Magic Rising

by Jennifer Cloud

  “Did she tell you her name?”

  “No.” He thought for a minute. “Wait. She did. I had a hard time listening, it being so long since I had a little drink.” He sipped more from the bottle Niam had brought. “It was Sarah or Sally. Something with an S.”

  “Did she mention why she was here?” Niam asked from the rail and Earl thought maybe Niam was more upset about the girl than the damage.

  “I swear I didn’t hurt her.”

  Niam’s eyes looked down, appearing darker than black, large and evil. “Did she say why she was here?”

  “Not really. Took an interest in you though.”

  Earl wished the words had never left his mouth. Niam flew down the steps, veins bulging in his face, eyes wide. The look on his face made Earl take several steps backward.

  “What did you tell her about me?” He spoke from clenched teeth and for a minute Niam, his friend, looked more like a monster than any mortal man. It was as if the creature had dropped the mask for a minute and what existed beneath wasn’t kind or caring. The cruel mark in the eyes, those damn eyes, he’d seen nothing like them before and he didn’t want to see them now. “What did you say?”

  Earl had been so taken with Niam’s quick descent down the stairs and the change in his demeanor that he lost the ability to speak. Maybe all this was a trick of the drink. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d doubted his eyes, especially since living here. The way Niam stepped forward, and pulled back his arm, like he might hit Earl soon, made his mouth start working again.

  “Only your name and that you brought me food. She liked the fact that you were a reverend.” This was about the girl. She knew Niam and that’s why she came through the window. Sally, or whatever, had been afraid of who she would find living in this house. She’d been afraid of Niam.

  “How long ago was she here?”

  Earl wasn’t sure what he should say. There were obviously reasons to fear the reverend, but he’d been so nice until today. “An hour ago, maybe. Haven’t seen her leave yet. She’s probably still up at the big place.” He spoke too excitedly and he realized that he was far too eager to please a man buying him a drink.

  “Really.” Niam touched his chin and stared at Earl. No that wasn’t exactly right, he looked through him. “I need to make a call.”

  Earl sat back on the couch, trying again to distance himself from his odd friend. He’d seen Niam throw a fit, once. The temper was one to give a devil a run for his money. At the time, Earl thought it was okay because Niam was a reverend. It wasn’t as bad as now though. He’d never seen the reverend like this, so cold, like he vibrated with rage.

  Earl worried, especially for the girl.

  “Yes. I’m at the men’s dormitory. Send some of the guys.”

  Niam’s back was to Earl but he heard enough of the conversation. It sounded like he was going to have visitors. He didn’t like visitors. They scared him. Earl reached down and took a long drink of wine, ignoring the food for now. Something told him that he needed to get good and drunk.

  “Are you going to hurt that girl?” Earl shouldn’t have asked but the question slid past his lips before he could stop it.

  The worst part was the way Niam answered. He didn’t say a word only laughed. It didn’t sound like a jovial Christian laugh either. This one was laced with anger and a maniacal quality that made Earl finish the bottle and wish for another.

  Chapter Seven

  Deirdre left Scorpion’s body upstairs, lying on the floor of her old bedroom. It wasn’t a proper burial but she didn’t know what else to do. Burying her here would be an insult, hauling the body into her car was insane, and she didn’t want to think about who might show up if she set up a proper funeral pyre. There were no rites that could be performed, nothing fitting at least. Deirdre had said a prayer over her. It wasn’t much. Praying had never been her specialty. It wasn’t taught at Stone House.

  Even as she descended the stairs, she hesitated to leave her mother in such a state. Maybe she could come back in a day or two. There were plenty of cemeteries, some even on holy ground that would allow one more body into their soil.

  She sat on the stairs, bathed in the light from the stained glass story of some bloody battle they’d taught in school. They glorified bloody battles, breeding warriors for an army she never wanted to join. She never cared about government infiltration or infiltrating Bilderberg.

  Mom hadn’t really died on the exercise field. Somehow she set up an escape.

