Chapter 7 (Part 1)

Quadect 28^th, 1258

As the trio and their escorts flew toward the hilltops, Pirouz felt fear grip his heart. The sky was dark; darker than it should have been. The sun was already setting; the horizon a deep red orange. Once they crested the hills, they finally observed the full horror of what they were seeing. Pillars of smoke rose to the heavens from the outer edges of the capital city. It would be midnight by the time they reached the capital and that was even if they hurried. Pirouz asked, “I am sorry. I know you all must be tired, but-.”

He didn’t finish before Sook interrupted him, “Let’s go! Hopefully we can help stop whatever is happening!”

Pirouz smiled to himself and picked up the pace. These adventurers endeared themselves to him, he couldn’t deny that. Their goal was so much more grandiose than he expected. Pirouz always wanted to explore the world and thought the military was the answer but it was difficult to admire the scenery when it’s soaked in blood. A pit grew in his stomach as he realized how desperately he wanted to desert and join these strangers on their journey. He couldn’t abandon his comrades and nation so easily… could he? Pirouz shook his head, people are in danger, this is no time to fantasize about a life that could never be.

“Drop us off by that large fire near the southwestern gate!” Zenebe shouted. Pirouz and his men set the adventurers down, “I wish you three luck. We will deal with all the thralls outside the gates and return to you!” The three angels took off to the north, leaving the adventurers a fair distance away from the torchbearers setting fire to the gate.

“Aren’t these things weak to fire? Since when did they become arsonists?” Dulani asked. “At least they’re still dumb; trying to set fire to the defensive wall made of brick, instead of focusing on the lumber gates.”

“Sure, except they’re far too close to the gates for my liking so let’s stop them before they wise up!” Zenebe shouted.

“I don’t like how strategic these things are starting to get! Even if it’s not the most efficient way of doing it, burning down a defensive wall would have been something beyond the puppets we’ve been fighting up until now,” Sook relayed worriedly while sprinting along the edge of the outer wall.

“Hopefully, they can be put down the same way,” Dulani said, running forward and drawing her katar.

“I’ll help Dulani with the enemy! Will you be able to put out this fire on your own, Zenebe?”

“You can count on me! I asked Pirouz to set us down here because I noticed a river a fair way through the treeline.” Zenebe replied with a reassuring smile. However, as Sook transformed and began cutting through the rabble, his reassuring facade finally dropped. He had never snuffed out such a massive fire before. Hiis ability to manipulate water had always been very limited. Zenebe couldn’t help but think about what he lost the last time he tried manipulating so much water. The young hydrosophist resolved himself; people are relying on him. He couldn’t abandon them.

Dulani cut down thrall after thrall. It became disgustingly routine at this point. Disarm them, decapitate them and knock them over, easy as one, two, three. It got exhausting after a while though.

“Hey Sook! These things are setting up their own downfall. Toss them into the fire!” Sook grinned and let go of the hapless pawn she was about to tear apart. Instead she spun and slammed the thrall with her tail, sending it careening into the fire. “Haha! Nice one! This should be over in a flash!” Dulani continued cutting down who she could while Sook easily tossed the puppets into the flames.

Without warning, a shambling assailant engulfed in flames stumbled forward and nearly cut Dulani. “Hey! What the hell?! I thought these things were weak to flames! Every time Pirouz or those other angels lit them on fire they’d burn to a crisp in seconds!” Sook now struggled to fight the burning thralls. Her scales were good for protecting her from cuts and stabs, but they didn’t provide much in terms of flame resistance.

“Something must be special about their fire, or maybe these things are getting even more dangerous than we thought! If so, I hope Pirouz and his men are okay!” Sook fought defensively, doing her best not to expose herself to the blaze.

Dulani began decapitating the thralls from a distance with her chakrams, “That lay about, Zenebe, better be cooking something up right now!”

Zenebe’s head was pounding. There were no water sources in the immediate area that were big enough for what he needed. He needed to redirect the nearest river so it would flow by the gate. Redirecting a river of that size and for such distance would be a challenge and it was going to take time. Zenebe reached the body of water that he had spied from the sky earlier and quickly parted the current so he could make his way across as fast as possible. The young man stood at the opposite edge of the river from the gate and channeled his magic into his staff. He applied pressure to the side of the river, pushing it away and toward the gate. He not only had to push the water but also curve the pressure around the edge of the river’s flow. If he tried just blocking the water and letting it flow to the sides like he had in Abbayona, his mind would give before the river did. Little by little the water began flowing up the bank of the far side.

“This would be so much easier if somebody could use terramancy to help me.” Zenebe muttered under his breath from the strain. “And to top it all off, this is supposed to be the easy part.” Zenebe was doubting whether or not it was even possible. HIs temples began throbbing as he pushed harder and harder. He could feel that the river was about to give but it just kept sinking back into its predetermined path.

As if a weight was taken off, the water flowed over the bank and freely streamed toward the gate. Zenebe gasped for breath. He hadn’t realized how tight his diaphragm was constricted during the ordeal. Zenebe hunched over and coughed violently. Once his irritation had subsided, he stood back up and inhaled deeply, “Now for the hard part.”

Dulani and Sook were surprised as water began trickling right through the path they were fighting on. They were even more surprised when that trickling quickly became a torrent of water. Sook and Dulani both climbed up into trees as the remaining thralls were swept away by this brand-new river. Not long after, Zenebe came running through the woods from behind them.

