Burden of the Blessed

by R Joseph LeBlanc

  “But Momma said this is supposed to happen…” I blurted aloud, and then froze in horror.

  My father slowly turned his head to glare at me. “What did you say?”

  “N-nothing.” I slapped my hand across my mouth, as if trying to cover up my mistake.

  “Vigil…what did you say?” he growled.

  Don’t tell him, sweetheart, she pleaded.

  “I can’t…” I could hardly breathe. I was caught between my mother and my father, and I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was cry.

  ~18~

  “Tell me, now!” My father’s body shook with the mounting tension and anger that erupted within him. He raised his hand like he was going to hit me. Neither of my parents had ever hit me, but in that moment, I was completely terrified of him. I gave in.

  “Momma said this is supposed to happen! She didn’t want me to say anything! I’m sorry, Momma! I had to tell him!” I cried out in total panic.

  The expression on his face changed instantly to one of intense sorrow and humiliation. “So, it was true. You could still hear her after she died?” he said as he collapsed into a sad heap on the floor in front of me.

  I nodded. “Momma told me not to say anything. She told me to think my words, so they wouldn’t know.” My hands and lips trembled. I was still terribly afraid of my father.

  Vigil, are you okay? my mother asked in thought.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, not realizing that I was speaking out loud again.

  “You’re talking to her right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, fighting back more tears as best I could.

  “What’s she saying?”

  “She wants to know if I’m okay.”

  There was silence in the room. A sea of overwhelming and conflicting emotions suddenly overcame my father’s numb heart. “My angel, oh, Irenea,” my father whimpered as he covered his face with his hands and began to sob.

  Tell him not to cry. My mother’s voice cracked—it was as if she, too, were trying not to cry.

  “She says not to cry, Dad.”

  Tell him everything’s okay and that this is a blessing. I know it’s hard to believe that right now, but it is.

  “She says that this is a blessing…and…everything’s okay.”

  “I miss you,” he said gently through his fingers, covering his eyes as if trying to imagine that she was there in the room with us.

  I miss you, too.

  “She says she misses you, too, Dad.”

  “Why can’t she talk to me?” my father lamented, looking up at me. “She my wife! It’s not fair.”

  “I know, Dad,” I replied mournfully.

  I sat there, wringing my shirt in my hands and wondering what I should do, but then a sudden thought occurred to my father.

  “Vigil? How long have you been able to do what you did upstairs with the bird?” he asked anxiously.

  “That was the first time. Well…it sort of happened in my nightmare last night, too,” I explained.

  “Nightmare? What kind of nightmare?” my father asked urgently.

  Tell him it was your Vivication. Her voice sounded proud, yet sad.

  “Momma says it was my…Vivication,” I replied, trying hard to pronounce the word correctly.

  “Oh, Irenea, there’s still time to keep them from taking our boy!” He jumped to his feet and moved about the room, searching through his tools. “If that only happened last night, there should be plenty of time to be ready before they get here,” he said triumphantly.

  I’m so sorry, my love, but it’s already too late, my mother said regretfully. They’re already here.

  “Dad…Dad!” My father stopped dead in his tracks. “She says she sorry, but…” I watched what little hope he had left drain from his face, “…they’re already here.”

  Then, I heard what sounded like a rumble of thunder. I could feel vibrations all around me as the basement began to shake. The bulkhead doors my father had just nailed shut exploded open in a burst of light and fire that lit up the room as bright as day.

  “Momma!” I screamed.

  It’s okay, Vigil! Don’t be scared! It’ll be okay! She sounded nervous, which only managed to frighten me more.

  Two men came down into the basement. Both were dressed in dark gray robes and carried long staves. The way their menacing shadows blocked the outside light unsettled me, but as they moved closer, I suddenly recognized one of them.

  “Momma, it’s Shepherd Machoji!” I was happy and a bit relieved to see a familiar face, but Machoji didn’t return my enthusiasm. His withered face was cold and stern.

