Origin: Rooted Within

CHAPTER SEVEN

The morning sun poured over his face and he groaned. He had slept too deeply and was beginning to feel like he was in his room. He was in pain, but still he had managed to get this far in his sleep. It was only the sun that kept flooding him and the warmth he knew he would never get in his own room that woke him up.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He had been sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall closest to the door. He stayed there, Since Isher had locked him out last night and he could not go back to Garissa's house to spend the night.

Garissa had been harbouring him all day, and even if she had not complained, Castar was sensitive enough to know that his return to her house could have raised a lot of questions. He had been hurt by his own brother, what would he say to Garissa about it? He would try to say that they had quarrelled, that was something that most brothers often did, but Garissa would ask about the reason for the quarrel, and after thinking about everything, he decided to resign himself to the fact that he would have to sleep under the eaves that night.

He opened his eyes and saw that it was already morning. He touched the inner wall of his mouth, where Isher had hit him twice last night, and found that it was still bleeding. 

His whole mouth was sore, and he could not bear to touch it with his fingers. He tried to touch it from the outside, and found that it was just as painful as when he tried to touch it from the inside. He spat on the floor, and some fresh blood, accompanied by clotted blood, poured out on the floor, and he was disgusted. It frightened him to see how much blood he had lost in such a short time.

He got home at midnight, and it was only a few hours until daybreak, but he had lost so much blood. He was dizzy, and seeing all this was not even his main concern. His biggest concern was the fact that it was his own brother who had put him in this condition. He had never seen anything like it, the day before last night he would not have believed - even if a fortune teller had told him - that the boy sitting next to him while he was unconscious would hit him so hard and refuse to let him into the house.

"Taste the stain of a red wine, and you know that its redness does not make it blood," he murmured, remembering what his brother had said to him the night before. Normally it would not have made sense to him, he would have seen it simply as a saying and nothing more, but combined with the way things had turned out for him that night, it worried him.

He startled when he heard the creak of the door. 

He heard footsteps and realized that they were his mother's footsteps. Zyra was just throwing some rags into the trash can. She was carrying a lot of old clothes in a basket, and she was in a hurry because she was busy with chores. Usually Castar helped her with the chores, but since he had not come home last night, she had been busy with them and had to do them while she did the other things she had on her list that day.

"Castarius!"

Zyra hurried to him and knelt beside him. Her heart pounded, and even when Castar turned to her, it pounded even harder, for she could clearly see bloodstains on his chest and also a trace of clotted blood on his cheek that must have gotten there when he spat out the blood in his mouth. She could not bear to see him in the condition he was in. She had spoiled him all his life, and she had never raised a hand against him.

"Where have you been? Who did this to you?" she asked, attending to his bleeding mouth. She was stunned. Castar was a good young man who rarely got into fights or other trouble. He was so different from all the other young men in this village, and anyone who knew him could swear that he had no enemies. Zyra thought to herself as she continued to try to get her son to talk.

 

"Speak to me," Zyra said, raising her voice as she demanded an answer from Castar. She wondered if he got into a fight.

 

Isher came out of the house and stood behind Zyra as she checked Castar's body for any further injuries. He stared at Castar for a moment without saying a word. Castar noticed the bitterness was still in Isher. The way he glared at him told everything.

"Isher, take your brother inside. I need to have a look at his wound," Zyra told Isher, and instead of helping Castar up, he stomped back inside. Zyra could not believe Isher behaved the way he did.

"It's all right mother, I can go myself. I am sure he did not hear you," Castar said. He knew Zyra would be upset, so he thought he was doing some good by giving Isher an excuse.

Zyra put Castar's arm around her neck and helped him stand up. She took him into the house and sat him on his bed.

Isher watched her walk by, but he did not help her. Zyra had no words for him. She just glared at him as she walked by with Castar's arm over her shoulder.

Castar sat down on his bed and waited for his mother. She had gone to the kitchen to get a bowl of hot water and a towel.

It was a mystery for Castar every time he remembered what Isher had said to him. His eyebrows drew together, and he tried to figure out what that saying meant.

He sank into his own thoughts, gazing into his hands as if they held the answer to his question. He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not even notice Zyra had returned.

She sat down beside him, folded the towel into a thick pile, and dipped one edge into the bowl filled to the brim with warm water. A white or colourless smoke danced around the edge of the towel as it absorbed the water. She pulled it out and squeezed it. He was soon called back from his thoughts by the sound of the water rushing back into the bowl as Zyra squeezed.

"Mother, I know you were worried about me yesterday, and I am sorry I did that to you," Castar told her, and she smiled.

