The Larimar Quest (Island Of Zarada Book 1)

by Michele Evans

  Painfully, Astriella climbed into the palm of Miranda’s hand. They crept down the hallway to spy more closely on the meeting.

  Raya continued. “Miranda's chosen mate is Grideon. He has been approved by the High Council and has accepted the role of Sultan. He will undergo his own preparations before they marry. Following the coronation, he and Miranda will live together in the palace for a set time. Then Grideon will come and go as duty dictates.”

  Bajo dabbed her eyes and addressed Athedra. “There is a rumor that Miranda has reservations about becoming Sultana. We need to know if that's true.”

  Athedra responded quickly. “Of course she has fears about it, as any Young Warrior would. But she will adjust to her new responsibilities. There's no doubt about that.”

  Athedra surmised that they probably had heard it from the other girls. Miranda wasn’t shy about her ambivalence. But if Miranda didn’t become Sultana, Anaya would, and it would mean disaster. She had to do whatever it took to keep that from happening; and besides, she believed in her daughter’s destiny as leader of the island.

  “We must return to the castle,” said Bajo.

  “Yes. Thank you, Athedra,” added Raya.

  After they had left, Miranda brought Astriella into the sitting room.

  Freya was sitting at a table in the corner. Long strands of yellow, green and blue flowed from a wooden triangle. She pulled the strands one at a time, weaving them in a crisscross pattern. “Mama, this is going to be my headpiece for the coronation ceremony.”

  “Lovely, Freya,” said Athedra.

  Freya’s mind drifted as she worked. And afterwards, we'll all live in the castle together. Yes, that will be wonderful.

  She looked up to see her big sister standing there with an unfamiliar fairy friend.

  “Beautiful work, little sister,” said Miranda.

  “Thank you. Who is that?”

  Athedra smiled. “I thought I heard voices in there.”

  Greet and Thiya paused from their cleaning. They recognized Miranda’s new friend. “Aren't you Astriella?” asked Thiya.

  Astriella nodded. “Thiya, is that you?”

  “Yes! We grew up together, Greet.”

  “Well!”

  “Her wing is injured, Mother,” Miranda said.

  They all gathered around for a closer look.

  Astriella beamed. “Your daughter saved me from a hungry orak at the last minute. She was so brave.”

  Athedra looked at the wing. “You'll be fine, my dear. After a visit to Heggor, it’ll be like new. You must have been terrified. I just shudder to think what would've happened to you if Miranda hadn't come along, you poor thing.”

  “She'd be dead and eaten,” Freya blurted out.

  “Freya!” scolded her mother.

  Miranda and Astriella burst into laughter.

  Healing Arts

  Heggor the Healer lived with her only daughter, Thaya, in a stone cottage in the heart of the forest.

  A large boned woman with scraggly black hair peppered with grey, and sparkling blue eyes, she always gave the impression she had just recently been physically exerting herself, which was usually true.

  Thaya was almost a perfect replica of her mother, except for the ash blond hair and the multitude of freckles she had inherited from her father. Although still an apprentice, she had learned the basics of how to use roots, leaves and flowers indigenous to the island, along with magik, to cure any ailment.

  The mother-daughter pair lived in an esoteric world of potions, tinctures, poultices and spells, dominated largely by silence. As they worked, they refrained from speaking, to better sense the subtle vibrations of the plants. They only harvested leaves and flowers that would create the most potent medicines, tapping into the highest energy fields that were hidden away in nature.

  They had perfected the art of healing by discovering the right key – the secret combination of elements that created the desired reaction. When there was imbalance in the body, either inflicted from the outside or originating from the inside, it meant the energy flow was blocked or imbalanced. Their job was to clear the blockage and let the energy – the life force – flow freely again.

  There were around a thousand cures they could perform on the spot, and many curatives that could be made ready in a matter of minutes. But some remedies required hours, days, weeks or even months to mature and become potent. These they had to have ready ahead of time.