  * * * *

  The order for the attack on the field had been handed down because Scorpion had disobeyed orders and not punished her daughter for the failed assassination attempt. Dragonfly would’ve gladly taken her place but the leader wouldn’t have it. The result was called Contrition. Dragonfly never knew that it was designed as a death sentence.

  Scorpion was taken to the main courtyard or exercise area. There she stood in the middle and faced three of Stone House’s finest warriors. Scorpion was an exceptional fighter, and Dragonfly never feared her mother’s fate.

  Silver Touch attacked first. Scorpion wasn’t permitted a weapon. She had to face the three unarmed, while they had been well supplied. Silver Touch was a vicious fighter with her favored weapon, the staff. She was tall, wiry, with a deadly reach. Scorpion fought her while avoiding Fire Fox’s steady strikes with the morning star. That was no easy task. Fire Fox grew to be an expert with the ancient weapon, sending the spike covered ball into many skulls, then pulling back hard enough to make the chain rattle before slamming it down again.

  In the middle of the field Silver Touch swung the staff, Scorpion grabbed it, kicked her head, then shoved Silver Touch in the striking range of Fire Fox. Fire Fox was a large burly man but no amount of strength would pull the steel ball back from its path. Powerless to stop it, he watched the spikes go through Silver Touch’s face, blood sprayed, people cried. Silver Touch came forward with the ball hanging in her. She walked a few steps until the spikes loosened from her head, then she fell to the grass.

  Spider jumped toward Scorpion next. He had an axe embossed with a spider clinging where the handle joined the head of the axe. He was a better fighter than Fire Fox. Spider had more than weapons skill, and was highly proficient in hand to hand combat. Scorpion was on the receiving end of several blows to the head while trying to keep Fire Fox at bay.

  Finally, Scorpion gained enough distance and went back to Silver Touch. The long staff held in her dead hands was Scorpion’s only salvation. She pried the staff free before Fire Fox struck, missing her chest by inches. Scorpion came back, striking Spider across the head when Fire Fox came back around. She held the staff, letting the morning star’s chain wrap around the wood. Fire Fox pulled, the staff broke, but it was enough to distract Fire Fox. Scorpion shoved one broken end into the bastard’s throat. Blood flew, pulsed in a wild spray and even Dragonfly knew that Scorpion had severed his major artery.

  All that remained was Spider. Dragonfly knew that her mother could take him. In her eyes there was no greater fighter, no wiser person. Scorpion was better than these people and she would win.

  Spider swung with his axe while Fire Fox held his throat, falling to his knees, staining the grass. The swing was wide. Scorpion avoided it, flipping backwards. That’s what Spider wanted. Before Scorpion was able to get back into position, Spider was on her. The axe came close, cutting through her shirt in a line of red and Dragonfly couldn’t believe it. She never believed her mother could bleed.

  Without reacting to the wound, Scorpion kicked, hitting his face and turning his body with the momentum of the axe. She landed another hit, finishing his balance and Spider landed on the ground. Before he could rise, Scorpion landed on him, pinning his axe arm and breaking his neck. Dragonfly could still remember the sound. It echoed through the stone risers. Several cheered, others booed, and Dragonfly stood tall and applauded, even if the crack of bone breaking was the worst sound on the planet.

  Everything should’ve been over. Scor
pion had faced the challenge and had been successful. Victory belonged to her and no one could challenge it. At least that’s what Dragonfly thought.

  Mercury stood in the crowd, demanding something be done. Scorpion had used a weapon to defeat them. Using the enemies’ weapons against them was standard practice but this was the first Contrition that Dragonfly had ever seen and here the leaders changed the rules on a whim. She was still shocked when one of the leaders allowed Mercury to challenge her mother.

  Dragonfly held her chin high, knowing Scorpion would win. Her mother fought better than any of the men, still, the giant Jamaican frightened Dragonfly. He came down through the crowd causing a hush in the masses. Scorpion looked shocked but bowed, then took her stance.

  It was the look of shock that Dragonfly remembered, the wide glassy eyes, the agape mouth. Scorpion looked at her daughter, stared at her for one moment. Her mother was afraid. There was a fighter Scorpion feared.

