E.R. COOK

This is an ongoing fictional serial book, one chapter published every week. If you have not read up to this point, please check out the other chapters.

Asha is a fifteen year old girl born into a savage world sculpted by tribal wars and elemental magic. She is chosen as the elder shaman’s apprentice, the akira. She is also a Raven’s Eye, one able to communicate and see through a raven’s eyes, a special talent even among the shamans. Though she will one day be powerful, she is looked down upon as the failed firstborn daughter of the chieftain of the tribe. As she struggles to understand herself and her powers along with dealing with the eternal hatred and shame of her father, she must also constantly figure out how to bring her tribe through the clouds of war and danger that the ravens tell her about.

As you can read, this book deals with violence and trauma, but it’s not all doom and gloom. Like other works of fiction, any resemblance to any living person, place or thing is purely coincidental.

The Queen Raises Her Head

Sunlight poured through a crack in the door, alighting on Asha’s face. She blinked, pushing away the covers of sleep. Preen had returned after her talk with Tiran, giving her a sleeping draught that had allowed her to sleep through the night. But it had not kept the demons from her dreams, their claws ripping into her, their cries turning them into a twisting dark nightmare. She shuddered, trying to push the dark energy out of her. But she was a sponge. No matter how hard you tried to wring it out, there was still some residue that remained.

Slowly, she swung her legs over the bed. Her head swum and her vision blurred for a moment while her senses tried to reconnect, and comprehend that she was vertical once again. After a few deep breaths, she stretched, slowly feeling her body. Her joints ached, her muscles protested. But it felt good to move again.

It surprised her that Preen was not watching, but then her eye spied the tray of stew and bread that was sitting by the bed and smiled. Carefully she reached for the mug of broth that accompanied it, inhaling the rich scents of herbs and spices that laced its murky depths. The power of the herbs flowed into her, already beginning their healing journey before she had even taken a sip. But as she carefully consumed the broth, her stomach growled and gurgled in pleasure. Asha let a small giggle escape her lips. “At least not everything has changed.”

Her eyes drifted back up to where the robe hung, the staff leaning against it pinning it to the wall. Chalese’s stick. Her stick. Her hut. A weight slammed into her shoulders, trying to drive her down into the bed again, but settled into her stomach, souring the broth she had drank.

Just then, she heard a familiar caw. An eye rolled to see a black something by the door. A raven was sitting on the threshold. It looked at her quizzically, cocking its head to the right and then left. It cawed again, and bent to something in the dirt, picking it up in its beak. With a muffled caw, it leapt into the air, beating its wings furiously to land on the bed. It strutted about for a moment or two, looking her over. Then it bowed, dropping the small object at her side. It rose back up, nodding, before hopping off the bed and walking out the door.

Stunned, Asha slowly reached for the small red stone that the raven had brought her. She picked it up. It was clear like river water, yet tinged a blood red. Like the waters of the battle had crystallized. As she looked closer, a dark spot appeared in the center. Suddenly, a vision flashed into her mind.

The land was devastated. Hot winds blew across the nude surface, stripping it of grass, the trees blasted smooth like stone. The sky above was burning red, the sun hidden behind dark storm clouds that promised fire but not rain. A dark hooded figure stood in the middle of it all, surrounded by broken and burned bones. A raven cried in the distance. Asha approached slowly, somehow drawn to the person as much as she was repelled. “Who are you?”

The figure turned, the hood falling. It was a young woman with hair as black as the raven’s wings, her eyes a golden yellow slit with black. Her skin was as white as driven snow and her nails like an eagle’s talons. Yet Asha felt no fear, just awe, as waves of power radiated out from the figure like ripples in a lake. “You will have to find me.”

“Why? Who am I to you?”

“Dark winds are coming. And not just your father.” She waved a hand. “Dark things are rising, like they always do. And like always, we must call heroes forth. But I wonder if you will answer?”

“What are you saying?”

“I feel your heart. I have felt your pain, your torment. Your dark thoughts. It’s part of your power, like any good shaman. But will you use it to help or let it use you? To do the latter is to invite. . .others.”

“I don’t understand. What do the Ancient Ones want with me?”

