Forsaken Island

by Sharon Hinck

  I knelt near the edge. “Poor thing. She misses her mother.”

  “Time to create a new bond.” Brantley opened a basket that had been left near the tree and handed me a copper fish. “Do you want to try?”

  Gingerly, I dangled the fish. “Here little stenella. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.”

  She stopped thrashing and jutted her head forward, peering at me.

  “Put it in the water for her.”

  I lowered the fish and moved it side to side. She dipped her head and butted my hand. I laughed and dropped her meal, which she quickly grabbed. “She needs a name.”

  “I’ve been pondering that,” he said. “I thought perhaps Makah would be a fitting tribute. You know Harba and Wimmo’s babe may never have survived if not for you coaxing them away from the convening. Because of you, they remember to love and care for their child and each other.”

  His praise filled me with a warm glow. “Can I see our cottage now?”

  “It’s just around that cluster of willows. Not much to look at so far. We got the floor and two walls set. Wish I could build you one of those tall homes like they had at the green village. Maybe one day.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  We walked slowly on the rocking ground, and I leaned on Brantley’s arm for support.

  “How’s the leg?” he asked.

  I was grateful there wasn’t a note of pity in his voice, so I answered honestly. “Tired after this morning, but I’ll be fine.” And I began to believe I would be.

  We slipped under dangling branches, much more languid and gentle than the vines on the other island, and emerged into a clearing. Our future home nestled under a spreading pine. The lower limbs had been cleared away, and the upper branches formed a canopy over the structure. Flowers dotted the border of the foundation. I raised an eyebrow at Brantley.

  “Orianna insisted.” He laughed. “I warned her they’ll get trampled as we finish work on the home, but she said she’ll just plant more.”

  A fire pit stood ready on the stretch of land before the sea. “Brantley, let’s not use your friend’s cottage. Let’s camp here tonight.”

  “You sure? Aren’t you tired of tents and lean-tos and sleeping on bare earth?”

  “Not if I’m with you.”

  Color rose up his neck, and I giggled. It was so fun to make him blush, I’d have to find more ways to do it.

  “Look.” He led me toward the tangleroot. “Our last view of the other world.”

  The horizon stretched straight and true, separating sky and water. The suns glinted off the still surface like golden threads on deep-jade silk. Skilled designers of the green village would have loved this view, if only they could see it.

  Maker, when You walk among them, please take down the rim trees so they can see the ocean one day.

  Brantley wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and I edged closer to him. For so many years my human contact had been a saltar correcting a flawed line of my body, or an attendant shoving me aside as he dragged another novitiate somewhere. I would never stop marveling at Brantley’s embrace. His support and protectiveness were reminders of the Maker’s tenderness.

  “Do you miss them?” he asked.

  “I was glad to leave. I was afraid we’d never escape. But the people became dear to me. I’ll keep talking to the Maker about them.”

  Tiny waves licked the tangleroot. Out where the sky met the sea, a shadow like a low cloud drifted into the distance. During the last few days, the other island had slowly grown smaller as its course pulled it away from us. Meriel was finally coasting the currents again.

  Brantley squeezed my hand. “Great Maker of land and sea, please save the people of that world.”

  I hadn’t been bold enough to speak my prayers aloud in front of him. His matter-of-fact request made my admiration for him grow even more and inspired me to overcome my shyness. How marvelous that we could commune with the Maker together. “And watch over our friends.”

  We stood in silence for a few minutes, soaking in the warmth from the suns and watching until the vast ocean was empty again. Then we strolled to the foundation of our home-to-be. I rummaged through a burlap bag that someone had left on the steps and unearthed a soft woven blanket.

  Brantley unpacked a crate, then dusted off his hands. “I’ll go gather some boughs for bedding. We should be able to make our camp more comfortable than the ones we’ve had lately.” He whistled to himself as he headed deeper inland.

  I unpacked his backpack and found the bowl we’d used in the bonding ceremony. Running my fingers over the images, I marveled again at the friends we’d met and the adventure of life ahead.

  Brantley returned and dropped an armful of branches onto one corner of the open floor. He helped me spread a soft blanket over the sticky boughs.

  I held up the bowl. “You promised you’d tell me later. Where did this beautiful bowl come from?”

  His chest lifted, basking in my appreciation. “When Morra showed me the pledging bowl he’d made, I asked him to make one for us. We kept it a secret—which wasn’t easy since he was so often muddle-headed. I was afraid he’d tell you.”

  Moisture filled my eyes, and my smile trembled. He’d planned for our bonding when we didn’t even know what our future might hold. “It’s beautiful. Like nothing else in existence on our world.”

  He stepped closer and placed his hands over mine as I held each side of the bowl. “Exactly. Just like us.”

  GLOSSARY

  ATTENDANTS—Servants who work in the Order.

  BRESH—A flaky, buttery roll. Luxurious treat eaten by dancers.

  CALARA REED—Well rooted, supple reeds growing near water. (Calara pattern is one of the most complicated.)

  CENTER GROUND—The huge open field in the very center of the island, where the dancers of the Order perform the patterns that keep the island turning around its core.

