Elodie: Kashani's last hope

By Nicola Miller Clendon

Elodie Jedda is a young Hawthon girl who suddenly finds she may be all that stands between her world and total chaos.
She believes in herself and is prepared to do what it takes to make sure everything she holds dear isn't torn apart. The problem is no one else believes in her and she must constantly fight to prevent an evil High Lord, Jante Calende, acheiving his goal - the assassination of the ruler of Kashani Tenvan Thera.

This is a young adult fantasy novel set in protectorate of Kashani, a country in the South Atlantic settled by survivors of the Salem witch trials.

Cover photograph credit: Dunca Daniel

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicola Miller Clendon
• Release date: Sep 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465731579

Nicola Miller Clendon

Nicola Miller Clendon lives in the city of Auckland, New Zealand. She is currently published in non-fiction and young adult fiction. Her alter ego, Lillie Frost, writes Regency Romance and Paranormal Romance. She also drives a Land Rover, tries to be pack leader to her headstrong Labradoodle and attempts to keep track of her children, usually not all at the same time.

Book preview

Prologue

The ferryboat charges the mountainous waves of the Atlantic Ocean far from its safe route out of Beverly Harbor. This was no place for such a small vessel but the townsfolk of Salem had entrusted the captain and crew with a task and they intend to complete it.

If the tempestuous ocean filled these men of the sea with fear then what of the sodden group of people huddled in what was little more than a rowboat joined to the ferry by an ancient rope? Tossing around in the small boat were eight men and seven women, their hands bound together with rope. Unable to keep the stinging seawater from their eyes all but one of the women huddled together, their faces etched with fear. A flash of lightning shows the face of one of the men clouded with apprehension as he thinks about what is to come. The faces of the other seven men are calm, if a little resigned. They sit with their heads turned towards the boat towing them and an observer might be more afraid for the men on the ferryboat than for the occupants of the small craft.

As the fury of the Atlantic Ocean tosses the boat around, two of the men can be heard muttering. Only someone sitting close to them would be able to hear the words that they used and even then it is unlikely that any would understand them.

But for the rumble of the men's voices and the occasional sound of weeping from one of the women, there is little to disturb nature's wrath. Who would believe it is May. Suddenly the rope that had been holding the tiny craft to the larger boat slackens. They had been cast away. A voice could just be heard over the sounds of the ocean.

Good riddance witches! Now you are in God's hands and he'll have no mercy for the likes of you.

Who are these poor innocents and what have they done to deserve abandonment in the middle of this bitter ocean? The group is made up of seven men who have always tried to be decent citizens and the wives of six of them. All of the men and one woman had been judged guilty of witchcraft in what will become known simply as the Salem witch trials.

As the boat that had brought them to this spot in the middle of nowhere disappears from view the mutterings of the men become louder and three of the other men join in. Elisa Haythorn was a sickly woman, prone to fits of the vapors and fainting spells, terrified but determined to be the mistress of her own destiny, she leant over the edge of the boat and readied herself to plunge into the deep waters to meet her end quickly. But rather than the dark waters of the Atlantic, she found herself face to face with a creature with glistening skin, a long face and the most beautiful, peaceful eyes she had ever seen.

Do not be afraid, my dear. We have come to help. We know of a place that is safe for you and your party. It is called Kashani and is home of the Elven who will care for you all . . . in their way.

She heard the creature speak although its mouth did not move.

Tis truly witchcraft I see or has the tossing of the ocean caused me to knock my head so I am dreaming now?

Turning to her husband Nathaniel, she tried to speak.

It is all right, Elisa. We called them. They will help us. Do not be afeared. It will be right.

Nathaniel reached his hands out to her and Elisa fell forward in a dead faint, as was her nature.

Chapter 1

In the moment between light and dark there is a time and that time is forever. At the point where the sky meets the sea there is a place, and that place is Kashani.

Kashani sits in the middle of the Zamatta Sea looking like the back of a huge plump fish. She basks in the light of the two suns that shine on her, the northern sun always so low that it seems to sit upon her golden head like a crown. The mountain ranges that form her back fin are tipped with silver snow and deep dark green forests climb towards their peaks. Below, where there are fewer trees, you can see the verdant green of the grass that forms her scales. But here and there all over her scales are patches of disease. These are the towns where most of her inhabitants can be found. Only the Elven keeps and villages hide beneath the trees, as in harmony with Kashani as the Elven themselves are. But the head of the fish that is Kashani is golden and free of any interference from those who live their lives upon her. This area is the northern desert land and only the most resourceful or desperate of her citizens could hope to make a life here. At this time of the year the wedge of land that forms her tail sparkles with silver snow and all traces of the people who live there hide beneath this silver cloak.

