She suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. She saw enemies in the faces of Miranda and this old hag who was claiming to be her grandmother. Both liars. She didn’t want to be in the company of these imposters. Her mother would be furious to find out it had even gotten this far. The only way to win for sure is to kill them both. She leaped up and grabbed the bag of Red Larimar stones that belonged to Miranda and held it tight.
Miranda tried to grab it back, but Anaya taunted her rival, keeping the bag just out of reach.
“You don’t deserve these, you know,” taunted Anaya. “You’re just a common nothing, and always will be less than me in everything you do.”
Angala gasped, “Anaya! You’re wrong. Put those down.”
Anaya was unrelenting. “You’re just lucky this old loon came along to save you.”
Miranda held her ground. “Save us you mean.”
“That was convenient for me, but I would have found my own way out, and now I don’t need either of you spoiling my quest or ruining my ascent to the throne.” She tossed the bag of stones far into the bushes. Pulling out her sword, she lunged for Miranda, aiming to kill her right then and there. But Miranda’s warrior instincts kicked in. She rolled to the right and sprung deftly to her feet. She pulled out her own sword, which glowed brightly against the night air. Anaya, missing her mark, did a somersault. When she came out of it, her hair was covered in dirt and leaves, her eyes wild and vicious. “Alright, let’s fight for it!”
Miranda stood in ready position. “If you kill me here, you’ll be disqualified. You’ll spend your life in prison.”
Anaya began circling, Miranda followed. “How do you know that?”
“Your mother told me. She wanted to make sure I didn’t get any ideas. Of course I never know if she’s telling the truth or not.”
Anaya hesitated. “Fine,” she seethed, putting her sword away. “You’ll never make it back anyway.” She turned to Angala, pointing her finger first at her, then at Miranda. “You are not my sister. This is some tactic you’ve concocted to get my guard down, but I see right through the both of you.”
Angala’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “That’s what happens when you build a life on lies. You never know when you have the truth in front of you. The worst part is, you don’t even know if you’re telling the truth to yourself most of the time.”
Anaya scoffed, then ran off into the obscurity of shadows.
Homecoming
The ship pulled away from Sarona with a loud horn blast. Anaya stood at the stern watching the empty beach disappear. The Blue Waves nibbled away at it piece by piece until all she could see was a billowing sheet of blue and green waves.
Her world had changed. Yesterday she had been one person, an only child with one father. Now she had to consider the idea that she may have a sister, a father who loved another woman, and a mother who had kept the truth hidden from her.
The potential new picture of her history sat placidly on the surface of her mind like a stubborn layer of oil on water; touching the surface, but not mixing. It would take time for it to penetrate deeper. For now, all she could do was tolerate its suffocating presence, and hope she could make sense of it when she returned home.
Exhausted and drained from the journey, she went down below, collapsed onto her cot and tossed in a restless sleep. Over the next few days, she awakened a few times for quick meals, but immediately returned to dreamless dozing until she heard familiar sounds coming through the window. She got up, dressed in her full warrior attire, and climbed the stairs to the deck.
The ship was bustling with preparations to drop anchor; sails furled, cargo was assembled, and the captain shouted orders in every direction. Reaching the railing, Anaya spotted movement on shore. It was the women of Zarada working at various tasks. One of them had eyed the ship in the distance and was pointing at it.
The second ship was also coming in, but from the opposite side. Miranda also saw the figures run up the shore accompanied by the sound of excited voices. She turned and glanced at Anaya, trying to share a moment of recognition but Anaya only flicked her eyes briefly in Miranda’s direction, then looked away without a trace of expression.
The activity increased as they approached. After a few minutes, an island bell sounded; it was the signal to stop working. Women and men all over the island hurried out of cottages, gathered up little ones, and slipped them into carriers or tied them to their backs. Everyone wanted to see who had returned, and which girl, if any, carried the stones for their thirsty mouths and land.
The High Council members filed down the beach. They had been expecting the return of the girls and were anxious to see if they had been successful. The Sultana, demanding to see for herself what had resulted from the quest, was being carried down in her sedan. Raina secured a blanket around the old woman’s shoulders. Even in the heat, she complained of being cold.
When the crowd recognized the girls, cheering erupted. Miranda pulled a handful of Red Larimar stones out of her bag, raising them for all to see, and the cheering became a deafening roar. The island’s inhabitants jumped and pranced and cried. They were saved!
The ships were met with shouts of congratulations and festive music as the anchors dropped. Miranda and Anaya were rowed to shore to stand before the High High Council.
“Which of you have procured stones?” asked Dosha.
“We both have,” said Miranda.
“Release the stones to me,” Dosha commanded.
Miranda and Anaya displayed their bags, filled with glimmering stones, and handed them to Dosha, who turned around to face the crowd. A murmur of Ahhs and Ohhs resounded when they saw the brightness of the freshly harvested Red Larimar stones.
Dosha spoke. “Our daughters have been successful! We will have a rain ceremony tonight! And crops this year!”
The parched islanders cried for joy, then dispersed to prepare for the rainmaking ceremony.
