THE YARASTAR TRILOGY
BOOK ONE
THE
UNMARKED
GIRL
JEANELLE FRONTIN
The Unmarked Girl
Copyright © 2018 by Jeanelle Frontin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used of reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, email Mark Made Group Ltd. based in Trinidad, W.I.
www.markmadegroup.com
Book Cover & Character Illustration by Israel Silva
Cover & Character Design © 2018 by Mark Made Group Ltd.
Author photograph by Damian Luk Pat
Publication Data
Frontin, Jeanelle.
The Unmarked Girl / Jeanelle Frontin.
ISBN pb: 978-976-8255-76-1
ISBN ebook: 978-976-8255-77-8
First Edition
DEDICATION
To Alyxander, my son:
You taught me the true meaning of being a vessel when I was blessed with carrying you within me. After birthing the greatness that is you, I’ve always known I could do anything I ever wanted.
With this freedom of heart, mind, and soul, after a labor of profound ferocity, I’ve pushed out this baby dream.
In another world, like Mira, Yara is your older sister and friend… I hope she will always remind you, in the face of the unfathomable, where your purest power lies.
~
Chapter One
She was in the dark place again. They all ran up to her. Pointing. Taunting. Loathing…
“What is she?!”
“Where did they find her?”
“Why did they bring her here?”
“She is not even one of us!”
“Why does she look like that?”
“Where are her markings?”
“What are you?”
“Are you a Skotad?”
“Is she a weapon?”
“WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?”
“WHAT ARE YOU?”
“WHO ARE YOU?!”
“STRA-AR~AY OD UYO KNWO WOH UYO AER?”
Yara’s body jolted as her eyes flew open. Shivers ran through her at the sound of the strange, soft voice. She felt cold even though she was swaddled in the furs from the feathered trees. Her brows furrowed around her eyes’ iridescent irises as she lay in her room in the dwelling.
Yara had grown quite used to the disparaging noise of her Tribe’s voices in her sleep. This voice had been a recent addition. Still, it wasn’t the perplexity of its sudden presence that shook her. It was the eerie, ethereal language in which it spoke—a language she certainly did not know. Yet somehow, from a place deep below the chaos of the dream, she understood its meaning:
“YaraStar… do you know who you are?”
No… I don’t, she thought bitterly.
Yara rubbed her eyes and glanced around her wooden room. It had been carved out from a giant Saptree by her own Tribe father. Its walls and ceiling were covered in markings. It was said that they told of ancient stories and of times to come. These markings were found naturally on the trunk of every Saptree, and on all living things on Mira. They were sacred. They were the markings made by Sunstar on all that was special.
“But I, the UNMARKED, am not,” she muttered, quickly lowering her voice as she heard her parents tinkering around their dwelling. She would never want them to be concerned or think she was ungrateful. She knew she was, at least, very special to them. It humbled her every day.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day she had asked her parents why she seemed to be the only unmarked living thing on Mira. It often bothered her, even more than her odd blue hair and weirdly colored eyes. Lana and Sorin never knew what to say in those moments. No one knew where Yara had come from, for without markings, there was no traceable birthline. Still, Lana would try to remind her that even though she found her as an unmarked baby, she knew Yara was a gift from Sunstar.
Yara felt the opposite. Markings were a sign of origin in Photaks, and even in Skotads. They traced back their generations and heritage, and also their skills. Each person was born with them prominently displayed all over their bodies. Everyone knew their birthline. As a result, everyone knew their natural talents although there were no restrictions on what you could become. The warriors, the food-gatherers, the Elders and the Chief, the teachers, the makers, and even the musicians were all marked.
The Tribe had never been accepting of what they saw as an unmarked abomination. When the Elders’ vote had allowed Yara to remain, the village became tense with fear and displeasure. Many stood against it, but the vote’s resolution could not be changed.
Almost sixteen years had passed since Lana had found Yara, and while much of the villagers’ coldness remained, so much more had changed. Yara was training to be a warrior for her Tribe, and she was incredibly skilled at it. All the other trainees in her year begrudgingly admired her strength, speed, and bravery. Yara knew she needed to work hard to prove herself, so she always ensured she was ahead of all the other trainees. It hadn’t taken her long to leave them all behind… all, in fact, except for Kristos.
The smile that crept over Yara’s face at the thought of Chief Lamad’s only son was not a reaction of which she was often very conscious. As she stretched her long, lean body into the softness of her swaddling, she felt the familiar tinge of excitement. She shook off the aftereffects of the eerie voice in her dream and willed herself to focus. She may not know who she was or where she had come from, but Yara knew what she was going to become… who she needed to become. A Photak warrior.
She rushed to get ready to meet Kristos, strapping on her trainee garb as quickly as her fingers would allow. She went out into the living area of her dwelling. It was a warm, wooden room that kept many of her best memories in its carved walls. She chattered about her final training days to Sorin while he ate and while Lana placed food in her mouth between sentences.
