Chapter One
Vibrant colors of orange and red danced in my peripheral vision.
Wooden stalls of sweet candies and cloth spanned the courtyard wedged between the castle and cathedral of Zosa. The crisp autumn air swam between my long brown locks. I laughed as a white wolf cub played by my feet, its fur tickling my ankles. Draped over every booth was a bright orange banner, complete with tiny golden beads hanging from them. Lively music filled the ears of all the people in the square. Wizards, monks, and commoners alike shared the stone ground. I smiled as I watched children run around the market, laughing and screaming, their tattered clothing shining in the bright sun.
Facing the large castle of Zosa stood the cathedral. Grand in its master architecture, its exquisite stained glass windows greeted the golden sun of the afternoon. The six crosses of the elements, water, earth, fire, air, spirit, and shadow stood atop the bell tower. The stone steps leading to the large wooden doors were bathed in the sunlight of early afternoon.
I watched as monks on stilts wobbled around the square. A group of thugs were stationed next to the large black obelisk in the center of the square. A short commoner boy sat on the edge of the scarlet fountain next to the obelisk, singing a joyful tune. Though his voice was amazing, he wore nothing more than tan breeches and a faded shirt. I smiled as I began to explore the marketplace to see what the vendors held in store today. As I made my way down the square, various groups of children surrounded me. They laughed and played with one another as I would try to tickle them, then they would run away squealing in delight.
I stopped at a booth of sweet candies and bought each child a flame pop. They all shrieked in delight, then, as the spiciness crept up on them, the crowd of children dispersed in search of water. Even with the children gone, my ears still felt numb from the noise of the market. I continued down through the market, glancing at each vendor, until I came to a stall filled with small stone figurines. The man behind the counter was an old man, perhaps 80 years old, with a long gray beard. His eyes seemed too small for his face while his mouth was too big, and filled with crooked, yellowed teeth.
“Morning, young one! What may I do for you?” he questioned happily, stroking his long beard. I smiled.
“Well, sir, I'm interested in your figurines. Did you carve them yourself?” I asked, my eyes sweeping over the lot of them. I carefully picked one up from the table. The stone was amazingly detailed, down to the last clasp of the womans cloak. The figurine was smiling, her eyes bright and vivifying. Her stone gown was adorned with tiny stone bells. Strange markings covered the left half of her face. The same exact markings that cover mine, I realized with a start. My hand involuntarily rose to my cheek and felt the slightly lifted swirls there. How must I look to the people around me? Weird? Or like a rare, powerful gift from the Goddesses of spirit?
I sighed, and my hand fell from the markings on my face, strange and ethereal yet beautiful.
The old wizards smile turned into a grin. His eyes squinted and his mouth almost reached his ears. The grin created a wave of lines in the wizards face. I arched an eyebrow.
“Whats with the grin?” I laughed.
“Nothing, you are just a very special girl. You look just like the statue in your hands. You have the same-”
“-markings, yes, I know. This is a statue of Udara, right? The Goddess of spirit?” I wondered. The old wizard nodded. He clasped his hands together before he spoke.
“You look exactly as the Goddess did!” he blurted out in excitement. Then, he covered his mouth with his hands and his face became shrouded with shame for revealing his past to me.
My eyes widened in surprise and amazement. “You have met the Goddess? Face to face?” I gaped.
“Now,” he changed subjects, taking the statue of Udara from my hands and replaced it with the figurine of a man, “Lets take a look at another.”
The small stone man wore a long robe, with breeches and a silk shirt underneath. His hair was long and smooth. His lips were small and his eyes were sunken. Markings covered his face, yet they were twisted and ugly, like writhing snakes.
I frowned. “Who is this?”
“That, sweet girl, is Kyril. He is the God of the Sages. You know what Sages are, right?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” I whispered, as I tried not to remember the night the Sages took my mom. A tear escaped my eye as the grief I had felt then washed over me. I remember the face of those horrific dark wizards. I remember their long black hair and silken robes. I remember their tall wooden staffs, topped with the glowing green orbs. Their perfect faces, complete with beauty and evil all in one.
“Is something wrong?” he asked quietly, watching me.
“Seven years ago, when I was eleven, the Sages stole my mother,” I whispered, my voice wavering with the threat of tears.
“Oh, goodness, I didn't realize...I only meant to show you a similarity between him and Udara,” he stuttered, taken aback.