Kashani has been inhabited for as long as people have memories and stories have been told. Even before those who make up most of her population -- the Haethons, the Sleejaxen, the Mordequai and the Assheeba -- arrived on her shores, the Elven lived in her Forests. When they came to her shores no one remembers. Few Elven use the old calendar any more. They have long since given up their exclusive lifestyle and few remain in the Elven keeps and even most of these are open to visitors to come and stay.

It is told that the forefathers arrived in the month of Maiairi when the snows were deep in the South. How long ago that was is blurred by time. Now in the year 553 no one is even sure how long the Elven calendar was followed before it's rules and exceptions drove the forefathers or their ancestors to start using the same calendar they had used in Backbefor. What Backbefor was like for them is lost. The forefathers did not record much of their lives there and any one who asked them was told:

It is best we forget that place and live our lives as Kashani allows.

Most put this down to the weakened memory of age. The mystery of Backbefor captured the minds of many and the young of Kashani lapped up stories written about Backbefor and its imagined inhabitants and their lives.

Chapter 2

The sky was darkening and it was hard to even see a few feet in front of himself. Tenvan Thira knew he had to keep his wits about him. The flash of light almost disoriented him but he managed to stay focused on Jante Calende. He returned fire with a sonic boom that shook the ground. Jante staggered but did not fall.

The air was filled with clouds of sulphur and spices and it was causing an annoying tickle in both the men's throats. It would have been suicide to cough. The spells they were both using were incredibly complicated and a cough could change them into different spells. Sweat was dripping from Tenvan Thira's brow but Jante Calende still looked cool and calm. The final battle between the two Lords had been going on for hours and still neither showed any hint of tiring. These surely were the two greatest magicians in all of Kashani.

Jante raised his arms towards the sky and ice black tendrils shot upwards from the long silver nails on each of his hands. With a single word they fell down towards Tenvan Thira, wrapping around him and imprisoning his arms by his side and covering his mouth in a tight seal.

The crowd let out a gasp, people sat with fritas halfway to their mouths so enthralled were they. It seemed that Jante could not lose - he would be the first Sleejaxen Most High Lord. Everyone knew that they were probably seeing history made. Suddenly the binding ties flew off Tenvan Thira. It was incredible, he had not been able to move a muscle nor utter a word, yet he was free. He really was a powerful Lord.

End. The voice of the supreme judge rang out. The Questa had ended. Now it only remained to see who the victor was. Tenvan Thira knew that it would be him. Not because he was the most powerful magician. Jante was at least his equal. No, he knew he would be the victor because for the first time in the history of the Questa someone had cheated.

Of course it took a lot of power to cheat. Normally if a Lord had that amount of power he would not need to cheat. Certainly Tenvan Thira had never needed to but this time it was different - Jante Calende was really a superior magician. Tenvan Thira had plans for Kashani and he could not afford to lose his position as Most High Lord. He had been forced to cheat and he was sure the inhabitants of Kashani would understand eventually if they knew but they would never find out, not if he could help it.

Most High Lord Thira had formed his plan over the last year. It had been simple enough to slowly mindnumb a dozen lesser Lords. It only needed to be done to the stage that they would follow his will unquestionably but still functioned normally. The process had been so gradual that it was unlikely that their families had even noticed a thing. They had come in handy when he could not release himself from the tendrilitis attack. His masterstroke had been twisting the minds of the panel of judges to such a point that they were only able to recognize half the attacks against him. Jante Calende had launched some stunning attacks but to no avail. Tenvan Thira was already stepping forward to receive his cloak and cap before his name had left the chief judge's lips. The Most High Lord is found to be Tenvan Thira

Out of the corner of his eye the newly crowned Most High Lord could see Calende standing straight as a poker, his large hands clenched in fists so tight that his olive skin was white and his face the color of a storm cloud. Tenvan Thira would have to keep an eye on him. He had the potential to ruin everything.

Four years away from the excitement of the Questa, Elodie Jedda sat at the table in Hawkasplain Allaskul and dreamt of being anywhere but there. The light stones on the walls never seemed to completely brighten the dull Wenta light. The stone above Elodie had worn out and her table was now in a pool of shadow. She angled her text around to try and catch a little more light but her head still cast a shadow over half of it.

