Hidden Magic

by Melinda Kucsera

  “So, this is how it will be this eve. Nahrem, you will be sleeping here in the main room. Finyaka and Matasa, you are in the small room to the back. I’ll be at a Council meeting.”

  The three exchanged looks, and Nahrem grinned.

  “Before I leave, I will put my Radiance on the house. If one of you so much as raises your voice, the pain of a thousand wasp stings will befall you. It’s quite excruciating, or so I’m told. I’ll make sure it lasts a day or so.” Sinaya grinned.

  Matasa blanched. He knew what a broken rib felt like. He didn’t want a thousand wasp stings. That sounded horrific. Even Nahrem paled at the idea.

  Satisfied she’d made her point, Sinaya directed them to sit, so she could serve them. “Eat, and then go to your assigned rooms.”

  After the meal, Sinaya sang a strange song that made the hair on the nape of Matasa’s neck stand up. Finyaka just curled up in a ball in the corner of the small storage room.

  “I’m leaving now. Heed my warning. Remain where you are, and refrain from conflict. There will be enough of that in the morning.”

  Matasa heard the old wise woman whisper something to Nahrem. There was a loud whimper followed by something metallic hitting the hard mud floor.

  “Be so kind as to leave that there. If it has moved at all when I return, I’ll have your hand,” she said with a chilling calmness that froze the blood.

  Nahrem gasped. Matasa exchanged worried glances with Finyaka. The two hunkered down into the small room. Best to do what she said and stay put.

  Finyaka sat up, fully awake. Someone shouted outside the window.

  “What’s going on?” Matasa asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  The clamour increased as Finyaka looked out the small window. Though it was night, running people were lit by an orange light casting long dancing shadows.

  “Is that smoke?” Matasa sniffed the air.

  Finyaka shuddered. “I see light. I think there’s a fire.”

  Matasa cursed as he pushed Finyaka aside, so he could look out the window.

  Finyaka rubbed his shoulder as he slunk back to the corner of the small room. He’s mad at me, and I don’t blame him.

  “The village has gone insane. We need to get out of here.” Matasa rummaged around the room, looking for supplies.

  The hut’s door opened. Sinaya stood in the threshold. She was covered in dust. Blood trickled down her forehead from a small gash. She sang a few quick notes, and a brazier burst into life filled with orange flames. Sinaya pawed through the cluttered shelves, pulling out packets and small leather bags and tossed them on the table.

  “Matasa, they’re coming for you. Tsimunuu and his lot burst in onto the Council meeting. They’re drunk. They demanded we give you to them. An altercation occurred.” She stopped and closed her eyes.

  Finyaka noticed she was shaking. There were bruises on her right-hand knuckles. Sinaya took a deep breath and continued her search.

  Finyaka stayed hidden in the corner of the storeroom. The village had gone mad. Nahrem retreated out of Sinaya’s way. He had something in his hand, though Finyaka couldn’t see what.

  Matasa entered the main room. “How long before they come here?”

  “They’re still arguing, but it’s only a matter of time. Nuroimo wanted you boys cast out for the loss. Akmalo and Yorumo… By the light, Yorumo, you damned fool!” Sinaya slammed both hands down on the table. She wiped a dirty sleeve across her eyes and began wrapping the items on the table in the cloth she produced from another shelf.

  “What do you want me to do?” Matasa was beside her now.

  Finyaka was impressed at how calm his cousin was. I wish I could be that brave.

  Sinaya put her hand on Matasa’s shoulder. “Go through the window. Do you know where Amani’s Sun Stone is?”

  Matasa nodded.

  “Good, go there. Hide. If you don’t see me by morning, run to the Jut. You know where the Jut is?”

  Matasa nodded again.

  There was a loud scream, and what sounded like fighting.

  Sinaya swore. “There is healing balm and a few poultices, food, water, a sun disc, and some coins.” She thrust the bundle into Matasa’s long arms then reached for an ornate staff by the wall and handed that to him as well.

  “Run, boy. Run like your life depends on it.” Sinaya hugged him then ushered him into the small storeroom.

  Matasa readied himself to crawl through the small window. “Will you be okay, wise one?”