“Its okay,” I said, wiping away my tears. I cannot let my grief take hold of me. For if I do, I will be consumed with the lust of revenge. Once again, I buried the grief of losing my mother deep down inside myself. Until the next time I remember her, when the grief would surface again.
I smiled as I glanced at the old wizards face. He gazed at me with understanding.
“Thank you...?” I began.
“Aggie, the names Aggie,” he bowed.
“Well, then. Thank you, Aggie,” I bowed back.
I set the statue of Kyril back onto the table and left. I made my way back to the stage where I was to preform the Haw-Shu, dance of the dragon.
The small costume room was filled with many clothes, dresses, hats, and jewelry. In one corner sat a bureau with make-up scattered on it. Different sized shoes littered the floor along with hundreds of hair clips. To the left was a large elegant mirror with golden swirls carved into it and to the right stands a small oak door. Overhead, a small white light clung to the ceiling.
I stepped carefully across the floor to where the tall dresser stood. Thoughtfully, I chose an outfit, complete with a sultry and shimmering golden half shirt with short brown sleeves, golden beaded accents and an attached veil, and a matching gold and brown skirt. I completely covered my right arm in golden bangles and my feet in golden sandals. Then, like so many times before, I transformed my simple face into a dazzling beauty by adding gold dust above my eyes, a slight tint of pink to my cheeks, and shiny golden lip gloss to my small lips. I sprinkled golden dust in my long brown hair, giving it the ability to shine immensely in the sun.
My breath began to skip in fear of the crowd, the lights, and the stage. I gasped as I reached out to steady myself on the chair of the bureau.
“Breath, Nayima, breath,” I scolded myself. Why do I always do this before a show? I need peace. I need to calm down. Let go.
I headed outside the costume room and sat underneath the large oak tree between the little brown house, where I live with my friends, and the stage. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts float free.
After my mother was taken there was nothing I could do, no where I could go. So, I wandered the roads, close to dying of thirst and hunger. Thats when Gaendir, an old wizard, found me. He saved me . I did not wake for several days. When I did, I was surrounded by a group of people. The first person I met was Gaendir. The second was a man named Caddric, a wanderer that Gaendir had also saved from death. Third, I met Asha, a woman who had been a servant but ran away from her life of servitude. Gaendir had taken her in as his own. The last two people I met were younger, twin brother and sister Okra and Atturis, fugitives from a guild hall in Gilgamesh.
Over time, I have come to know these people. But I have never felt full here, here with Gaendir and the others, here in Zosa in the little brown house.
Sure, they are my family, but I just don't belong here. In Zosa, living and learning with them. I yearn for adventure. I yearn to learn the forgotten magic, otherwise called Spirit Walking, or control of all four elements. I want to fight with my magic, but I can't, because there is no one here to teach it to me.
Half of me wants revenge on the Sages for taking my mother, the other half of me simply wants freedom from the grief.
The point of all this is that I just don't belong here.
But I cannot just leave, they love me as a friend and daughter, I would hurt them too much.
Right?
I sighed as all the tension flowed out of my mind and body once more. I smiled as I heard Atturis shuffle up behind me.
“You ready?” he asked, crescent shaped instrument in hand.
“Yes,” I told him confidently.
I stood and made my way to the stage. The large crowd of people stared up at me, waiting, expecting. Their eyes penetrated my golden clothing and my mind. To my left I caught sight of Gaendir, his flowing purple robes delicate and exquisite. Behind him, the market bustled with activity and sound.
I closed off my ears to all the sounds.
This is not where I belong. Not in Zosa. Not here, with Gaendir or Asha or any one else.
Hearing Atturis shuffle around behind the curtain I prepared myself. I closed my eyes as his music began. The soft and exotic strumming calmed me down, creating an endless flow of peace throughout my body.
Imagining my mother's voice, I began to dance.
My small feet ran through the high grass. Gaendir followed closely behind. I heard myself laugh out loud, melodic and like a bell. Gaendir's arms closed around my waist and he lifted me and swung me around in the air. The bright blue sky spun above me. The tall trees of the meadow twisted within the clouds. Gaendir stopped twirling and pulled me close to his chest in an embrace. I threw my arms around him in return. Over his shoulder I could see the shining blue of the ocean. The wooden boards of our traveling entertainment group. The bright yellow sun in the sky with Asha hanging the clothes beneath it. I laughed once more as Gaendir set me down and ruffled my hair. As Caddric came up and tickled me on the sides I squealed, even though I was twelve. I dropped to the ground, giggling.
