Jacob's Reign_The Reign Begins

by Jonathan Giddinge

  My three guests declined my offer, so I poured myself a cup and returned to the map covered table where my guests had gathered.

  “You getting the trip all planed out, are you?” Amos asked as he glanced down at the maps.

  “I’m planning for north,” I said as I took a seat. “It seems to be the best of our options. Most of what little game we do see is heading that general direction.”

  “Not south?” Amos questioned.

  “Why would I go south?” I asked. “We came from the south, there’s nothing there but death.”

  His questioning me didn’t make any sense to me and I couldn’t figure out why he would ask such a question.

  Why would we return to a place so inhospitable that our people were forced to uproot their lives and move north. The dryness, the heat and the wind made it unlivable. I never lived in the south, nor had I ever gone that way, but I grew up hearing the stories. I heard of days that were so hot that a person would cook before they even knew they were in trouble. These heat spells would come on instantly and be gone just as quick. Winds that blew so hard that dust and sand particles would rip flesh from bones in a matter of minutes. A person would have to cover themselves from head to toe when venturing outside, just in case a wind storm started up. Special suits were designed to cool a person from within to protect against the ‘heat storms’, which is what they called them. Full face masks and goggles were made from the hides of the sheep that ran free in the desert before the weather changed. Grass and thin layers of plant fibers were used to filter out the fine particles that flew around. Most of the animals left the south years before our people did. The stripe fins were one of the few that stuck around. These were large fur covered creatures with hides so thick, the blowing sands had no effect on them and they were adapted to the heat storms. They got their name from a large fin on their back that was stripped black and white and could be lowered when needed. With most of the other animals gone, the strip fins started to go after people. There was talk of other, more menacing beasts, but they stayed south of the camp mostly. My people thought that the weather was a temporary thing that would pass, but after a time of suffering, they ultimately decide it was a permanent weather change and moved.

  That didn’t sound like a place I wanted to take a hunting party. I would prefer to keep my flesh attached to my bones, and I would prefer not to be cooked, not until after I die.

  “Things might have changed over the years, it might be a different place,” Amos said.

  “I’m not prepared to walk my people into a wasteland with killer winds and heat, not to mention beasts,” I argued.

  I pulled a map of the south to the top of the pile and referred to it, “We would have to go all the way down here just to get past what we know, but then we have no clue what might be down there. It could be even worse, with worse storms and even more deadly beasts wanting to have us for lunch.”

  I paused a moment, but not long enough to let Amos speak up, “Do you really want to walk a week, then another week in the torturous storms and killer heat, just to find another four or five days of walking in desolate landscapes, fighting off who knows what kind of monsters and wild beasts. As far as we know, it gets worse the farther we go. I’m not willing to take my people through that kind of hell. I’ve heard the tales of the stripe fins, the gnarly, with its long whip-like tail and mouthful of razor sharp teeth. I’ve also heard of the matted bear, ten feet tall on its hind legs.”

  That was about the time I realized that my company was staring at me as if I had just cursed their lives, like I was crazy. Karline even looked a bit scared of my ramblings. I meant every word of what I said, I just didn’t realize that my delivery might have been a bit harsh.

  “What?” I asked loudly.

  “You done?” Amos asked calmly.

  I rolled up the map of the southern lands and tossed it across the room, “Not south!” I yelled.

  My mother cleared her throat, “So, you’re thinking, not south?”

  I should have expected a smart-assed comment like that from her. Every time I was angry, she tried to lighten the mood somehow, usually with a smart remark or sharp sarcasm of some kind.

  “Ok,” Amos began. “No south bound travel. I just think that maybe we should consider other options, other directions. What about west, or even northwest?”

  “You have a problem with your ears, or is your trouble with me?” I asked angered.

  I was outraged! Why would he question me, my father’s advisor, and his father’s as well? Now he questions me, my judgement? Did he not have faith in me the way he did in my father? This was a problem for me, I couldn’t have an advisor who didn’t trust me. How would my people see this? They would think that I was unfit to lead them. There was no reason to go against me on this, he knew the south was bad, he lived there for many years and from what I heard, he was a driving force when it came to leaving it behind.

  “I’m just bringing up other options, that’s all, my chief,” Amos said as he bowed his head to me.

  “I’ve looked at all other possibilities, all other options,” I argued. “Do you have such little faith in me that you can’t trust me to look into every option before coming to a conclusion?”

  “Wasn’t my intention to upset you, or to imply that you don’t know what you are doing. I just try to cover all bases,” Amos said calmly.

  Then my mother had to chime in, “You don’t have to yell at him like that. It’s his job to question you in order to insure that you’ve thought of all options and possibilities.”

  “The last time raiders attacked us, they came from the west,” I said, then I pointed to a low mountain range and canyon on the map. “Best we could figure at the time, is they came from here. Northwest of us. The last time we sent a hunting party out that way, they never came back. The mountains to the east run north for at least another twenty miles from this point,” I referenced the map again. “There’s no way to scale them with our group, with supplies, wagons and what not,” I pounded my fist on the table at the top of the map. “NORTH is the only viable option for us, the only feasible route that keeps us away from raiders, killer wind, heat and animals, and unpassable mountain ranges. I looked at all the options, weighed all the outcomes, figured out all the possibilities, mentally mapped out every possible route we could take.”

