Shira: The Name History Forgot

By Shona Jayne Barnard

In a time when supernatural beings used humans as playthings, Shira fights to survive. Guardian warriors can only take the promised bride of a patriarch’s son so far, until she must struggle on alone. But is she alone?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483544311

Book preview

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Chapter 1

The rock pool shimmered with a strange vibration. Puzzled, I straightened, searching Mamma’s face for instructions. She had felt it too. Her hand quivered in midair, pausing as she listened. The second tremor confirmed our predicament and sounded an unspoken alarm. The shellfish I had collected slipped from the crease in my garment and skittered over the pebbles. Mamma’s eyes searched the shoreline.

Run, Shira. Run! she ordered.

There was no time to discuss options; her eyes spoke with undeniable terror. Pointing to the cliffs beyond my shoulder, she lunged forward and grabbed my hand.

Run, cherub, and don’t look back!

We scrambled for our lives. Our feet slipped on the sea pebbles as we splashed through the rock pools. Mamma pulled me on. The earth again vibrated, but this time forcefully just as we reached the sandy part of the beach. It was at that moment Mamma stopped running.

We can’t both make it, she said, her chest swelling with the effort to breathe. Shira, keep going.

No, Mamma, not without you! I cried.

She shook her head. It’s too late. Go, Shira, run! Her eyes pleaded with me to obey. Then, she turned and headed back to the water’s edge to face the bulging surface.

The shadowed ocean trembled, complaining, as the monster beneath bore down. Gushing torrents hit the surface and the beast unfolded. Neither a scream nor breath escaped me. The thing rose directly behind my beloved mother. Mamma lifted her arms valiantly defying the leviathan, inviting it to kill and giving me a chance, a slim chance, to live. My feet felt like logs, refusing to budge.

Move, I said. I stood, toes sinking into the soggy sand, still only a stone’s throw away. Move!

My head willed my feet to drag me backward away from the monster, but at the same time my heart battled urging me to run toward her: my mother, the one who had singlehandedly kept me from the crouching dangers and who had loved me with her very life. My feet finally responded to her last command, retreating further up the beach pace by pace. With each step I ached to run back to her.

You, beast of all things evil, hear this! Mamma’s voice was strident above the roar of the ocean. You may take me here today, but you will never triumph! I didn’t look back.

My weighted legs forced a distance from her. I was terrified—confused. Why did she not run too? She could have made it. She was a fast runner. I turned to see her arms outstretched to the heavens beseeching a miracle in the face of the dragon. The enraged creature flung its head into the air and with a heart-stopping roar bared its massive fangs and snorted flashes of red-hot fire.

No. No. No! I muttered, horrified at what was about to happen. The noonday sunlight gleamed from the beast’s shielded back as it pounded its advance and towered over my mother.

Once a leviathan holds you in its sight with those blood-hungry eyes, there is no hope of escape. I knew this fact well from many of the town’s folk stories of generations of fishermen who had fallen prey to the dreaded leviathan, but this knowledge was of no help now.

I was barely more than two stones´ throw away when it happened. With one swift lunge, the leviathan pinned Mamma to the rocks with its massive claws. She cried out one final time.

Run, Shira! Hide!

A flash of firebrands streamed from the beast’s mouth and engulfed my mother’s body. I choked on my breath as it snapped her up in its mighty jaw. It shook its head wildly flailing the limp remains of everything I held dear on this earth. I had to run. Find somewhere to hide. Mamma had deliberately given her life to save mine. I had to do as she had said.

Run. Hide.

Turning on my heels, my entire body surged with a blazing source of energy impelling me forward. Surprised and deadly afraid to look behind, I ran.

For as long as I could remember, I had been rigorously trained to run from danger. It was one of the very first lessons of wisdom Mamma had drilled into me. Enemies lurked behind every corner seeking to harm or kill, and our best defence was always to run and hide. I forced my body to flee, hands pointing unclenched so as to force even more strength into my legs. My lungs burned, and I could hear my feet pounding the wet sand. I had already run a fair distance, but I did not, could not, slow my pace. At any moment that beast would be leering behind me ready to make me its post meal snack.

