by C. R. Daems
THE SHADOW RYANA
By
C. R. Daems & J. R. Tomlin
The Shadow Ryana
Copyright © 2012 by C. R. Daems and J. R. Tomlin
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from C. R. Daems and J. R. Tomlin.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Version 1 of The Shadow Ryana was published in June 2012
Version 2 of The Shadow Ryana was revised in November 2013
Version 3 of The Shadow Ryana was revised in July 2014
ISBN-13: 978-0-9888251-0-9
ISBN-10: 0-9888251-0-4
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Map of HESLAND
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Map of HESLAND
CHAPTER ONE
Dunn Pass—Dazel Province
CHAPTER TWO
Ahasha Valley—Dazel Province
CHAPTER THREE
Ahasha Valley—Dazel Province
CHAPTER FOUR
Ahasha—Dazel Province
CHAPTER FIVE
Sebec—Saxis Province
CHAPTER SIX
Sebec—Saxis Province
CHAPTER SEVEN
Miffin—Saxis Province
CHAPTER EIGHT
Miffin—Saxis Province
CHAPTER NINE
Adak—Saxis Province
CHAPTER TEN
Naze—Tuska Province
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kaslos—Tuska Province
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kaslos—Tuska Province
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Slicci—Calion Province
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kadal—Calion Province
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Zeles—Calion Province
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Road to Ashtol—Calion Province
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ashtol—Calion Province
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ossic—Araby Province
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Scio—Araby Province
CHAPTER TWENTY
Scio—Araby Province
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Udo—Araby Province
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Windon—Araby Province
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sandel—Dazel Province
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Road to Tarlon—Dazel Province
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Road to Tarlon—Dazel Province
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Tarlon—Dazel Province
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Tarlon—Dazel Province
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Tarlon—Dazel Province
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Tarlon—Dazel Province
Novels by J.R. Tomlin & C.R. Daems
CHAPTER ONE
Dunn Pass—Dazel Province
I crouched on the gray, rock-laden ground, chickens squawking and my head throbbing with pain. My father stared down at me. His face twisted in anger, fist clenched inches from my face and nostrils flared as he sucked air to yell again. He was a small, thin man with leathery skin from long days in the sun, brown, scraggly hair, and a haggard face.
In my short life, he had taught me terror. It infested every fiber of my puny body. I wanted to run but lacked the strength. Besides, where would I run? No one in the village would help me. My father was an elder.
The area around Dunn Pass was rocky and the soil poor. The land fought the crops and barely supported the village goats. They would protect the goats but not me.
"Curse you, Ryana. That food's for the chickens, not to be wasted on a girl-child. We can't eat you. Work and you can have the scraps, otherwise leave." His chest expanded as he sucked in air to yell again. I tried to scramble backward to avoid another blow but collapsed after a few feet—tired, hungry, and weak. As he turned and stalked away, mumbling, the chickens returned to me. I could feel their hunger.
No one cared what I did so long as I took care of my chores. My father and brother were gone all day, tending the village herd of goats. In the mornings I swept the floors clean of yesterday's dirt and droppings, fetched water from the village well, fed our few chickens, and collected their eggs. Afterward, I was free until my mother began preparing the evening meal.
I carefully made my way around the village to a rocky area of shrubs and small trees, nourished by a shallow stream that appeared after a rain, and settled down near a clump of shrubs so I couldn't be seen. I had just sat when I sensed a rabbit near and felt its hunger. I picked a few small leaves from above my head and mentally coaxed it to me.
It came willingly and nibbled the leaves, grateful for even this small meal. If I had been my brother, I would have killed the rabbit for the dinner table. My father thought him a good son. He thought me worthless. If he knew I hadn't tried to catch the rabbit, he would have beaten me bloody. I was starving, but I couldn't kill an animal that had done nothing to me.
A shadow crept over me. Whoever it was had approached as silently as a feather on the wind. The rabbit ran. I shut my eyes and sat trembling, arms around my thin legs and head down, awaiting the first blow.
"What's your name, child?" a woman's soft voice asked.
Terrified, I squeezed my eyes partially open and looked up. A scream stuck in my throat. Her head and face were covered in black so that only her gray-green eyes were visible. They pinned me to the ground. A tall and thin woman, compared to the village women, she was dressed in black.
A dead ancestor had come to punish me for not thinking of my family.
I tried to scramble backward but a bush stopped me. Its thorns dug into my back and neck. Although it felt like a thousand needles had pierced my skin through the thin rags I wore, I made no sound. She didn't move.
"Can you call the rabbit back to you?"
I could but wouldn't. No matter what she did to me, I wouldn't hurt it. Feeling no anger from her, I breathed a small sigh of relief. She turned to her horse and got something out of a saddlebag. Reaching down, she handed me a piece of bread.