“It is because it can only be you. Our paths are written in the stars as surely as the mountains and the sun. But humans? You alone have been given choice. And it is that choice that must decide what becomes of this world.” She gave that sly smile again. “The time is coming for you to choose. Come find me. Or let the world burn.”

Asha opened her eyes once more to the hut. The stone lay cold in her fingers, inert and silent.

Hunger forgotten, she pushed herself off the bed, her head swimming slightly but she shoved the nausea back. Quickly, she donned the cloak and grabbed the staff. She tucked the jewel into her belt purse. She needed to talk to Tiran, to ask exactly what he had seen and heard when he’d talked before to the Ancient One possessing her.

The sunlight pierced her eyes as she stepped outside, and she had to stop a moment and shield them. Once they recovered, she lowered her hand, her eyes surveilling the true damage of the battle for the first time.

The front gates were completely destroyed, along with about twenty feet of fence on either side. The huts and areas closest to the gates were nothing but smoldering ruins. Farther out, arrows and churned up earth covered the grounds, many roofs had holes or burnt patches. The meeting hall off to the side nearest the grieving fields still stood, and the great wall that surrounded the village was intact. But what of the fields and woodlands beyond? How much had the enemy destroyed before he had retreated?

She had not taken two steps before a tall, commanding figure of a stately woman appeared out of the shadows and started stalking towards her, radiating anger. Asha stiffened, biting her lip and inwardly cursing. Fighting against all her reactions, she managed a neutral, “Tonka.”

The woman stopped a few feet away, not even bothering to address her. Cold steel blue eyes glared down a sharp nose that sniffed like it had scented rotten meat. “My daughter demands an appearance now that you’re done with your nap.”

The words slapped Asha like a whip. Anger swelled within her. By rights, she could, and should, have Tonka whipped. But with no other witnesses to the crime, there were many who would take the other woman’s side. Exactly how Tonka had wanted it. Point. Asha refused to let her anger show, cattily saying, “Which one?”

Asha knew which one. Only one other person besides her father held the power to demand an appearance by the shaman. Not that she thought Tiera had used those words, if this drama had even been her idea to begin with. She wasn’t one to throw her power around.

Tonka, on the other hand, was. She sniffed. “The queen requests your presence.”

A thought flashed in Asha’s mind. She had completely forgotten about Tiera in all the commotion, sequestered as she was in the caves beyond the village. “Is she. . .”

“Her time has not yet come, her maids tell me.” Tonka said. “No thanks to anyone else, she made it through the horrors unscathed. But she does seek your audience, if you are done lallygagging.”

Always the victim. Always the criminal. Another point. Asha merely sighed and tried to paste on a smile. “Lead the way.”

Tonka stalked off, leaving Asha to follow behind. The pair walked through the grieving grounds, a crew of young men already removing what was left of the burned piers, others bringing new wood for the next ceremonies. She shuddered, thinking of all of those for whom the ceremonies could not be done. Maybe she could contact one of the other villages and their shaman to learn the protection spells. If any were still their allies.

The village was bound on one side by the river, a vast stretch of water that flowed down from the mountains and onto the plains before diving into a steep canyon right beyond the village. The other sides were protected by a large wooden wall of spiked wood poles, dotted with observance towers and gates. To the north were the plains, a road leading towards the distant mountains, home to their fields and orchards. The other sides were bounded by an endless forest.

But it was to the river that Tonka now led her, down the narrow path that followed the river into the ravine. To the ceremonial caves where the queen now waited for her child to be born. They had been used for centuries as protection during raids and a safe place for the heirs of the village to be born. They were protected by the rushing rapids of the river below, the waters driven faster as the canyon narrowed until they went crashing over the distant waterfall. The caves were also protected by the sheer steep cliffs above. The only way to approach was the narrow single file rocky trail.

Two warriors stood at the face of the cave. They turned, barring their spears at their approach. Tonka sniffed, and waved them away. The two bowed as Asha passed.

The inner welcoming chamber was lit by soft candles, filled with shrines to the gods, particularly Ga’sha, the mother earth and protector of pregnancies. Two more warriors stood guard at a tapestry covering the door to the inner birthing chamber where the queen waited.