  The fight was brutal. Mercury was physically her superior and swung a sword with the best of them. After being fatigued from defeating three warriors, Scorpion didn’t have enough strength to best Mercury. They went hand to hand, Scorpion holding her own until the sword cut across her back. At the end, Mercury straddled her and slit Scorpion’s throat, her mother’s throat.

  Crying wasn’t permitted, so Dragonfly sat in the stands and bit her lower lip. There, in a crowd of more than two hundred, she was alone. For the first time in her life she realized how terrible this place was. Only evil would make a child an orphan. Now she had to confront the human-faced demons, her teachers, without her mother to protect her.

  Dragonfly continued to sit in the stands as the people dispersed, some praising Mercury and some standing mutely over the body of her mother. She couldn’t go down to the field. She would cry or attack Mercury and that would give the leaders an excuse to rid themselves of her too. Everyone around ignored her, pushing past as if the woman lying dead in the grass was nothing to the teenage girl sitting on the bench.

  She tried not to scream. They’d hurt her if she did. She had to restrain her emotions until she was safely back in her room. All she could do was fight for control and wait for the funeral pyre to take her mother safely to the afterworld.

  Funerals took place fast here, unless they were after the victim’s soul. Warriors were taken to a clearing an hour’s hike from the building. There in the middle of greenery and life, they had the service for Scorpion. Because of Dragonfly’s disgrace, she wasn’t permitted near the body, only watching from the side, hoping the wind would carry her goodbyes to her mother. Mercury lit the fire and the linen-wrapped body burned.

  * * * *

  Deirdre shook away the memory but it was hard with the smell of smoke and soot clinging to the air around her. Her mother hadn’t been wrapped in that linen. She just found her mother’s body upstairs. Something in her mind’s eye was mistaken but why would her mother fake her death? Who had they burned and how did Scorpion fool the leaders?

  She thought back to the look on her mother’s face. Maybe she hadn’t been afraid of Mercury. She might’ve been afraid of the plan they were about to enact. She might have been afraid for her daughter.

  The cool stone surrounding her brought a terrible chill. She longed for sunlight, for warmth, and fresh air, not the dappled red from the stained glass coloring her skin like memories of blood.

  She went to the exercise yard. It was no longer the immense landscape of manicured grass with stone benches rising on the surrounding land, or dangerous sports arena where so many watched to see who would be killed next. Now it reminded her of a badly tended park. Weeds grew tall, knee high in places, waist high along the edges. Most of the benches were broken and those that weren’t held strange growths that marred the surface in fuzzy green and black mold.

  The hill called to her and she found her old seat. The bench remained whole and she eased onto it, testing it against her weight. There she looked down, as she’d done the day her mother had died.

  Dragonfly had caused her mother’s death. If she’d known what would’ve happened, Dragonfly would’ve killed that politician and spit on his body. She didn’t know though. She was a young teenager and didn’t want to commit murder. The love of life wasn’t tolerated at Stone House.

  There were no time-outs here. Punishment meant pain and sometimes death. They’d intended horrible things for her. The infraction was so terrible that they ordered a bloodline family member to carry out the sentence. Her own mother was ordered to hurt her.

  Normally Niam or a higher leader would punish Dragonfly. Niam usually volunteered, but those occasions were carried out in private instead of in front of everyone. Punishments were usually performed in the basement. There were devices for reprimands, supposedly because the leaders took no pleasure in the act. She had her doubts. Twice she’d been down there for punishment and both times the leaders had watched. They’d smiled while lashing her back or hanging her from the ceiling by her arms that were bound from behind.

  The last time she defied them, punishment was ordered and it was to be severe. She had to be made an example of and Scorpion had been ordered to do it. Dragonfly remembered them heating the oil and stripping away her clothing. They shackled her, naked, above a metal grate while a pot of boiling oil brewed above her. Scorpion was to pull the lever and release the oil. Dragonfly would’ve been scarred, if she survived. The last to be punished this way died, his hair melted, and he begged for mercy until succumbing to the pain of skin peeling away from the muscle, and the muscle from the bone. Scorpion didn’t have the heart for such a sin and that moment had caused Contrition.

