The Larimar Quest (Island Of Zarada Book 1)

by Michele Evans

  The players slid their mitts on and began warming up; tossing discs back and forth amongst themselves, running here and there to retrieve stray discs. The large field, which was typically lush and green, was now dusty and dry. Puffs of dirt swirled around their feet as the girls jockeyed for position.

  The referee blew the whistle. The practice discs were collected and the players, five to a team, took their positions. The referee stood in the center, with a team on either side of her, keeping a disc safely tucked in the crook of her elbow. She opened her elbow, letting the disc slide down into her cupped hand. She grasped it between the thumbs and forefingers of both hands, slowly raised it above her head, and held it there for a dramatic pause.

  The crowd cheered in anticipation as the sterling disc glinted in the harsh rays of the suns. The referee bent her elbows and knees, brought the ball all the way down, and threw it as hard as she could straight up into the air, sending it far out of sight. The rule was that during the throw, all the players had to stay in their starting place. Teammates leaned toward each other, holding their mitts up in clusters, trying to attract the disc with collective force.

  It came whooshing down with a whine and landed pop in Thiggy’s mitt, one of Anaya’s team members. As she caught the disc, she ran toward the goal. She saw an opening to pass it to another girl. She aimed and tossed it over the heads of the players between them.

  Satrah, who was on Miranda’s team, intercepted the disc. Satrah was a great jumper, and had leaped right in front of it as it came down to her opponent. Anaya lunged forward and grabbed Satrah by the calves. Satrah fell into the dust and dropped the disc before she had a chance to throw it or get very far. Anaya’s move caused the whistle to sound. The referee cried out, “Off!!”

  Anaya was benched. Grabbing below the knees was a violation.

  After a few uneventful rounds, Anaya was allowed back in, and she caught the next disc. She ran and then tossed it to another teammate. Miranda reached out with her mitt and the disc was suspended in midair, caught between the attractions of the girls’ mitts. It seemed to be a standoff. Miranda’s team gathered behind her and Anaya’s team did the same, in a tug of war for the prize.

  Anaya’s eyes bore into Miranda’s with rage and determination. Miranda felt intimidated and humiliated as Anaya’s anger burned through her – it was a fire growing and the wind of unfulfilled desire blew a storm into her soul. Anaya finally couldn’t hold back any more. She leaped forward, grabbing Miranda by the throat. The referee rushed over to restrain Anaya, but got a boot in the face and went unconscious.

  The crowd stood up and gasped at the violence – it was unheard of during the game. Athedra rose to her feet while Selexi remained seated comfortably in her front row royal chair, thoroughly enjoying the show. She willed her daughter to be strong. The Sultana was shocked and embarrassed. This was her grandchild making an unnecessary scene. She signaled for help.

  With no one to stop her, Anaya pushed Miranda to the ground, straddled her and gripped her neck. Miranda was no match for Anaya, easily the strongest Young Warrior on the island. She struggled for air, and fought to stay conscious. When the guards finally arrived, they pulled Anaya off Miranda and dragged her away. The game was declared over, forfeited by Anaya’s team.

  Miranda caught her breath and coughed repeatedly as she sat up. Her teammates lifted her up by the elbows and walked her off the field. The crowd cheered when they saw that she was all right. But she didn’t feel all right.

  Selexi’s Laboratory

  Night descended. The moons peered down like askew yellow eyes in a sunken skull while deep down, below sky and land, under the surface of the island, Selexi paced in her secret laboratory.

  She spent most of her time in this murky cave where she conducted perverse experiments that combined magik and malice. No more than a dank cavity beneath the ground, this hole was a den of evil doing … the only source of pleasure she had, albeit twisted and cruel.

  Beakers, flasks and tubes meandered in an irregular maze across a long table that dominated the room while a stack of cages perched haphazardly against the far wall. Behind the bars of these cages lurked an assortment of hideous creatures – a collection of mutations, cross breeds and monsters.