Tonka swept through the room without the normal prayers to thank the gods for allowing her entrance. Asha snorted, and sent up her own prayers, hoping that if they were angered by Tonka she would at least be protected. Again, Tonka shoved past the guards as if they were nothing but annoying flies. Again, as Asha approached, they bowed. One pulled aside the tapestry to allow her entrance.

The inner birthing chamber was home to a large carved wooden bed, covered in furs and pillows. Two maids in waiting hovered by the side of the room, cowering slightly as Tonka started in on the state of the room, not to her liking. There, on the bed, lay a young girl of about twenty, blonde hair bound in braids. She was absently listening to Tonka rave, meanwhile her eyes were fixed on Asha.

Finally, she waved her hand at her mother. “Enough.”

Tonka stopped short. “What?”

“Enough. I would speak to the shaman.” Her eyes narrowed. “Alone.”

The maids swept out without another word, probably glad to leave the tense emotions of the room. Tonka sniffed for a moment, then remembered herself and bowed, retreating out of the room. Asha waited for the tapestry to stop moving before she spoke. “It’s bad enough you have to be pregnant.”

Tiera smiled wanly, patting her rotund stomach. “The cave is not that bad. It is warm and I am well-protected and cared for.”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

Tiera held back a snort. She looked up, a twinkle in her eye. “I hear she’s been making the village a living hell.”

Asha fought back her own conspiring smile. Tieran and she had grown up together, thick as thieves until they started blossoming into women. It had all happened so fast. Her father had disavowed her mother, her mother had died, and Tonka had pushed Tiera forward. The thought brought a shadow of sadness to Asha’s eyes.

Tiera must have caught the shadow. “I never got to tell you how sorry I was. About. . .everything. It was just. . .”

“We all said words we did not mean at the time.” Asha swallowed the lump in her throat. What had happened, had happened to the child. The weight of the robe and staff reminded her of that. “You summoned me?”

“Summoned, ha.” Tiera snorted. “I asked if you weren’t too busy if you could attend me but that I understood if you had more important things to oversee. Being the new chief shaman and all.”

“I’m surprised Tonka told you, in your condition, about what happened.”

Tiera’s eyes shadowed. “She did not want to. But I heard her yelling at my maids when she thought I was asleep. She was forced to tell me. I couldn’t believe it. Chalese’s loss. . .I’m so sorry.”

She lifted her head and continued. “But I am queen, pregnant or not. And my village was attacked. My son. I would know all.”

Asha nodded, impressed by her ex-friend’s backbone, even in her state. “Your son is safe, rest assured. The wall is broken, but we have enough able men guarding to hold it, and lookouts sent out on all sides to watch like hawks. I even have the ravens keeping an eye out. We should be safe, for now.”

She took a deep breath. “I do not know what all your mother spoke to you about. How much you know of . . .other things.”

“If you’re talking that ridiculous ‘you got possessed by a demon’ nonsense, I shut that down.” Tiera shifted her weight, trying to get comfortable.

Asha said, “Not as much nonsense. I am told I was possessed, although by no demon. That was the other dark shaman.”

“What?” Tiera hissed, absently tracing a protection sigil on her chest. Her eyes darted almost unconsciously toward the exit where the warriors waited.

Asha stiffened slightly at the insult, but forced herself to calm down. She wasn’t there. All she knows is what Tonka told her. She started again. “The attack was led by the chief of the Vark and his shaman. Only the shaman was twisted. He had been consumed by a demon. It was he who shook the earth and brought the fire that destroyed our gates.”

“No.” Tiera shuddered. “The pact. Shamans should not enter wars between the tribes or conspire with dark forces.”

“I’m surprised you know.”

“When Galag is off at war and I’m stuck in here I often sneak peaks at the scrolls. I have learned enough.”

Asha nodded, surprised at the initiative. She had thought her illiterate father had burned all her mother’s scrolls. “Yes. In return for our powers over nature and the elements, we are not to engage in battle, or the gods would turn their back on our world. But it seems that those bonds have broken.”

“And what of you? Your possession?” Tiera’s eyes were blue steel.