  Deirdre had cost Scorpion so much. She only told her mother that she loved her once in a great while, when no one could hear. The last time, they’d been walking in the garden. The two of them hadn’t been fighters only mother and daughter. Those moments were few and precious.

  A noise to the side of the building broke her thoughts, shattered them like glass as footfalls approached. Instinctively, she rolled backwards, behind the bench and into the thick waist-high weeds.

  She stayed low, knowing that an intruder would do a visual for anything out of place and then cue in their senses. After a survey of the area, their minds and bodies would relax, giving her an opportunity to escape. The trick was keeping completely hidden.

  Deirdre cleared her mind. For a few moments she existed as weeds, trees, wind, and nature. She felt nothing, only existed as one with what belonged here. Her breathing slowed, her thoughts ceased. She felt nothing more than that of a blade of grass. In this way she could remain hidden from his senses as well as his line of sight.

  She heard footsteps somewhere down the hill. She didn’t react to these, only waited. A digital beep cut through the silence. It wasn’t a cell phone in this place, probably a two way radio. She couldn’t hear whoever called out, but she heard the man’s voice who answered. He was down in the exercise field. As he spoke, she knew who had ventured here. The voice haunted her, from childhood to now.

  “I can’t find the girl. She’s still here somewhere. Her car is still at the side of the building. I’d bet anything that we’re dealing with Dragonfly. Be on the lookout. You can injure her but do not kill. I repeat. I want Dragonfly alive.”

  Deirdre knew Niam’s voice. His name had been Midnight. He’d been one of the leaders and trainers in Stone House. She only knew his real name because he had to use it to register for competitions.

  She eased from her hiding placing, rising up enough to catch a glimpse. He hadn’t changed much. He was a tall man, muscular but lean. The name Midnight came from his long black hair and eyes such a dark brown that they looked black from a distance.

  His long hair was bound, but no shorter. She couldn’t tell if he still wore the long silver earring but he had continued to dress in solid black. He kept his arms covered now, hiding the tribal tattoos.

  Midnight was an evil bastard. He was twenty years older than she, but he looked pre
served, untouched by time. She sat lower, waiting, not wanting to fight him. He’d been her full time trainer from the age of ten, until she escaped at sixteen. Not a class went by that she hadn’t tried to remove his head from his shoulders.

  She had been the youngest to achieve what they called High Status. Midnight came down on her hard, never letting up. Every class was a challenge for her to get through without a broken bone or laceration.

  In some ways she’d been grateful for his hatred toward her. Midnight was notorious for dating his students. He usually had two women every night. They were of age, at least for Stone House. Seventeen meant they were old enough to breed more members. The leaders preferred rearing children there because children accepted whatever circumstance they were born into. They kept no recollection of the rest of the world or what was allowed by society.

  Reality had been purely of their creation. She’d been as blind as the rest, assuming that their treatment of her was standard. All that changed during the meets. She saw parents hugging their children, people celebrating a good performance even when a child had lost. She saw love.

  As a child, she secretly wondered if she were evil, something unacceptable. The worry never left her, even as an adult. It grew worse knowing that her mother had left, faking her death and leaving Dragonfly to the whims of the staff.

  Was I ever deserving of love?

  She wished things had been different. There were those born into light and hope, but not her. She glanced at her black clothes, then looked at the crumbling building. That thing had tainted her beyond salvation.

  Deirdre stayed on her haunches, waiting with her head ducked out of sight. She might be able to take down Niam. He held such an air of superiority that even now, she feared the competition.

  What if the rumors were true? What if he really had those powers? She didn’t want to think about it.

  Too much time passed before Niam left, walking slowly as if he sensed her near. He always performed like a superior warrior. She witnessed some magnificent displays that convinced her young mind that the leaders were capable of super-human abilities. Now, her sight was changed. She was no longer so naïve that she would believe a light show or simple levitation. Magicians performed those everyday and only needed the help of a lovely assistant instead of a room of blood.