Athedra ran to Miranda, embracing her. Angala had waited for this moment to show herself, and was just now coming off the boat. Athedra had long thought her mother dead, and she shed joyous tears of reunion as she hugged her mother closely.
Grideon approached Miranda and put his arms around her, holding her tight and whispering in her ear. “I knew you would bring us rain.”
As they walked up the shore, Miranda tried to catch Anaya’s eye, but Selexi was pulling her daughter in the other direction, resolved to dominate her once again. Miranda had come home with happiness in her heart, but it was tainted by the fact that she the challenge wasn’t over.
The Sultana observed the scene from her carriage with great pride. When she saw her old friend Angala, her eyes widened and she beat her cane on the carriage floor, and exclaimed, “Can my eyes be true? Is that Angala!?”
Angala walked to the carriage and bowed deeply to the Sultana. “Angala, I thought you were dead,” began the Sultana with a beaming smile. “Climb inside and accompany me back to the castle. I want to hear everything.”
Rainmaking
Wasting no time, the High Council immediately delegated tasks for the rainmaking ceremony. The circular stage outside the temple was covered in debris from months of disuse. The Sultana called on the help of a thousand fairies to clean and decorate it.
Once the fairies’ handiwork was done, the Priestesses gathered. Two of them blessed the surface of the altar for the sacred rite, chanting solemn tones in the old tongue. Another slipped ten gleaming crystals from their stalks, polished them with velvet cloths, and arranged them on the silver tray lined with citrine silk.
By the time the sun was low, all was ready. Soft pink lights hung on strings that wove around tree limbs, glowing with the promise of a new beginning. The stage was framed with tall pillar candles atop pedestals; and around the circumference of the stage, torches danced brightly.
At dusk, laughter and conversation filtered through the forest as islanders, donned in ceremonial clothing, poured in from the village. As they arrived,
they formed concentric circles around the stage, joining in the chant. The High High Council sat in the back of the stage, behind the Priestesses. Dosha rose and came forward to address the community.
“My dear Zaradians, you have been patient and understanding during this long drought. We could have fought amongst ourselves for dwindling resources and died in the effort. But we stayed strong. We were thirsty. We were hungry. But we followed the rationing. And we have survived to see this glorious day!”
The crowd cheered. The soft beating of taut skins began the rite. Dosha exclaimed above the din, “Let the rituals begin!!”
The Head Priestess held the rainmaking staff upright, and inserted one Red Larimar stone at a time into a matrix pattern that would call out to the sky and create a mighty downpour. With each stone’s placement, a special prayer, said in the old tongue, was intoned by magik Elder. Each additional stone made the others shine more intensely; and when they were all in place, the shaft also glowed. magik Elder chanted and prayed as incense spirals drifted up in heliotrope colored plumes.
The audience said their own prayers, and imagined rain. They rose out of their seats, as if pulled by an unseen force; swaying back and forth, arms waving to the sky, communicating with their collective force.
Eyes closed in concentration, they sang with fervor to the higher forces, to the mysterious all knowing bringer of sky water, the Rain Goddess. Rays from the stones radiated upward traveling all the way to the sky, lighting up the island.
The drumbeats came faster and louder. A cacophony of chanting and singing filled the air as their bodies rocked to the rhythm of the deafening drums. The chanting intensified as great grey clouds rolled in and thunder, as if joining in their song, clapped around them. Lightning bolts dappled the sky. Voices grew to a fever pitch.
When the first raindrops kissed their faces – ever so lightly at first, then harder, pelting them with life giving tears of the sky, they rejoiced. The most fervently devoted dropped down to their knees; others danced, spun and shook.
Some opened their mouths wide, catching the precious drops on their tongues. Still others beat the ground with their fists, or jumped about, throwing their arms around each other in ecstatic celebration. The drought was over at last!
Angala’s Wisdom
In the living room of their cottage, Angala and Freya played a marble game in front of the fireplace. The uneven snapping of crackling logs popped around the melodic chiming of their delighted voices.
Athedra sat at the wheel, spinning burntorange yarn in preparation for a color change in the rug she was making. Miranda was the only one not joining in the fun. She sat silently, staring into her cup of tea.
Angala stole a glance at Athedra. They were both concerned about Miranda, who had not been the same since her return. Angala could tell Athedra was itching to say something, but shot her a look that said leave her alone for now. Athedra sighed and concentrated on her youngest daughter instead. “Okay, Freya, time for bed.”
“Oh, Mom, not yet,” Freya complained as she giggled and jumped into her grandmother’s lap.
Athedra secured a knot. “Come on, now.”
Freya gave Angala a big hug. “You’ll never go away again, will you?”
“I’ll be around for a long time.”
Athedra took Freya by the hand and led her down the hallway.
Angala placed the game on the shelf and sat down next to Miranda, whose gaze did not stray from her teacup. “I don’t feel like talking right now, Babu.”
Angala unfastened the necklace she was wearing. She clasped it around Miranda’s neck. “I want you to keep this.”
Miranda passed her fingers over the familiar texture of the blood red stone in its familiar setting. She took a deep breath. “I felt so close to Anaya on Sarona. After the way we escaped together, I thought we would....”
