by AA Lee
He crawled away from Tala, desperate to escape the magic flowing from the Daa magicians in the back and the priestesses from below.
The torch’s flame shone brighter, blinding him. For a moment, he thought that all of them would burn, but the flame went out as the torch fell to the ground. Tala’s body hung suspended in the air. She let out a scream so loud, Kisig covered his ears.
“Stop! You’re going to kill her. Enough!” Priestess Mutya shouted as the light from her hand went off.
“Enough,” Kisig ordered. “She’s not holding the torch anymore.” But the Daa high priestess—the one Tala had been searching for—just marched closer.
Chapter 41
Tala
Tala used all her strength to look at the village datu. Pain consumed her whole being. She never knew something could be more painful than the datu’s betrayal.
Her vision dimmed. She wished to sleep and not see what was happening. She preferred losing consciousness like what had happened last time. She closed her eyes and prayed for death to come sooner.
“Bring her down. We need to study her so we can make someone hold the torch without going against our wishes.”
Tala abruptly opened her eyes upon hearing the voice. She fell unceremoniously from the stage, far from the torch. Hagibis held her by the hair and slapped her hard across the face. Tala only had energy to blink.
“But after that, she’s mine.” The voice belonged to someone she didn’t know. A face framed by white hair looked down at her. Even without an introduction, she knew the woman was who had burned the villagers. “You think I was cruel for burning your people,” she spat. “But you didn’t see the hell our people faced because of you. Once they’re done with you, I will tear you apart.” The old woman walked away quietly without a sign of exhaustion from using her power.
But why didn’t the torch choose her? Is she too strong to be manipulated?
“Stop! You said you weren’t going to hurt her!” The village datu pushed his hands against the floor in an effort to stand.
Hagibis continued to drag Tala without even glancing at the datu. “Did you think you could hold onto power just like that? A woman like you? Women are born to serve men. You will make gold for me whenever I want until you rot in prison.”
“Stop!” Priestess Mutya shouted. “You cannot treat her that way. You promised. You said you would help her let go of the torch so she could control herself!”
Hagibis struck Priestess Mutya hard across the face. The priestess fell facing Tala. She said something Tala didn’t understand.
“I promised so you would make a move. Now get up and move the torch.”
“I’m sorry,” Priestess Mutya whispered. Her face was wet with tears.
Tala could barely hear her.
Priestess Mutya reached for something in her pocket. Tala could only stare as the priestess put a mushroom in her mouth. She could only move the torch in spirit form. Priestess Mutya’s body went slack as she lost consciousness. Tala closed her eyes in resignation.
“High Priestess.” The voice was faint, but the words were clear. It was Priestess Mutya’s voice. Realization hit Tala. The priestess’s spirit would help her. “I’m sorry. Hold the torch and flee. I will search for you and help you. For now, run!”
Tala didn’t want to run. She wanted to disappear. There was nothing left for her to fight for. The village that she cared for had betrayed her. The datu had betrayed her, and existing only meant she would be exploited by the torch and the officials.
The torch flew back to her open palm. Energy and rage surged through her body. Another bolt of magic flowed from the hands of the magicians, but Priestess Mutya blocked it with her spirit.
Tala knew that she had little time before the powerful Daa priestess suppressed her. Fueled with determination, she bit the tip of her finger until it bled. “Taste this. This is my payment.” The flame jumped to her fingers and sucked in the blood in a heartbeat.
But before the flames could envelope her, the torch offered her something better—not death but a world she had dreamed of. In that world, there were no slaves, no masters, and women didn’t bow to their husbands like servants. Only she could make that world, but she knew what must be paid. Then she saw it. In that world, the torch’s power rose above everything. In that world, Tala would be there to give life to its greed. She shook her head in protest. She wouldn’t be a vassal to the torch in that beautiful world.
Then she saw what would happen if she didn’t create that world. The whole village would celebrate her death. The datu would laugh as he spent the wealth she’d made. The masters would splurge while the slaves suffered for an eternity.
Gripping the torch tighter, she forced her thoughts into the torch’s past to demand answers. In a rush of visions, the torch opened up about its survival. Then Tala knew what to do to create the world she wanted.
“I curse these lands. From now on, you will fight each other for women. And you.” She turned to Datu Kisig. “The price of your betrayal is to watch without knowing. Just like you are doing now, you will continue to see without seeing.”
Just like when she was a little girl, she prayed for the spirit of the river to come. Just like when she’d prayed before for the river to take Kisig’s cruel father, it rose to the village and enveloped Kisig’s body. She was ready. The curse had been set. She would rather feed the torch’s hunger than feed Hagibis’s greed.
“I’m yours,” Tala whispered and closed her eyes as the warm flame enveloped her. She welcomed the dark and the promise of unending sleep until the new world she had dreamed of came.
