by Liz D. Marx
The Raven’s Trail
Book One
By Liz D. Marx
Copyright © 2016 by Liz D. Marx
Digital Edition
All rights reserved
Contents
Dedication
Glossary of Terms
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
THE BINDING STONE (The Raven’s Trail - Book 2)
What did you think of this novel?
Dedication
To my amazing mother, who has never given up on this story.
Thank you for your unwavering support and constructive feedback.
Love you,
Liz D.
Glossary of Terms
Ah-gana – the Rain God
Ami-Tolah – the Lady of the Rainbow
Chenesi – the tribe’s spiritual leader
Dai-mo – the sun god
Di-wanu – the lake goddess
Elo-hi – Mother Earth
Gada-wano – winter
Ganu-go – summer
Haku-nu – autumn, the season of harvest
Kan-sa – the wind god
Kawanee – spring, the season of blossoms
Noo-hi – inner spirit, one’s animal spirit
Sada-noo-hi – Spiritual World
Uka-hada – today’s Hot Springs area
Uwetsi – Prince (the shaman’s son)
Chapter One
“Sila, wait!”
Adsila didn’t wait. Her feet pounded on the ground, her legs ached and her lungs burned from exertion, but that was not even a shadow of the pain she felt in her heart. This time it had been too much. She had to get away—run as fast as she could before she made a bigger fool of herself and broke down in front of the entire tribe.
A brown cottontail rabbit scurried away, startled at Adsila’s approach. Despite being a sunny afternoon, she could not feel the warmth of Dai-mo, the sun god. A cloudless blue sky contrasted against the vibrant greens and yellows of the yet-to-be-harvested corn pastures.
She crossed the path that framed the edge of her tribe’s domain and plowed through the deep forest. The scent of fresh rain invaded her nostrils, a sign that Haku-nu, the great harvest, was approaching.
It used to be her favorite season. Every twelve full moons, after the flowers blossomed, it was time to garner the crops and trade the fruits and vegetables with neighboring tribes. She loved helping out with the preparations for the Haku-nu festival. While the men went hunting, the women spent days weaving, sewing and decorating. It was great, but today she was dreading the festival’s approach.
In less than five moons, the harvest would start and the Shaman's decree would be officially announced.
Adsila swallowed the stupid lump in her throat and sprinted past Uka-hada valley. The magical hot pools were quiet and empty of visitors. Without breaking her stride, she raced down the stone that led to her secret pond. She reached the edge of the small lake and finally let her body collapse on the grass. Her chest heaved with tiredness, her mind full of ugly memories—the Shaman yelling at her, her mother’s tears, the look of disgust stamped on everyone’s face.
Her heart sank with sadness. How could he do that to her?
This time she didn’t try to contain her tears. Covering her face with her hands, she let the sobs come.
Suddenly large, warm hands touched her shoulders. Adsila looked up and met a pair of big brown eyes.
Kaye.
She sighed and turned away. She didn’t want him to see her crying.
“Sila,” Kaye whispered. “You don’t need to hide from me. I’m your friend, remember?”
She swallowed another wave of tears. Kaye knew her too well—her pride, her resolute frame of mind, her deepest dreams that were never going to come true.
“He forbade me, Kaye. I’ll never be able to do magic again.”
Kaye sat beside Adsila and enveloped his arm around her shoulders. “I heard about your quarrel with the Shaman. My father can be quite a tyrant sometimes.”
“I know I have only fifteen ganu-gos in me, but I’ll be one of the best chenesis our tribe has ever seen, I know it!” Adsila said in between sobs.
Kaye was almost ten ganu-gos, ten years, her senior, but that had never troubled their friendship. He held her tight and brushed his hand along her naked arm.
Gods, it felt so good.
She took a deep breath and enjoyed that quiet moment in Kaye’s arms. She rested her face on his broad chest. As if in reply, Kaye relaxed his head on hers… and Adsila’s heart skipped a beat. They were close friends, but Kaye, the revered son of the Shaman and her tribe’s uwetsi—their next leader—had never shown any signs of a deeper affection for her.
Oh, mighty Dai-mo, please allow this horrid day to finish on a good note.
Kaye’s fingers ran down her long braids and down alongside her breasts.
Adsila swallowed dry. Oh dear gods, Kaye was touching her! She didn’t know what to do! Should she look up and declare her love for him? Or should she wait for him to make the first move? But what if he didn’t mean to arouse such feelings in her? He was so popular; he could have anyone he wanted.
“Sila,” Kaye whispered, then gently lifted her chin up with his fingers.
Butterflies took off in her stomach, her heart hammered in her chest.
“Maybe this is for the best,” he said softly. “Maybe the Shaman will find a good husband for you, one who understands you, who will…complete you.”
Adsila blinked in reply. That was all she could do.
His lips were inches from hers, his arms keeping her warm.
What was he saying? All she could hear was the pounding of her heart. Her muddled-up mind could only see his thick, smooth lips, his beautifully long nose, his stunning brown eyes. Her own lips parted, a silent plea for a kiss.
