Andrew Phillips

Lightning Born

rimbombo - /rim’bombo/

(a loud booming roar)

Welcome good friends.

What follows, is a grand adventure as true as the earth is old. I suppose I should tell Boom Augustus Tiddle’s story exactly as it was told to me. But, beware, sometimes we TaleTellers make up the true stories we tell.

A green and black marbled egg wobbled in a woven twig nest high in the branches of a buckeye tree in GloomWood. A young raven pecked and flapped his way to freedom. In another part of the forest, in the rotted wood of a creek side log, a baby firefly wriggled to life as it morphed from a nymph into a young beetle. Off the CraggyCliffs, below the peak of CloudMountain, a wisp of a cloud breathed itself to life during the FirstNight Tempest. And in the Valley of All Beginnings, following the storm, an unlikely hero for the ages was born in the land of RimBomBo.

The Valley of All Beginnings

Once upon another time and in another place‒a few minutes before midnight‒a GuardianWitch waits. Besom[1] in hand, she shifts from one foot to the other and to the other and to the other. Taking a deep breath, she gives the bristles an impatient tap on the ground.

“Hey, watch it, Razz!”

“Sorry, Sweeps,” she said, as she stood beneath her birthing canopy at the edge of the meadow in the Valley of All Beginnings in the land of RimBomBo. Her name was RazzMaTazz. Her auburn hair hung long around and across her shoulders, a thick braid encircling her head from back to front.

“Apology accepted,” the broom said, preening and straightening his bristles. The tip of his handle was a living Calico cat’s head perched above two Calico front legs. All GuardianWitches rode BroomCats. He licked a paw, washed his ears, and rubbed his nose against his mistress’ cheek. “You think tonight’s the night, don’t you, Razz?”

She tickled his ears. Sweeps floated inches above the ground.

“Maybe,” she said. “This is the first year the first boulder that falls is our responsibility.”

“Giant duty,” Sweeps said. “Yuck. I suppose it’s better than having to look after one of those stinky, Troll brats.”

“You forget, you goofy broom,” RazzMaTazz said. “The prophecy says the Uniter will be Lightning born.”

“Yeh, well, the Uniter hasn’t shown up yet, you know.” He paused. “What makes you think this one will be the one?”

“I don’t know–just got a feeling.”

“Wishful thinking,” he said. “So far, there hasn’t been a single other sign from any first boulder Giant baby‒ever.”

RazzMaTazz scrunched up her nose. She closed her eyes. The words of the prophecy appeared in her mind’s eye. They were the same ones etched years ago into a MirrorStone, now safely hidden in her home high in an Ohak tree.

Rise the BlackHearts shall.

Their evil lurks nigh.

Doom be their foul design.

Yet, a Uniter shall arise in the meadow,

when first boulder is struck.

But seek not what has come before,

for less will mean more.

Through three signs shall the Uniter be known

Throughout the land.

Lightning born.

A LifeSong revealed.

A DestinyMap bond.

A great warrior to fight not a war,

As virtue will win the day.

But Fate chooses no champion,

For the champion’s heart must choose,

As the Uniter’s destiny is entwined with that of the BlackHearts

and mapped with uncertainty

on a journey to unite the races.

A journey

throughout the land, beyond the great water

and through the Parting

where the RainBowMother resides.

To touch Her…

Therein ends the Uniter’s quest.

RazzMaTazz opened her eyes. Looking up, she saw the Watchers–the great ElderClouds–bubbling up over CloudMountain. They were preparing the FirstNight Tempest for the RainBowMother.

I’m sure you’ve seen storms like this, dear friends.

The storms built themselves into a frenzy. They boiled and rumbled. Pretty soon, they would burst open and spill their rain, boom their thunder, and slash their lightning all over the valley. Like all the other GuardianWitches waiting at the edge of the meadow, RazzMaTazz had cast a Comfort Spell around her canopy. The air before the storm was always a bit chilly and damp.