  The mixture they were preparing today gathered heat from the open fire below. Thaya held a basket over an enormous earthen pot. She emptied some of the contents of the basket, which was full of ornh fruit blossoms, each the size of a fist, into the steaming liquid. Two hundred of these dark blue flowers had to be boiled for five hours in the cream of the bark of the crimson bantan tree.

  Thaya held a long wooden spoon in both hands and waited. Soon the purple brew began turning and bubbling as the temperature increased. The steam rose up through a hole in the roof, which could be closed when it rained.

  Heggor watched the bark cream until it was frothy. When she was satisfied with its consistency, she slowly poured more blue blooms into the pot while Thaya lowered the spoon, melding the substances together. As the blue steam lifted off the surface, most of it swirled up through the hole, while the rest of it drifted into the corners and dissipated.

  After the concoction was thoroughly boiled and had turned a deep shade of indigo, they dried it, and it took on the texture of a fine paste, which they scraped out and spooned onto shallow bowls. The paste was further dried for three days, then ground into a soft powder and stored in small jars.

  All the jars and bottles of medicines were clearly labeled and stored neatly on shelves. Any leftovers were used as ingredients for other ailments – in combination with different plants to create more poultices used for all varieties of disease and skin ailments.

  As Miranda approached the cottage, she noticed the smoke billowing out of the roof. There was a bitter taste in the air, metallic and gritty. She looked down at Astriella who, aside from the occasional twinge in her wing, had ridden comfortably in Miranda's cloak pocket. But the fairy now held her nose in distaste. “What is that terrible stink?” she asked in a nasal tone.

  Miranda smiled. “There’s always a myriad of strange odors here. You’ll get used to it.”

  Astriella made a face. “I don’t think so!”

  Miranda knocked on the door. They heard a voice from within, “Coming!” In few moments, Thaya slid open the peephole. “Miranda!” she exclaimed as she opened the door, her plump figure filling the threshold.

  “Hello Thaya!” Miranda replied.

  Thaya’s full rosy face, dotted with all those freckles, was all smiles and cheer. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and smoothed her blond hair back. “Lovely to see you. Who’s your little friend?”

  “This is Astriella.”

  “Welcome, Astriella. Please come in!” She led them into the sitting room.

  Thaya turned to the back of the cottage. “Mother! Miranda’s here!”

  They heard a voice answer, “Wonderful!”

  “Is something ailing you, dear?” Thaya asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong with me,” Miranda answered.

  Heggor emerged from behind the curtain. Roughened red cheeks framed her round face; and her weathered hands, calloused and strong, danced as she spoke. “My dear Miranda! You have grown so!” She put an arm around the young girl. “Now what is the trouble?”

  Thaya, in her eagerness, didn’t wait for Miranda to respond. “Oh, Mother! Come see. It’s an injured fairy! Poor thing.”

  Heggor didn't need to ask what was wrong, of course. She had developed a sixth sense for injury, could detect it in an instant. “You, my fairy friend, have a broken wing, don’t you now?” She looked at Miranda. “And you, my dear, have a bite on your hand, yes?”

  Miranda opened her mouth in disbelief. “You always know.”

  “Come along, then.” Heggor held
out her hand to Astriella, who climbed on with effort. Miranda and Thaya followed Heggor into the healing room, which was lined with baskets from floor to ceiling, each laden with a different species of twigs, bark, and a motley assortment of the parts of dead animals. Against the wall were densely packed shelved filled with carefully labeled jars. The jars were filled with powders, liquids, pastes and gems.

  Astriella was helped onto a soft pillow. “Yes,” mused Heggor. “It’s just as I suspected.” She thought for a moment. “The Green Solace poultice, Daughter,” she said to Thaya.

  “I know, Mother,” said Thaya, having already taken the bottle off the shelf.

  “Alright, child. If you know so much, you can heal this little fairy's wing very nicely on your own.” Heggor winked at them and left the room.

  Suddenly Thaya wasn't so confident. It was one thing to know the appropriate poultice, and quite another to properly apply it to provoke the magik energy the way her mother did. She'd seen it done so many times and had luck with it herself, now and then. Maybe she could do it. She paused, wishing her mother hadn’t put her on the spot like this.