Even though the year ten class was made up of children from most of the families in Hawkasplain, Elodie caught the eye of most visitors to the room. Most visitors caught themselves wondering what kind of child she was. Jedda was a Haethon surname so one would expect that she was a Haethon girl. It was true that she had many Haethon traits and certainly spoke Haethon, although her accent and mannerisms were more of the South than those of her classmates. Yet she appeared to be something else. Often what caught the visitor's eye was her hair, it was nearly as white as an Elven girl's although it was grown longer than the traditional Elven spiky hairstyle. Apart from that, she was much taller than the tallest Elven woman, even at fourteen. She stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with her Assheeba friends but her skin was much paler than their burnished chestnut. An Assheeba girl with skin the color of hers would most certainly be very ill. Her body was more muscular than the other Haethon girls with whom she shared a classroom but not as much as the Sleejaxen girl who sat next to her, leafing through her history text. The one thing it was certain she was not was a Mordequai. If she had been a Mordequai she would not be chewing her stylus to bits as she struggled to 'state in your own words the history of the Questa'. A week’s holiday to celebrate Founder's day would begin once the final bell rang for the day but that was hours away. Mada Paodia would expect the essays to be handed in before they were set free.

With a deep sigh, she crossed out what she had written and started once again. Her usually unremarkable green eyes were now as dark and challenging as the ocean in a storm. She forced her brain to concentrate drawing it back from its daydreams of sunshine and fun.

I must concentrate. It's funny how Mada Paodia can cause even something as fascinating as the Questa to appear dry and boring. Still, I'd better try to complete this or I'll have to stay behind. Ma would not be impressed. I'd probably be confined to the house for a week. I wish something would happen to make Mada forget all about this.

Elodie started writing on her sheet.

. . . The Questa is held every ten years. The last one was in 552 and Tenvan Thira was once again found to be fit to carry the mantle of Most High Lord. The Questa . . .

The classroom was silent apart from the scritch scritch sounds of stylus on sheet as everyone tried to complete their task.

Suddenly the door to the class was flung open and Nera Cring came flying in as if blown by some rogue wind. Elodie could not believe her eyes. Nera's normally neatly brushed auburn hair had burst free from its bone pins. The ties of her tutor's apron had come undone and were flying out like streamers behind her. She ran up to Mada Paodia who was sitting at her tutor's desk with a shocked expression on her thin face.

Mada, you'll never in a thousand years guess what is happening!

Nera, calm down! Mada stood up from her desk and glared at the young woman. What do you think you are doing, bursting in like that? It may perfectly acceptable for people to just come rushing through the door of your year one class with no thought for knocking, but people are expected to knock on my door and await my invitation of entry.

Elodie saw Nera roll her eyes and was sure she heard her let out a resigned sigh. It was not that long ago that Nera was in the year ten children's place. She was certain to have been reminded of how Mada Paodia could leech the joy of living out of the most positive child. Elodie caught the eye of her friend Cas sitting next to her and raised her eyebrows.

Turning back to the front, Elodie leant forward on her table; she knew that only the most exciting news would cause Nera to burst in like that. Perhaps her wish for an end to this class was to be granted. Just her luck it never happened in Suntyme when the weather was begging you to escape the classroom.

Nera drew herself up, patted her hair back in place and spoke in her 'tutor' voice, her right arm extended with the hand forming the traditional Western circle gesture of greeting?

Greetings Mada Paodia. H'you year ten. Master Clyta sent me with a message from Master Bogrim. I am to tell you?

Her voice rose an octave and the words tumbled out.

Most High Lord Tenvan is arriving in Hawkasplain today! He has come to have talks with High Lord Calende's family and will stay the night at Master Bogrim's house before returning to Kenttol in the morning. Master Bogrim says all the children must go home now and prepare to greet him outside the Town Centre at 6 o'clock tonight. There will be a lastens feast at Master Bogrim's house in Most High Lord Tenvan's honor. I wonder what they'll serve. I hear that High Lord Tenvan is fond of mulled wain . . . and chocolat. Ceddry is serving tonight so he will tell me all about it when he comes home. Maybe there'll be some chocolat left over that he can bring home for me. I've only had it twice before. It was so sweet and it coated the roof of my mouth so that I carried on tasting it for hours afterwards. Mmmm.

The words spilled out of her mouth and then suddenly she recollected where she was. She patted her hair once more and realizing that her apron ties were undone, tied them firmly.

Oh, I must go back to Earlaskul and tell Harper and her class. C'you

Nera rushed out the door, continuing on her mission, her hair once again working its way free of its bone pins and her beefa skin sandals clattering along the mudbrick hallway. As the door closed the air filled with a cacophony of voices as all the children began talking at once.

Children, your attention please!

Mada Paodia's voice cut through the chatter and the room slowly became quieter. She stepped in front of her desk and clasped her hands in front of her.

As you have heard, we are to expect a visit to our town by Most High Lord Tenvan Thira. You are to now go home and prepare to greet him. You will all attend. There will be no excuses. However, there is sufficient time before then for you to finish your essays.

The class groaned, their hopes of a free afternoon dashed.

Now go. C'you and may your way be clear.

