Origins(Prequel) (Island Of Zarada)

by Michele Evans

  They must be talking about the young Vindans I just saw, Undua thought, aghast. “I think I know who is respons-ible,” she said.

  “So far, they haven’t made it this far into our forest, but they soon will, we fear,” said the King.

  “Can you do something?” asked the Queen. “Do you know them?”

  Undua nodded. “Yes, I know them.”

  Murderous Vindans

  Undua stormed into Intalla’s chamber like a wild animal ready to strike its prey. He was taken aback by her intensity, but remained where he was – lounging and puffing on a pipe full of hindola. He had become very comfortable over the years, and had grown too lazy to be bothered by much of anything.

  When she told him what his youth had been up to, he resisted putting forth any effort. “What can I do?” he whined. “I don’t know who is behind it.” He took another puff, settling deeper into his chair, and watched the smoke rise in spiral rings.

  Undua, having no patience for his complacency, leaned over him, showing a fierceness he did not like. “That’s no excuse,” she seethed. “You need to investigate and find the killers. Immediately.”

  Intalla realized he was not going to get out of this one. He sighed, laid down his pipe and rose. “Alright, alright, but it may take time to determine exactly who it is. We have so many youngsters running rampant these days. To identify the particular ones who did it may prove impossible.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “They’re all liars and will never give a straight answer anyhow. They’ll simply point fingers and say ‘he did it, no, she did it.’ My entire race is made up of thieves and liars – you know that.”

  “Are you are liar and thief, too, then, by definition?” asked Undua.

  Intalla paused, tapping his old gangly fingers against each other. Even after all these years, Undua still com-manded his respect and he could not be angry with her, no matter what she said. “I have never lied to you, nor stolen from you, Undua. Ours is a symbiotic relationship. I have no need to deceive you.”

  Undua scoffed at his attempt to patronize her. His words happened to be true, but she wasn’t softened by them. “If one more being is harmed or threatened by your kind,” she said, “there will be trouble between us, and you know what that means. Find the culprits before irreversible damage is done!”

  Intalla knew precisely what she meant. Further, he knew Undua would follow through with her cloaked threat if he did not produce the bad seeds.

  “Of course, of course…,” he conceded. “I will find out who is the guilty party and have them punished.” Undua turned and sauntered out as she had entered, leaving Intalla to his task.

  Intalla floated about his chamber, considering the possibilities – who might be the miscreants be? It must be one of those Vindan bands, he thought. In his day there had been no bands, every individual had been for himself. But as of late these unlikely groups had formed – clusters of youths, most of them innocuous enough.

  He had been told once that the most violent band was led by a particularly malicious boy – Drok. Intalla liked to keep rotten characters like that close to him, and had intended on recruiting this thug into his inner circle after he became a little older.

  Now that it had become an urgent matter, he would bring the boy under his wing earlier than planned. Intalla called in his top general and ordered him to find this boy and bring him to his chamber where he could mold him to his will.

  The general and his soldiers set out the find Drok and his cohorts, but they had not yet returned to the compound. They were still out wandering and executing their dark deeds instead of coming straight back as Undua had instructed them because their urge to destroy life overpowered and overruled their reason.

  They took a twisted delight in the sizzles and pops their executions produced, and points were amassed based on the quality and length of the sounds; the bigger the bug, the louder the noise; the louder the noise, the higher the points. Fairies, much harder to locate, won the highest score of all.

  On this day, Drok had led his band farther away from the compound than was prudent and without realizing it, they had entered the territory of the Zaradians, which they knew was strictly forbidden. When they came upon a group of huts on the way back home, they were well aware that they were trespassing.

  Drok’s sour face broke into a shifty smile and his eyes burned hot at the prospect of this opportunity. “Now those are some big bugs,” he snickered. “Think of the sizzle they will make!”

  “Yeah,” one of them answered. “but we’re not supposed to be here or mix with ... them. Let’s get out of here like we were just told to.”

  “I don’t want to be eliminated,” said another nervously. “Let’s head back and find some really big bugs along the way!”

  Drok didn’t flinch. “I’m not afraid. And anyway, we wouldn’t be eliminated.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know the Dictator. He’s soft....” Drok tapped his shining temple with the end of a slender finger. “...up here. He spends all day smoking hindola. It will be easy to get him to do anything I say. I can even get us comfy jobs high up.”

  “You mean we could be Controllers?”

  “Sure, absolutely,” Drok bragged. “Now let’s have some fun!”

  Drok and his band observed from the cover of trees as Zaradian children played while their mothers, moving in and out of huts, took care of them and performed household tasks. Drok floated forward and his band followed until they were in full view.

  When the Zaradian children saw them standing there, alien as they were, they ceased whatever they had been doing and became silent. They stared at the foreigners, and the foreigners stared back. From a distance they all could have been perceived as statues, immovable as stone.

  Undua and Intalla had accomplished what they set out to do thus far – keep their races apart. Because of that, they had never encountered one another before. One Zaradian child, terrified by the sight, finally broke the silence with a wailing for his mother, who came bounding out of a hut.