I woke on my cot, my memory dissipating. I realized I had fallen asleep after the performance. The itchy tan blanket not covering my ice cold feet. Quietly as to not wake anyone else, I slipped out of my cot and tiptoed outside.
The cold night air sent icy daggers down my back. I wrapped my shawl tighter around myself. I sat outside the small house a few feet from the costume room and stage. Laying back on the trunk of the big oak tree, my distressed eyes wandered up to the two moons in the night sky. The southern one was always slightly larger than the northern one. I always enjoy watching the southern one more, it has a beautiful blue glow about it. The tiny sparkling stars made me smile sadly.
I need to leave. It is just too much. It hurts too much here. I don't need this, don't want this. Why did Gaendir choose to save me out of all people? I feel caged, the walls around Zosa like a giant bar meant to keep me here. I curled into a ball, laid my head on my knees as tears escaped my eyes. The blackness of the night seemed to swallow all my happiness of the day before. Suddenly, I heard footsteps and a soft breathing from behind me. Lifting my head, I acknowledged Okra standing by my side. She sensed my sadness and sat down next to me. Even though I call her my best friend, she hardly ever expresses kindness towards me. She is usually harsh and sarcastic.
“The northern moon is larger,” she said quietly.
“Yes, it is,” I replied.
We stayed silent for a moment.
“What are you thinking?” she questioned, a certain softness in her voice she usually saved only for her brother.
“Many things.”
Okra sighed and sat down next to me. She lay her small hand on my knee, hesitantly.
“Gaendir did not save us, Nayima, Udara did. She saved us all from death for a reason, we may not know that reason yet, but someday we will discover it,” she told me softly.
I smiled and gave her a hug, uncomfortable and yet comforting at that moment.
“Thanks,” I whispered, falling back against the tree.
We fell silent once more. She glanced towards the stage, towards the outline of the black curtains. The crisp wind blew around us as it lifted brown and orange leaves to the night sky.
“How do you do it?” she asked in wonder.
“Do what?” I raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
“That dancing. How do you do it? I mean, I swear, this is the first time that I watched your whole dance and...and...” she stuttered, quietly.
“And what?” I asked.
“You were like a bird. You danced like a true sorceress. A stunning, golden sorceress. I mean, I know you are a sorceress, the markings on your face show you have power in you, but you just looked more elegant and mysterious, in a way,” she gaped, awe creeping into her soft, low voice.
“I don't know. I just...dance,” I whispered, my eyes wandering towards the dark outline of the stage. I do just dance. It is part of who I am.
“You really are a sorceress, aren't you?” she whispered, her voice partly blowing away in the slight wind.
“Not yet,” I sighed, staring once more at the large northern moon.
Still searching for answers, I walked down the tight path of dirt by the cathedral early the next morning.
The dirt path leads to a very spiritual and powerful place called Risa, a garden-like meadow where it is said the Goddess Udara dwells. Most people in the city of Zosa come here to either pray, worship, or ask for guidance from Udara. For she, and the Goddesses of the other four elements, are the deities of my world, Ronaria.
On either side of me, tall green trees filled with fruit rose to the skies. Around my feet, tiny orange balls of fur rolled, common animals called fur-gins. I picked one up and it squirmed in my hand. Lifting away the orange fur I uncovered its face, the large black eyes and the cute red nose. The creature shivered and smiled at me with his tiny mouth, teeth less, then jumped back to the ground. I laughed, and kept on walking, careful not to squish them with my feet.
Soon, I came to the clearing where the prayer hut stood. All around me stood the same trees as on the path, but much more dense. The soft grass was teeming with fur-gins and thousands of tiny red flowers . But, the most beautiful thing in the clearing had to be the tiny prayer hut sitting on the grass a few feet ahead. Rich green vines wrapped around the wood of the door. The roof was covered in green and brown leaves from past years. A slight glow seemed to emit from the doorway of the hut.
I gulped, not knowing what would lay in store for me, as I walked up to the hut and pushed aside the door, walking inside.