Forcing myself to look sideways for just a moment, I spied a small cave, or was it a hole? The sea had created small inlets from many seasons of rising and falling. If I could make it to the cover of that cave, the leviathan might eventually decide I wasn’t worth the effort. The cave was small but thankfully deep. Without the slightest thought of what dangers might be lurking in the dark depths I slid feet first down the tiny hole. All was silent.

My world was spinning. I couldn’t think.

Breathe, I whispered, ordering my paralysed lungs to work.

The sound of my rasps for air echoed off the cave walls. Too loud! Surely the leviathan would find me now even if it hadn’t pursued me from the shore. Pursing my lips I forced my breathing to slow down. I should open my eyes, I reasoned, but that would not be easy. I did not want to see any more. The image of Mamma becoming that beast’s noonday meal left me unwilling to witness anything for many winters to come. I buried my head with my arms and waited for the burning in my heart and throat to fade. It didn’t.

Everyone knew that leviathans only came ashore to hunt in the cool of the evening. Why had this one decided to venture inland with the sun at full height? Why today? Hunger? Could even the most fearsome beast on earth be hungry? I was not unfamiliar to hunger pangs, although I always tried my best not to admit that to my mother. She tried so hard and even invented games to make the hunt for food more interesting. How often had she gone without to make sure I was satisfied? Today was not so different. We had been pretending to be giant birds fishing from the rock pools at the mouth of the mighty river. We needed something to trade that afternoon in the village market. Shellfish was a good trade for wheat and oil to make warm bread, our contribution for the impending visitors. I had hoped to sneak a piece for myself, but now none of that would happen!

The visitors! All this is their fault. If only the townsfolk hadn’t come to our home insisting Mamma contribute to the feast, Mamma and I would be at home right now, and I wouldn’t be here, alone in this stinking hole. The visitors came through town every summer. I pulled my arms in closer. Mamma had once said that these Heroes of Old were sent to Earth many, many winters past, back when the Earth was still young, to protect and help us feeble mortals. According to the stories they did just that—for a time, but these days the townsfolk feared their visits.

Every effort was made to make sure there was enough food and wine to keep the Ancient Ones satisfied. They would sweep into town at sundown and take over any home they chose where they would be waited on throughout the night. The younger girls and women were never allowed in the small village during such visits. Some were taken to the caves in the hills or others hidden in distant homes. I had never asked why. I had no reason to not trust Mamma. Immediate obedience to the sound of her voice had kept me alive, even today.

I was alive, but today everything about my life had changed. My mother was now reduced to a haunting memory, a deep and burning pain. I forced myself to picture her before the encounter, desperate to imprint a permanent picture into the back of my eyelids. There was no way on this earth I was going to let the image of her smile fade. I would remember her every expression. I forced myself to remember her face when I had finally mastered the art of weaving linen cloth, and when I fell face-first and open-mouthed into the muddy puddle. Despite these memories, darkness closed in around me and despair flooded my gaping soul. Would I ever crawl out of this hole?

A dark shadow fell across the small opening. I could feel the heat from the creature’s breath. It must be close. I held my breath again and lay still. A loud snort sent sparks showering over my head. It knew I was there. I could sense it thinking, calculating. Would it try to dig me out? I wriggled further back, sending a shower of damp sand and pebbles into the darkness beneath me. Too much noise! I had to stay quiet. Another snort and then suddenly it was gone. The beast was not hungry enough to bother. Too frightened and too empty to even cry, I stayed unmoving in that hole.

The sun was beginning to grow dim, but I still dared not move. The empty growls from the pit of my stomach would have to be ignored for now. It was too dangerous to walk around on the beach at night. There were many evils out at night and not just the leviathan. No, I would wait until dawn before I would drag myself from my hiding place. There was just enough room in my hole to stretch my legs and roll over onto my back. The morning would come eventually.