"I'll not hurt you or the rabbit. The food's for you to share. A reward for humoring me. The rabbit's very hungry."
Looking at the bread, my mouth watered. I broke off a piece for the rabbit and held the other piece toward her, unsure how much she would let me have. I was hungry, too.
"Yes," she said. Her voice gentle, but her eyes sad. I mentally searched for the rabbit. When I found it, I coaxed it to me with the promise of food. Trusting me, it came and nibbled the bread from my hand.
"Eat, child," she said. I stuffed my mouth full and gulped the bread down.
The woman reached down, pulled me to my feet, and hand-in-hand walked me back to the village. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew I was in trouble. It seemed to be my destiny. For the thousandth time, I wished I had been born a boy-child. As we entered the village, the people scrambled away or disappeared into their huts.
They were afraid!
"Which is your house?"
I pointed to my father's s
mall mud and stone house. To my amazement, the men had left the herd and were returning to the village. They maintained a cautious distance from her.
They were afraid of a woman!
"Who owns this girl-child?" Her voice rang loud and clear. She showed no fear.
My father shuffled forward a few feet, keeping his distance and looking ready to run. His posture mimicked mine when I thought him angry and a beating sure to follow.
The woman was a God!
"I…I do, Mistress."
"Do you intend to sell her at the market next cycle?"
"Yes, Mistress." A small smile touched his lips. "Do you want her, Mistress?"
The woman stared at him without saying a word. He shuffled back, head down, and eyes fixed on the ground.
"You'll only get a few coppers. She's scrawny and weak and will require extra food to make her worth anything. I'd be doing you a favor to take her. You should pay me."
He nodded agreement but said nothing. I felt sorry for him being embarrassed in front of the whole village. He was a harsh man, but I was only a girl-child. It sent shivers through me knowing I would be sold to this woman or at the market next summer.
Why had I been born a girl-child?
"How much?"
"Four coppers?" He continued to look toward the ground, his voice a whisper. The God said nothing as she dropped four coppers from her hand. A cloud of dirt and dust rose as each coin hit the ground. She remained silent, but I felt her calling something. Everyone scrambled to get out of the way as a silver-gray wolf entered the village followed by a black stallion. When the two reached the woman, the horse stopped, and the wolf sat. I sensed its readiness to defend the God.
I stared at the horse, thinking it would bolt any minute with the wolf so close and no one holding its reins. But it remained calm.
A hush hung over the village as she lifted me easily and placed me on the horse. I sat still and held my breath, afraid I might fall off or spook the horse. If I did, it would run off to only the gods knew where. She placed a foot in the stirrup and swung up behind me. As we left the village, my heart pounded. I had heard whispered stories of what happened to girls who had been sold at the market. I wanted to cry but feared she would beat me. I wished I were dead.
CHAPTER TWO
Ahasha Valley—Dazel Province
The woman took me to where the gods lived. I had my own room, a straw sleeping mat, two sets of clothes, and warm blankets. Best of all, I had plenty to eat. The gods wore head wraps that covered their faces and left only their eyes showing. Even their bodies were hidden in their long-sleeved shirts and baggy pants.
We were being taught to read and write, but the lines meant nothing to me. They looked like chicken scratches in the dirt—all the same but different. I had been here two seasons—twelve sixdays—and had only memorized the meaning of a few scratches and frequently got those mixed up. The other five girls were well ahead of me. I knew I would be rejected if I couldn't learn their meanings. In desperation, I worked well into each night. Then, too exhausted to continue, I fell into bed and cried until dawn. Although the youngest, I knew that wouldn't matter.
"Ryana, what's this symbol?" The god Alica asked.
"A hut," I said, hoping I had guessed right.
"It represents a tree." She was a small woman compared to the other gods. Dressed in the traditional clothing of the gods, only her light-colored skin, friendly blue eyes, and thin brown eyebrows showed, which were more prominent when she frowned—like now.
"It doesn't look like one." I sobbed in frustration. I had failed and would be made to leave. A tear slid down my cheek. She sighed.
"What should it look like?"
I brushed my sandbox smooth and carefully drew a tree with branches and added a couple of leaves. "Like that, Mistress."
"Yes, that's a very nice tree. In the long ago past, people drew their trees like that. But it took too long to draw so they trimmed it like this." She drew what sort of looked like my tree but did not. "Because that was still too slow to draw, they trimmed it more and then more, until it looked like the symbol you see." Each time, the new symbol had fewer lines.
I looked hard at the scratches. As I stared, they unraveled into a beautiful tree. Then I imagined shrinking the tree back into the symbol before me. Mistress Alica watched me for a long time. When I said nothing, she shook her head.
"Yes, the tree you drew was very nice. I'll assume its leaves are green. Now draw me a tree in the fall when the leaves are turning yellow and red."
"I've no colors," I shouted in frustration.