The FirstNight Tempest happened precisely at midnight. Once a year during the storm, the RainBowMother rained her BeginningsSpell onto the magic that lived in Singer: the River of Life. Singer passed through the meadow in the valley on her way to the ForEverSea. The two enchantments jargogled[2] together. It was this mixing up of magic which transformed mammoth mole mud-mounds along the river into baby Trolls, river stones into baby Dwarves, tiny lavender Fairy Slipper flowers into baby Fairies, lightning sparks into baby dragon eggs, meadow mushrooms into baby Elves, cold water droplets sent down Singer from SnowMountain that splashed onto the riverbank into baby IceFolk, and boulders struck by lightning, that tumbled from the CraggyCliffs, into baby Giants.

GuardianWitches, descendants of the GoodHearts, delivered these magical race newborns to their chosen families throughout RimBomBo. Although GuardianWitches were immortal witches, they weren’t haggish and hideous like the BlackHearts.

Friends, if you were to see a GuardianWitch and a BlackHeart standing side by side, it wouldn’t take but a split second to determine which is which.

RazzMaTazz, herself, was nearly 100 years old, but she didn’t look a day over thirteen.

At midnight, right on time, the Watchers sent a lightning bolt across the sky. The light lit up the darkness, and RazzMaTazz saw the target: a huge boulder high on the cliffs. The bolt struck like a Dwarf’s hammer on hot steel. The entire valley shuddered a shiver from the blow of the first strike. A tingle ran up her back.

If you could be there, you would feel a bit of a tingle too.

A boulder that breaks off from a strike like this one could produce a mighty Giant, she thought.

She waited to hear the rumble and crack as the great stone broke loose. But, in the split second of light that flared when the lighting struck, RazzMaTazz saw...

Let me stop here, Friends. Let’s just say she doesn’t see what she expects to see.

The boulder, she thought. It…it didn’t break loose. But something fell. I…think.

As suddenly as the light flashed, all was darkness again. She strained to see. To make sure her eyes had not played a trick on her.

“Sweeps‒did you see that?” RazzMaTazz asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“See what?” he said. BroomCats were notorious for being extremely unobservant.

“Never mind,” she said.

This can’t be happening, she thought. A pebble has never fallen instead of a boulder before. Did I imagine it? It WAS dark. She smiled and shook her head. It was the first strike. A huge boulder fell–I’m sure of it.

But, as I’m sure you know, my Friends, telling yourself what you might have seen is not always the same as seeing it for real.

RazzMaTazz glanced up into the dark skies again. The hard rain made it impossible to see anything through the darkness, except the lighting strikes. But, she wasn’t interested in anymore lightning strikes. It was hers‒the first one‒she was worried about.

She fidgeted again. The first light to peek over the mountain peaks couldn’t come soon enough. No one‒not even the GuardianWitches, could step foot into the meadow while the enchantment worked its miracles. There’s no telling what might happen to anyone who accidently entered the meadow too soon. They might suddenly transform back into a baby or worse, get jargogled into something strange indeed. When one of the RainBowMother’s children arched over the valley, then, and only then, could the GuardianWitches search for the newborns. They would point their wands around the meadow. When they got close to their assigned child, their wands would glow. So would the baby.

“It’s as dark as a BlackHeart Witch’s hunker[3] out there,” Sweeps said, interrupting RazzMaTazz’s thoughts. “And speaking of those creepy mackabroins[4], you don’t suppose Morda’s close by, do you?”

I forgot to tell you the BlackHearts know about the prophecy too.

RazzMaTazz took a deep breath.

“She’s been getting pretty bumptious[5], lately,” she said.

“I wouldn’t put it past her to show up in the morning,” Sweeps said.

“She’d never dare to show her face in the meadow,” RazzMaTazz said.

“I can’t figure why the RainBowMother allows those black-hearted nithings[6] to live in RimBomBo anyway,” said Sweeps. “Can’t she and her sisters magic them away or something?”

“You know they don’t work that way,” RazzMaTazz said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sweeps said, interrupting. “I know the rules. Fate, her eldest, determines the circumstances…

“…into which all are born,” RazzMaTazz added.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sweeps said. “Destiny, the youngest, sets out a path…

“…but, we can make choices about how we follow our path and live our lives,” RazzMaTazz continued.

“I know, I know,” Sweeps replied. “In spite of …”

“…in spite of the circumstances into which we are born.” RazzMaTazz interrupted, “We all have the right to choose how we shall live.” She paused. “Even those who are despicable, like the BlackHearts.”