“I assume this is your doing, Zenebe,” Dulani said while hanging above the rushing water like her life depended on it.

“This is amazing! I never realized you could do something like this!” Sook’s endearing optimism helped light a fire under Zenebe. The water was slowly creeping deeper into the forest’s edge, forcing Sook to help Zenebe up into the tree line and give him time to focus.

“Do you remember, in the foggy town, how I amassed the water over our heads to use as a medium to summon the tentacles of a cephaloid?”

Dulani’s eyes scrunched, “Uhhh, I never knew what that thing was called, but yes I remember being terrified that you would drop all that water on our heads.”

“Well, this time I’m kind of going to do that. This is going to be really difficult though, so please watch my back.”

Dulani smirked, “Well, considering how the last time I didn’t cover your back, we got thrown into a cage together, I’d definitely prefer it this way.”

Zenebe resolved himself to push past his limits. This would be the first time he tried something so massive since his father died. Despite the immense stress on his mind, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking back.

It was said there was a great storm on the day Zenebe was born. The torrential downpour threatened to drown the slums of his hometown of Abada. Families fled to higher ground abandoning their homes and possessions. Zenebe’s father was out of the city, terrified for his family’s well being and cursing himself for going out surveying during the wet months. Zenebe’s mother was in labor before the rain really came down. It was like the storm, itself, grew with her pain. The midwives tried to rush her to safety once their family home began flooding. Other members of the community ventured back into the flooding slums to help. The group managed to get her sanctuary on the top of a house. On that roof, in the pouring rain, Tsehay delivered her child despite the grueling circumstances.

Tsehay told Zenebe the story so many times when he was a child. It gave him a vivid image of his mother holding the baby, drenched in rain, a dark gray sky hanging over them. Zenebe attempted to show his mother this mental image many times. His desire to express this perception of that moment is what drove him to paint.

Not long after his birth, Zenebe showed an affinity for the arcane art of hydrosophistry. The people who were there on that stormy night believed he was chosen by Bonzhi, the patron god of seas and storms. Zenebe’s father, Fikru, and Tilahun wanted Zenebe to embrace his arcane potential. Tilahun met a sorcerer on one of his travels and pleaded with the woman to train Zenebe. For two years, Zenebe’s family worked hard to afford the sorcerer’s patronage, fortunately it proved fruitful. By ten years old, Zenebe was already ahead of most arcane students. He could even summon small fish, using the water he manipulated. The sorcerer informed his family she needed to continue her journey, but ensured Zenebe continued to train as she had taught him. Zenebe was enamored with his magic, He felt like he could do anything. Most of the other children in his neighborhood were fascinated by his abilities and asked him to perform tricks.

Just a few years later, however, on a surveying trip with his father, his life would be plunged back into the dark circumstances of his birth. Fikru and Zenebe stopped to enjoy a watering hole at the base of a waterfall. Zenebe saw a perfect opportunity to push his magic past its limits.

“Father, I bet I can stop that waterfall completely!” Fikru didn’t even waver, he had faith in his son. Zenebe had astonished him at every turn. The idea that Zenebe could do anything was almost as true for him as it was for his son. Zenebe struggled, his vein throbbed in his forehead as he single-handedly stopped the waterfall. He lifted the bottom of the waterfall higher and higher. It seemed simple at first, the water heavy on his mind, but it felt doable. He kept pushing further and further. It all seemed so easy, until suddenly, it wasn’t. The water amassed as Zenebe held it up. The entire river continued to flow and Zenebe had to hold all its weight. He thought he could do it. He thought he could do anything. The relentless torrent crashed all at once.

Zenebe woke up on the edge of the river downstream from the watering hole; his lower half in the water being pulled by the current.

Zenebe was disoriented as he climbed to his feet and looked around, “Father?”

Zenebe frantically searched the river, traveling further and further downstream. Eventually, he managed to find his father’s body, caught on a piece of timber in a calmer part of the water. Fikru managed to save his son from the river’s grasp, but he couldn't save himself. Zenebe wept and wailed with grief as he held his father’s cold, damp body against his chest; his tears falling into the swirling eddies of the tides.

After the death, the adoration of his peers turned to fear. Zenebe didn’t blame them. He lacked control, he lacked discipline; he was swept away by his own power and a great man lost his life because of it. Tsehay forgave her son, even if he couldn’t forgive himself. Thus, it crushed her when Zenebe told her that he wanted to leave. He was only 19 and yet he felt stagnant and restless. He wanted to go out and find some meaning in his life. She pleaded with him to stay. She told him his father would want him to stay, but Zenebe couldn’t accept that. He hardly used his magic since he killed his father. He wanted to understand why he was burdened with such raw power. He had to learn how to control it; how to overcome his fear of himself. He hugged his mother and her arms locked around him while she drenched his scarf with her tears and faintly muttered, “Please don’t go” over and over again. Eventually, Zenebe pried himself out of his mother’s gasp and he turned away; striving out into the world to the sound of her sobs. Tsehay watched her son leave home then walked back into an empty house. She felt so alone. She walked into her son’s room and saw a large rectangle covered in cloth sitting on the bed. She slowly uncovered it and she teared up again. Tsehay took in the entirety of the painting; the image of herself under dark clouds, rain pouring down her face as she held her child for the first time. It was his best painting yet, and he had made it just for her. “Please stay safe, my son,” she whispered to herself.