"Now you see the problem. We must use symbols to describe the world around us. This is the symbol for red and this for yellow." Her stick cut the sand into two symbols. I stared at them. As I did, they began to glow—one red and the other yellow. Like the tree, I saw what it represented—not the scratches. I smiled as she left to help another girl.
Each night, I used the light from my candle to study and draw the symbols the god Alica had introduced that day. As I drew each symbol, I could envision it expanding into the thing it represented, and a new and wonderful world opened to me. I could draw the symbol for a tree and then turn the leaves red, green, or yellow. Best of all, I could see the tree changing colors.
Late one night, my candle went out, and there was too little left to light. I shivered in fear. My father had told me often how everything cost more than I was worth. I stayed awake all night, worrying what would happen in the morning. I rose at dawn and carried what remained to the god Alica.
"I'm sorry, Mistress," I said. My hand trembled as I held out what was left of the candle. I deserved a beating.
"Did you forget to blow it out?"
"No, Mistress…I…used it at night…to study," I stammered. She turned and walked back to one of the huts. I stood there shaking, not knowing what to expect. Had she gone to get the senior god? To my astonishment, she returned with a large candle.
"Here, Ryana. Don't work too late into the night. You need your rest; otherwise, you'll be too tired to pay attention in the day." I cringed as her hand moved toward my head to pat it—a reflexive reaction from my many beatings. Her eyes looked sad, but she said nothing.
One morning, four seasons—a half-cycle—later, the god Alica came with several pieces of dried animal skin, a bowl with a black liquid, and a brush. She drew a beautiful symbol on the skin, which I recognized as a tree. She then dipped the skin in water and the symbol disappeared. When the skin dried, she drew another symbol on it—more magic from the gods.
I struggled to copy each symbol perfectly, going over each line several times to get the shape to look like hers. She made it look so simple.
"No, Ryana." She took my hand in hers and twisted it to make the lines flow and change shape like hers. Several strokes and it was done. Night after night, I practiced until my symbols looked something like the ones I had learned that day. It was slow work because I had to wait for the skin to dry after each symbol disappeared in the water. Frustrated, I made the symbols smaller so that I could squeeze more onto my small piece of skin. It took a lot of practice to get them smaller but was worth it. A cycle later, I could draw ten symbols before I had to wash them away. I began to make up short stories—a hawk flying high in the clouds, a wolf running through trees… Now that I could see what the symbols represented, the stories came alive.
When I had been there two cycles of seasons, Mistress Alica approached us with several large pieces of skin. "Today I want you to make up a short story about a hawk that left Ahasha Valley and flew to one of the five provinces. You're to write the story on your skin. You must finish today." She handed one large skin to each of us and walked away.
Mistress Alica returned as the sun began to set. When I looked up, the blue sky and puffy white clouds of the morning were now streaked with brilliant shades of orange and shadows stretched across the valley floor. I sat holding my breath as she scanned each of our skins.
"Leila, you finished
and your symbols are adequate."
"Ana, you failed to finish and your symbols illegible. We'll place you with a family who will teach you a profession."
"Zaria, you finished and your symbols are very good."
"Jelena, you finished, but your symbols need work."
"Maja, you finished but many of your symbols are wrong. Like Ana, you'll be placed with a family to learn a profession."
The meaning was clear—you cannot stay here. A cold shiver passed through me. It had been a test. If I failed…I would have to leave.
"Ryana," She stopped and scanned my skin for a long time. "You failed to finish on time."
I couldn't stop shaking and bile rose in my throat. I had failed and would be sent away.
"Tomorrow I want you to finish the story." She handed Ana's skin to me. She looked at my skin again before handing it back. I had heard her say that Ana had failed to finish and would have to leave. I returned to my room in turmoil. I washed Ana's skin clean, determined to finish tonight. Maybe the god Alica would consider that when she judged me tomorrow. It took several tries before my hand stopped shaking enough to draw a decent symbol. Toward dawn, I went back to the class area and sat, waiting for her to return.
Much later in the morning, she appeared. She took my skin and spent a long time examining it.
"You spent all night doing this, didn't you?" She stared down at me, shaking her head slowly. My response stuck in my throat, but before I could answer, she continued. "Stop shaking, child. You passed. Next time I say in the morning, I mean in the morning. I want you to go to bed and sleep until you're rested. Then return to me. I mean it—to bed." She turned and walked away. I wanted to dance and sing, but the god Alica had told me to go to bed, so I did.
* * *
Shortly after I entered the teaching yard later that day, the god Alica and the senior god, Morag, approached. She walked without making a sound or leaving a mark on the ground. From what I could see of her face, she had smooth, cream-colored skin like I imagined the nobility. Her green eyes scanned the area as she walked toward me. I began to tremble. The senior god never met with the younger children, but she was coming to talk to me.