  “Vigil, the time has come,” Machoji said in such a businesslike tone that I hardly recognized the cheerful old man we’d seen in the viewing fields on my last birthday.

  My father leapt onto Machoji’s back and held a knife to the shepherd’s neck. “You son of a bitch!” my father raged. “You won’t take my son away from me!”

  “Assistance,” Machoji said calmly as he let my father knock him to the ground. The man who had appeared with Shepherd Machoji spoke strange words and tilted his staff at my father. A bright ball of fire shot out from the end, abruptly knocking him off Machoji. My father’s hair and clothing ignited. He screamed in pain as he dropped to the ground and rolled on the floor to try to extinguish the flames, but the fire would not subside. My father was in agony as his body continued to burn.

  “Don’t hurt my dad!” I shouted, charging at Shepherd Machoji’s assistant, but my efforts were useless. Shepherd Machoji stood and caught me as I ran by him, lifting me up and holding me against his chest. His grip was so painfully tight I could barely breathe. “Stop…” I said with muffled breath. “…please….” There were tears in my eyes as I watched my father continue to writhe in agony.

  “Douse the fire, Talmari,” Shepherd Machoji instructed. The man tilted his staff toward my father once again. The flames receded into the head of the staff and disappeared in an instant. My father lay on the floor, his skin smoldering from the damage. He barely moved.

  “Dad?” I said quietly, still struggling for breath under Machoji’s grip.

  “His wounds will heal in a few moments. Your father will be fine.” Machoji composed himself. “We must be going now.”

  “No! I don’t want to leave!” I shouted, desperately trying to free myself so I could get to my father.

  Vigil, sweetheart, you need to go with Shepherd Machoji, my mother said in sad, coaxing tones.

  “I don’t understand.” I began to cry.

  “The gods have granted you the ability to commune with the dead, Vigil. That blessing will be of great use to us, and we’ll train you to use it properly. Now, say goodbye to your father, and let’s be on our way.”

  “Daddy?” I said through my tears. My father stirred and then rolled over onto his back, tilting his head in my direction. He held up one arm toward me. “Dad? Are you okay?”

  My father said nothing in reply. He only stared at me.

  “That’s enough,” Machoji said as he steered me away, breaking my eye contact with my father. “Time to go.”

  “I don’t want to go!” I tried to wriggle free from his strong grip, but there was nothing I could do. Machoji took me out of the basement and into the backyard. Rain was falling outside. “I don’t want to go! Please!” I cried as the cold drizzle washed over me.

  Vigil….

  “Momma!” I said as I looked around.

  “She can’t come with you,” Machoji apologized. “Your mother knew this had to happen this way. She stayed with you as long as she could.”

  Vigil…. Her voice was coming from the direction of her grave in the corner of the yard.

  Momma? I thought nervously, noticing a soft white orb appear over her grave like a foggy crystal ball.

  The orb moved closer to us, leaving in its wake a trail of hazy mist that stood out against the rain as it came to stop j
ust in front of us. It sparked three times, surrounding itself in bright pools of lightning. After the third spark fired, the ghostly image of my mother manifested in front of me. Even though I’d heard her in my mind every day over the past year, I almost couldn’t remember what she looked like.

  “Momma!” I shrieked, trying to free myself to reach for her. “I don’t want to go! Please help me!”

  Shepherd Machoji calmly stepped back from my mother, slightly turning me away from her as he spoke. “Thank you for everything, Irenea. He’ll go on to greatness. I have no doubt of that. Your assistance has been invaluable.”

  You’re welcome, Shepherd Machoji. She turned to me with a sad smile, barely holding back her tears. It’s time for you to go, Vigil. It’s for the best, I promise you.

  “No! Whatever I did, I’m sorry! Don’t let them take me! Please, Momma!” I cried.

  I’ll miss you, sweetheart. Every single day, I’ll miss you. Goodbye, my sweet boy. Her form began to fade. The tortured expression on her face was becoming hard to see against the backdrop of the trees and plants in the garden. She was nearly as transparent as the misty rain.

