REBIRTH
Chapter Seven: Tragedy
Jono
It felt like fire was everywhere, on his cloths, his hair, his skin, in his mouth, and burning through his skull. Three blessed years had passed since he was adopted and he watched as those memories burned with the wagon. Jono knelt on the sands a few feet from the burning wagon. He felt numb, so very numb; as he smelled the burning flesh of the two people he had just yesterday called Da and Mama. The night sky reflected the licking flames as embers and sparks lifted into the sky.
Bandits, the word resounded through his head. Bandits had struck the wagon in search of…something. He remembered the way they had burst into the wagon, demanding something from Da. Mama had quickly pushed him out of the wagon. Then he heard screams and laughter, the sound of metal against metal, then the sound of ripping fabric and splintering wood filled the air. Finally, after a few minutes the men burst out of the wagon and torched it.
Men? They couldn't have been. Men did not have those eyes. Jono shivered as he remembered the glowing yellow eyes with its slit pupils of the men who had so brutally destroyed his home. He looked around, rage and loss filling him in drowning torrents. Something inside him cracked and the rage grew. Jono shook with the emotion, his hands curling into fists, his nails digging into the palm of his hands, drawing blood.
Revenge.
He wanted revenge. He wanted to crush those things who had taken his joy from him. He wanted to hear their screams and pleas for mercy as he tore them apart. He wanted to destroy. He needed to destroy. He felt something slowly unfurl inside him. He felt something cool wrap itself around him, the contrast welcome from the heat of the fire. He wanted this. He knew that this was power, the power to destroy his enemies, and he craved it. But, just as he was about to allow the power to consume him, he heard a soft whimper that slowly increased to a pained cry.
Kisara!
His need for power broke as he scrambled across the sand toward the burning wagon, toward his little sister.
"KISARA!" Jono screamed as he dove into the wagon, nearly tripping over a toppled clothes chest.
He looked around. The wagon had been large, filled with tapestries and books, and separated into two sections; the main section belonging to his parents, which also doubled as the family area, and a smaller room where he and his little sister slept. A closet was placed near the wagon's back entrance where small items had been stored. Now the tapestries and books were all but gone, the bed his parents had lain on soaked with blood, his mother lay there with a sword wound across her back. On the floor his father was pinned by his own blade, an expression of anguish still visible on his frozen face.
"Brother?" A small voice called from behind the closet door. Kisara stepped out from behind the door, a white glow surrounding her body. The flames that greedily consumed the flesh of her parents did not touch her; in fact they seemed to shrink from her. Her pale blue eyes, their father's eyes, were glazed from shock.
"Kisara?" Jono asked, taking a step toward her. She blinked then, without warning, collapsed, the white light fading. Jono caught the three year old before she could hit the ground. Cradling her to his chest Jono quickly retreated back outside. Laying her down the eight year old carefully looked her over, checking for wounds, but saw nothing wrong with her physically. Tears slowly slipped from his eyes as joy and loss warred and merged inside him.
The night sky slowly returned to its original darkness as the fire died down. This time Jono reached for his power, not to destroy, but to protect the last bit of his happy childhood. Jono knew, for he had lived on the streets long enough to understand, that if he wanted Kisara and himself to survive there was only one option. With a sigh Jono wrapped his power around first Kisara then himself, creating warmth to protect from the chill night air. Tomorrow he would see what he could get for them to eat. Then he would make his way to the closest town where a slave trader would hopefully be picking out slaves.
/
Teana
Something was wrong with her father. Teana could sense the change in her beloved papa as she watched him swallow more alcohol from the leather skin that never seemed to leave his hand anymore.
"Son, Put the wine skin down!" Gram scolded, her eyes reflecting the worry Teana felt.
"Bah! I'm fine mother." Papa slurred as he sprawled on the cushions that littered the wagon floor. Taking another long drag from the skin the man sprawled further into the cushions.
"Papa, I really think you should listen to Gram." Teana said as she watched wine dribble from her papa's mouth. Over the past three years he had steadily morphed from the loud, kind, and steady papa she loved to a shaggy, sullen, and red-eyed mess.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand her papa sneered at her.
"Oh so you think that, just because your power if sight is just a tad bit stronger than your old man's you have the right to order him around?"
Teana blinked in surprise, that wasn't what she had thought at all.
"Well listen here brat!" The man spat at her, "I'm older and until I die or pass the title over to you I'm still the protector of this caravan!"
"Son!" Gram sharply reprimanded him.
"Shut it old bag!" Papa hissed, his eyes never leaving his daughter, "Is that what you want brat? For me to die?"
Teana felt as if she had been slapped.
"No Papa!" Teana cried, "I would never-"
"Oh, I bet you would just love that!" He snarled at her, "I bet that's why you've been leaving the wagon so much! You've seduced one of the men with you dancing fortunetelling! You're planning to have me killed aren't you?"
Teana was shocked and could only shake her head.
"I won't let you!" His voice grew louder, "GET OUT! YOU SLUT! YOU MURDERER! GET OUT OF MY WAGON!" he threw the wine skin at her.
Teana leapt for the wagon exit, tears streaming down her face.