  “I will have your wing healed in a jiffy,” she said, smiling nervously. Astriella glanced apprehensively at Miranda.

  “I’m sure you will,” said Miranda.

  Thaya unscrewed the cork and pulled a small cloth from a drawer.

  She tipped the bottle until the poultice saturated the center of the fabric.

  Then, very delicately, she applied the salve to Astriella's wing. “Might sting a bit….”

  Astriella winced. Thaya put the cloth down and began the hardest part – the magik invocation. That, combined with the power of the medicine, was the secret to every healing; the vibration of sound merging with the vibration of matter. Each, on its own, was weak and inconsistent, but together they harnessed the power of the universe.

  Thaya knew she had a great responsibility to be a good healer, and she felt a surge of pride every time she did it correctly. She would replace Heggor one day and in turn would teach her own daughter, when she had one, the art of medicine. She knew this tradition would go on forever, the passing on of knowledge and wisdom as the generations went along.

  She pulled a wand from her cloak, raised it to the ceiling and stared intensely at the tip of it. She closed her throat slightly and inhaled through her nose, forcing the air through, producing a wheezing sound. The end of the wand glowed faintly, a light shade of citrine. She exhaled through her mouth, with the same sound, but louder. The glow intensified and grew to cover the length of the wand.

  She slowly brought the blazing wand in line with Astriella's wing as she chanted the spell that went with the poultice. She used the ancient Zarada tongue, no longer spoken, but still necessary for ceremonies and spells.

  She chanted, over and over, “Prahada, Gredama, Hradaman.” She intoned and the wand shook and buzzed. She held on tightly and continued saying the words. “Prahada, Gredama, Hradaman.”

  The wand, attracted to where the poultice had been applied, fluttered fiercely and sent a trail of light to Astriella's injured wing. The crumpled wing absorbed the glow, then began to straighten and smooth. Astriella’s pained expression turned to wonder, then relief.

  Thaya, too, was relieved. She broke into a laugh, her whole body chuckling along with her. “Well, try it out!”

  The little fairy fluttered her wings and her face lit up. “It’s all better!” she chirped with joy.

  Thaya, a bit surprised herself, quickly remembered to complete the procedure while the light was still aglow. She closed her eyes. “Trehama, Srukeeda, Gredama.”

  The glow in the wand flickered and died. Thaya slid it back into its sheath and sighed. “Yes, well, that’s how it works – when it works!”

  Miranda was pleased. “I knew you could do it.”

  Astriella flapped her wings and flew about the room, delighted to have her freedom back. “Thank you, Thaya. It feels like it was never wounded. Perfect.”

  Even though she had been in good hands, she was glad to be mobile again. Without wings, fairies were vulnerable and helpless, subject to predators who could swallow them in one bite. They had to be able to fly in an instant up to the treetops where it was safe. If Astriella couldn’t fly, she was as good as dead.

  Astriella remembered Miranda's hand. She flew to Miranda and pointed to the spot where the orak had bitten her. “Your turn,” she reminded her, showing Thaya the wound.

  “It's nothing,” said Miranda, trying to cover it. “I hardly feel it.”

  Thaya ignored Miranda and pulled a different bottle off the shelf. With an incantation and a glow of the wand, Miranda's skin was healed over, good as new.

  “Now it's nothing,” teased Thaya.

  Miranda hadn’t wanted to admit it, but her hand had been hurting. Now that the pain was gone, she was grateful. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  Thaya wanted to show off. “I’m done, Mother!”

  Heggor came back to inspect her daughter's work, and nodded in approval. “Excellent, Thaya. Well done!”

  Thaya beamed while a smile as big as her heart spread all across her rosy freckled face.

  Selexi’s True Colors

  Selexi sat in the royal tier, waiting for the game to begin. Twice every moon cycle, the Young Warriors played Discs, a team sport that used magnetic force to get palm size discs into goals on either side of the field.

  Selexi, unable to accept her fate, surveyed the scene with bitter malice. As daughter of the Sultana, she had lived in the castle all her life. She had grown used to its grandeur and luxuries, all the while envious of the power her mother possessed.

