Rising

by C B Samet

  Listening to his voice made me feel tranquil. His rhythmic speech had an ebb and flow to it like a hammock swaying in a breeze. I watched the sunlight sparkle across the surface of the water. Zack was still speaking, but the words were a distant melody.

  The waterfall grew to a gentle roar then faded into the background. The birds sang. A breeze rustled through the trees. My eyes grew heavy until they closed, but I could still perceive the dancing light of reflected sunlight in front of me. Listening to the song of the birds, fall of water, rustle of leaves and hum of Zack’s voice, they coalesced into a beautiful orchestra of sounds.

  You are experiencing the divine, a voice echoed in my head. At one point, I think he started humming. Then, in a low rumble he sang.

  “Turn your soul

  Toward Mother Moon,

  Let the demons

  Fall behind you,

  Turn your heart

  For the good of all,

  And the demons

  Cannot harm you.

  Turn your soul

  Toward Mother Moon,

  Let the demons

  Fall behind you,

  Turn your heart

  For the good of all

  And the demons

  Cannot harm you.”

  The harmony of his deep voice, lulling waterfall, and rustling leaves grew louder and louder before silencing altogether.

  I opened my eyes to the waterfall, but I was lying on the grass rather than sitting on it. Had it been minutes or hours? By the movement of the sun, it had been hours. As I emerged from the trance, I saw that Zack was gone.

  I felt calm and relaxed as though waking from a restful sleep. I was grateful for the inner peace that had settled into my core, but more than a little disconcerted to realize that I had just been hypnotized.

  I returned to the picnic area as dinner was being prepared. They cooked trench fish, brined and deboned, then pan-seared with garlic and lemon juice. It was served with a side of tender asparagus. The Gunthi monks put great time and effort into the preparation of any creature they ate. Food preparation was a quiet and reflective time— not unlike many of their activities—to humbly praise their meal for its sacrifice to nurture their bodies. The silence and the delicate handling of the food was like watching living art. It was a masterful dance.

  Once the food was served, the monks became lively and conversation was boisterous. They asked about my continental travels and studies, and asked Joshua about various health ailments and their remedies. As night fell, we were content to lie out in the grassy garden lit by fireflies. In Joshua’s arms I had found my new favorite spot. We stared at the sliver of moons in the dark sky.

  “You’re a healer,” I marveled.

  “I took a beating at a shullby match and arrived back at the dormitory with two black eyes and a crooked nose,” he explained. “Standing in front of the mirror, I thought of you—Abbey—and all of your ranting about ogres and brutal, pointless sports. I wondered if you’d ever look at me as anything more than a block of muscle with a crooked nose. I picked up the Che stone from the dresser, because I’d developed a habit of holding it when thinking of you. The white stripe started glowing. Then my whole face started tingling, so I held the stone up close to it. Right before my eyes, everything healed.”

  “And you realized your foolish ways and abandoned the foolish game,” I teased.

  “Not exactly. I did give it up, but not for fear of injury. I had to give it up to be fair. From that moment I knew I had too much of an advantage. With the power to heal myself, I could play absolutely ruthlessly without fear of injury.”

  I smirked. “You always looked ruthless out there to me.”

  “Just didn’t seem fair,” he repeated quietly.

  Silence settled for a moment.

  A guilty weight sank into the pit of my stomach. “I’m sorry. I know that shullby was a passion of yours. I’m sorry you had to give it up, and I’m sorry for all my criticism. As short as life is, and with all the dangers lurking, you ought to do all the things you enjoy doing, even if it’s tackling men over a silly sac.”

  He kissed my forehead in his new expression of fondness. “I enjoyed the banter, Abbey. I never took offense.”

  “Can you heal anything?” I asked.

  “Please tell me you’re not thinking of injuring yourself again,” he replied. “I don’t think I can bear seeing you in so much pain.”