"SON!" Gram yelled then turning to watch the fleeing girl she called out, "TEANA! WAIT!"
The man sat on the floor, his eyes wide with shock, as he raised a hand to his mouth.
"What have I done?" he whispered. Leaping to his feet he hurried after his daughter, "Teana wait I didn't mean it! I DIDN'T MEAN ANY OF IT!"
But after a few steps he collapsed, twitching, as his heart started to beat faster and faster. Blood rushed to his head, forcing a nose bleed to get rid of the excess blood, raising his head he stared at the retreating back of his daughter. He lifted a hand to her.
"I'm so sorry my little doe." He whispered as the wine he had received from a hooded costumer three years ago finally killed him.
Teana froze; she felt the bond between her father's body and spirit break. Whirling around Teana hurried to her papa's side. Feeling for a pulse Teana murmured prayer after prayer. After a minute Teana lifted her head to the sky and wailed. Gram leaned against the door frame of the wagon, tears dripping down her chin.
/
Hito
"Karim?" Hito whispered as he peeked over the desk where his brother student was reading a scroll.
"Hmm?"
"I had a dream." Hito muttered as he inched closer to the older boy, "A really, really, bad one."
"What did you dream?" Karim asked, only mildly curious.
"There was this boy and he was sitting on this really big golden chair with the eye of Horus on it, I think he was Pharaoh, and then this white haired guy came in dragging a mummy behind him!" Hito started to speak, using his hands to make big motions.
"Oh?" Karim's attention sharpened, "And what did this boy Pharaoh look like?"
"He had tri colored hair! Red, black, and gold! The gold part started at his forehead and made streaks into the rest of it! And his hair was REAAAAALLLLLLLLYYYYYY pointy!" Hito exclaimed.
'It couldn't be!' Karim thought, 'That is an accurate description of the young prince! Does this mean that Hito has the power of foresight?'
"Perhaps the Gods are trying to tell you something?" Karim hedged, think quickly, "Perhaps you shall be a priest for this young Pharaoh?"
Hito scrunched his nose up in distaste.
"But Karim! I don't wanna be a priest!" Hito whined, "I wanna be a solider! Like the ones protecting this city and the palace!"
"Still if the Gods have decided that you are to be a priest-" Karim began.
"Not happening!" Hito stubbornly stated, "'Sides the priests I saw beside the young Pharaoh were you, Mahad, Shada, a woman, a really stiff looking guy, and two old looking guys!"
Karim blinked in surprise.
"Oh…well…hmm."
"'Sides! The only reason I'm here is to control my power remember?" Hito asked.
"Hmm." Karim shrugged, "What will happen well happen. Go back to bed Hito. It's late."
"OH! But I also wanted to tell you 'bout this really funny dream I had too!"
"What is it Hito?" Karim turned his full attention toward Hito, thinking that he had had another foresight dream.
"I was turned into this really strong looking fighter! I had a shiny mask over my mouth and was carrying this really heavy weapon across my shoulder! And I was older too! About as old as you are Karim." Hito crowed in delight, remembering how cool he had looked.
"Is that so…anything else?" Karim asked, feeling a bit silly for his earlier thought.
"Nope, night Karim!" Hito waved as he left the study.
/
Heba
"You can't see him anymore Heba." Saimun sighed as he watched the shock and hurt flash across his adopted grandson's eyes.
"Why?" Heba demanded rising from the kitchen table, indignation flashing in his large violet eyes.
Saimun watched as flickers of shadow magic drifted around the young boy's body.
"Heba, look at yourself." Saimun snapped, "You are leaking shadow magic due to your inability to control your own power! What would you do if, during some intense emotion, you harmed you friend?"
'Not to mention that your friend is the Crown Prince!' Saimun thought to himself.
Heba lifted his hands to watch his power dance across his hands. Biting his lips Heba looked away from his grandfather, shame and realization visible in each muscle.
Saimun rose and lifted the young boy's face up. With a sad smile Saimun ruffled Heba's hair.
"Tomorrow I'm taking you to train with another boy," Saimun said, "Both of you have immense power that needs channeling. Go pack we are leaving in the morning."
Heba's eyes widened and he took a step back.
"But what about my friend? I need to tell him!"
Saimun shook his head, his grey hair swaying slightly from the movement.
"It is better if you do not. I do not want the two of you to meet until I am certain that you can control your powers."
"But!" Heba began, power coming from his body in waves.
"HEBA!" Saimun snapped, "Right now you are a danger to any who do not have the experience or power to protect themselves from any accidental leaks!"
Heba's eyes began to tear up, his violet eyes beginning to swim in the unshed tears.
"It is for the best Heba," Saimun sighed and gathered the boy into his arms.
With a shaky laugh Heba tried to change the topic, "But what if I don't like him?"
"I doubt that you won't like him Heba," Saimun smiled down at the child, "You have a kind soul, for all the power inside yourself. I have no doubts that you well like him and, gradually, Set well like you too."
Heba gave a shaky laugh as he nuzzled into his grandfather's chest.
'I'm sorry Atem. I'm so sorry but I don't wanna hurt you.' Heba thought to himself.