“It was not a demon, but an Ancient One. It was she that slew the demon and drove the forces back.”

“An Ancient One?”

“The ones who came before the Gods, so long ago we have lost their names.” Asha replied. “I don’t know why she came to me. But it is because of her our village was saved.”

Although I couldn’t save Chalese. She fought the tear that was forming in her eye.

“There is more, is there not?” Tiera asked impatiently. “My husband. What word of him?”

Asha noticed how it had gone from ‘the chief’ to ‘my husband’. A much more personal fear. “He was defeated on the battlefield, but still lives. He had stayed with the main force, but I heard word he is returning soon.”

Tiera grew pale, her hand drifting to her stomach. Her voice was cold with fear and sudden dread. “Defeated?”

“Did not Tonka tell you?”

“She did not specify that part, just the cowards attacking the village.” Tiera sniffed. “Tell me. What do they say of him?”

Asha knew what Tiera wanted her to say, the words to assuage her anxiety and give balm to her fear. But she was never one to coat things in sweetness. Tiera knew the law. “I have heard voices.”

“Someone is going to challenge him.” She stated flatly.

“It seems that way.” Asha found it hard to meet the woman’s eyes. “Although it is up to the god’s who wins.”

“He already turned his back once on them.” She spat. “Why would they not turn their back on him?”

She barked a laugh at Asha’s surprise. “Oh yes, he visited me after you faced him in the hall. All proud of himself for defying you, defying the vision. Fool thought he was better than the gods.”

Her voice stayed strong, but Asha could see her hand shaking as she tried to smooth the furs over her belly. “How long until I am put out?”

“I. . .” Asha could not speak the words. As shaman, it would be up to her and the new chief to enforce the rule. She looked down at the helpless woman, her ungainly belly, thought of her son waiting in the village. A knife twisted in her belly. A sudden flare of anger. “Blast it.”

“What did you say?” Tiera asked in confusion.

“I said blast it.” Asha repeated herself. “Forget the rule. I’m not throwing you out.”

“But the gods. . .”

“I may not completely know how to speak to gods yet, but I did touch an Ancient One.” Asha said. “Somehow I doubt this was a rule of the gods. More like a new chief who didn’t want trouble from little ones regarding inheritance and birth right.”

Asha took a deep breath. “I can’t say what the new chief will do, but you have my protection.”

Tiera opened her mouth, closed it. She nodded, smiling. “Thank you. I know it will cause trouble.”

“I’m beginning to think that’s my new name.” Asha smiled back wanly. “I will return with news.”

She turned swiftly, afraid if she stayed her new course of action would fail her. What was she thinking? She was attempting to defy tradition, the rules of the gods? She barely knew anything as a shaman!

Yet as she pushed aside the heavy leather doorway and walked into the entrance room, a fire within her belly told her she was right. It was wrong to turn out the mother and children of a fallen chief, even if it did make things difficult for the new one. They had no right to banish an innocent life to certain death for politics. There had been enough death lately.

The strength and fire grew with every step, so much so that when Tonka swept up, no doubt with a long list of complaints, Asha just steeled her body and faced her. “No. Whatever it is. No.”

Tonka stopped short, her words cut off in surprise at Asha’s sharp tone.

Asha continued. “You are done ordering the village around. You are not the queen, merely her mother. I am the shaman, and until the chief returns, in charge of the village. So it stops now. Am I understood?”

She saw the darkness swirling in Tonka’s eyes. The anger and humiliation of being called out, especially in front of the ‘lower people’ as Tonka saw the maids and guards. But Asha didn’t care. She had enough problems on her plate without Tonka undermining her. Tonka did not speak, just curtly nodded her head.

“Good.” Asha just walked away, toward the entrance.

As she stepped out into the crisp air and began her journey back to the village, her legs and body started shaking from the fact that she had actually stood up to Tonka. Not that she thought it had done anything but made an enemy of the woman. But it had been good. For Asha.

She stared upwards at a small dark shadow crossing the sky, riding on a current of air. A smile crept to her lips.

I may not be a fully grown shaman, but I do have power. Time for the people of this village to see that.