  Before I could reply he was continuing, “But, no, I think not anything. So far as I understand, the pain of the healing process is caused by a spike in metabolism and rapid tissue regeneration. I can only heal what I understand to be the cause of the injury or illness. Once I understood anatomy, trauma became the simplest. I need only envision the body returning to normal anatomy.

  “Disease is more difficult since it involves helping the body mount an immune response. If I don’t know what response would destroy a particular disease, then I don’t have a way to enhance defenses. A parasitic worm brain, for example, is caused by ingestion of a roundworm. The parasite travels from the gut to muscle, where it makes larvae that can then spread to the brain. Since I comprehend the lifecycle and where the parasite attacks its host, I can cure it.”

  My stomach quaked at the thought of a parasitic worm wriggling its way into someone’s brain. Perhaps he could have described some- thing less creepy to explain the stone’s mechanism.

  “So you really have to study a great deal to be able to heal many things,” I observed.

  He nodded and absently twirled a finger in my hair. It had a relaxing effect. The last thing I recalled before falling to sleep was Joshua describing his coursework.

  I awoke on plush grass to the serene chirping of birds and the smell of baking bread. I lay alone, enjoying the strangely serene moment. Then a distant rumbling unnerved me. Startled sparrows took flight from a wisteria tree as the sky turned to slate. A shadow filled the canyon as a great black dirigible blocked the sun—Malos. He was descending from above, a hundred times larger than I had first seen him. His burrowing eyes glared at me. His enormous, round body floated and his small arms were balled in angry fists.

  A rising thunder, like a train at full speed, reverberated against the canyon walls. The trees morphed into twisted, bare, lifeless things. The flowers turned to bushels of treacherous thorns spiraling around me. The air became acrid with the smell of sulfur and decay.

  In a booming voice, Malos said, “You dare challenge me? You can- not defeat me!”

  I opened my eyes with a start, my heart racing. The sky was clear, the birds at peace.

  Joshua, clean and dressed in his traditional pants and a shirt, approached with breakfast. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  I shook my head no, feigning calmness, until I did feel calm. I sat up, and then slowly stood. The muscles in my arms were dreadfully sore from paddling and my thighs still sore from the horse- back riding. The pain in my healed leg was a dull ache now.

  We sat at a nearby table and ate smoked fish wrapped in bread and baked with goat cheese on top.

  “Allis says it’s half a day’s climb to the top of the canyon to meet back up with Laos,” Joshua explained.

  A climb? “I’m going to need more flexible clothing,” I said.

  At least no one was calling it a perilous climb. The last perilous activity we did ended in crushing agony and near death.

  By the time I bathed in one of the tame waterfalls and dressed in the cotton clothing and sandals provided by the monks, Joshua and Allis had packed our gear and were waiting for me at the base of a steep incline.

  I looked up at the tall cliff face that stretched to the sky and blocked the sun. I knew from my geology studies that we would be scaling a wall of layers packed together over the course of a million years. The bottom layer, or basement layer, was made of dense, compressed granite. The next several layers were different types of shale, with the most prominent being a combination of fine-grained stones and iron that produced the rich
red color. The next lighter color was sandstone topped off with limestone. The end result was a rainbow of light-colored rock that was breathtakingly beautiful in the morning sun.

  It was not a sheer cliff face, but steep enough that we would have to use all arms and legs to climb. It would require vigorous effort on the part of my aching muscles; yet, I welcomed the manual labor as a distraction from my bleak subconscious torturing me with images of Malos, death and destruction.

  We climbed with Allis leading the way. I was in the middle and Joshua following.

  “Has anyone ever just rappelled down the wall and not bothered risking death at the mercy of the river?” I asked, pushing myself up to the next ledge with my legs.

  “Visiting the monks is not just about the destination, it is about the journey. Just as you cleanse the body before the journey, the river will cleanse the soul.”

  “But some people might die.”

