Excerpt!

The following is an excerpt from my first chapter of the story I'm working on. It's about 1/4th of the chapter, starting at the beginning. Let me know what you think (if you like reading)! Be honest, if you really really hate it say so. :P



“Concentrate.”

The flame wavered frailly within the bronze lamp. Kishna swiped her long black hair behind her shoulders and glared at it, hands shaking. It danced in the breeze, mocking her.

“Don’t give up. Clear your mind.”

Gently, the fire rose, illuminating her mentor’s face with a dim orange glow. A smile cracked across the old woman’s lips, the wrinkles across her dark cheeks deepening.

“That’s it,” her mentor said. “Careful now.”

The flame paused briefly and, with a wink, vanished into a thin silver stream of smoke. Kishna dropped her hands with a sigh.

“I can’t do this, Turuna. Last week I set the hut on fire, and now I can’t even get the flame to listen to me.”

“Oh, dear, you’re still learning,” Turuna said, standing shakily to her feet with the lamp in hand. She dusted off her long white robe, her feathered belt coated with soot, and placed the lamp on a bamboo bookshelf. As she leaned upon her carved walking stick, she smiled gently at her apprentice, who was sitting on the floor of the hut cross-legged and melancholy. Turuna cracked her stooped back and glanced out the door through the beaded curtain. “That’s enough for today.”

Kishna sighed again as she stood. She looked down at her green knee-length dress, whitened with ash. Adjusting the beaded sash across her chest, Kishna frowned at the lamp.

“I’m not ready for my final test, Turuna.”

The old woman turned slowly, her body shaking with age. “Oh? Why is that, my dear?”

“I’m useless,” Kishna said. “Fire ignores me, Water does as it pleases, Air runs away from me. Earth is stubborn. The only one I have any grasp on is Spirit. I’m not ready.”

“You are still young,” Turuna said. “You never stop learning. If you’re not ready now, when will you ever be?”

“Maybe just one more year...”

“Come with me, my dear.” The elder pulled aside the bead curtain, motioning outside. As Kishna stepped out of the cliffside hut, she blinked into the desert sunlight, relieved at the scent of fresh coastal air. Turuna hobbled after her, the walking stick clicking against the rocky crag floor.

“Now look,” she said, spreading her hand before her. “Tell me, what can you see?” Kishna squinted down the cliff face, seeing nothing but her small village nestled between the sparkling ocean and the endless sand dunes.

“Yir’asha,” the apprentice said. “Our home.”

Turuna nodded. “Yes, but look closer. See that wheat field over there? Who was the one who coaxed the seedlings out of the ground, allowing them to grow?”

“Well, I did, I guess. But I’ve also ruined twelve fields. We could’ve had a famine if you didn’t fix my mistakes.”

“And who is that, down in the town square? Looks like Sekamal, remember? The warrior who was bitten by an asp last month. Do you recall who drained the poison from his wound?”

“That was me, but-”

“He looks good as new,” Turuna said with a smile. “And the well. Two weeks ago we were in the middle of a drought. I seem to remember a certain shaman apprentice who made it rain.”

A grin replaced Kishna‘s frown. “Okay, I’ve done some good things. More bad than good.”

“Your intentions are pure, and you’re learning fast. If you want to succeed, you’ll have to make lots of mistakes first.”

Turuna placed a withered hand to her ear, listening to the faint music pouring from the village. “The festival’s about to start. Don’t want to miss it, do you? Hurry along now.”

Kishna made to head down the cliff, glancing back at her teacher. “Will you be there?”

Turuna shook her head. “I have to prepare for your test tonight. I have a few reagents to gather.”

“The test which I’ll fail,” Kishna moped.

“The test which you’ll pass with flying colors,” Turuna corrected. “Go, my dear, have fun. Say hello to Ina for me?”

Kishna nodded. “Thanks, Turuna.”

The old woman waved goodbye as Kishna stepped down the cliff and headed into town. She could already smell the spiced potato bread and incense. Cheerful music wafted through the streets, muffled by the distance. Wiping sweat from her dark olive skin, Kishna ran down the road to the village square as the braids in her hair meandered behind her like dancing cobras. Her shin-high moccasins left a trail of footprints following her to the village square.

Pushing past crowds of people, Kishna glanced around the square, the ever-burning pyre in the center surrounded by vendor carts and street performers. She heard her name through the flute songs.

“Kishna!” A girl with flat braided buns in her ebony hair stumbled out of the crowd and jogged to her. “There you are. This place is crawling with people.”

“Hi, Ina,” Kishna chirped. “Sorry if I‘m late, I was having a lesson with Turuna.” They walked together throughout the drove, Ina looping her arm around Kishna’s elbow.

“Pfft. You and that silly shaman stuff. When are you going to realize that studying a dead art is no fun, and the glory of swinging a sword around is a thousand times better?”

Kishna frowned. “Shamanism isn’t dead.”

“There’s you, and there’s Turuna. And... that’s it. Everyone else is too afraid to study it.”

They approached a turbaned vendor. Ina held up two fingers and passed the merchant five shells, who traded her two steaming bread pockets stuffed with spiced potatoes. She handed one to Kishna.

“The Windriders killing off our shamans was fifty years ago,” Kishna said, taking a bite into the bread. “They haven’t come into the Soletuski Desert since then.”

Ina scoffed. “Windriders, ugh. They may have cooled down some since the height of their pillage-and-plunder days, but I still don’t trust them. I’m telling you, they’re up to something.”

She glanced at Kishna. “You know I’m just kidding with you, right?”

“About what?”

“Your studies. I support you. I think it’s strange, but I support you.”

Kishna smiled. “And I support your warrior training. It’s important, with all these raging armies not pouring in to Yir’asha that you’re fighting.”

Ina elbowed her gently. “Oh, hush. Come on, let’s go see the dancers.”

They passed an illusionist, who was busy pouring water down his sleeve. He reached in his collar and extracted a thick silver chain, causing his audience to erupt in applause. A bard plucked a flat harp on his lap and sang of the Drow and Elven wars as passersby dropped treasure in his instrument case. A girl cheered as she threw her final dart into the center of a tiny dart board, the vendor handing her a prize of a corn husk doll.

Suddenly, the wind whispered Kishna’s name.

The shaman turned. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Ina said, stuffing the last piece of her bread pocket in her mouth.

Kishna listened again, but the sounds of the festival drowned out anything should could have heard. “Hmm... nothing, I guess.”

A white owl flapped through the desert air and perched upon a colorful vendor tent beside them. Kishna stared into its clear blue eyes, who looked at her with curiosity and wisdom.

“Wow,” Kishna breathed, turning to her friend. “Ina... look at that owl. It’s white... have you ever seen such a thing?”

Ina looked to where Kishna was pointing. “What owl?”

Kishna looked back. “It was right there.”

“Okay, Kishna,” Ina said, dragging her forward by the arm. “I think you’ve been breathing in too much of Turuna’s meditation smoke.”

With a sigh, Kishna followed Ina, watching the spot where she had seen the strange owl. She knew she hadn’t imagined it. Did the owl call her name? She shook her head. “Maybe I am losing my mind.”

As Kishna and Ina vanished in the crowd, the owl watched her from underneath a cart. With a hop and a flap, it flew from the noisy village into the desolate dunes of the desert.

“I will see you tonight, Kishna,” the owl whispered. “I pray that it’s soon enough.”