  “Yes, you fool. Now go. If no one comes to you at the Jut, go to Onubaki. Ask for Asho. She is my sister in the Light. Now go.”

  Matasa glanced at Finyaka before squirming through the small window.

  A crash sounded outside. People were approaching. There were shouts and cat calls.

  Sinaya turned from the room. “Now, let me see...gack.” She doubled over and coughed. Nahrem stood in front of her, his knife drawn, dripping red. He thrust it again, and the wise woman slumped to the floor.

  Finyaka screamed as his brother grabbed him by the shoulder and flung him to the floor. Finyaka breathed in short gasps. His heart pounded. Blackness swirled at the corner of his vision.

  Nahrem laughed and examined his bloody knife. “You're next, Doe.”

  “No!” Finyaka felt a snap, like he had been hit by a switch. Fear and anger warred with him then suddenly vanished. They were gone, discarded like a dirty tunic.

  But those emotions slammed into Nahrem like a stampeding herd. The storage room wall exploded in a shower of waddle and daub, and Nahrem somersaulted backward into a table with enough force to upend it. His brother crashed into the hut’s wall with a sickening crack then slumped onto the hard-packed floor. His arms and legs lay at twisted angles to his body while his sightless eyes stared into the void.

  Finyaka vomited. He was shaking uncontrollably, but the shouting outside was getting closer. What have I done? What am I? His mind went around circles.

  “Finyaka…”

  He jumped and twisting like a cat, he thrust his back against the storage room wall to protect it until Sinaya tried to roll over. He rushed to the wise woman’s side to help her. She was bleeding badly from a belly wound. Blood bubbled from her mouth.

  “Finyaka…” She coughed. Her hand flopped useless at her side as her eyes fluttered.

  “Don’t die!” Finyaka cried.

  The jeering crowd was almost at the hut now.

  “Take my armband…” Her speech was slurring. “Find Matasa… Find Asho…” She coughed. Blood flowed from her nose and mouth. “Run, boy.”

  “No!” Finyaka put his head against hers and let the tears fall. Nahrem killed her, and I killed Nahrem. I killed my brother!

  “We’ll hang the son of a she-goat!” Someone outside the hut yelled.

  “The old witch won’t stop us,” roared another.

  “String them up!” screamed a third.

  Finyaka hugged the body of the wise woman hard then he unclasped the gold armband Sinaya had always worn. It was the mark of her office as a mage-priest of the Great Sun Anuu. With a deftness born from his size and plight in life, he scampered through the storeroom window and slipped away into the night as the door to the hut burst open.

  The Sun Stone loomed in the darkness, outlined against the star-filled sky. There was just enough light to see by, even though the two moons were nothing but slivers. Matasa kicked a stone.

  Behind him, the village burned. Someone had set his father’s hut on fire. Matasa wanted to go to them and protect them. If he did, the mob would kill him.

  Matasa cursed as he slid down the ancient marker that was twice his height. He closed his eyes and lifted his head to the sky. Matasa placed the staff and package Sinaya had given him on the ground and made the symbol of the sun disc with his forefingers and thumbs. The Great Sun Anuu protect my family.

  Matasa rested his head against his knees and cried. He was tired, and for the first time in his life, he was scared. The peopl
e of the village—his uncles and cousins and extended family—the people he’d grown up with were after him.

  They wanted to harm him for what? Because he told the truth? Because he refused to lie? Matasa refused to let a bully get away with the loss of the village’s livelihood. May the sunless pile of goat’s droppings rot in the darkness forever! Matasa pounded his fist against the ground then took a deep breath. Get it together man. Keep your head.

  Matasa forced himself to stand and pick up the wise woman’s staff and bundle. She’d told him to hide until she came, or the sun rose.

  Now where to hide? Think, Matasa, think! He surveyed his surroundings and spotted two obvious places—a large stone and a small clump of scrub trees. They’d be the first place someone would look.

  His search led him to a low pile of rubble about his size. Subtle but not obvious. It would do. He clambered into his hiding place and lay on his belly, so if he needed to, he could stand quickly. Matasa placed the staff beside him and the bundle under his chin and wrapped his arms around it. All he could do now was wait.