  “Then the river has chosen a worthy Caballus companion, and his soul will forever rest in the Gunthi sanctuary,” Allis replied calmly.

  I didn’t know whether to feel reassured that if I died, I would have a peaceful resting place or that they were dispassionate about a person being devoured by their sacred river. I had been relieved to see Allis alive, but if I had died, his culture dictated that he accept it as fate.

  I felt my footing slip a bit, but quickly regained ground. It occurred to me that if I hadn’t scaled an ice cliff with Vallik on Mount Kapri in Karnelik, this incline might have been more intimidating, perhaps even perilous. Nevertheless, a pair of spiked boots instead of flimsy sandals would have made this less challenging.

  “Does the Aqua Santo Eternal exist?” Joshua asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

  This must be another tale from his beloved mythologist, Sebastian Slade, no doubt. I’d actually heard of this one. The Aqua Santo Eternal was a pool off the main river believed to give eternal life. The impression I had gotten from the Caballus during my geology studies was most of them didn’t believe the stories.

  I was on the verge of opening my mouth and imploring Joshua to not be ridiculous when Allis spoke. “The legend says that those who drink from the Aqua Santo will have eternal life, but Zane, Zack’s brother, explained to me it is more complex than legend would have us believe.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, suddenly more eager to keep a closer pace to him.

  “Drinking from the river extends life. So, one would have to live by the waters to have eternal life. That would mean becoming a Gunthi monk, which is a difficult existence.”

  I frowned. I recalled the Gunthi monks in fine cloaks living in a secluded paradise. It didn’t seem like a troubled existence.

  Allis had glanced back at me smiling and chuckled at my expression. “You don’t think so, Abigail the Horse Lover?”

  “I’ve only seen a glimpse of them, but it didn’t seem like a difficult life,” I admitted.

  He nodded and smiled, apparently unoffended by my ignorance. “To become a Gunthi monk you must take a vow to protect mankind, even if it means risking your life. You must become skilled at the art of war and the art of peace, which means studying both these for the first twenty years of your commitment. Then, every twenty-five years you emerge from the safety of the sanctuary and immerse in human culture for a ten-year sabbatical before returning to the river for another twenty-five years. In addition, you will see all of your loved ones die.”

  “Immortality sounds quixotic.” I could hardly grasp what it might feel like.

  “Not exactly immortality,” Joshua interrupted. “Drinking the Aqua Santo Eternal prevents aging, but doesn’t make a person invincible.”

  Allis nodded. “Natural death is deferred; however, death by any other measure can still occur.”

  Suddenly, I realized how terrifying that sabbatical must be. They had to leave their zone of safety to a world they hadn’t known for a quarter of a century and survive alone for ten years. I spent the rest of the hike mulling over this daunting life.

  True to their word, Laos, the Queen, and three other members of the clan met us at the top of the canyon. I was still amazed by the immense hospitality of the Caballus people. Laos provided us with a carriage large enough for four people to ride, or sleep, pulled by a giant spotted ox. Phobus was there and greeted me with a nudge of his nose. For a moment, I imagined him to be relieved to see I was alive. Even the Queen nearly managed a smile at the sight of us, though I might have mistaken it for squinting against the sun.

  The Queen’s new carriage was already packed with our cleaned clothes, fresh bread, meat, fruit, and beverages. Happily, I took off my sandals and put on my boots.

  Allis approached Laos to speak with him while Joshua inquired to the Queen about her health. I approached Phobus and patted him affectionately.

  Laos walked toward me when he was done conversing with Allis. Unis, the white steed, was at his side. Joshua joined us.

  Laos pulled off a red cloak and straw hat from the horse’s back and handed it to me.

  “I want you to have a cloak to keep you warm, Abigail, and I hat to keep you cool.”

  “Thank you.” I took the richly colored, soft cloak and beige straw hat.

  “Joshua, or should I say Joshua the Healer, as Allis has told me? I want you to have Unis for the duration of your journey. He is a fine companion and loyal horse. He will not leave your side unless you ask him to do so.”