  Shocked to see the Vindans, she perceived at once the malicious intent that played on their rapacious faces. She scooped up her crying child and instructed the other children to run inside at once. Other mothers came out as well, and they scrambled to get everyone inside.

  As soon as the Zaradians began running, Drok and his friends started shooting fireballs. Most of the children slipped behind doorways unharmed, but some blazing flames hit their marks. Clothes were singed by flying embers and hair was burned by fireball edges grazing heads and bodies.

  Many flames landed in the dirt and burned out quickly. But one caught on a boy’s shirt, and in a flash the fabric burst into hungry flames, quickly consuming him. The women tried to douse the fire, but it spread anyway, and they couldn’t stop its scorching fingers from winding their way around the boy’s body. He burned to death, screaming in agony.

  Once the boy’s mother realized her son was dead, she turned to confront the killers, but Drok and his band had slithered back into the woods. All she could hear was whooping and hollering as they reveled in their latest conquest.

  Ousting the Vindans

  The High Council filed into the Rotunda, taking their places around half circle tables set in three stadium style rows. Many important decisions had been made in this room, but this one was by far the most critical. A jeweled throne perched on a dais opposite the High Council, and it now sat empty, awaiting the Sultana’s arrival.

  The Elders, numbering twelve, who made up the High Council, noticed they were not alone. Citizens were normally not allowed in attendance, but in this case an exception had been made. The boy’s mother was there, leaning against her husband, handkerchief in hand, eyes red with grief.

  The High Council as a governing body was typically reserved and subdued, but on this day the room was filled with chaos. The Elders couldn’t help expressing outrage at the horrible incident.

  Multiple heated conversat
ions rose up, loud and impas-sioned, but when Undua entered, her face was set in a grave and stony pallor, and the room fell silent in reverence. She walked slowly to the throne, as if in a dream, but did not sit. Instead, she stood behind it and, gripping in with her fingers, faltered for words.

  “What has happened…,” she stammered. Her throat caught. How can I tell them – I am more than angry, I am heartbroken. Not only for the parents, but also for my people and lastly for the alliance that must be severed.

  Heads bowed in sympathy while the boy’s mother sobbed. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “What has happened – must never happen again.” She turned to the boy’s parents. “I will do everything I can to ease your loss.”

  She walked across the dais, addressing the Council. “I move that we evict all Vindans from this island at once. We have lived in peace with them for a long time, but this one callous act has changed everything. Now that this travesty has occurred, it will surely happen again, and again, and again, until we either destroy or banish them.”

  “And if they don’t cooperate?” asked Head Elder.

  Undua stood strong. “We will fight them until they are no more.”

  Warrior Elder stood. “We are prepared to fight.”

  “I do not condone attacking them if we can find a non-violent solution,” said Magik Elder. “Do you have a proposal that could convince them to leave?”

  Undua, too upset to sit as she normally did, walked this way and that. “Yes, I have thought on this,” she said. “And here is what I have construed. – They are running low on tira, and they need more to buy hindola. We will offer them a large amount of tira upon their return to Vinda Minor. We will transport them there using our ships – and help them plant their first crops and new forests. These will be the incentives – beyond the most important one – that we will not annihilate them.”

  “That is too generous!” said Warrior Elder.

  Shouts of agreement flooded the room.

  The parents of the dead child were seething in vengeance. “Let’s kill them all!” shouted the father. Cheers erupted.

  “Be sure of this!” warned Undua, taking control of the room, “If we attack them, we will most likely destroy them. However more of us will burn. More children and warriors and Elders will die in the same manner as this poor child. Is that what we want?”

  Murmurs passed through the room. The desire for revenge was high; but no, they did not want to be the cause of more death amongst them.

  When the general and his troops tracked down Drok and his band, they were immediately taken to the Elimination Center. Intalla had considered bringing them into the fold, but it was too late for that – they had chosen to act outside his authority and now, having tasted that thrill, they were forever ruined. Besides – Undua would protest.

  He had stayed on her good side for many moons and as a result enjoyed an effortless life here. Eliminating the boys surely would placate her. Then they could go back to the way things were.

  He floated to the elimination ward to view the derelicts, and entered the Observation Room just as Drok was being dragged into the Melting Room. The Observation Room was separated from the Melting Room by a large window.

  Intalla peered closely at the troublemaker and was surprised to see that this youth reminded him of himself; confident, fierce, and intelligent – except he obviously lacked the foresight and constraint of a true leader.

  Unfortunately, he was only a simple thug who had become too bold. Yes, this one would have be a threat to me someday, he thought. Better to be rid of him now.

  Drok noticed a figure approaching the window and, recognizing the Dictator, he spoke up.

  “I wasn’t the one,” he implored. “It was the others. They forced me to do it.”

  “Liar!” screamed Intalla, shaking his head in disappoint-ment. “You were the one. You encouraged the onslaught of fireballs. Admit it.”

  Drok changed his tack. “We – You and I – What I mean is you don’t have to eliminate me. I can be of help to you.” He paused. “I know things. I can tell you who is plotting against you, and I know many who are. I was only having some fun. I never would have betrayed you, Dictator.”