I lay waiting through the length of the night trying not to notice the crawling of insects. When sleep did find me, it was filled with dreams of fire breathing monsters, the screams of my mother and blood, so much blood. The blackness overwhelmed me. The only comfort was in knowing I was out of leviathan reach in this tiny cave. I tried to imagine the warmth of our little home by the bend in the Great River and Mamma picking berries in the late afternoon, but the images faded and vanished into the dark reality along with any remaining strength or will to live.

The sudden screech of gulls fighting over a small fish brought me from my restless slumber. It took a few rising and falling of waves on the rocks below before the horrors of yesterday came washing over me. With a start I scrambled out of the hole. The unusual strength I had experienced in my legs had now left them feeling heavy and sore. A grey bird dropped a slippery catch and the silver glint plopped back into the sea. I squinted after the bird. There was no sign of the beast, and all evidence of its feast was now washed out into the deep. The sun was low enough in the sky to tell me that the day was still new. Still, it had been two full days since I last ate and my belly ached. I could feel the warnings of fatigue and weakness. In this state I would not be able to outrun a fat seal. I had to find food and get away from the beach.

I clambered my way up the trodden path that ran alongside the Great River. Why did my feet drag so? At this pace it would take me half a day to reach home. Our small earthen cabin lay in a small clearing where the Great River turned almost a complete bend. It had been my home for as long as I could remember. Now, it was the only place I knew to go. I told myself that if I could just get home, everything would be as it was. The pebbles and sand softly crunched beneath my bare feet. The sodden dirt I had been lying in began to dry on my skin. I dug my toes deeper into the warm sand. Anything that made my cold damp body feel even slightly alive was a good thing. This was one path I didn’t dislike. The way was fringed with beach grasses, their fluffy white seeds bending with the breeze. I willed my heavy legs onward. The sun inched higher.

Eventually the flaxes and grasses turned into the deeper green underbrush of the woods that surrounded the Great River. Knowing that now I was safe from the leviathan, I lunged for the side of the river. The water was cool and fresh. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was. I sucked and slurped at the Great River quenching at least a small part of my insatiable ache. I rubbed at my dirt caked face, arms and legs as I stood knee deep in the water. If only I could wash away the madness with the dirt. I was clean, but Mamma was still gone. I stumbled out of the river and pushed on towards my home. Would it feel like home? Could I survive without Mamma? Had I learned enough? There was too much to think about. It was all just too much.

Just get home, Shira, I told myself.

The thatched roof stood alone in the small clearing that was covered in blooming wildflowers. I was home. Mamma had once explained that my father had chosen the site so that we would not have to carry water over long distances as other women were cursed to do. She said we had suffered enough of our share of the Eden curse. The memory held the sound of her voice but it echoed distantly. I tried to cling to the sound as it floated further and further from me. All mankind is now doomed to toil day in and day out simply to survive because they refused to heed the warnings of the Great Creator. We mustn’t blame him, Shira.

He had not intended for us to suffer like this. I sighed. Did he know how I was suffering now? Did he care? Although I had only lived on this earth for thirteen winters, I knew enough of the ancient stories to respect the Great Creator and his Sent Ones. Our tiny house stood proudly as proof of the Creator’s care. This small world that was my home should have been overtaken with evil many winters ago, yet somehow my mother and I had survived. She always said that the Great Creator himself had taken care of us since the day I was born. So what happened yesterday? Why had he not sent one of his warrior creatures to save my mother? The question demanded to be asked. Perhaps next time he walked among mankind, I would be brave enough to approach him and ask it. For now, I had to find food.

The small mud clad cabin embraced me with its earthy warmth as I burst through the door. Everything was in its place as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Each earthen pot and dish was stacked on the wooden shelf against the far wall. Everything was in its place. I stepped carefully over the woven flax floor coverings so as to not disturb the scent of my mother that lingered. It was a faint scent, but I would not disturb it all the same. I saw Mamma’s things, the woven and beaded garments she had made with such care neatly folded in the basket. She would never wear them again. I grabbed her bed covering and held it close. I drew in a deep breath, and with it the perfume left by her hair.

Mamma, Mamma.