  The ground was still warm from the day’s heat, but the air had started to cool. He wore his ankle-length wrap and nothing else since he’d removed his blood-stained tunic earlier.

  By the Light, a day can change your life. Things would never be the same. Matasa shuddered and closed his eyes for moment.

  Finyaka ran as fast as he could. He heard curses and cries and exclamations behind him. Someone shouted his brother’s name. There was a horrible wailing noise then more shouting.

  But Finyaka ran. His bare feet slapped the hard-baked earth of the wadi, raising dust clouds as he ran. He had to make it to the Sun Stone before they figured out which way he’d gone. Then, he had to make it to the Jut.

  His lungs burned from exertion, and his feet hurt. Sharp stones cut him, but Finyaka ran on. His legs felt like they’d collapse at any moment, but he could see the dark absence of the stars ahead, outlining the massive Sun Stone of Alani.

  Finyaka halted at the stone and put his face and hands against it. He panted as he stood there; the warmth of the stone was pleasant against his flushed, sweaty skin.

  Finyaka forced himself to turn around and look for Matasa. Has he already made for the Jut? Finyaka stepped away from the stone. “Matasa?”

  Silence met his call. Finyaka waited. In the distance, the village burned. He wanted to cry, but he kept his composure. He needed to find Matasa. Finyaka made his way to the large rock. As he approached, he whispered, “Matasa, Sinaya’s dead.”

  “What?” Matasa asked from three strides to his right.

  Finyaka jumped sideways and dropped into a defensive crouch. “Matasa?”

  A shape rose from the broken stones of the wadi; its outline was visible against the sky.

  “What happened, Finyaka?” Matasa was too calm.

  “Nahrem killed Sinaya… He stabbed her.” Finyaka rubbed at her blood on his sleeve. He still held her armband in his hand. Finyaka took a deep breath and staggered toward Matasa.

  “Why…? How did you get here?” Matasa raised his staff.

  “Did you sell me out?” Matasa’s voice was cold.

  It slapped Finyaka, and he took a step back. “No… I… No. No! Matasa, I killed Nahrem!”

  “What?” Matasa stared at him.

  “I… I threw him across the hut…”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. He stabbed Sinaya, and I screamed at him and then he flew backward into a wall. Sinaya must have used her Radiance…” Finyaka was weeping again, more from frustration than anything else. He had no idea what had happened in the hut. The only explanation that made sense was too scary to contemplate.

  Matasa relaxed his stance and came forward. “Were you followed?”

  “No, but they’re coming. Once they realize we left, they’ll come looking for us.”

  Matasa nodded. “We need to find Asho.”

  “I’m sorry, Matasa.”

  “Forget it. We need to get moving.” Matasa trudged deeper into the wadi.

  “Wait.”

  But Matasa kept walking.

  Finyaka groaned. Matasa didn’t believe him. If he hadn’t seen what had happened, he wouldn’t believe it either. Finyaka trotted after his cousin, fighting against his fears.

  Matasa was tired and hungry. He and Finyaka had been travelling all night, but he refused to stop. They needed to put as much distance between them and the village as possible. The sun rose as the pair trudged on, wearing only their ankle-length wraps. Their chests and heads were bare, so they would need to find shade soon.

  Matasa shaded his eyes and scanned the horizon. He could make out the Jut, an ancient stone outcropping worn by the wind and weather. It was one of the few watering holes along the northern borders of the Aboki lands. The Great Sun was three fingers above the horizon. Soon it would be too warm to travel.

  “You’re staying here,” Matasa snapped.

  Finyaka glared at him. “Why?”

  “Someone needs to make sure the spring is vacant.”

  “We can do that together.”

  “Why? Do you have friends waiting for us?”

  Finyaka turned away. “You still don’t believe me.”

  “No.”

  “Even though I am covered in blood and carry the wise one’s armband.” Finyaka held it up.

  “Yes, the story you told me is outrageous. The only part I even remotely believe is your brother killing Sinaya. He probably gave you the band as a plausible lie.”