  I paused to roll up one of the maps, then tossed it at Amos, “If you don’t trust me, take your own damn hunting party to the south, or to the west. When you get killed by raiders, or by the flesh-eating sandstorms, or the hungry stripe fins, matted bears, I won’t feel sorry for you, I won’t even have a pyre for you. The ancestors will never receive your soul and you can be lost in the wasteland wondering for eternity.”

  All eyes were on me as if I had just killed a baby. I knew I was right, I was not going to let them to make me feel I was in the wrong, “To Hell with them,” I thought to myself.

  “I’m sorry, Chief. It’s my job to offer other options to make you think of everything, even if you already have,” Amos said humbly.

  “He did the same for your father,” my mother began. “That’s why he was so trusted by your father and your grandfather.”

  I looked around at the faces staring at me and found myself wondering what they were thinking. I shouldn’t have cared. I was Chief Leader, not Amos, not my mother and not Karline.

  Karline sat in silence during the exchange, it was her way. She was a listener, just like I used to be. As Chief Leader, I could no longer be silent, but I was always a listener. I believe that all my years listening and observing made me a better leader.

  “I understand what you think you’re doing, but it doesn’t help. We go north in two days,” I said in a strong voice.

  “I’ll make the necessary arrangements so you can focus on mapping out our path,” Amos said.

  Amos picked up the map that I tossed at him and placed it back on the table, then he bowed his head and left to begin his work.

  I
unrolled the map and flattened it using my revolver to hold down one side and my cup of tea to hold down the other.

  “Do you know the path yet?” my mother asked.

  I looked over the map for moment before answering, “No. Just a general direction.”

  “We can call on the ancestors to guide you, if you’d like,” she said.

  “If they are willing to guide, I will take it,” I said.

  My mother and Karline stood over the map and I took a step back to give them space to do their thing.

  My mother took a small vial from one of the many pouches that she wore. Inside the clear vial was a blue liquid held in with a tight-fitting piece of wood. She sat the vial on the map, then Karline removed three leaves from a pouch she wore and sat then next to the vial. They looked at each other, then closed their eyes and pointed their heads and arms toward Zion.

  Soon my mother began to chant, quietly at first then louder, “Ancestors hear us, mother earth trust in us, ancestors help us.”

  She repeated the words and Karline joined her as they continued to repeat themselves.

  The lights in my home dimmed, flickered and then shut off completely. The only light was provided by the window at the front of the home. The air became chilly and I became a bit nervous.

  My mother spoke again, “Safe passage is what we seek. Show our leader the way to safety.”

  Karline repeated my mother’s words. Then, in unison, they began to speak the ancient language. Only the medicine woman, her apprentice and the Sisters of Zion knew the language.

  “Boorushara, boorushara,” they began. “Feltish karano beerushara en malto ta owen!”

  The two repeated this chant several times before my mother picked up the vial, held it to Zion, removed the wood plug and poured the blue liquid onto the map. As it hit the parchment, the blue liquid became yellow. It pooled up over the place of our camp on the map, then slowly began to trail out over the northern section. The chanting continued, but became quiet and slowly spoken while I watched in amazement as the liquid formed multiple paths from our camp to the northern region. Each trail had its own tinting. I instantly knew, somehow, that the darker the color, the more dangerous the trail.

  “Thank the ancestors, praise the ancestors, trust in the ancestors,” the two said in unison.

  They lowered their arms and opened their eyes. The atmosphere became silent and still as the lights turned on once again. My mother and her apprentice sat down and leaned back in the chairs. They looked worn out as if they had just run ten miles. I remained away from the table to allow the women to regain their strength.

  My mother motioned for me to come close, “OK, the ancestors have shown us the way,” she pointed to the map and one of the paths made from the blue liquid turned yellow. She began to trace one of the paths with her finger, “Here is one path, through the hills, you’ll be safe here and plentiful game,” she said.

  I couldn’t understand why she was tracing the lines, but didn’t mention it at that point. She began to trace a second path, “Here, through the flatlands and beyond is another safe route, but probably less game in the flatlands,” she said.

  “What is it?” Karline asked me.

  Maybe she noticed the look of confusion on my face.

  “You don’t need to trace every line, mother. I can see them just fine,” I said.

  “What?” she asked.

  She looked at me shocked and a bit confused.

  “You can see them?” she asked.

  “The yellow lines? Yes,” I chuckled a bit. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  I felt Karline staring at me and I fought the urge to look at her. Then my mother spoke up, “The ancestors have blessed you, my son,” she said with her hands clasped tightly.

  I turned to Karline, “I watched you pour the blue liquid that turned yellow when it hit the map, then it went in all the directions and created paths. I don’t understand the surprise,” I said.

