by D. Moonfire
Sand and Ash
Copyright © 2015 D. Moonfire
This book is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International license. See the end of the novel for more information.
All characters, events, and locations are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, past, present, and future is coincidental and highly unlikely.
Some themes that appear in this book: bullying, death of named characters, death of unborn children, depression, graphical violence, personal tragedy, physical abuse, suicide, and verbal abuse. There is sex but no explicit scenes. There is no rape.
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Version 1.0.0
To Jon
Previously
Sand and Blood started with Shimusogo Rutejìmo trying to sneak into the clan’s shrine to steal his great-grandfather’s ashes in an effort to prove himself capable of the act. He was caught by Hyonèku and forced to tell his grandmother, Tejíko.
When Tejíko found out about his failed attempt, she beat him until Gemènyo interrupted. Tejíko stops beating Rutejìmo and lets Gemènyo talk to Rutejìmo. Gemènyo’s talk points out that Rutejìmo has never applied himself and most of the clan considered him to be too weak to amount to anything.
Despite this, he was sent on a rite of passage to let the desert determine his future with the clan and to see if Shimusògo would grant him magic. The other four teenagers near his age were included Chimípu, Pidòhu, Tsubàyo, and Karawàbi.
After traveling for almost two weeks, the elders of the clan abandoned Rutejìmo and the others in the middle of the night. The revelation split the group in two, with Tsubàyo and Karawàbi leaving and Rutejìmo joining them. Chimípu stayed behind to care for Pidòhu who had broken his leg after falling.
It wasn’t long before Rutejìmo struggled with Tsubàyo’s commands and Karawàbi’s brutality. After a brief incident where Tsubàyo tried to steal a horse, Rutejìmo returned to Chimípu after experiencing his first touch of Shimusògo, the ability to run faster than normal.
Reunited with Chimípu and Pidòhu, the three decided to take Pidòhu home. They traveled with a handmade stretcher. Along the way, they encountered Mikáryo who was hunting the murderer of her sister and the thief of her horses. Mikáryo realized they were on their rites of passage and withdrew, but swore that she would have one of them if the murderer, Tsubàyo, was not presented to her.
The trio continued along the way, growing in power and also closer together. Rutejìmo found that some of his knowledge was wrong and struggled with jealousy of Chimípu’s power which quickly outpaced his own. Pidòhu was also experiencing his own epiphany of Tateshyúso.
Eventually, they encountered Tsubàyo who tried to kill them repeatedly. Pidòhu was kidnapped and Rutejìmo encouraged Chimípu to go after him, leaving him alone. That night, Mikáryo returned to watch over him as he slept despite being a clan of the night.
The next day, encouraged by Mikáryo, Chimípu and Rutejìmo went to rescue Pidòhu. Tsubàyo managed to defend himself and Rutejìmo was captured while freeing Pidòhu. That night, Mikáryo returned and indicated that she would only accept Tsubàyo as her sacrifice.
When morning came, there was a final encounter where Rutejìmo was able to save Pidòhu from falling and all of their powers emerged and grew. At the end, when the rest of the Shimusògo clan showed up, there was a standoff with Mikáryo who claimed Tsubàyo as her own. Rutejìmo stopped the potential fight by calling a vote to save her.
Table of Contents
Previously
Running Alone
Decisions Made
Nightmares
Corrupting Influence
Leaving the Cave
The Next Job
A Lending Hand
Wamifuko City
Indecision
A Late Encounter
Good Tales
Speaking for Shimusògo
A Second Chance
Drowning
Rutejìmo Walks
Banyosiōu
The Wrong Words
Darkness
Exhaustion
Waking Up Alone
Silence
The Ghost
Reunion
Tijikóse
Mikáryo
Return to Wamifuko City
Two Months Later
Second Thoughts
His Memorial
Shifted Opinions
An Unexpected Role
Forbidden Words
Cremation
Unshed Tears
His First Words
Running Together
About D. Moonfire
Fedran
License
Patrons
Credits
Colophon
Running Alone
In Miwāfu, only the last part of a name is accented. This creates a confusing situation for outsiders when a member of the Beporómu clan is named Beporomu Fusóki.