Grief washed over me, and I could no longer fight it. Spent with exhaustion and hunger, I curled up on my mother’s sleeping mat and sobbed.

Chapter 2

"My Shira, do not fear the Sent Ones."

The sound of Mamma’s voice echoed through the fog that swarmed my head. I tried to reach out for her but she kept moving away from me.

Mamma, where are you? I cried. "I can’t see you. Don’t leave me alone. Please, Mamma."

My outstretched fingers became engulfed in the twisting fog as Mamma slipped further and further away. I shuddered with the strange confusion of cool mists and the warmth of the afternoon. Had I slept?

A vague awareness of light from behind my tightly shut lids probed me. Unwilling for the dream to slip away along with the sound of my mother’s voice, I resisted the inevitable. With a sigh my eyes gave way to the knowledge that I was awake. I didn’t want to be awake. I didn’t want to face another day. Alone.

The light was too bright, splitting into brilliant colours from every crook and cranny of the cabin. It danced on my cheeks, bouncing reflections from the streaks of salty tears. Still confused and unwilling to respond, I stayed curled up tight on my mother’s sleeping pallet and ignored the vague awareness that an indescribable warmth was creeping over me until it was suddenly but gently touching my shoulder.

Shira.

I shut my eyes, squeezing them tightly.

Shira, please, child, let me help you. The voice was smooth and inviting.

Was I dreaming again? I was too empty to be afraid. Instead, compelled to see who it was that spoke, I uncurled my lanky legs, sat up and stared at the brilliant creature that knelt beside me. I blinked in disbelief. Obviously I was still dreaming, but this dream was nice. His face glowed, bronzed but pale at the same time and so perfectly framed by partial curls. Was the colour a deep blonde or a pale brown? His peaceful expression created a deep curiosity, not fear. It was his eyes that held me, captive like a small animal about to become a meagre meal. They were a piercing green like that of a jewel I had once seen in the hand of a trader, only much clearer.

Do not fear, little one.

His eyes fixed on mine. Like the sun pierces the dusk, so his gaze my emptiness. I could feel my pulse race within my throat.

He was obviously one of the Sent Ones. But hadn’t Mamma told me not to fear them? His gaze was strange and yet quietly calming. I fought the urge to flee. There was no reason not to trust him, I told myself. The Great Creator and his Sent Ones were incapable of harming a human. I knew that much for sure, and besides, I was most likely dreaming.

You are one of those… I couldn’t finish my words, for as much as I tried they seemed to get lost.

Yes. He smiled. "I have been sent from the Great Creator to help you.

My mother… I began, but again the words stuck in my throat.

His eyes grew dim as if he could feel my pain. I know, child. We saw the leviathan strike, but it was over too quickly. We were too far away. I’m sorry, Shira.

He knew; he had seen, but he had not been able to stop it. I always imagined heavenly warriors being able to do anything, anytime. I suppose I was wrong. Just a moment, did he say—?

We? I rubbed my cheeks trying to focus.

Yes, the Great Creator sent two of us; I am Raphael, and my friend Gurion is outside keeping watch. We were sent to help you, child. He smiled again. We are to take you to the house of a man that once knew your father. You will be safe there.

The cabin walls began to spin. I was having trouble focusing on the words. His voice was so musical and dreamlike. I blinked, shaking my head to try to clear the haze. He saw that I was not following.

Child, it is not safe here. There are many who would seek to take your life—or worse.

What could be worse? I must leave my home. Yes, that sounded worse. But the Sent One’s strange warmth calmed the unspoken protests. I tried to stand but my legs crumpled under me. Raphael’s thick arm was quick to hold me steady.

There is no hurry, child. You need to eat and regain some strength.

And, as if it were a well-rehearsed act, the other Sent One walked through the doorway stooping low so as to not bring down the doorframe with his bulking figure. I decided that this one was definitely blonde. His skin had the same pale bronze glow as Raphael’s but was breathtakingly handsome. There was something about his face that made me believe we were instantly best of friends. My eyes fell to his hands that cupped a bowl of fruit and nuts I had only ever heard of in stories or in my own imagination. He smiled a perfect smile, handed me the bowl and simply said,

Eat, child.