  “But you did betray me! If you knew of plotters, why didn’t you come to me instantly with names? Perhaps you could have helped me at one time, but your poor judgment and lack of self control show a flawed character which would have gotten in the way eventually.”

  Drok’s eyes burned brightly and he turned on as much charm as he could muster. “It’s not too late for me to be your protege,” he begged.

  “You should have thought about that before you crossed the boundary and killed a Zaradian child. They are our pro-tectors!” Intalla kept his eyes on Drok as he barked fiercely to the eliminator in the corner. “Melt him!”

  “NO!” Drok wailed.

  The eliminator pressed a button and a panel above Drok’s head slid open, revealing a hole. Grey fluid drizzled through the hole, streaming down Drok’s body. He screamed as it drenched him, as it liquified him layer by layer, and he grew smaller and smaller, until finally there was only a pool of silver left on the floor.

  Intalla growled in disgust and floated out of the observation room. When he returned to his chamber, he was in no mood to see anyone. But Undua had arrived with two of her High Council members, Head Elder and Warrior Elder, and they were demanding to see him. He called in Kafa, and three other Controllers, before allowing the Zarad-ians an audience.

  Intalla motioned for them to sit, but Undua ignored this formality and started right in with her agenda. “We have had shared this island in peace; but in light of the recent murder of an innocent child, that arrangement is no longer in effect. It is time for all Vindans to return to Vinda Minor.”

  “But that will be impossible!” spouted Kafa.

  Undua disregarded Kafa and went on. “And you will give complete ownership of this island to us, the Zaradians. You have proven that you cannot live in harmony – this is the consequence of your actions.”

  Intalla growled demonically. “We were here first. You can go if you like, but we will not be pushed off this island.”

  “If you refuse to leave, we will wage war upon you,” said Head Elder evenly.

  “And we will win,” added Warrior Elder.

  “You cannot beat us,” said Kafa, haughty and impulsive. “We will burn all of you in an instant!”

  “Of our ability to best you, there is no doubt,” Undua assured them. “We have amassed a large weapon supply to fuel our trade, and are willing to use those instruments in battle against you instead. Our warriors outnumber yours. We have been training for battle all these years. Our training was intended to defend you, but we are prepared to use our strength to eliminate your race entirely.”

  Intalla fought to stay calm. He was painfully aware of their power and skill. The Zaradian warriors could easily dodge most of their fireballs and swiftly obliterate each Vindan with the touch of their magik swords. Desperate, he blurted out, “I have eradicated the youths who committed the crime. It won’t happen again.”

  “Not good enough,” said Undua. “Now that it has happened once, the other youths will take up this ‘sport’ and there will be more of the same. It will get worse and worse.”

  Warrior Elder scowled with distaste. “You’re lucky we’re even here to give you an opportunity to escape. I would attack without warning if it were up to me. Undua convinced us you could be reasoned with. Don’t prove her wrong.”

  There was no way for Intalla to turn. He was cornered, defeated without a fight. Kafa urged him to bring in the general and command these intruders be arrested and killed. But Intalla said nothing.

  Undua, seeing the opening, explained that the Zaradians would help them travel back to Vinda Minor, using Zaradian ships for transport. They would assist in replanting trees and crops plus pay them an enormous lump sum in tira, which the Vindans were short of due to their ever increasing addiction to Hibola.


  Intalla knew he would have to comply, but he negotiated more concessions while he could. “We must receive rent in perpetuity, he demanded. “Without us you would never have settled here into your cozy little lives.”

  “That can be arranged,” said Undua.

  “And…,” continued Intalla, “We want the opportunity to buy this island back from you in the future. At a fixed price.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “But you might agree to it someday?”

  “Anything is possible,” Undua said. “We will give you right of first refusal if we ever decide to leave. That is all I can say.”

  Arrangements were made. The Vindans were packed up and soon they were back on Vinda Minor. Undua and the High Council renamed the island Zarada and a celebration followed which included the fairies, who had become cher-ished friends.

  Passing the Torch

  Undua sat on her throne, facing her beloved High Coun-cil. An era was at an end and she was the one who must announce it.

  “We have been through many ups and downs together, but my time as Sultana is nearly ended,” she stated. “You must prepare for the next generation of rule.” She paused for a moment.

  “I am proud of what we have accomplished; we have amassed enormous amounts of tira from our merchant trips, the men have created a prolific weapons making facility, and the women have become master weavers, artfully producing the finest fabrics tira can buy.

  “We have formalized education for all children and have built a successful Young Warrior Training Academy. When necessary, the trip is made to Sarona to harvest Red Larimar stones, and so crops are plentiful.”

  She rose and walked to the edge of the dais. “My friends, the time has come to pass the torch.” Murmurs of sadness filled the room. They knew this time would eventu-ally come, as nature dictated, but were not given to change, especially as they loved their Sultana so dearly.

  “There are those amongst you who are also ready to pass the torch, and arrangements will be made for you to live out your lives in security and comfort while others take your place.”