The Rising - Ennead 1

First Magus - Act 2 [bonus chapter]

Author's Note: This is fiction; forgive inaccuracies and suspend disbelief.

He pointed towards an uncovered well into which, it appeared, the ball had fallen.

Another boy had laid his hand on the shoulder of my attacker and said calmly.

"Unhand the boy Yohannes. Your anger is misdirected. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Yohannes slowly let go of me. He turned towards they slimmer dark eyed boy, contrite and mumbled "You're right". Turning towards me again he said, to my surprise, "I'm sorry"

The slim dark eyed one beamed at me as if there was nothing at all wrong.

"Sorry for scaring you. What's your name?"

"Si..Simon" I stuttered.

The situation was odd, from what I knew of playground politics, the strong ruled the weak. Why had Yohannes stepped down?

I wasn't given much time to mull over the situation. The dark-eyed boy continued in that over-positive tone, "It's a lucky thing the well was dry."

One of the boys had wanted to protest at that point, but Yohannes' arm on his chest had silenced him. The dark eyed Hebrew boy spoke on, not noticing the exchange that taken place behind him.

"you seem small enough, do you mind helping out?"

I nodded mutely.

"Great!" He said, flashing that odd grin again.

I learnt, too late, the price of acceding to their request. The rough rope on the lass above the mouth of the well was rigged into some sort of yoke about my shoulders. One of the boys had then taken my ewer, holding it carefully, as I was lowered into the well.

The rope dug into my armpits painfully, but I bore it with a grimace. In a bizarre sort of way, it was an amazing adventure. My childish mind did not even consider the danger of the rope breaking.

The dark eyed boy had been right. The well was bone dry. After what seemed like an eternity, my feet finally touched the bottom of the well.

I gagged at the smell at the bottom. It was as if a dozen assorted creatures had died there. Very little light reached those depths and so I had had to scrabble around on my hands and knees until finally the fingers of one of my hands brushed against the ball.

Excited, and by now a little bit scared as well, the ball had rolled away from me. It took another eternity to finally find it again.

The prize secure in my hands I tugged upon the rope and grimaced as it tightened and begun to draw me up. With both hands holding onto the ball, I could only use my legs to center myself. My elbows scraped painfully against the wall several times.

I remember wondering as I was drawn up, as is the manner of young minds, whether it was right to think of the sides of a well as "walls". If a well was round then that should mean that the wall on the right was obviously the same wall on the right.

I was finally hauled up into the dimming light of the evening. I grinned weakly as several appreciative hands clapped me on the back. My heart was nearly bursting with joy. I was a hero! I couldn't recall a time I had ever been so celebrated.

The sun was setting, so the owner of the ball, Ezekiel, and three others left off to their homes. Yohannes and the dark eyed boy offered to walk with me part of the way.

I was still elated and basking in the glow of the praise, I didn't notice until I thought over it later: a group of women were moving towards the very same 'dry well' to fetch water.