionless. He knew his nephew; the boy was completely powerless but not useless. Rork’s hunting skills would be missed, but even his game could be ordered from the village. Not as fresh, never as fresh. He was more shocked Rami hadn’t thought of this plan to kill his son long ago, if they’d done it sooner, it would have been a lot less complicated.

  Blue eyes narrowed on the caves, Tafik ignored Jani and stalked to its entrance, leaving her to follow. So, the boy might have magical powers. For it to lie in waiting that long before making an appearance all his life while he suffered taunts and ridicule was just... he shook his head. Pity. Rami killed his son before knowing about it, but how powerful would Rork be to cause his father to have a rethink of the course he’d taken? Anyway, Rork’s death brought him closer to the throne.

  “She gave him something, and she told me to bring him—”

  “So, when you brought him here he was still alive?” Tafik interjected.

  “No,” Jani shook her head. “I’m not sure. He shouldn’t be—”

  “It is a simple question,” Tafik said with exaggerated patience. “Was he alive, or not?”

  “He was hurt too bad,” she bit her lip, “he’s dead. But the mad woman took him like—”

  Tafik didn’t wait as he stalked into the caves.

  Jani skipped behind Tafik to keep up with his longer strides. The stones made crunching noises beneath their feet, and far behind the caves the faint sound of the waterfall just reached their ears. Jani bit her lip in regret, she was right. Before she couldn’t hear the waters because that part of the caves must have been cloaked by Wereu.

  “I couldn’t—” she started, only for Tafik to draw sharply on her hand sending pains from her elbows to her arm. Jani yelped.

  “Quiet,” he ordered. She glared at him in reproach.

  Finally, they entered the part of the cave the woman must have disappeared to, the sound of their footstep echoing off the walls gave Jani the chills. Even without Jani to direct him, Tafik could have easily found her by following the smell of rotten food and the Dejis knew what. He dropped Jani’s hand and pulled his left hand over his nose, with his right, he picked up an end of his tunic to keep it off the dirty floor.

  The woman must be truly mad.

  For the first time, Jani made no remark on his extreme neatness. Did a mortal really live here? His blue eyes moved from side to side from their position above the hand covering his nose and mouth.

  Cautiously holding his tunic away from the dirty ground of the caves, he picked his way inside, following Jani’s lead. The sound of the water made speech almost impossible. Just before the waterfall, they stumbled upon the mad woman.

  The dirtiest and oldest woman he had ever seen. She slumped by the side of the cave, dangerously close to the waterfall, with her eyes closed, she looked fragile and weak. Her hair was so dirty; you couldn’t tell the color. Tafik struggled to breathe and failed. He tried to hold it in, but gave in to a fit of coughing.

  And ended up breathing in huge gulps of the stale air to his further disgust.

  The woman’s eyes remained closed.

  They stood before her and waited, like she was someone important, Tafik thought in disgust. Dropping on his haunches, he picked up a stone and threw it at the woman. He refused to touch her. Tafik held his breath.

  She smiled, startling him with the action and the odd whiteness of her eyes. Before he’d speak, she looked beyond him to Jani.

  There was the love-struck fool, Jani, Wereu thought acidly. If was merciful, she would have warned her the brother was a worse mortal than her Qiga. The man was like the creepy, crawling eigim, the worst sort. She smiled again, widely.

  “Where is the boy?” Tafik asked, looking so neat that Wereu could have sworn he was descended from the ancestral realm. Were mortals this clean? How amusing to think, he looked more like a Deji with his white purity than her. “Dead,” Wereu said shortly.

  Tafik and Jani glanced at each other.

  “I know,” Tafik managed to get out through pursed lips, “where’s the body?”

  “Does it matter?” she whispered.

  Tafik shrugged and rummaged in his cloths. Wereu watched Jani watch Tafik hopefully and almost pitied her.

  Tafik brought out a small cloth- one he used to clean the seat of his horse and any seat he might occupy.

  Jani’s look changed to one of puzzlement as he wrapped the cloth round his hand.

  “Tafik we can still get on with the plan—”

  “What plan?” he asked quietly.

  “What do you mean, what plan? Rork is gone, Rami is back home,” Jani reminded him fiercely, “she is here, we only need to disappear and live our—”

  Tafik reached for Wereu’s neck. He closed his hands around her throat, nostrils flaring in reaction to her rancid.

  “Fia!” he cursed under his breath and turned his head away from the fumes.

  “Tafik!”

  Jani clawed at his hand. “What are you doing? We need her, even if we make a run for it, Rami will still come after us!”

  “I know,” Tafik replied quietly and closed the distance between them for a better grip.

  “You know?” Jani sounded aghast. “If you do, why are you going against the plan?”

  “Because, this is the plan, my plan.”

  Wereu opened her eyes, looked at Jani and smiled.

  Tafik paused, confused. For in that moment he just knew she knew he would kill her and Jani. Could Jani be right about Rork having powers? He wondered uneasily. It was too late anyway.

  “Fia!” Tafik ran a thumb over the folds of her wrinkled skin. She was so thin and so old he could easily trace her small bones through her skin. Just how old was this woman anyway? Like she said it didn’t matter. He squeezed, and grimaced. Her bones were so light he felt low and wicked killing someone so defenseless. They snapped easily.

  Tafik turned towards Jani.

  Shock held Jani rooted to the spot. She stared at at the body of the mad woman. “I didn’t think you cared so much about Rork to avenge his death. She didn’t kill Rork though,” Jani said numbly, “his father had almost killed him before we got here. No,” she shook her head, “he killed him. Well, I guess outrunning Rami will prove exciting, though I would have loved to see the last of him.”

  Tafik reached out with the cloth still wrapped around his hand for Jani’s neck.

  She wrinkled her nose at the distasteful smell. “You cannot be giving me that, what—” she broke off when Tafik closed his fist around her throat. He squeezed and Jani’s eyes bulged in pain and shock.

  Tafik reduced the pressure and smiled into her eyes.

  She gagged.

  He squeezed harder.

  She was dead before her body hit the ground. Tafik grimaced at his hand and hurried away from the caves, unsure if he could ever get the smell off his clothes and nostrils.

  The egg floated unseen round a sharp bend and flowed more rapidly downstream.