Kaye brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek.
Her heart was going to explode if he took much longer to kiss her.
“By Dai-mo, what’s that?”
Adsila blinked a few times before her mind registered the sudden turn their conversation had taken. Kaye stood up in haste and looked up.
A grunt escaped her lips when she landed elbow-first on hard rock. “What’s wrong?” Oh, mighty Gods, how cruel you are… Adsila’s shoulders sagged.
“Look!”
Resigned, she complied. A dark, foreboding cloud stained the beautiful blue horizon. On any other day, Adsila wouldn’t give it a second thought, but that cloud looked different. It felt wrong. The little knowledge she had of spiritual matters was enough for her to recognize a bad omen.
She jumped up and closed her eyes, focusing on sensing the elements around her. Almost instantly, they spoke to her. Images of her father, her tribe’s spiritual leader, flooded her mind.
“I must go find my father,�
� she breathed.
“Go, find the Chenesi,” Kaye commanded. The warmth that had filled his eyes just moments ago had been replaced with pure determination. He would be a great leader one day. “I’m going to the Shaman; he needs to know about this.”
Adsila nodded then darted across the hot pools as fast as she could. By the time she reached her father’s hut deep in the woods, the strange cloud had advanced, now encasing the entire land.
“Father! Father! We need you!”
No answer.
Adsila took a few steps closer to the entrance of the cone-shaped cabin. Its skirts made of long grass danced with the power of the wind god, Ah-gana.
She tried again. “Oh, mighty Chenesi of the powerful Tula Tribe, Guardians of Mantaka, your people request your guidance.” She tried her best to embellish her words. Maybe her father hadn’t responded because she hadn’t followed protocol, who knows...
But her attempt was to no avail. Once again, there was no answer.
Adsila looked up at the threatening cloud. The imposing veil was getting darker—the bright afternoon suddenly becoming early evening.
Her chest ached. Something very bad was about to happen, she could sense it. She needed to get to her father! He would know what to do.
She took a deep breath and braced herself for the reprimand, but she didn’t care. There was no time for official protocols. Her father had to come out of his seclusion. He had to come out of that damned hut, now.
Adsila opened the hut’s grass door and peeked inside. Deep darkness made it hard to see anything. Then she saw him, and ice settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Oh, gods! Father!”
The Chenesi sat on the dirt floor, cross-legged, palms up. It was the usual position he took when communicating with the gods, but this time her father didn’t exude serenity and stillness. He was trembling violently, his head thrashing back and forth. He spoke strange words in a language Adsila had never heard before.
She rushed in, knelt down and shook him by the shoulders. “Father, wake up!” She waited anxiously for him to heed her plea, but it never happened.
His eyes went completely white. Suddenly his hands clutched at Adsila’s arms, locking her in place. Oh, dear Dai-mo.
“Shh, child,” he ordered, but not in his familiar, deep tone; it was a woman’s voice that came out of his mouth.
Adsila blinked. What was happening?
“Fear not,” the voice said. “No harm will afflict upon you this day.”
In the corner of her eye, Adsila saw a shadow glimmer in the hut before a tall woman appeared.
Like herself, the woman had dark brown eyes framed by thick lashes and her long, smooth black hair was braided into two fat braids. She wore a cream robe made of the thinnest cotton Adsila had ever seen. A single headband adorned the woman’s temple, which carried a small medallion―a circle within a cross, within a circle. It was the symbol of Dai-mo, the highest god of all.
“Ami-tolah,” Adsila breathed. “I am honored by your presence.” She wanted to bow low but her father’s grip held her in place, so she said a prayer instead.
“Worry not with foolish rules of decorum, my child,” the Goddess of Mantaka said, but her beautiful lips didn’t move. “Heed my words, Thunder and Storm are coming; soon you will need your prayers more than today.”
Adsila didn’t understand. What had they done to deserve such punishment? They performed the rituals; they made regular offerings; what else could they do to keep the gods happy? Now the eerie cloud approached, and death would surely follow.
She knew in her heart their lives would never be the same.
“Life, my dear, is transformation, not stillness,” her father’s lips announced, imparting the goddess’ words.
Before Adsila had time to fully digest the message, the Chenesi started gagging violently as if something was stuck in his throat.
“Dai-mo have mercy!” she cried out and shrunk away. She tried to stand up but her father’s grip tightened around her arms, holding her in place.
He heaved a few more times and then an impossibly large rock spurted up and landed between her knees.
Adsila gagged and forced her stomach to stay still.
“Take this stone and guard it with your life,” the goddess ordered.
With trembling hands, Adsila picked up the strange object. It was made of two equal parts attached together in an intricate fashion. She swallowed dry and looked at the deity in the shadows.
Since her silent question was met only with stillness, she turned her focus back to the strange stone. She tuned it in her hands, curious, then detached one of the segments. By itself it looked like an irregular gray triangle and just large enough to fit in her palm. Beautiful symbols, carved in a melodious flow, adorned its entire surface. She realized that some of them were in her Tula language.