“You’d think…”

“A balance has to exist, Sweeps,” RazzMaTazz interrupted. “There can’t be light, if there isn’t any dark.” She paused and gazed at all the other birthing canopies scattered around the edge of the meadow. “It’s difficult to understand, that’s all.”

“Well, Morda pretty much spits on any kind of balance,” Sweeps said.

“I’m afraid you’re right about that,” RazzMaTazz said.

“And she’s getting away with it,” Sweeps added.

“It’ll be the Uniter’s destiny to stop her,” RazzMaTazz said, her face resolute, her voice grim.

“What if the first two signs are there and…,” Sweeps paused. His whiskers twitched. “…the Uniter chooses not to bond with the DestinyMap?”

RazzMaTazz turned and stared at her BroomCat.

“RimBomBo and all it has been, is and could be,” she said, in a whisper, “will be no more.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you botched it,” Sweeps said.

“The Uniter won’t let us down,” RazzMaTazz said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah, okay. If you say so.” Sweeps licked his lips and flicked his ears. “Better get some shut-eye. Still got a bunch of night left.”

“Don’t remind me,” RazzMaTazz said.

“Flying around with a humongous Giant is gonna be hard work, you know,” Sweeps said, yawning.

“Yeah, tough guy,” she said. “Better get your beauty sleep.”

“Meow to you too,” he said.

RazzMaTazz watched Sweeps float to a corner of the canopy. The wood in his handle suddenly softened, and he curled up. As soon as he rested his head on his twig bristles, the twigs began to vibrate. All BroomCats were notorious for sleep-purring like old boars. Pulling her alabaster wand from beneath her cloak, she clutched it in her hand and curled up on a soft, floating palate. She couldn’t get Morda out of her mind. The uneasy feeling settled on her like a fog over a bog.

***

After the long hours of the night, the rain calmed to a drizzly drip. As the morning light eased into day, a high-arching rainbow spread across the pale, strawberry-lemonade skies above the meadow.

“Razz!” A voice startled her awake. “Get up lazybones! You’ve overslept! There’s a baby Giant out there somewhere waiting on you!”
RazzMaTazz jumped up and saw GuardianWitch ThinChin peering into her canopy.

You’d chuckle if you could see her pointy chin.

ThinChin’s chin was as long and tapered as a sweet potato. But it was a beautiful sweet potato. Remember, she was a GuardianWitch. Bundled in her arms was a female baby Dwarf.

A little hint, my Friends, keep the existence of this baby Dwarf somewhere in the back of your mind. You know. So you can pull it out later.

Before RazzMaTazz could answer, she saw a figure dash by her canopy. It was GuardianWitch LooseBottom. She was galloping and leaping in circles like a bucking horse. Her plump rump bounced like a rubber ball. Behind her was a baby dragon. It flipped and flapped its tiny wings, trying to fly. The little furnace in its tummy was already blazing. Flames shot from its mouth.

“Hey, LooseBottom,” ThinChin shouted, laughing. “Aren’t you supposed to be in charge?”

LooseBottom stuck out her tongue.

“The egg hatched too soon!” She shouted.

LooseBottom and her dragon baby lit out across the meadow, jumping and torching as they went.

Once again, Friends, don’t let the early birth of this little Dragon escape your mind. Just saying.

Suddenly, a tiny, green-skinned, booger-nosed baby scooted by. A flying Tabby BroomCat was in close pursuit. But the baby kept out of reach. Finally, she worbled[7] beneath the wide plaits of ThinChin’s sky-blue dress. A grumpy-faced GuardianWitch BigHair stumbled up to ThinChin. She was huffing and puffing. Her mass of curly hair tumbled about her head like great, baby blue soap bubbles foaming in a large tub.

“Where is that little draftsack[8]?” she said, out of breath.

“Why, BigHair,” ThinChin said, trying not to snicker. She pretended not to know the little Troll hid beneath her dress. “It’s not nice to call a baby a bag of garbage.”

[1] A witch’s broom

[2] Mix things up

[3] Butt

[4] Old hag

[5] Brash, bold or cocky

[6] Despicable person

[7] Wriggled

[8] Bag of garbage