  CONVENING—An event in which an entire village treks to the center lake on the forsaken island, calls on the Gardener, goes into a trance, and has their cares erased. Each village goes around the time of the star rain that corresponds to their color. Green village, green star rain, etc.

  COPPER FISH—Small, glittery fish that swim in large schools and provide food for rim villages.

  DAYGRASS—a soft, mossy grass that springs up overnight.

  FOREST HOUND—A wolflike beast almost as big as a pony, usually with amber eyes; a feared predator.

  FORMS—Various levels within the Order’s school. First-form children are generally around seven years old and work up through the ranks to the fifteenth form (twenty-one years of age) and if successful can join the Order as dancers. Some dancers later become saltars.

  GRAND CONVENING—When the multicolored star rain happens once a year, all the villages gather simultaneously at the lake in the center of their world to be numbed by the Gardener.

  HERDER—One who herds fish from the ocean waters so they can be gathered by rim villagers.

  HONEYBIRD—Tiny, nervous, bright-red bird.

  LANDKEEPER—A person who gardens, farms, cares for plants.

  LANTHRUS—A plant with prickly leaves that cause blisters and fever, but when dried is useful for pain.

  LENKA—A small, yellow, tart, and sweet fruit with a small oval pit inside. Lenka trees on Meriel have been dying off.

  LONGKNIFE—Common long-bladed tool and weapon used by herders.

  MAKER, THE—The forgotten one who created the oceans, the island world, and everything in them.

  MERIEL—The name of Carya’s world (the island floating in a vast, featureless ocean universe).

  MIDDLEMOST—The largest city, in the center of Meriel, surrounding the Order.

  NOVITIATES—Girls training to become dancers of the Order.

  ORDER, THE—The organization of novitiates, dancers, saltars, prefects, and attendants that directs the course of the world through the dance. Located in the very center of Meriel, in a large edifice that encircl
es the center ground. They pass down the patterns through the generations.

  PATTERNS—Precise dances and formations named for various natural elements or plants. To be accepted into the Order, each dancer must prove she can perform any pattern flawlessly.

  PERSEA FRUIT—Knobby-skinned, meaty fruit with a pit.

  PREFECT—Support staff for the Order school, they enforce rules, help saltars, etc.

  REVEL—The all-night gathering before the convening, during which villagers share their art or gifts, drink, dance, and party.

  RIM—The undulating outer edges of the island world.

  RIMMERS—Sometimes derogatory term for those who live in rim villages.

  SALTARS—The leaders and top teachers of the Order.

  SALTCAKES—Dry, crumbly biscuits.

  STAR RAIN—A periodical magical occurrence on evenings when stars burst in the air and glittering light rains down.

  STENELLA—Dolphin-like sea creatures with long necks and wide spreading side fins that can glide over the water as well as dive under.

  SWEET WATER—Ocean water that tastes sweet and citrusy. Loved by the rim villages but feared and filtered by those in the inland towns.

  TANGLEROOT—The matted, intertwined vines that form the outer edge of the island.

  TENDER—Someone who cares for domesticated animals, especially ponies.

  TSALLA—Sweet ocean water brewed with herbs.

  WELFEN BEAST—A forest creature with a high, gibbering howl that lurks in the deep woods and is mentioned to frighten children.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My thanks to my incredible agent and publisher, Steve Laube, who encouraged this series and brainstormed a key plot point in this book. Eternal gratitude to my editors, Reagen Reed and Lindsay Franklin, who bring so much care, respect, and wisdom to making my stories stronger. Huge appreciation the amazing team at Enclave Publishing, specifically to Trissina Kear and Jordan Smith for all their hard work helping readers find these books.

  Immense thanks go to the friends who have prayed with me as I work. I am blessed by every circle of support. The “church ladies,” Bible study small groups, writing retreat buddies, the Dancing Realms Facebook group, my Book Buddies, family, and so many dear friends. You carried me through the years of work on this new series, celebrating the joy of a new story world, and encouraging me when the road was challenging. Special thanks to critique partners Chawna, Patti, Jenni, and Michelle for in-depth feedback.

  Above all else, thank you to my Maker from whom all blessings flow. May we rejoice each day in knowing we are never forsaken.

  AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

  Sharon Hinck writes “stories for the hero in all of us,” novels praised for their strong spiritual themes, emotional resonance, and imaginative blend of genres.

  She earned an MA in Communication (with a major in theatre and thesis in dance) from Regent University and spent ten years as the artistic director of a Christian dance company. That ministry included three short-term mission trips to Hong Kong to teach and choreograph for a YWAM dance/evangelism team. She taught classical ballet and liturgical dance for twenty years, and led workshops on dance in worship.

  She’s been a church youth worker, a dancer/choreographer, a church organist, a homeschool mom, and an adjunct professor of Creative Writing for MFA students. One day she’ll figure out what to be when she grows up.

  When she’s not wrestling with words, she enjoys speaking at churches and conferences, and has taught at Minnesota Christian Writer’s Guild, the national conference of the American Christian Fiction Writers, and Realm Makers.

  A wife, mom of four, and delighted grandmother of three, she lives in Minnesota and is a member at St. Michael’s Lutheran Church.

  She loves visitors at sharonhinck.com.