  “Momma…please…don’t leave me, too.”

  Goodbye, Vigil. I love you. With that, she vanished. My mother was truly gone.

  “Well then, let’s be on our way, shall we?” Shepherd Machoji said coolly to Talmari as he carried me away from everything I’d ever known.

  ~19~

  One of the greatest honors of the Church is to be chosen by Ein to receive a Vivication from one of His children. Vivications only occur during the last two months before the Festival of Ein, and while every potential will receive their Vivication between their sixth and seventh birthdays, they do not all receive it simultaneously. When a Vivication has occurred, the potential is brought the Home for Blessed Children, a place within the Divine Mountain where all newly awakened potentials live while awaiting their induction into the Shepherd Academy during the Festival of Ein.

  By the time I arrived at the home, I’d shut down inside; emotionless and numb to the world around me. I’d already undergone more strife than any six-year-old child should ever know, and experiencing that much trauma in such a short time had fully wiped away the goodness in my heart, killing the innocent spirit of my childhood.

  My first experience at the Home was a ritual called circle time, a mandatory gathering to introduce all new arrivals to the other potentials. Machoji led me to a pocket door that slid open to reveal a large, barren cave-like room with a cold dirt floor and a group of kids sitting on top of small, flat-topped boulders arranged in a large circle around an angry-looking old woman. Sister Marmarti.

  “Allow me to introduce…Vigil Voronto,” said Marmarti, scowling at me.

  I felt unsettled and embarrassed with everyone’s eyes on at me as I stepped into the room. Machoji quickly slammed the door shut behind me, leaving me alone with this new group of people. I was scared, nervous, and completely unsure of what I was supposed to do in this place.

  “Well, get over here!” Marmarti shouted at me. I took a few nervous steps forward, but not fast enough to satisfy her. She crossed the room and grabbed me by the wrist, forcefully yanking me into the middle of the circle.

  Sister Marmarti seemed angry for no reason. She was a beastly, hot-headed old woman with a shock of white hair that she wore pulled back from her face beneath her plain gray veil. Marmarti wore a long gray dress that fell to the floor with a braided black rope tied tightly around her waist. The necklace that hung against her collar like a bib provided the only color in contrast to the gray; ten coin-sized hallowed stones of various hues embedded in a wide blackbrass plate. All the sisters wore this same piece of jewelry.

  “Now then, Vigil. You will abide by the rules of the home until you leave for the Shepherd Academy. Here, you’ll be expected to behave, first and foremost. Your living area will be kept spotless at all times, as well as your teeth, hair, and clothing. Breakfast is at dawn, followed by harvesting crops in the High Fields until noon so that you might appreciate Ein’s true goodness in the nourishment He gives our bodies and souls. Then you’ll be permitted to eat lunch. After that, you’ll sit with the others for prayers and then return to the fields until suppertime. When you’re finished with supper, you’ll wash up and get ready for bed. Misbehave at any point, and there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, more out of a desire to get the gathering over with than that of any real understanding.

  After Sister Marmarti finished parading me around in front of everyone, she brought me to stand in front of a boy named Biklish Beltavis. He was much taller and physically larger than a normal six-year-old, and unfortunately, this first interaction was the beginning of a feud that would carry on for years to come.

  “Biklish, I want you to take Vigil and show him around,” she said firmly.

  “Yes, Sister,” he replied with a slight groan. I could tell instantly this wasn’t his favorite chore, but the inflection in his voice was enough to set off Sister Marmarti. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the center of the circle.

  “Three strikes for attitude unbecoming of a potential!” Marmarti yelled as she beat him with a long blackbrass rod she carried in a hidden pocket in her dress.

  I stood there in shock, petrified.

  When she’d finished beating Biklish, Marmarti waved her hand dismissively to the rest of the group. “I’ve had enough of this for one morning. Off to the High Fields, all of you, this instant,” she barked, visibly irritated.

