Dark Horizon (working title) Chapter 1

In the beginning, there was God and he created man…but perhaps this is not the best place to begin our story, with some obscured phrase found in an ancient text written in an unspoken language of a long forgotten culture. So let us begin our story instead in the far distant future, ions away from the past, my present, your future and near the end.

* * *

The morning haze drifted lazily over the hillside blanketing the ground with gray mist. The stars twinkled brilliantly in the dark indigo sky as the clouds turned turquoise blue in the twilight of the dawning sun and setting of the second moon. The moon loomed just above the horizon as the morning sun peeped behind its massive form. It would remained there, motionless in the sky long after the sun had risen, dwarfing the afternoon sun with its large barren surface. Its expressionless crater face greeted the alien planet of Lla each morning and night, before and after the sun had made it journey across the sky. Its constant presence was like a silent stranger, familiar yet mysterious, always watching, listening and there.

A small middle age woman with a silver streak growing out the crow beak of her long raven black hair made her way up the rocky path, stopping occasionally to examine plants and bits of clay along trail. She had an angular face with sharp cheekbones, thin lips and piercing dark brown eyes. She was a thin woman with small chest and narrow waist that widen into round full hips. The ground was soft and damp under her feet as she stepped carefully along the path to prevent tangling her long gray wool skirt in the under bush.

Meesha enjoyed her morning walks. It was necessary for her to restock her medicine stores with local plants and herbs but it also provided her with much needed solitude to reflect and meditate. As the tribe’s Ada or shaman her people's needs for her was great and many and this was the only time she allowed a few hours of blissful peace. However, this morning was different. She could not find her peace. It felt like the moon had finally decided to speak and whisper all of its ancient secrets in her ear if she would just listen a little harder. Meesha took deep controlled breaths and closed her eyes. She shivered as icy fingers crept down her back and seeped into her bones, opening her mind and losing her body to the world around her. She could hear water trickling in the nearby stream and the rustling of leaves in the trees. She could smell the rich scent of freshly turned earth and taste the moisture in morning air. She stretched her sense further, seeking, searching and listening. Then she heard it, the faint sound of crying.

Meesha took a blind step forward and stumbled before she realized that her eyes were still closed. But that didn’t slow her down as she rushed to find the source to the cry before she lost the connection. The sound got louder as she struggled clumsily through the under bush, ripping her long winter skirt against the sharp naked branches and thorns.

After a few moments, she came across a large patch of bushes that had yet lost their green to the harsh winter wind. Meesha fell heavily to her knees not caring if she cut her knees against the sharp rocks and slowly parted the branches with shaky fingers. She peered down to find what at first look like a pile of rags. She cautiously peeled back the corner fearing what she might see. It was unfortunately common for young mothers to abandon their newborns in the wilderness if they should be born crippled. As Ada, she had seen it many times before so Meesha wasn’t surprise to come across one during her wanderings. She clenched the piece of cloth in her hands and slowly dragged it away to reveal a perfectly healthy baby girl.

A thin frown creased across the wise woman’s face and confusion clouded her eyes. “Now who would throw away such a healthy baby girl,” tutted Meesha disapproving.

Large brown eyes wet with tears peered up at her and the child’s cries grew louder with renewed strength. Fire ants had begun to borrow their way in to the thin cloth and no doubt irritating the sensitive skin underneath. Meesha had seen those insects devour a small animal carcass in less than a day bite by tiny little bite and she shuttered to think what they would do to small defenseless child who could hardly roll over by herself.

She quickly scooped the naked child in her arms and frantically brushed a few ants off her pale ashen skin. Once she had inspected the child for insect bites, Meesha wrapped the child in her shawl and bundled it close to her chest. The child quickly snuggled into her warmth and whimpered quietly against her breast.

“Now, now that’s enough of that. You’re safe know,” she cooed.

Meesha knew that the other tribal members would not take kindly to the child’s presence no matter what she said. The child would be considering a bad omen. The babe would be the source of suspicion and would be blame for anything that went wrong. The child would be the source of great animosity and she would suffer for it. However, as older woman peered into those wide dark brown eyes that looked so much like her own she just did not have the heart to leave the child there alone where she would surely die from exposure or be devoured by predators.

Meesha had learned from a young age that she could not bare children. Her first child was born with no heartbeat and after three more failed attempts; she realized that she was not meant to become a mother. She was devastated but she had console herself in the fact that the Fates had another plan for her. She was to become Ada, the first daughter exalted by nature and guide to the Fates. The Fates had bestowed her with the power sight. She could see and feel things that others could not or choose to ignore. It was both an honor and a heavy burden to carry, but she thanked the Fates everyday for their wisdom.

But deep down, she secretly longed for a child of her own. Even though her life was full, there was still a void that craved to be filled. She had learned to ignore it but it festered like an open sore. Maybe the Fates had heard her silent prayer and since she could not bare her own children, they had led her to this one.

The child squirmed restlessly in her arms as if she could hear her thoughts. Meesha unconsciously held the child tighter to her chest. With her decision made Meesha began to make her long track home with her Ashakiran, her ray of hope nestled securely in her arms.