—Jyomiku Komishímu, Words of the Desert
Shimusogo Rutejìmo ran alone across the desert, chasing after a bird, a dépa, he could never catch and only he could see. No matter where he ran, his feet struck solid ground. As his bare foot lifted from the ground, the rock crumbled back into shifting sands before being sucked into the plume of dust and rock that billowed out behind him. Despite running faster than most horses, his heartbeat was a steady rhythm that matched the impacts of his bare feet against the sun-burned ground. On a good day, he could cover thirty miles in less than an hour for as long as the sun hung in the sky.
The small bird was Shimusògo, his clan spirit. Only a foot tall, it always raced a heartbeat in front of him no matter how fast he sprinted. If he slowed, it would disappear and the heat and exhaustion would bear down on him. But when he chased Shimusògo, Rutejìmo felt the euphoria of magic pulsing through his veins and beating underneath his feet.
For the first time in months, he ran for the sake of running instead of racing from one end of the Mifuno Desert to the other while delivering documents and decrees. For a few days, he didn’t have to worry about recording legal contracts in Wamifuko City or the constant back and forth between Kidorisi Valley and Mafimara Ridge during tense negotiations for trade rights.
The last job, the one involving the Kidorīsi and Mafimára clans, still haunted his thoughts. More than a few times he had to circle around an ambush or sneak into the valleys to avoid being attacked by those opposed to the treaty. The wound on his leg still itched from his brush with a sniper’s arrow.
Rutejìmo tore his thoughts away from the previous job. The two clans signed their treaty, and Rutejìmo personally delivered it to the archives in Wamifuko City. It was the end of three months of hard running, and he was ready to spend a few days doing nothing but relaxing.
The desert air beat against his bare chest and tickled the dark hairs that dusted his chest. It tugged at his red trousers with sharp snaps of fluttering fabric. Motes of bright energy slipped out from Shimusògo’s wings and joined in with the wind to buffet his skin. The energy streamed around his body before joining in with the vortex of air created by his passage.
Rutejìmo smiled and pushed himself to run as fast as he could. Despite his speed, he was still the slowest runner in the clan. But alone on the sands, he didn’t have to worry about anything besides running in a lazy circle around Shimusogo Valley, his ancestral home. He kept the valley in the periphery of his vision and strayed no more than five leagues away before coming back around. Even close to home, there was always danger.
The sun touched the horizon. The dépa turn
ed sharply and headed for the valley. He followed without question, submitting himself to the spirit’s will. The route brought him in line with the entrance of the valley, and he raced across a patch of sharp rocks before coming up to the familiar trail that would bring him home before the sun’s light faded.
Like all spirits of the sun, Shimusògo gained power from the light, and Rutejìmo gained his power from the spirit. When darkness descended across the world Rutejìmo’s speed would fade, and he would feel every ache, pain, and guilty thought in his head. He would be just another man in the desert, slow and plodding.
Too soon, he was coming up to the two pillars that marked the entrance of the clan’s valley. He slowed down and cringed. He hated that moment when he ceased to run. In front of him, the dépa grew closer with his slowing. When he smoothly shifted from a run to a jog, the bird disappeared from sight.
The magic stopped with the dépa’s disappearance. Without power fueling his speed, Rutejìmo sank into the sand. The peace and joy of running slipped away, and the aches of his month-long missions seeped back into his joints.
He jogged past the pillars, gasping for breath. Two red and orange cloths embroidered with the Shimusògo name billowed from each side. The right banner had signs of being recently patched, and he wondered which child had managed to rip it.
“Good run?” asked Gemènyo. As always, a cloud of pipe smoke swirled behind him and marked his passage. His short black hair had a fringe of white on the temples. The older man strolled down stairs carved into the rock behind one pillar. The stairs led to a guard post where someone could see anyone approaching the valley.
Rutejìmo nodded and stopped. The world spun around him for a few seconds before he adjusted to being still. “Yes, I just needed to…” He gave up trying to find a word and shrugged, running his hand through his own short-cropped black