  Joshua looked stunned. “I’m extremely honored, Laos First Clan Leader.” He took the reins of Unis and patted his neck.

  “Also,” Laos added, “there are several spears hitched to the side of the wagon.”

  Joshua nodded. Laos pulled me aside, asking, “Did you find the answers you sought?”

  I nodded. “We are to raise a Champion to defeat the Malanook, who have overtaken the castle and intend to overtake the land. When we have the necessary ingredients, we will join the soldiers of the kingdom on Marrin Beach, summon the Champion, and defeat the evil.” Although I was able to recite the plan clearly, the meaning of the words escaping my lips seemed surreal.

  Laos’s face wrinkled in a delighted smile. “Then this is not farewell, Abigail, just good-bye for now.”

  We crossed hands and parted ways. Our party expanded as Allis decided to leave his home and join our quest. I welcomed the pleasant addition of his smiling face and easy disposition.

  5

  The next leg of our journey began with renewed vigor, and I sat atop Phobus, admiring the beauty of Aithos. I thought of how we were on a quest to save it all—the fire-burnt rocks, the vast prairie, the magnificent cliffs and canyons. But as we left this beauty behind for flat, plain land that stretched on endlessly, I felt a slight sadness creeping over me, as though I may never see it again.

  Allis, driving the carriage with the Queen safely inside, pulled up beside me, smiling. “Abigail the Horse Lover,” he began and asked me how Joshua and I met.

  “You really can just call me Abbey,” I told Allis.

  “In Caballus culture, using someone’s full name is a sign of the highest respect. So you shall always be Abigail the Horse Lover.”

  With that, I rambled on about my university days and meeting Joshua through Paul, who was studying finance at the time.

  “I understand your brother raised you?”

  He had probably heard as much from Laos, and I didn’t mind explaining the situation to such a kind smile and eager listener.

  “My parents died in a shipwreck when I was twelve. Paul could have left me for adoption, but at the age of sixteen he became my custodian instead. He had strict rules about finishing school and attending the university. He was ultimately the best brother for which I could hope. He worked and kept us fed, clothed, and sheltered.”

  As I told our story, I thought back to the devastation of losing our parents. I hadn’t stopped crying for two weeks, and Paul could barely coax me to eat.

  “C’mon, Abbey, cheer up now,” Paul softly cajoled me,
sitting be- side me on my bed, which I had seldom left. “You’ve got to pick your- self up for Mom and Dad. Make them proud.”

  I didn’t reply, but I was listening.

  “I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too.” He ran a hand through his wavy, dark hair. “Everything will be different without them around. What was it that Dad would say to you whenever you were afraid of something?”

  “Small and mighty,” I replied meekly. My small body bundled close as I wrapped my arms around my bent legs and rested my chin on my knees.

  “What was that?”

  “Small and mighty,” I had repeated with more resolution.

  “Yeah, I still can’t hear you,” he said with a grin.

  “Small and mighty!” I shouted, picking my head up high.

  That night I had been able to force myself out of bed and join the world once again.

  I learned later we had inherited money from our parents, and Paul managed it well and was able to budget it for himself and me to attend the university. Paul finished his degree and, brilliant as he was, became the youngest finance minister in history. The inheritance provided for three years of my education before it ran out. We had a long talk about how to finish my education and ultimately decided I would work for a year in the castle while we both saved for me to go back and finish.

  “Seems strange now to think about going back. The world is not the place I once thought it was,” I added.

  Allis smiled. “The world has depth and many layers. You have un- covered several layers of magic and mysticism, but that does not make the superficial layer any less real. Now you can finish your studies, per- haps with more intrigue, since you can now see more layers.”

  I looked at Allis with his bright white teeth, long, straight hair, and friendly, protruding belly. He was probably only ten years older than I, but seemed wise to everything in the world.