  These oddities, results of trial and error, spent most of their time sleeping. They might have been better off put out of their misery, but Selexi’s ego prevented her from eliminating them. They were prized accomplishments, and a reminder of her genius. She often neglected to feed them on time. They were overdue for a feeding now. So they scratched, screeched and gaggled, making more and more noise, until she yielded.

  “Pesky things! I should have made them like the kera – sustainable without food.” She pulled out a canvas bag, carried it to the corner, and scooped a spoonful of coarse meal into each of their trays. “I should put you all out of your pitiful existence,” she growled at them. “The amount you cost me in gruel!” They cowered. “Nothing but a nuisance, the lot of you. Useless! And ugly, besides!”

  They were indeed grotesque things that had never known any other life. The only kindness they received was from Anaya, whom they adored. They hungrily licked the dry meal from the bottoms of their cages, snorting noisily as they ate, then lay down again to lose themselves to slumber.

  Since her youth, Selexi was punctilious in her acquisition of knowledge and relentless in her pursuit of scientific mastery. Against the neighboring wall, tall stacks of hundreds of books towered precariously, like rows of decaying skyscrapers. Piled from floor to ceiling, the subjects ranged from chemistry to alchemy, biology to magik. Not only had she read them all, she also understood them consummately; how the areas of study worked individually, but more importantly, the great power they possessed when combined.

  She surveyed the kaleidoscope of substances on her worktable; a myriad of textures and colors abounded in the forms of viscous liquids, sparkling crystals, luminous powders and churning potions. Pungent aromas leaked from vessels large and small. One steamy concoction bubbled, threatening to overflow. Another was sprouting a deep yellow crystalline formation, which grew very slowly but was worth the wait; it was an expensive gem used for women’s jewelry.

  Her current project was something she had designed in complete secrecy – the kera. Although Anaya knew Selexi possessed a genius for creating new life forms, and had seen all her other beasts, she didn’t know about the kera.

  It was a diminutive creature, about three feet tall that required no food or water, obeyed without question, and killed on demand. It was free of emotions, personal attachments, and was designed to follow orders only from Selexi. Her plan was to mass produce these keras, and turn them into an army she could utilize to take over the island.

  If she had put her skills to a higher purpose, Selexi would be revered now for her accomplishments and contributions toward the betterment of life on Zarada. Her sheer brainpower was boundless.

  But she was not interested in a higher purpose. Quite the opposite. She was as ruthless as she was brilliant. Her keen intelligence coupled with a power hungry obsession gave her everything she needed to concoct her devious plan. And she was so very close to reaching her goal now; but time was running thin. She had to move quickly or lose her chance forever.

  The Last Visit

  The Sultana felt herself being lifted up to her carriage and placed onto the soft velvet seat inside. Her white hair had been pulled back and raised up into the shape of a fountain atop her head – and a small silver crown studded with red and yellow sparkling gems was perched around this fountain of white. She wore a burgundy gown on her slender frame and small gold slippers on her feet.

  Raina climbed in after her, arranging cushions all around the Sultana’s frail figure as the doors were closed. Her old tired bones sank back and the driver gave a shout to the team of three white camions. She rested her head against the side of the carriage as they galloped over the dusty path. Sadness overcame her. This will be my last ride through
this magnificent forest, she thought as the blur of tree trunks raced past her. The last time I see my dear fairies.

  The carriage gained speed quickly and the Sultana felt a powerful thrust upward, as they rose through the forest canopy and lifted into the sky. She gazed out the window, and saw her treasured island growing smaller beneath her.

  She was pained by how brown it had become, regretting the suffering of the animals and plants. She knew her people were on their last portions of reserves of water and food.

  What was she to do? There was only one way to call the rain – the Red Larimar stones. They had planned on sending someone to Sarona while they lived off the reserves, but the mold had crept in, ruining all the reserves they had. Now they were in trouble.

  Was there time to get to Sarona and return before starvation set in? The men could not possibly bring enough food back on the ship to save them. No. The only chance they had was on Sarona; but who would go?