Epilogue
The Fall Guardian
Four hundred years later…
The Fall Guardian watched as a pregnant woman carrying a torch burned the men running after her. They burned like dry leaves in the summer. It wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed violence near his waterfalls, but it was the time that disturbed him the most. He felt as though he had witnessed it before.
He racked his memory but could not remember anyone who had held the torch so brightly since he’d woken four hundred years ago.
The woman sat on a flat rock and touched her belly, speaking to it as if it weren’t a part of her. She let out a scream, and a baby’s cry followed. The moment the woman let go of the torch, the fire reduced to almost nothing. He watched helplessly as she stopped breathing.
The baby was awfully quiet. It moved its hand and almost hit the torch. Before the Fall Guardian could throw the torch away, the baby stretched its arm again. Its hand closed around the torch, and the torch burned brighter than when the baby’s mother had held it.
High Priestess
The Priestess Trials Book Two
Chapter 1
Kenda
Kenda’s foot bumped against a protruding stone. She cried out, but Nora continued dragging her with a surprising strength, even though Kenda was taller than her.
“Grandma, slow down! We’re not the most important people in the celebration.” Wincing, Kenda tried to lift her bleeding right foot.
Nora, a white-haired woman, pulled her along as if she hadn’t spoken. In her right hand, she held a staff adorned with locks of hair, and she persistently tugged at Kenda with her left.
“How many times did I tell you to be home by noon?” The bony old woman let go of Kenda’s hand and slapped her hard on the bottom. “I am too embarrassed to keep the guests waiting. You could have at least made your hair look like you haven’t been wrestling with a demon.”
Kenda tried to tame the disheveled hair which hung down to her waist. Even though she could not see herself, she knew that her grandmother was partially right.
Nora had told her to watch out for birds eating the rice before the harvest. She had been running after an annoying wild parrot in their rice field. The parrot had continuously repeated all that she said to the point where Kenda became annoyed. Determined to catch it, she had climbed a tree, went under the bushes, and rolled d
own a hill, but all to no avail. The annoying parrot even laughed when her grandmother came looking for her and she had been told to stop the chase.
“Now, keep your shirt tucked in,” Nora scolded.
“Grandma, why don’t you just take food home? It’s not our celebration, is it?”
“Why should I? You can go there with your own two feet! And have you forgotten that I’m the high priestess?”
Kenda looked up, wanting to roll her eyes, but she stopped herself. Once, her grandmother had made her kneel on salt for rolling her eyes at her. The memory of the pain had stayed with Kenda long after that day, and since then, she had not once rolled her eyes in front of her grandmother. Nora was loving, but she was also a strict disciplinarian.
A few meters from the house belonging to her Uncle Goni and Aunt Pilly, Kenda heard the laughter and chatter. Pilly was Nora’s eldest daughter, and, being the highest authority in the family after Nora and her husband, Cesar, she was always active in gatherings. Gatherings were normally held at their house, primarily because it was big. With nine children to raise, it stood to reason that she and Goni owned a spacious house, with room enough to accommodate the many guests usually invited to such occasions.
Kenda and Nora stepped through the open door. Unlike other houses in the village where the floors rose a few feet off the ground, Aunt Pilly’s house was built with its walls touching the ground. Flat stones strategically placed together covered the dirt, making it look just a little rougher compared to the cement floors that Kenda had seen in town.
The laughter and chatter died down as people saw them approaching. At least fifty people huddled in the house, sitting so close to each other that most of their bodies were touching. Sitting on the ground without cushions was common for less important guests, and they sat wherever there was a vacant space. Nora ushered Kenda forward, and people made way for them to pass.
Kenda’s body went rigid as she stared at the only two vacant floor cushions in the center. Realization hit her. She understood why her grandmother was determined to ensure Kenda came to the celebration. Nora had sent her to the rice field to hide the preparations from her. Kenda planted her feet firmly on the stone floor, not wanting to continue walking toward the vacant seats. With a steady hand, she pried her grandmother’s hand from her arm.
She was ready to bolt from the house, but when she looked back, people were already blocking the doorway. About ten people were standing, and those who had made way for her earlier went back to their seats, leaving no space for her to pass if she tried to reach the door. Kenda clenched her fists as she decided that this must have been carefully thought through, with her grandmother as the mastermind. Feeling defeated, Kenda moved forward and took a seat at her grandmother’s side.
In the center, food was placed on top of a rectangular table which stood only a few inches off the floor, but as yet, no one was eating. The feast was extravagant by Kenda’s standards. There was roast pork, chicken cooked in various ways, fruit, and vegetables. Each offering looked as though it had carefully placed, with several people no doubt having taken the effort to make them look appealing.
Kenda looked at the faces of the people surrounding the table. To her left, beside her grandmother, was Datu Romu—the village chief, and several other officials she recognized. Kenda supposed that the groom’s family sat on the opposite side, and so she scanned the males’ faces to find the groom. There was only one man whom she thought might not be married. He looked to be in his early thirties, with clean-cut hair and large hands with dirt beneath the nails. His face looked to be that of someone who was used to working on a farm, but pale enough to suggest that he didn’t spend all day in the fields, so she assumed that he must be someone from a well-to-do family who had the luxury of working whenever he liked.