  As the other children in the room got up and sheepishly filed out, Marmarti held the blackbrass rod in one hand and lightly pounded it against her other palm, reiterating the penalty for disobedience. When the last of the kids had left to room, she slid the rod back into her pocket and flashed a smirk toward Biklish.

  “Don’t take too long showing him around. The High Fields aren’t going to harvest themselves, you know,” she hinted before leaving.

  Biklish slowly pushed himself up from the ground, and I reluctantly stuck out my hand to help him, but he slapped it away. “Are you kidding me?” he growled, getting back to his feet. “She punished me because of you, you idiot!” He threw an arm around my neck and wrestled me to the ground, beating me into submission. I barely stood a chance. He was so much bigger than I was.

  I waited for someone to come and help me, but nobody did. It was horrible.

  When he’d finished his assault, he angrily threw me aside and stood up. “You say anything about this to the sisters, and I’ll beat you way worse next time! Got it?” he growled.

  I nodded dejectedly, feeling the blood from my nose trickle down my upper lip.

  “Good. Now, come on!” he grumbled, stomping out of the room.

  I followed him around, receiving what I could only assume was the bare minimum information about the home and its rules. The rest, he was obviously hoping I’d learn about the hard way from Sister Marmarti’s punishment rod, and I did.

  On my first day in the High Fields under the scorching summer sun and the watchful eye of Marmarti and her fellow sisters, I was reprimanded at least half a dozen times for not harvesting the crops the proper way. Yet, when I tried to explain that Biklish failed to show me how to do it, I was beaten even more for making excuses, an offense unbecoming of a potential.

  I absolutely hated the Home for Blessed Children, and Biklish knew it. Over the next two weeks, he focused most of his bullying on me, finding ways to set me up to fail whenever the sisters assigned me any task. My designated tools would be damaged, the soap would go missing when it was my turn to do the dishes, and my clothing would have unexplained rips and tears, all of which I was blamed and punished for the instant the sisters noticed. Whenever I tried to fight back, Biklish always found a way to turn it around so I looked like the aggressor. There was just no way I could win. All I could do was retreat deeper and deeper into myself, completely shutting out the out
side world and the constant pain.

  I was ready to lose my mind.

  ~20~

  It was only a few days before the Festival of Ein, and voices just outside my room stirred me awake. Sister Marmarti was arguing with Sister Superior Nelfetto, the highest ordained worker at the Home for Blessed Children and the one person who had the final say about absolutely everything that happened at the home.

  It was early morning, and the rising sun was casting shadows of their feet beneath my door as they spoke.

  “Sister Superior, I’m at my wit’s end with Vigil!” Marmarti complained.

  “Oh?”

  “He shows no respect toward anyone! I…I just don’t like him.”

  “Sister Marmarti!” Nelfetto gasped. “Keep those kinds of opinions to yourself! That’s an order!”

  “Forgive me, Sister Superior. I just don’t know what else to do. The boy is a constant nuisance. He’s the most disrespectful child I’ve ever come across in all my time here.”

  “He’s definitely a troubled child, I’ll agree, but I’m sure he’s really not as bad as you think.”

  “Yes, he is! He refuses to speak to anyone. He barely performs any of his chores. Oh! And yesterday, the cerebus cabbage was scheduled for harvest, but Vigil barely even made a dent in the workload! One of the other boys had to go and help him finish his section so we could get it all done by sundown. We’re falling behind schedule, and it’s his fault!”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “I try and I try, but Vigil’s attitude still persists. Punishment by rod does nothing to persuade him to change his ways, either! The other day during circle time when that boy from the Redui Peninsula arrived, I forced Vigil to speak by tasking him to show the new potential around, but Vigil just stood there, staring at me! I got so frustrated that I punished him with thirteen strikes for refusing to obey a direct order. He just sat there and took it! Nothing fazes him!”