In less than a week, at the age of sixteen, both Kristos and Yara were to be inducted as true Photak warriors. Yara was the only other person in the Tribe who could match his combat level. As a result, they were paired since they initiated, each at the age of eight. Yara was a solid practice partner for Kristos, and they trained together almost every day.
Kissing both of her Tribe parents goodbye, she walked out into the dewy, delicate warmth of the new day. It was always bright as there had been no night for thousands of years. The habitable side of Mira had faced Sunstar since its core was damaged. While the planet no longer rotated, Sunstar still did. It allowed for subtle hints of time and the marking of days. Mornings had always been Yara’s favorite time of day. Mornings were also the time that Yara and Kristos trained.
As Yara strode along the winding path, she breathed in the fresh air deeply. Her subconscious smile appeared again, along with its usual rush of energy. She would never openly admit it, but seeing Kristos did that to her. Yara had a hard time dealing with her most naked feelings. She dressed them up in layers of stoic seriousness to a fault. While she felt certain at times that some of the chemistry she felt for Kristos was returned, he had always just been respectful and caring. Still, she enjoyed being the only one he was close to in the village, much to the jealous confusion of the other Photak girls. Shortly after being inducted as a warrior, he would have to choose a mate, and Yara couldn’t help but wonder if a part of her was more excited about the possibility…
No, she thought with surety, nothing compares to finally becoming a warrior.
Yara walked past the village dwellings towards the path t
o the Soar. It was the secret place that she and Kristos met to train since he stumbled upon her there a decade ago. He had found Yara feverishly attacking a feathered tree when she was just six years old. Kristos had instinctively known why. A Skotad had dangerously attacked her mother while she was gathering food in the Greens. He saw the fire it placed within Yara and felt her pain. With her permission, he began training with her that very day.
Kristos had always been kind to Yara. He never seemed to be troubled by her strange appearance. In fact, he found her looks to be nothing short of fascinating, and her battle skills even more so. He commented openly on them both all the time. Over the years, he had become Yara’s only true friend.
Kristos and Yara were also the two best warrior trainees the Tribe had ever seen. They honed their combat techniques with such acclaimed precision, speed, and strength that some of the village’s children could at times be seen in mock battles donning blue scarfs on their heads.
“YaraStar! YaraStar!”
The delighted shouts of Yara’s biggest little fan interrupted her nostalgic thoughts. Mila flung herself into the air and straight into Yara’s outstretched arms.
“Yara, Mother took my blue scarf,” Mila complained, “but she doesn’t know I found out where she hid it!”
Giggling mischievously, Mila pried open her pocket to reveal a dirty, balled-up blue rag.
“Aww, Mi—”
“MILA!”
Both Yara and Mila swung around to see Mila’s mother, May, whose face seemed to be filling with increasing rage at the sight of Mila in Yara’s arms. In a flash, Mila slid down and disappeared into the bushes while May shouted after her. May glared at Yara then stomped off after Mila.
“Blue-haired nuisance,” May muttered loud enough for Yara to hear as she disappeared behind the shrubs.
Yara sighed. She loved the children in the village. They never treated her like a strange-looking outsider. In fact, she felt most comfortable around them, and especially around Mila. The Tribe’s children saw her as the strong warrior she knew she was, and they loved her for it. She could never understand why their parents didn’t encourage such open-mindedness in them. She bitterly vented it to Kristos upon arriving at the Soar.
Kristos usually didn’t say much during times like these. As he tilted his head listening, his brilliantly red hair fell to one side of his face. His brown eyes echoed with a sense of sadness, wanting to comfort her despair. However, he seemed to understand that she just needed to speak her mind and let it out. She didn’t want to be pitied.
Instead, on days like today, Yara would want to fight hard. She would give more than her all into the day’s training. Becoming a Photak warrior meant becoming fully accepted, or at least as close to acceptance as she could get. More than that, it would mean everyone, including Mila’s mother, would respect her. It was, after all, Photak tradition.
Yara lowered herself into her original, signature stance, with one outstretched arm curved towards Sunstar and the other stretched towards Kristos.
“Let’s begin,” she said.
Kristos responded quickly, leaping towards her with his gold-tanned, mountainous form. Yara twisted gracefully out of his way, propelling and landing her leg into his back before he could even touch the ground. Kristos flipped as he hit the ground, pushing off almost as quickly as he touched it and flying towards her. He lunged into her, grabbing her in his arms, but then within a second, she was loose and spiraling again.
Yara had created an unusual combat style that was notoriously difficult to predict. The offbeat moves came with their own rhythm, and from an outsider’s perspective, it looked like a dangerous, deadly dance. Kristos, as the son of the Chief, was an expert in the traditional Photak fighting style and had already created new moves for the Tribe. While Yara regularly practiced those Photak methods when around others, and was extremely capable in them, she kept her signature style for her private training sessions with Kristos.