  When Selexi became pregnant with Anaya, and the predicted time of birth pointed to her child becoming the next Sultana, she thought she held the ace in her womb. Through her daughter, she would rule the island and, over time, claim it as her own.

  Having control over the island and being the leader they all obeyed – that was a vision so deliciously covetable, she couldn't help losing herself in the dark joy of it. But it had all been ruined by that little runt. Selexi's lips snaked into a sneer. I must stop her. I will not stand by while she assumes the throne. I will find a way.

  Her dying mother, the Sultana, was reclining on a soft lounge chair a few feet away. The frail woman had been advised by Heggor to stay in today, but she hated to miss a game, so was brought out at her own insistence. She seemed relatively alert, but Selexi knew how truly ill she was. Soon, Selexi mused. Soon, that old crone will be dead.

  Athedra and Freya entered the stadium. Athedra hoped to get by unnoticed as they walked past the royal tier. Selexi was always impossible.

  “Athedra,” Selexi called out.

  Athedra braced herself, stopped and turned toward the voice.

  “Greetings, Selexi,” she replied politely.

  Athedra wanted to keep walking, but was caught off guard by the sight of the Sultana. The last time she had seen her, she had been up and around; weak perhaps, but able to move fairly well with her cane. Now she appeared to have shrunk to half her size and her face was a pallid yellow. She caught the Sultana’s eye and came closer to the railing. “Sultana, it's so good to see you. How are you feeling?”

  “Old,” she said, forcing a grin. “But my mind is sharper than ever. How is my young successor?”

  Selexi bristled at the question. “Yes, how is she?” she echoed, a hiss woven between her words.

  “Growing up, and too quickly, I'm afraid,” replied Athedra. “But she's a good girl, and we're very pleased with her.”

  The Sultana thought of her own granddaughter. Was she a good girl? No, she wasn’t. Was she pleased with her? No, not at all. Anaya had been good at one time, long ago, but her mother had tainted her. “Our Anaya is also no longer a child. Those girls are the future of this island now.”

  Selexi couldn't resist chiming in. “How can you say Anaya is the future of this island? Let's not pretend, Mother. Miranda is the future. Sh
e's the one you're talking about.”

  “Selexi, please,” said the Sultana. “Anaya is a citizen of this island, and her role is just as important as anyone else’s.”

  “It won’t be the role she was meant to play.”

  “Maybe there’s a reason for that,” answered the Sultana.

  Athedra added, “As far as I'm concerned, all the Young Warriors of Zarada are part of our future.”

  “Yes,” agreed the Sultana. “That is the truth.”

  Selexi opened her mouth again to throw more unpleasantness into the conversation, but the gong sounded, signaling the start of play. Freya laughed at Selexi’s wide open mouth with the sound of the gong seeming to ring out of it. Athedra, relieved that the confrontation was over, nodded goodbye to the Sultana, met Selexi's cool gaze for a moment, then turned and led Freya up to their seats.

  Rivals

  Miranda slid the stiff silver helmet over her head as she ran onto the field with her teammates. Because of the water shortage and the intense heat, they had considered cancelling the game, but the girls begged the High Council to let them play. The High Council acquiesced, allowing them half the normal length of time, to prevent dehydration.

  Miranda and her team wore burnt orange sport halters and tight black shorts that ended mid thigh. The opposing team, headed by Anaya, wore mossy green tanks with the same shorts in blue. They all wore high black boots, which protected them from being kicked in the shins. Names were imprinted on the backs of their helmets.

  Each player wore a mitt on one hand. The pocket of each mitt held an attraction that could pull the disc into it. With enough force, the disc could be whipped from the mitt, or simply pried away with the other hand and thrown to another team player. Once a player had the disc, they could run with it or pass it to other players before they were tackled. If the disc touched the ground, the team who dropped it received a penalty. Three penalties resulted in a loss of one point. As soon as a goal was made, a point was earned while the referee produced another disc. The object of the game was for each team to work together to get as many discs as possible into their respective nets at the ends of the field. Each net had a forcefield inside it. Once the discs entered the forcefield, they floated in a state of suspension.