  The sounds she heard as they approached their destination brought her out of her worried thoughts. Her heart burst with delight as the twinkling of lively music grew louder and the glittering lights from below grew denser.

  Soon the fairies themselves could be seen, flitting here, then there, up and around, circling and veering, flashes of sunlight dancing rainbows on their luminescent wings. Astriella was among them, chirping happily at the arrival of her beloved Sultana.

  The Sultana felt the carriage drop down as they made their descent. The camion’s hooves met the path and they barreled down the road, coming to a halt at the Fairy Courtyard.

  When she emerged, fairy dust fell on her from high in the treetops. Giggling voices wove through the branches. She smiled and waved as Raina helped her gain her footing. They walked to their seats, while royal harmonies, played by the little orchestra, filled the air with familiar and delightful tunes.

  The Fairy King and Queen lit to the stage and the fairies cheered. “We welcome you, our well loved Sultana!” exclaimed the King.

  “Let the show begin!” commanded the Queen.

  Once they all settled in, fairies by the hundreds rained down from the sky and emerged from behind the stage. The curtain opened to reveal a small troupe that performed a charming musical, which told the story of Zarada and their friendship with the fairies. Jugglers and magicians entertained next, with a dazzling display of tricks and stunts.

  When the show was over, the Sultana rose. Applause erupted, but the crowd quieted as the Sultana raised her hand to silence them. There was important business to discuss – the real reason for her visit.

  The look on her face let them know she was clearly delighted by their efforts, but they were worried when they saw how she strained to remain standing. She was indeed ailing, but the regal poise she had exhibited throughout her rule was still fully present, and as commanding as ever.

  “Great and loyal fairies,” she began. “I am here with joy and sadness in my heart. You have been cherished friends and allies my whole life.” The fairies buzzed their wings and tittered in agreement.

  “We have survived many challenges together, haven’t we? And our bond has never waivered. But, my cherished ones, the time has come for me to pass the torch to a new leader. The next Sultana will be Miranda, daughter of Athedra, granddaughter of Angala.”

  The crowd murmured.

  “Do not be sad, my friends. Be joyous! Celebrate the time we’ve had and extend your loyal friendship to my successor, who will continue ...” The Sultana leaned heavily on her cane and coughed. “… who will continue where I left …”

  The Fairy King and Queen looked on, pained by the sight.

  She bent forward slightly and coughed again, her voice cracking as she recovered her composure. “… where I left off. I will take memories of you to the next level of existence. Peace be with you all!”

  The fairies cheered as loudly as fairies can, more a mixture of flapping, giggling and sighs. The Sultana’s body hunched over, but her eyes shone brightly as she surveyed the multitude of sweet beings that were so dear to her heart. She smiled warmly as she drank in the sight of her friends one last time.

  Music began again and the audience took their cue. They dispersed in almost an instant, leaving the Sultana alone with the King and Queen. With Raina’s help, the Sultana took a seat and caught her breath. “That was a lovely performance. Absolutely brilliant, as always,” she gushed.

  The Fairy Queen addressed her. “We are pleased you enjoyed it. We wanted to make it extra special for you.”

  The King, never one for small talk, cleared his throat and said, “We were uncertain that you’d come.”

  “Today, I feel that I could go on for some time. Tomorrow may be different. But enough about all that! What news do you have of the grain shoots? Any sign of growth after the experimental irrigation?”

  The Fairy Queen’s demeanor turned grim. She glanced worriedly at the King, then back at the Sultana, pausing before she spoke. “There is nothing yet. There wasn’t enough of the desalinated water to make a difference. If we don’t have rain soon, there will be no crops.”

  The Sultana frowned. “I don’t know what we’ll do. The sea vegetables have been overharvested as it is.”

  The Queen wrung her tiny hands together. “Something has to be done.”

  “Without the Red Larimar stones, we face certain famine,” added the King.

  The Sultana nodded. “We lost our last great stone hunter to the Red Larimar fields. No one has stepped forward to take her place.”