The tiny room was dark except for one candle on the opposite wall. It illuminated a box of fire starters and a fire pit to one side of the room. I took a stick and began a fire, listened to it crackle as it became alive and lit the hut. I sat down, cross legged, before the fire and closed my eyes. The sound of the fire filled my ears. I breathed in and out very, very slowly in order to calm myself. Then, I prayed to my goddess.
“To my holy deity. I pray for wisdom, for guidance and knowledge. I ask for help through difficult times and hardships. I pray for you to speak to me now. To tell me what to do, where to go. I do not belong with the people I am with now. But I belong with you. I need someone by my side, who I can trust and love, forever. I...”
“Do not worry my child.”
I fell silent, heart thumping. The hut suddenly became sweltering hot. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. I listened for Udara's voice once more. I prayed she would speak again.
“You must learn patience and gain much knowledge of the forgotten magic. You need to prepare for great and terrible things. But...”
I gulped in fear.
“All good comes with a price,” Udara's soft, yet, authoritative voice whispered, “Which you may, or may not, be willing to pay. But it is always up to you. No matter how hard a person tries, you will always have the power to say no. Remember that, it will help you in whatever destiny has in store for you.”
I gasped as an image formed before my eyes.
The small village of Rjivae flashed into my vision. I saw myself standing in a courtyard crying. Then, I was elsewhere, standing with a long onyx sword. I gasped as a man stepped into the vision, shrouded in black. His mouth moved and I heard his words.
“Want to learn forgotten magic? Kill me and I will teach you,” the man challenged.
“You are special, Nayima. You are my child, my love, my prodigy. Remember what I said, never let it leave your mind.”
Then, the intense vision faded away, along with Udara's soft voice, leaving me to stare at the dying fire.
The gray wagon I rode in with Atturis and Caddric dipped into a pothole. The wind curled around my hair, making my brown locks dance.
Caddric used to dislike me. He used to think I was special because of my markings, too special. He thought he and the others would be better off without me. Then, on my fifteenth birthday, I got mad at him. I told him that I was no different than Asha or Okra or Atturis. For days after, he did not speak to me. I thought I had angered him, had humiliated him. Then, he changed. He began to talk with me, learn my past. He began to spend time with me, and I with him, and over the past three years we have become friends. It still amazes me now to think of how much he changed that day.
A large bird flew in circles in the distance.
I sat in the wagon, Caddric by my side, his dark red hair long and his scarlet outfit red as blood. As we dipped into another whole in the road he screeched.
“Doggone wagon! Stupid thing gonna bruise my underside!”
I laughed.
Atturis, who sat to my left, slept. His light sand colored hair is ruffled, his eyes small and his mouth large. His torso is thin, almost too thin. I heard Caddric whisper another swear word, too quiet for me to hear. I rolled my eyes. The golden fields of wheat met my eyes. The horizon line was straight, no trees whatsoever. I looked backwards and saw the outline of Zosa. The Duke says every one of his citizens should have wheat. So, he split up the fields and gave a small area to each family in Zosa. He says we can have the wheat, but that we have to collect it ourselves.
“Caddric, how much wheat do you think we should gather today?” I asked.
“Look, Nayima, I really don't care. I don't even see why we have to do this. The Duke should collect the wheat, not make every little family collect their share. What if a family is not able to? What about orphans?” he snickered, “Its stupid.”
“Oh, Caddric, you're just grumpy and tired,” I teased, pushing him in the arm.
“I'm not grumpy,” he argued, punching me back.
I held up my hands in sarcasm. “Fine, whatever. If you say so, Mr. You'll bruise your underside!”
We stayed silent for a few moments. I twisted one of my brown locks on my finger.
The wagon jumped over third pothole and Caddric growled.
“I swear, I'm gonna-” he began to say as I leaned over and punched him in the gut. He doubled over in shock, the wind knocked out of him.
“What'd you...do that...for?” he gasped, regaining his breath slowly.
I blew on my fist for emphasis.
“You complain too much,” I sighed.
“You...didn't have to...punch me!” he exclaimed, sucking in air.
“Yes, I did. What else would have made you stop?” I challenged teasingly, as the wagon pulled to a stop. The driver got out and unhooked the back of the wagon for us.
A thoughtful look came over Caddric's face. “Nothing, I...guess. You...have a point.”
“I know I do. Now lets get this over with,” I hopped out of the wagon to the dusty ground. My long brown dress made the dust of the road fly into the air. I made my way to a wheat field and began cutting the wheat with my scythe.