  “Ancestors be praised,” Karline said, and my mother repeated it.

  I was lost, I didn’t know what the big deal was. I took a sip from the cup of tea then placed it back on the corner of the map, “Should I not be able to see what’s in front of my eyes?” I asked.

  “The blessed oil came from the mullen bush. We bless it for the ancestors. To the normal eye, it vanishes when used, leaving marks that only Karline and me can see,” My mother began. “The ancestors have blessed you, my son, my Chief.”

  Both women turned to me and bowed their heads with clasped hands. I felt something at that moment, something I couldn’t explain at the time, and still can’t explain properly.

  My vision at the collaring, and seeing what I shouldn’t be able to see, made me realize that I was truly blessed by the ancestors. They knew what I needed to do and they gave me the ability to accomplish all of my goals and dreams.

  “Will they stay on the map?” I asked my mother.

  “I would think so. If you can see them now, I don’t see why they would disappear.”

  I grabbed my weapon from the table and holstered it, then I moved the cup. I rolled up the map so I could study it later, unbothered. My two guests couldn’t stop staring at me and it was beginning to make me uncomfortable, “What?” I questioned.

  My mother reached into one of her pouches and removed a handful of powder. She tossed the powder into the air and it formed a brilliant blue and red cloud of spinning powder that hovered just above the table. The cloud formed into a sphere and began to spin faster, the colors merged, creating a bright purple. The motion was mesmerizing as a low hum emanated from the center of the sphere. As I continued to stare, the tone grew louder, and then the tone grew sharper.

  “What is it?” I asked, not able to look away.

  My mother looked to Karline and raised her eyebrows, then they both returned their gaze to me.

  “Ancestors in Zion! I can’t believe this. My own son, blessed with the seer’s sight.”

  “The seer’s sight?” I asked, still mesmerized and unable to remove my gaze.

  “It’s the gift that all medicine women train their entire youth for, a gift from Zion to see what should not be seen, what cannot be seen by most. It’s like looking to the other side. The line between life and death are weakened to allow us to communicate with the ancestors.”

  The sphere shrunk until it was too small to see, then a bright flash and the sound ended.

  My mother turned to Karline, “Go, get a seer’s stone,” she said.

  Her student stood, bowed her head to me, then left my home, almost slamming the door in her excitement. My mother reached into her shirt and removed a metal medallion. The cluster of stars that make up Zion was carved in the center of the bright blue stone that was attached to the center of the medallion. A silver chain was connected to the medallion through a small loop.

  “This is the seer’s stone. A symbol of great ability,” my mother said.

  The stone seemed to shimmer as she held it in her hand. After a moment, she returned the medallion to its resting spot under her shirt. The excitement on her face was clear, “My boy, blessed to see what only a few can, a gift for sure.”

  We shared a moment of silence, neither one of us knowing what to say, or if anything needed to be said at all.

  The door opened and Karline returned holding a seer’s stone medallion.

  Karline handed the medallion to my mother. She held it high for a moment, then placed it around my neck.

  “You have the ability to become the greatest Chief Leader this camp has ever seen,” She began with pride. “Keep this with you, always. It will help you, guide you, protect you, call out to you when you need it. As time passes, it will take on your attributes, become a part of you. You will feel it within you at all times.”

  I was scared and proud at the same time. The revelation added a new level of responsibility for me. A responsibility that I was unsure of, maybe even unready for. The past few days had been the hardest days of my life, and it seemed
as if the tough times were not ready to let me go.

  Moments after placing the medallion under my shirt, I felt it burning. It didn’t hurt, it was more like a tingling. I supposed that was the power of the seer’s stone becoming one with me. It was like a symbiont relationship and I felt it take hold.

  Chapter Six

  Night had fallen with a silent reverence as I sat on my bed staring at the walls and holding my father’s death book. I was hesitant to read it, but with the events of the day, I knew I had to look for some answers. With a deep breath, I opened the leather-bound book and began to read.

  This is being written before your birth, my son, or daughter. Our family has kept a record since before the Great war. You will find the past records in my chest, along with other important articles you will need throughout your reign.

  Please allow me to sum up the main events for you. You will learn more details from the other books, but I want you to have an idea before you learn it all. The record of our history has been kept solely for the Chief Leaders. You can continue this tradition, as I will, or you can share it with all of our people…your people.

  Reading the first section made me nervous. Why would the history be concealed from the people? Why would my father hide the truth? Why would all the leaders keep our past from us? My father once told me something that he heard from his father, “The more you know about the past, the better prepared you are for the future.”

  He said the words came from a leader that lived many generations ago, a man named Roosevelt. I guess that only the leaders needed to be prepared for the future.

  Holding the book opened and reading from it, I got up and made myself some mullen root tea.

  Long before the great war, almost two generations, our once great nation began to fall slowly. People began to live the life they wished, no matter how far from reality it was. We began to forgive the evils of the world, in some cases many people would embrace those evils. We became soft on crime, trying to understand the criminal and blaming his or her situation for their actions instead of the criminal themselves.