“Tsia dodi, Tsila do-osgi. Udala ama yi osiyu,” Adsila read out loud. “Empty vessel, lost spirits. The true eternal soul binds us all.”
Adsila’s hand shot to her mouth as realization struck.
Merciful Gods! This was a magical Binding Stone! She had only heard of such a relic in old legends. Why had the Goddess chosen her to safe-keep a Binding Stone? Was she supposed to use it? And if so, when, and with whom?
“Oh, great Ami-Tolah, please forgive my audacity, but ... why me? I have been denied the place as the spiritual leader of my people. I will never be Chenesi.” Even if the tides turned, and the gods granted her deepest dream, Adsila would have no idea what to do with a Binding Stone.
“In good time, child. All in good time. Be certain you will find your path but remember this: wisdom lies not only in the trees themselves, but in each of our ways to see their beauty and share their fruits.” With those last words, the goddess was engulfed by the shadows and vanished.
Merciful Dai-mo, what was she supposed to do now?
Adsila ran her fingers along the rough surface of the Binding Stone, still trying to make sense of what had just happened, when her skin caught on one of the edges.
Chapter Two
Washington D.C., Present day
“Ouch!” Chloe cursed, drawing the wounded finger to her lips. She loved her work but hated the potential hazards that came with it: paper cuts. She absolutely hated paper cuts.
The fact that she couldn’t concentrate didn’t help either. Last night’s nightmare plagued her, making her mind wander off every five minutes. The whole day long, scattered images came and went as if they were trying to tell her something, as if she was supposed to know what they meant. It was so frustrating.
Chloe was used to weird and terrifying dreams, though. She’d had them all her life. Some were soothing imaginings; some were horrible nightmares. No matter the genre, they were all variations of the same theme―a Native American girl in a time long before now.
One time, when she was little, after a night of particularly horrific dreams, she woke to a song that soothed her heart almost immediately. Opening her eyes, Chloe saw a beautiful woman with chocolate eyes, smooth skin and dark braids sitting on the edge of her bed. She was wearing a cream tunic made of cotton with colorful embroidery around the collar, but the most striking adornment was the beautiful medallion on her forehead. Chloe didn’t get spooked by the stranger’s presence, though. Quite the contrary; she felt like she had known that woman her entire life. Lady was her name.
But her mother didn’t believe her and, after a few more nights of horrifying screams that woke the entire house, Chloe’s mom took her to see a doctor. Well, doctors, as it turned out. First, they went to the G.P., then to a children’s psychologist, then finally a psychiatrist with a medical degree and all. The fact that Chloe insisted that her imaginary friend was not imaginary at all probably didn’t help her cause. But the young Chloe didn’t care; Lady was her only friend. They went everywhere together―to school, her dreaded piano classes and even to her doctor’s appointments. And for many years, Lady’s beautiful songs in a foreign tongue
Chloe couldn’t understand helped Chloe fall asleep.
One day, her mother, an avid Christian from a little town in Minnesota, gave in to desperation and took Chloe to see a clairvoyant. Chloe would never forget the look on her mother’s face when the gypsy opened the door to her shop. It was full of crystals hanging off the ceiling and large shelves covered the walls with odd-looking books, talismans and tarot cards. Colorful shawls blocked the afternoon sun instead of curtains, and large cushions offered visitors comfort instead of a couch.
Chloe had never seen a gypsy’s place before, and was fascinated by it all―even by the fact that absolutely everything had a price tag attached to it, even the small round table and the three chairs they sat on for the session.
It had been more than fifteen years, but that day had always been in the back of Chloe’s mind.
It was the last time she saw Lady.
“Welcome to Crystalis,” the gypsy had said. She was a plump Caucasian woman with short curly hair and narrow green eyes. Her layered floral dress and heavy jewelry added even more volume to her quite stout figure.
After the very uncomfortable introductions, the gypsy took Chloe’s hands in hers and closed her eyes. “Yes! I see…” the woman whispered with a frown.
“What? What do you see?” her mum asked, wide-eyed.
The plump woman then opened her eyes. “Ah!”
“Argh!” her mum cried out in return, almost falling off her seat.
Chloe had to bite her lips to stop from giggling, but her fun vanished when she saw Lady appear right beside the gypsy. Her friend’s chocolate eyes, dark braids and beautiful dress were poles apart from the plump charlatan. Lady looked serene as always, but there was something in her gaze that gave it away.
She was leaving.
Chloe didn’t say a word―she didn’t want her mother to know that the cause of her distress was in the room―but she couldn’t prevent the tears from falling either.
“Shh, don’t cry, my child; it’s for the best,” Lady had said inside Chloe’s mind. Then she reached out and touched Chloe’s temple with her index and middle fingers. The medallion on Lady’s forehead glowed brightly and warmth engulfed Chloe’s body. “We will see each other again.”