  “Someone has got to make the trip,” said the King. “Immediately.”

  The Queen nodded in agreement. “Yes.”

  The Sultana knew they were right. “It is a treacherous journey, with perilous risks, but I will find a way. It must be someone brave enough and strong enough.

  They reluctantly said their goodbyes, with tears that fell from the knowledge that it would be the last time they would see each other. Raina helped the Sultana back to the carriage.

  Once inside, the exhaustion of the day overcame her. She collapsed against the cushions and closed her tired eyes, barely hearing the driver commanding the camions into flight before she succumbed to sleep.

  A Chance for Anaya

  Selexi’s house fairies, Eyla and Myla, were sisters, and were especially mischievous and rebellious. This was due largely to Selexi’s poor treatment of them. She addressed them harshly, showed none of the warmth that fairies thrive on, and made it clear that in her eyes they were no more than pesky necessities. She had gone through many fairies over the years because none of them could tolerate Selexi’s rudeness for very long.

  Eyla and Myla were always making trouble and this evening they were getting into the makeup box, “organizing” its contents. They spilled face powder, sending peels of laughter ringing in the air. They threw handfuls of it at each other, making quite a mess. Anaya, who sat in front of her vanity mirror, glanced at them dispassionately. When Selexi came in the room, they quickly stopped their antics and stifled their giggles.

  Edgy and irritable as usual, Selexi glared at them. Seeing the scattered makeup, she walked over to them and slammed the makeup box shut abruptly, clack! … almost pinching Myla’s hand in the process. She stomped her foot and waved her arms. “Eyla, Myla. Out! Shoo!” she commanded.

  The fairies cowered and slinked away, making stern faces as they flew off, then mocked her openly as soon as they were out the door. “Out! Shoo!” they mimicked, creating whole new glissandos of laughter as they performed summersaults in the air.

  Selexi stood behind Anaya, gauging her daughter’s mood in the mirror’s reflection. She picked up a brush and began passing it through Anaya’s long golden hair.

  Anaya opened an eye shadow box, chose a brush, and applied a layer of cool grey to her eyelids. She followed that with a shade of hazel, then shimmering gold above, finishing with sparkling white. Her exquisite green eyes shone back at her.

  “You know you are the most beautiful Young W
arrior on this island,” Selexi said to Anaya. “And the strongest.”

  Anaya’s eyes flashed up at her mother, suspiciously.

  “Don’t start, Mother.”

  Selexi continued anyway. “I had the pleasure of being the Sultana’s daughter all my life. But my mother always lectured me. She said that instead of appreciating my high station of privilege, I resented that I would not have the chance to be Sultana myself. That was true.

  “So I decided I would have the next best thing. I timed your conception perfectly. And what triumph I felt when I learned I was to give birth to the next Sultana! I knew that it was through you that I would rule this island. But a cruel twist interfered with my plan when the announcement came that Miranda had been born early.”

  “You planned my conception?” Anaya asked, incredulously. “You never told me…”

  “Well, how else was I supposed to keep the power in my control?”

  Anaya scoffed. “You’re more conniving than I thought.” Anaya knew where this was headed. They always ended up having the same conversation. But it did feel good to have her hair brushed like that. And she hadn’t finished putting on her makeup. She would just have to steer her mother into another line of thought.

  “So your ‘plan’ didn’t work, and therefore there’s nothing more to discuss, right?”

  Selexi definitely had an agenda, but didn’t want to risk triggering Anaya’s temper and sudden departure. She feigned compliance. “Of course.”

  Selexi remained silent for a time, and continued running the brush over her daughter’s tresses with the intention of lulling her into a calm, receptive state. But Then she started up again. “Look at that golden blond hair, those shimmering eyes....” She hesitated for a moment, old anger brimming the edges of her mind. She couldn’t stop herself from showing disdain. “… the eyes of a Sultana … ugh. If it hadn’t been for Miranda’s early birth ... you would be preparing now ... and I would be….”