I obeyed. If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake again. The sweet juices ran down my forearms and dripped off the ends of my elbows. The nuts were sweet like the fruit, but each had its own distinct taste and each bite filled the void in my aching belly. I began to notice the birdsongs outside the cabin. Strength tingled through my body with every mouthful. What was in this food? Perhaps it was the food of the Sent Ones direct from heaven itself. I closed my eyes so as to concentrate on tasting the fruit. My two celestial visitors stood watching, arms folded as contented grins spread across their faces. It was over only too soon and Gurion took the empty bowl from my hands.

Shira, are you able to focus now? Raphael’s deep green eyes were penetrating straight through me again. I nodded. We have been sent to take you to the house of a man your father knew. You will be safe there. He explained for a second time.

What choice did I have? Who else would help me? I could probably survive alone. I knew how to collect food, catch fish and make my own garments, but what would I do if dangerous men came for me? Run? But then where would I live? No, I would not be safe, but could this man they speak of keep me safe? Safe. I mused. I barely knew the meaning of that word. All my life Mamma and I had been running and hiding from dangers.

Is it far? I managed to ask, not willing to admit I could barely stand let alone walk a long way.

Yes, child, it is quite some distance from here. That is why we are here to help you. Raphael’s lips carved a large smile. Gurion joined him.

I guessed he was probably glad to see I was finally alive enough to understand their mission. Gurion handed me a cup of tea. Its warmth calmed my shaking hands.

What makes me so special? I managed to mutter between gulps.

The tea was sweet. The two Sent Ones exchanged looks as though they were discussing my question or sharing a secret, but they made no sound. Of course they were more than capable of communicating without using their voices. They were Sent Ones. I had always been scolded for being too curious for my own good, and I was not about to change now.

So? I asked, drawing out the question and raising an impatient eyebrow.

All of those that the Great Creator made in his own likeness are special, offered Gurion.

It didn’t make sense. I might be young, but I knew that not everyone was sent a couple of personalised heavenly guardians. Seeing my dubious look, Raphael attempted to explain.

Your mother, he hesitated, requested that the Great Creator take special care of you.

He stood glowing so majestically it almost distracted me. There had to be more to the story than they were telling me, but I could keep a lid on my questions for now.

As if he could read my mind, which I presumed he probably could, Raphael said,

There will be plenty of time for questions on our journey, little one.

The divine delicacies had brought almost instant relief to my exhausted bones.

Where did you find such amazing…food? I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Gurion raised a golden eyebrow, and I realized I had been told to hold my questions.

Oh, forgive me. I will ask that one later. My brain was still sluggish.

Raphael had said there was no hurry. Before I could voice a complaint, Gurion had scooped me up and laid me gently on Mamma’s bedding. Her scent brought back the ache, and I pulled the coverings to my chin attempting to bury the pain. The warmth of a hand touched the back of my head.

Rest, Shira, he whispered.

Deep dreamless sleep folded over me.

The sun was already well up by the time I emerged the following day. I found warm bread and milk waiting for me on the table but no sign of the Sent Ones. Perhaps I had dreamed it, but that would not explain the bread. It had been quite some time since I had last bathed with soap. I grabbed the large clump that Mamma had made only days ago and a linen cloth and headed for the Great River. The water was cool enough to clear my groggy head but not so cool as to make me shiver. I liked this time, the warmest of the seasons. I lingered in the water letting the sun warm my face.

Grief strangely slows everything even the movement of the sun through the sky. The ache in my chest was still there causing my hands and feet to move slowly too. Mamma had always washed my hair. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it myself; she simply had always done it. Now, my fingers tugged clumsily through the dirty tangles. Why did Mamma have to die? Why couldn’t she have run too? Hot tears stung at my eyes as I tore at my head.

Stupid hair! Stupid, stupid hair!

Handfuls of wet tangles fell into the water. I didn’t care if it hurt. I didn’t care if I