  “Rot in the darkness.” Finyaka spat at him.

  Matasa started. This wasn’t like his timid cousin. Had Finyaka finally grown a backbone? Matasa grunted. “You’re staying. I can do this faster by myself.”

  “Go then. See if I care.” His words were bitter. The young man slunk to a pile of broken stones and flopped down on it.

  “If your friends arrive, leave with them.” Matasa shook his staff at Finyaka.

  “Go choke on your own spit,” Finyaka said as Matasa headed for the Jut.

  Though few but the Aboki knew of the natural water source here, it didn’t mean that unwanted guests hadn’t found it. Staff in hand, Sinaya’s bundle slung around his neck and shoulder, Matasa moved quickly and silently.

  He wasn’t sure he could trust Finyaka. He was sure his young cousin had fabricated his tale, which made Matasa wonder what the truth was. Are we being followed? Does Finyaka have family waiting at the Jut? He could have told them. Nahrem knows I’m supposed to meet the wise one there. Has Finyaka sold me out? How can he side with the people who beat him?

  Matasa shimmied slowly up a smaller outcropping along the wadi cliff. It offered a better view of the watering hole below the Jut. In shade most of the day, the small spring was big enough for four men to sit around. Lush sweetgrass surrounded it.

  From up here, the clear spring looked cool and inviting. The shade called to Matasa. His side ached, and his joints were stiff.

  He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Focus, you son of a she-goat! Do you want to end up dead? He scanned the shade below the Jut again then once more for good measure. It appeared to be empty.

  Matasa stayed where he was and observed the area for some time before feeling confident that it was, indeed, vacant of any guests. Satisfied, he slithered back down the outcropping and silently made his way back to Finyaka.

  But Finyaka was gone. The Great Sun blind you, Finyaka! Matasa growled and stabbed the hard sandstone with his staff. Have you gone to get your conspirators, you traitor? He shouldn’t have trusted his cousin. He should have run off and left Finyaka. How could he be so stupid?

  Something moved in his peripheral vision. Turning, he saw Finyaka sneaking through the broken sandstones. The young boy was carrying something in his left hand.

  As Matasa raised his staff, his eyes darted around to see what lurked in the shadows. “That’s far enough, you goat-spawned traitor.”

  Finyaka froze. The smaller boy s
lowly raised his left hand.

  “Don’t move, Finyaka. Stay right where you are. Who is with you? Nahrem? Your father?” Matasa shouted.

  “I’m alone, Matasa. I went to find us breakfast.” Finyaka held up a plucked sandgrouse and the sling he usually wore as a bracelet.

  Matasa lowered his staff and breathed heavily. The tension was eating him from the inside. “Did you see anyone?”

  “No, but I saw dried blood on one of the stones. It maybe a day old. I’m not sure what it’s from.”

  Matasa grunted. “There’s fodder and kindling in the depression over there. We can cook your sandgrouse if you want.”

  Finyaka shrugged as he passed Matasa. “We’ll do what you want.”

  Matasa sighed. “Let’s eat and maybe get some rest.” Matasa wasn’t sure he could sleep with Finyaka on watch. He still didn’t trust his cousin.

  The two made their way to the spring in silence.

  The air was cool in the Jut, and the stones were soothing on his sore feet. Finyaka gathered some dry kindling and used it to start a small fire to cook the sandgrouse. He didn’t have a knife, but he knew Matasa wouldn’t part with his.

  “You have the knife; you dress the sandgrouse.” He plunked the bird down on the stones by his cousin and went to get water.

  Matasa grunted but picked up the carcass and began preparing it for the fire.

  Finyaka picked a sweetgrass shoot and chewed on it, enjoying its sugary flavour. It put a much-needed smile on his face. He bent to scoop up some water and froze. There were a lot of dark stains on those tall green shoots. Finyaka touched one and confirmed it was dried blood. It was maybe a day old.

  “Matasa, we have trouble.” Finyaka gestured to the grass.

  “Your family is coming?”

  “Give it a rest. There’s dried blood on the sweetgrass.”

  Matasa looked up from the grouse he was butchering. “How much?”

  “A lot.”