Angala adjusted the pendant, centering it on its chain. “Sometimes friends are also enemies, my child. They love you, but they don’t agree with you. That’s the conflict we all struggle with. Don’t you see?
She’s struggling now. She’s gotten in touch with the side of herself that lives in the light. However, the dark side is still very strong. We’ll see which side ultimately prevails. As long as you stay in the light, there’s a chance she’ll be pulled into it.”
Miranda looked at Angala, her face awash in confusion. “How can I fight someone I love?” asked Miranda.
“With your heart wide open, your mind resolute, and your sword drawn in resolve.”
The Challenges
In the Chambers, the High Council was addressing the next phase of the challenge. This was an unprecedented situation, and there was much to discuss. Decisions had to be made.
“Both of them made it back alive,” said Dosha.
“And they each procured the required ten stones,” added Raya.
“I understand they worked together to escape the Deamons,” said the Sultana.
Selexi was smug. “So ... you see? Without Anaya, Miranda would have perished.”
The Sultana pinched her lips together. Sometimes it was better not to engage.
Back and forth they went until Dosha nodded to Bajo, who stood up and read from the law book opened before her. “If the challenged and the challenger both complete the quest successfully, they will enter a training period followed by competitions in three categories.
The first category: magik Arts. The second: Academic Aptitude. Lastly: Physical Mastery as Young Warriors. To be judged by the Sultana plus all twelve High Council members. Their marks will be tallied and the one who earns the highest score will be crowned.”
“Because of their familial relationship with the contestant, the Sultana and Selexi will be replaced with impartial citizens chosen by the High Council,” added Dosha.
“Bring in the girls,” directed the Sultana.
Miranda and Anaya were led in.
Dosha spoke. “You both have succeeded in your quest for the Red Larimar stones, saving our island from drought and famine. For that we are eternally grateful. Your bravery shall be written in our Great Book of History. But neither of you is as of yet the clear winner.”
She addressed Anaya. “Do you still wish to challenge Miranda as the next Sultana?”
She looked at her grandmother, ambivalence gnawing at her. Why am I weak? I must be strong, like my mother. When she met Selexi’s gaze, all the doubt was quelled at once. Her mother still had complete power over her.
“Yes, I still wish to challenge Miranda,” Anaya answered.
“And you, Miranda,” asked the Sultana. “Do you still wish to defend your birthright?”
This is my chance, she thought. I can give the throne to Anaya right now and be done with it. I can live a quiet life with Grideon. But would he resent my choice over time? Would Mother and even Babu understand? What do I really want? Does what I want matter anymore? It does. At the same time, I have to do what’s best for my people. And to follow a private life would be putting Zarada at risk. If I know what’s right, why is it so hard to say it?
Miranda lifted her chin. “I do wish to defend my birthright.”
The Head Elder nodded. “So be it!”
“So be it!” echoed the High High Council members in unison.
The mallet banged on the table, cutting the air in irreversible finality. Their destiny was sealed. They would fight for the throne.
Miranda was taken to the castle and led down a large hallway lined with windows that overlooked the great Trothe mountain range on one side. At the end of the hall there was a large wooden door, flanked by two guards. Carved into its face was the emblem of justice; two scales. The door was unlocked, and held open for her.
Miranda walked across the threshold. Before her was a four poster bed, the posts laced with lavender chiffon and ribbons and the bed itself was draped with an indigo velvet coverlet. In the corner sat a desk complete with paper and writing utensils. Behind her, the door was closed and the lock turned. Sh
e went to the window, admiring the majesty of the mountain range that split Zarada in two. Just like us, she thought; two girls, separate but connected, trying to share one destiny.
Magik Arts Training
The following morning, eyes still closed and half asleep, Miranda heard a gentle knock. The lock turned and her eyes fluttered open. It took a few moments to remember where she was. Two figures entered, one a servant delivering breakfast, the other a studious woman holding a notebook and pencil. The one with the notebook waited while the other one set the tray down, then left the room.
Miranda had never seen this person before. She was dressed in a grey tunic and black pants. “My name is Gardova,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “I will be managing your schedule. During this challenge you will have no private communications. You may send and receive written messages to and from your family, but I am required to screen them all.”
Miranda took a sip of morning tea. “I won’t be able to see anyone?”
Gordova shook her head. “No, that is not permitted.” Gardova said, shaking her head. “You will have three intensive training sessions in magik Arts, Academic Aptitude, and Physical Mastery. When the training has been completed, you will perform in each of these categories before the High High Council, who will decide your fate. Do you have any questions?”
Miranda shook her head. She had no questions. Gardova wished her a good day and let the guards outside know she was done. The door opened and closed, leaving her alone once again.
After finishing breakfast, she pulled on the clothes that had been laid out for her. When were they put there? Was just anyone coming and going while she was sleeping? My life is no longer my own, she realized, suddenly feeling as if she were being watched.
Before the quest, she had been free to come and go as she pleased. She had spent her time as she wished – with Cavalo, riding here and there, or visiting with friends. Where is Cavalo now and who is caring for him? Is Mother okay without me? Of course she is – she has Angala now, and Freya.
The Larimar Quest (Island Of Zarada Book 1) Page 14