* * *

By the time Meesha had had arrive to the village the morning sun had broken from surface and crept from behind the far side of the moon, which had faded to a mere outline under the brilliant rays of the sun. It was quiet a kind of sluggish peace that held in the early morning until the village fully awake. Low murmured conversations broke the fragile peace as the village began their morning chores. The smell of cooking fires and fresh baked bread greeted her as she entered the small encampment. Strips of salted meat lay out to dry for the long harsh winter ahead.

Small children of various ages played near the perimeter of the camp while their mothers kept a watchful eye. Their games were simple yet amusing, exploring the world around them with curiosity and child like fascination that they will eventually lose with age. This was an important time, when they were closes to nature and the Fates. The Fates would give them signs, small but many, whispering words of encouragement in the wind to show them the path, before they grew up, become blind, death, and dumb to those small miracles. A few with the gift like Meesha would never lose the ability and remained open to their subtle guide ness.

The boys played fighting with long branches as if they were spears as they pretend to be great tribal warriors on a dangerous hunt, while the girls played with their tatter stitched eyed handmade dolls, hugging them like they real babies and playing house. They were mimicking their elders and practicing the skills they would need when they come of age, testing the roles they were destine to take before they were force upon them. Everyone had his or her part to play that was vital to life. Some were meant to nurture while others were meant to destroy. It was all the same in Meesha’s eyes. The cycle of life, give and take, life and death, all was connected. It was all balanced.

Several people greeted her with a reverent tone as she passed them while the younger children scampered away out of her path with wide awe struck eyes as if she could cursed them with just a look. She nodded a greeting to the adults and smiled indulgingly at he children, ignoring all their questionable glances at the strange bundle in her arms.

Meesha entered her hut and gently placed her precious bundle on her cot. The hut was nothing special to look at; a small mound made of rich dark red clay with branches woven through the walls and one small opening that served as the door, but the structure was solid and it kept the rain and wind out and it was easy to repair if damage. The room was dark and dank with only the light filtering through the doorway to brighten the interior. It was sparsely furnished with only a makeshift cot, an old wooden table and two three legged stools for furniture. The walls were lined with shelves carrying small clay pots and bottles filled with various medicinal herbs and powders.

Meesha added bits of twigs and dry leaves in the stone hearth on the far side of the room and lit it. In no time she had a good fire going. She took the pouch of fresh goat’s milk that she was saving for her breakfast, poured half the content into an iron kettle, and placed it over the crackling fire. Once that was done, she moved towards the table and grabbed a hand full of dried ginsem leaves that were high in antitoxins from small gray clay pot on the top shelf. She placed the leaves into a stone grinder and proceeded to crush them into fine powder so they would dissolve quickly into the warm milk.

A long shadow descended into the room blocking the light from over her shoulders. Meesha turned to find a large man about six feet tall with long straight dark brown hair tied back into a pony tail, smoky gray eyes and square jaw standing quietly by the door. His large muscled frame dwarfed the small opening blocking the light. His strong presence seemed to steal the warmth in the room and Meesha struggled not to tremble. “Greetings Ada,” said the man solemnly. His deep baritone voice felt like velvet against her skin and she shivered. It had long time since they been together intimately but sometimes she would feel the reminisce desire from a fire that she thought had long ago went cold.

“Good morning Ezekiel,” she answered as she turned her back to him and continued her work.
Ezekiel glanced at the child sleeping soundly in the bed and his eyes narrowed as he pierced his thin lips.
“May I speak with you?”

Meesha sighed. She knew he would come. No one else would dare questioned her except for him, it was always him. “If you must.”

He entered the hearth without invitation and closed the door so only the light from the flames lighted the room. “Where did you find the baby?” he asked.

Meesha clenched the stone grinder in grasp then relax her fingers but showed no other outside sign that she heard his question. The soft repetitive sound of crushing leaves permeated the silence then she spoke quietly into the bowl. “The Fates led me to her.”

Ezekiel was silent for a moment then spoke quietly. “You can’t keep her. She will bring bad luck to the village.”

“Ridiculous. The child is harmless.”

The man balled his fist into a tight ball and clenched his jaw in frustration. As tribal leader Ezekiel had pride himself for his ability to stay in control and think rationally but after all these years no one was able to frustrate him more than this woman who always seemed to find a way under his thick skin. “Woman forget you silly maternal notions and think about your people. You know you can’t keep the baby. It was abandoned for a reason. Nothing good can come from this. To keep it is to bring bad luck on us all. The tribe shouldn’t have to suffer just because you can’t bare children.”

Meesha whirled around her brown eyes glinting with anger. “You dare presume to know the Fates wishes more than I. Do you really think I would do anything that will harm our people?”

“No of course not but I do think that maybe you are confusing the Fates desire’s with your own.”

“Nonsense. The child stays.”

“Meesha.”

“No! You lost the right to call me by that name long ago when you found out that I couldn’t bare you a son. I am keeping her. She is mine. The Fates gave her to me and there is nothing that you or anyone could say to convince me otherwise.

Ezekiel stood up tall clenching unclenching his heavy jaw. “So be it Ada, but mark my words that child will bring us nothing but heartache if it stays,” he warned before storming out and slamming the door behind him.

The sound startled the baby from her sleep and her wails pierce the quiet room. Meesha glowered at the door before she rushed over the bed and scooped the baby into her arms, rocking her back and forth soothingly.1