"I was never angry with you, son. I was just unsure why you stayed away all day," she said and Castar sighed. He winced as the hot towel touched the side of his mouth, which was bruised.

"I was attacked. After spending the day in Garissa's stable, I was on my way back, and then I met this man who-"

"I am not a fool. I am your mother. I raised you and your brother, and I know you are lying to me," Zyra said -interrupting- and Castar hung his head.

"Isher did this to you, did not he?" asked Zyra, and her stern expression was one Castar had never seen before.

"Mother, let me ask you a question."

Zyra's brows drew together. She braced herself for whatever she believed Castar was about to ask.

"Taste the stain of a red wine, and you will know... its redness does not make it blood," Castar said, and Zyra swallowed.

"What does that tell you, coming from my brother?" asked Castar.

"Isher said that to you?" asked Zyra as her heart raced.

Zyra got up from the bed and was about to confront Isher, but before she could make a move, Castar grabbed her by the arm, and she froze. She exhaled as she looked at Castar's peaceful gaze, and she had a change of heart.

"You know what it means?" asked Castar, and there was silence.

She could not tell him what it meant. The look on her face betrayed fear. Castar was unsure why that proverb made her react the way she did. After a few moment she shook her head.

"No, I don't. I don't know what it means," she said. She could not bring herself to look into Castar's eyes as she spoke.

"I still need to speak to him," she said, and Castar refused to let go of her arm.

"Mother! Please, let it be. He can punish me and call me whatever he wants... He is older. I am not angry, and neither should you be," Castar told her, and she sighed.

Zyra sat back down.

"This must be out of jealousy," she said.

"You have never shown any signs of being jealous of him. I wonder why he acts so much like a child," Zyra said, burying her face in her hands in disappointment.

Castar put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to look at him.

"Mother, that's it! Father has never given me a reason to be jealous of him, and neither have you. He thinks you do not give him enough love and attention. Perhaps that is my fault. I love him, and when I see him clench his fist... It hurts me to see him suffer so much. Who knows how long he has wished to do what he did last night?" said Castar, and Zyra held his chin.

"It's not your fault. You never asked for this. Your father loved you both so much, and I love Isher as much as I love you," Zyra told him, and he looked to the wall.

"Perhaps I should give him some space. Maybe it's time for the trip I have always wanted. I'd like to give him what he wants, even if it's just for a few days," Castar said to Zyra, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Mother, I beg you, let me go to the land I have always wanted to travel to. Let me go to Metrá," he said to her and put his hand around hers.

"No! You will not do that," Zyra said. It was a burst of anger. She wrenched her hand from Castar's grasp and stood up.

"But why?" asked Castar. His voice was calm. Even as his countenance betrayed a growing frustration.

"Because you are my son and I gave birth to you. I cannot allow you to venture into a land that was home to the evil tribe 25 years ago. What kind of a mother would I be?" said Zyra. That was the first time she told Castar the reason for her refusal, and that was also the first time Castar heard of the Kranians.

Castar froze the moment he heard about this tribe, and he didn't know when his brows drew together. He did not know what his mother was talking about. He had never heard of the tribe she had just spoken about.

"Evil... tribe?" he asked, like he was counting his own words.

"Before I gave birth to you, there was a tribe that lived in a wilderness in Metrá. They possessed dark magic," Zyra told him, and his mouth fell open.

"They were evil, brutish, and terrible. Something had happened to them. No one knew what it was. They and the place they called home disappeared into nothingness and to this day, no one knows where they are," Zyra told him.

"How come I have never heard of this... Tribe?" asked Castar.

"You hardly speak to anyone. And what do you expect? It's been twenty-five years," said Zyra.

"You do not want me there because you do not know if they will return one day. That's why you are so afraid," Castar said, and Zyra nodded.

Silence flooded their midst. Castar understood what she had done. He realised she was just trying to protect him by refusing his request.

"But there are people living there as we speak. Do not they know about this?" asked Castar.

"Of course, Castarius, they know. The tribes in Metrá are very daring. They were the first to enter the land after the mysterious disappearance of the Kranians," replied Zyra.

"If there are people there, why can not I just spend a few days there?"

"Those are other people, as you called them, not my children, not the son I love so much. You will never set foot in that land as long as I live, and that is final," Zyra told him and left the room.

Castar sighed and massaged his temple with his right hand. Zyra left him with his thoughts. He thought about so many things at once and he felt like he couldn't stand the pressure.

Suddenly, he felt something, he felt a great pain in his fingertips, and he had to resist the thoughts and have a look at his fingers first. His eyes widened the moment he looked at his right hand.

He saw his veins and trembled. The traces returned, blackening his fingers. He knew it was the poison, the very one he took from the huntress.