For hours, they plunged deeper and deeper into the forms and fundamentals of their weaponized bodies, each tranced by the other’s savage drive for utter perfection. A routine practice was never complete until every move and countermove was mastered, and a session was never over until each person had attained mastery. They were both far more advanced than what was even needed to be inducted as a warrior. They were only held back from joining the official ranks by the mandatory requirement of eight consecutive years of training.
When they finally finished, Yara and Kristos perched upon their usual boulder in the Soar, drinking their sapjuice for recovery.
“Can you imagine what it would be like…?” Yara said softly. Her eyes were fixed upon the border of the Greens as the rays of Sunstar melted into her olive skin.
The Soar was dangerously close to the Greens, and Tribe members who weren’t warriors or gatherers were warned away from being close enough for a brazen Skotad to grab or attack them. It was precisely for that reason both Yara and Kristos had chosen that location, knowing they would generally be undisturbed. Except, of course, when Mila would sneak there with her little friends to observe new fight moves.
“I think I’ve trained every day of my life for this,” Yara continued, “and just knowing I will be able to protect the Tribe and even avenge my mother…”
Kristos nodded silently. They sat quietly for some time before he turned to her with a serious look on his face.
“Yara…” he hesitated, then continued, “I have never wanted to pry… but have you ever wondered about your birth parents? Who they really are?”
“Yeah. Sure. And they must be hideous by the looks of me!” she disparagingly remarked with a laugh. She hated it when his questions got this serious. She already had to deal with her incessant thoughts by day and torturous dreams by night.
And now that weird, eerie voice, she thought, remembering how different her dreams had become of late.
His reaction to her answer, however, was one of anger—a rare side she saw only when she pushed things too far.
“Why do you say these awful things about yourself?” he demanded. “Yara, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen!”
Yara stared at him, speechless. Most of the times, he would roll his eyes in annoyance and curse under his breath. There was even one time that he had walked off and left her alone in the Soar. While she was used to him building her confidence by saying kind things to her, he had never made such a bold statement, especially in comparison to anyone else. Yara stared at the ground and shifted uncomfortably.
This time, Kristos sighed. It was his way of saying he knew he had pushed it too far as well.
“Look, I know it has been hard for you. No one denies that this Tribe has made it hard for you and your Tribe parents. But I am in line to be the next Chief, and I just wanted you to know… if you ever want to search for them, we can… and we will. You’re a Photak, Yara. A Photak warrior. And if you want to find them,” he said softly, “then this is my promise to you, YaraStar. We will.”
***
Her walk home felt like a trance. Yara didn’t even notice the usual glares of annoyance from some passing villagers. She didn’t even hear the mutterings under their breath.
He called me a Photak, she thought, a Photak warrior.
She could not think of a moment in her life that meant more to her than that one. There was nothing she had ever wanted more than this. To belong, to be a real part of the Tribe, to fight alongside them without being seen as an outsider. To be joined to her mate…
No, he isn’t mine, she thought, immediately correcting herself.
However, her feelings about his words were nothing less than hopeful. She had a chance. A real chance. The Chief’s only son said those words, and for the first time, she felt that perhaps she did have a place here.
As she walked into her dwelling, Yara hugged her father tightly and then twirled around her mother.
“Well, I know you enjoy training,” her father said raising his eyebrow,
“but I haven’t seen you smile this way since we surprised you with sensopa on your twelfth birthday!”
Sensopa was a sweet, crusted pie made from the most precious ingredients found in the Greens. It was rare for a family of her parents’ markings to be able to afford one, but that year had been a good one.
“Well…” Yara started, barely containing her blush, “today, after training, Kristos called me a real Photak. A Photak warrior!”
She decided to exclude the part about finding her birth parents as she didn’t want her Tribe parents to feel like she saw them as inadequate in any way. They were, after all, quite the opposite.
“Can you imagine?!” Yara squealed as she continued, “He sees ME that way. And the look in his eyes…”
Yara hugged both her parents while spinning gracefully and then made her way to soak off the day. She didn’t see the worried look her parents gave each other as she walked away.
Chapter Two
Three days before the Calling, the official day when the trainees would be inducted as Photak warriors, the aspiring warriors were to meet with the Elders and Chief Lamad for their final lessons. These lessons served to reinforce the history of the Tribe and the seriousness of the commitment before them. Photak warriors were required on the Day of the Calling to dedicate their lives to the protection of the Tribe against the Skotads and to give their lives without hesitation. It was the most honorable tribute a Photak could make. The privileges granted to warriors were elevated as a sign of respect for risking their lives to ensure the protection of all.
When Yara first learned of this, she was already a few years into her training, and she felt even more motivated to succeed. Photak warriors were seen as equals, regardless of the markings of their lines and their families’ origins. They were just under the ranking of the Chief and Elders. Yara would be the first warrior of both of her Tribe parents’ lineages, and she felt extremely proud to raise the quality of their livelihood for the rest of their lives. Her parents had been partially shunned because of their decision to keep her, so it was her way of giving them even more than what they had lost.
The Unmarked Girl (The YaraStar Trilogy Book 1) Page 1