C'you Mada Paodia and may your way also be clear. The children reeled off their usual farewell, their minds already on what they would wear or, in the case of many, whether the Most High Lord's visit would mean a special meal in their homes.

The room filled with noise as the children rose, scraping their chairs on the mudbrick floor as they got up from their desks. Everyone was discussing the news with their neighbors as they removed their texts from their tables and put them in their bags. The sounds of a hundred beefa skin boots and sandals clattering along the hallway outside could already be heard as other classes left the building. Elodie's class was keen to join them.

Elodie, however, was slow to join them. Her mind was on something else. She leant back in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair. A look of concentration rarely seen in this classroom crossed her face.

Why exactly is the Most High Lord coming to Hawkasplain? What exactly has Jante Calende done to bring Tenvan Thira here at a time when the Lords are supposed to be sitting in Kenttol? Not my problem I suppose, but still . ..

Elodie rose from her table. She gathered her texts together and shoved them any which way into her beefa skin satchel. Then she noticed that the Sleejaxen girl next to her was still in her seat, chewing her lower lip and wringing her long broad hands.

Cas, did you not hear Nera? Most High Lord Tenvan is coming. We must get ready.

Cas looked up at Elodie, her wide brow wrinkled with worry. Worry was a common expression on Cas' face. Elodie didn't know of anyone who worried as much as Cas Dara. You would think that she was in charge of the running of Hawkasplain and organizing the lives of all of its inhabitants, the amount of time she spent worrying.

My family is not home, Elodie. They have gone to Port Lan to collect some texts my father ordered and won't be back until late. I was going to study at the Arts Centre and then go and eat lastens with the others in my compound. Our house is locked and I can't get in to get my best clothes. I can't dishonor the Most High Lord by wearing my school clothes.

Elodie looked down at Cas' blouse and skirt. They were dotted with inks from the Art class earlier that morning and the hem of her skirt was coming undone at the front. Elodie agreed that it was not an appropriate outfit for greeting the Most High Lord.

Mada Paodia said no excuses, but what in Kashani can I do?

That's easy. Come home with me, Cas. You can have middease at our house and I'm sure we can find something for you to wear. Miry should be at home helping my mother catalogue the herbs. You're only a little smaller than her. She just got a new best outfit so she is sure to have something you can borrow. Come on, let's go.

Thanks, Elly. I really didn't know what to do.

Chapter 3

Mada Paodia was still at her desk and the girls farewelled her once again as they left the classroom. The hallway outside the classroom was now deserted. It was amazing how fast the skul could empty when there was the opportunity to go home early.

They walked along in companionable silence until they were outside the building. Then Elodie turned to Cas.

Cas, I'm curious about Tenvan Thira's visit. Why do you think the Most High Lord is really coming to Hawkasplain?

To give his commiserations to High Lord Calende's family, of course. I hear the High Lord was so badly injured in the rebound of magic that he is not expected to live. Of course no one has been allowed to visit him since he came home so no one really knows. Still he hasn't been out of the house since he arrived and it's been weeks so he must be seriously ill.

But why would the Most High Lord come now? Jante Calende has been home for a while and the High Lords have just started in council. Surely if the visit was just to express his sympathies he would have come sooner?

Elodie brushed her hair out of her eyes and turned to Cas again.

I wonder exactly what Jante Calende was doing to cause such a rebound of magic. Someone said that three other Lords were found dead at the centre of the magic but I don't know if that's true.

Hmm, I heard that too. Still Tenvan Thira has good reason to visit. Jante is the first Sleejaxen High Lord for nearly a hundred years and the Deputy to the Most High Lord. Maybe Tenvan Thira felt that he should make a special effort. After all the next High Lord from Hawkasplain is unlikely to be a Sleejaxen so my people are heartfully disappointed. My father said that it had looked like we might have got some of our concerns addressed and now . . . Still, Tenvan Thira is fair and he says he will consider the submission from Jante Calende before the year is out.

They lapsed into silence again and carried on down the main street. The Allaskul was close to the town centre in the Mordequai section of town. The Mordequai houses that rose three or four stories above the single level school unnerved Elodie. She always felt they should tumble to the ground under the weight of so many floors. Each house was home to three or four families as well as having a skul room on the lower floor. Entering the finalskul rooms made her nervous. She was sure that at any moment the ceiling would collapse under the weight of the people and furniture above. The Mordequai houses formed a circle around the gathering place at the very centre of Hawkasplain. They seemed to be hiding it from the outside world with only the Arts Centre, Town Centre and Judiciary on one edge looking down on anyone who gathered there.

Elodie and Cas took a shortcut through the Arts Centre, passing the entrances to the museum and the art gallery. Elodie noticed that a poster advertising a play