He looked at her and smiled meekly, but she did not return the smile. She couldn’t believe that she would marry the man more than likely twice her age. She didn’t know if this man was good or not. She had only what the elders had to say to rely on.
Her insides twisted at the thought of getting married. Most women in their village married early. Kenda, however, was past the normal age of marriage for their village because her grandmother had gone to great lengths to find a good match for her. It was not a secret, but Kenda had just brushed it off, thinking her grandmother had listened when she had expressed multiple times that she wanted to marry later in life, to a man that she loved.
Her one trip into town had changed her. She marveled at those single women who dressed well and had worked all by themselves. She longed to make a better life for herself, and that did not include making it harder by marrying and having children to feed.
The old man to the left of the groom bowed his head a little and spoke in a low voice filled with respect. “Most people know of our intention in coming here to your village. First, I wish to thank you all for welcoming us warmly, especially the high priestess and your village officials.” He bowed his head again gently, showing his respect. “I would like to introduce Jinja, my son. He would like to be a part of your family, your village, and a husband to the high priestess’s granddaughter.”
Jinja bowed a little, allowing the old man to continue speaking.
“I know that some people here already know me. I’m Datu Hula, of the Nayon village. As we are asking for the hand of the high priestess’s granddaughter, we have come here to discuss the terms of this union.”
Discuss the terms? That meant that he and her grandmother had already decided this marriage, and they were just here to discuss the dowry. She wanted to say that she was not ready to get married. She wanted to stand up, but younger ones had no place in such a serious gathering. She could only listen. The house was silent, as though her grandmother and Datu Hula were the only two people within.
Her grandmother, looking as powerful as ever, gripped the head of the staff laid in front of her. It looked like a simple staff on the outside, just like any other sturdy wooden staff used by older villagers but for the locks of hair on top, but it was anything other than ordinary. Bequeathed to high priestesses over the years, each added a lock of their hair to the staff to serve as a symbol that the current High Priestess acted under the guidance of her predecessors. This was the symbol of the high priestess herself.
“Thank you for making the arduous trip. My granddaughter, Kenda, is happy to see such a strong man as her future husband, should we agree to the terms laid out today.”
Happy? She threw a murderous look at her grandmother. How did she know that she was happy? Kenda had told her grandmother several times she wanted to build a sari-sari store for them—a store that sold various things. She was strong and could carry things from town to sell to the villagers. Improving her life would make her happy.
Datu Hula nodded his head in agreement. “Please name your price, and we’ll do our best to honor it.”
Nora cleared her throat, making sure that people would clearly hear her demands for the marriage. “For the kids, I would like them to live comfortably, and for this, I would like them to have a bull and a cow. The bull will help them on the farm, and the cow will give them calves to sell. They also have to live separately, so we should build a second house before the union. The size does not really matter, as long as they have roofs over their heads. My granddaughter is resilient and will do well in keeping the house. For the day of the union, I would like it to be known, both here and in the neighboring villages, that the high priestess’s granddaughter is being wed. There should be music and gongs. The food should last for three days and must be able to feed at least a thousand people. No house here can hold such a number, so we must build something for the occasion.”
Kenda’s eyes went wide. She had never seen such a grand event. The biggest she had witnessed had lasted for two days. The food had run out, and it had left the groom with little choice but to ask his relatives for their chicken and rice to continue feeding his guests. It amassed a huge debt that the couple most likel
y paid for it for several years after the ceremony.
“The couple’s future must be secured,” Datu Hula said at last. “I’ll see to it they’ll get a bull and a cow.” He paused and put his hand on the table. “A thousand guests might be a little hard for us to accommodate, however. As you know, a typhoon struck our village this year, and the crops fell rotten to the ground. If we could only delay until next year, perhaps we’ll save more food from the harvest.”
Nora raised her hand. “My granddaughter is getting old. I cannot wait that long. I cannot wait another year, or other men will begin to show interest in her.”
Kenda knew what her grandmother meant. She was turning into a woman. In fact, she already looked like a fully-grown woman. Her breasts were already big, and her hips were wide. That meant that she was ready to raise children. That also meant she was in danger. Unmarried women were targets of men from the two villages nearby. Women died from rape resulting to skirmishes between the villages. Some women survived, only to kill themselves out of shame or be killed by their own family members in restoration of their family’s honor.
For several hundred years, fewer and fewer women had been born in Daa and the other two neighboring villages. In the last couple of years alone, only one girl was born out of about a hundred babies. As a result of this decline, some men raped adolescent girls whose figures were developing, even at an age where they were not old enough to understand what they were being subjected to. As the years passed by, society adapted to the heinous trend, and the ages of the brides became younger and younger.
