Druan Episode 4: Fissure

By Mark Robson

Darkness consumed the world for centuries, under thick black clouds that blocked the sun. Without light, the plants withered and died, and the animals starved. Few survived in this wasteland of night. With a final, desperate effort, the shamans gathered together to form a great chant. They gave their lives to open the clouds and let sunlight shine back on the world.

When the scattered remnants of humanity step from the dark, with nothing but their wits and the waning power of an old shaman to protect them, they are faced with a cracked, lifeless desert. Led by a child, guided by the spirits, their deeds will become myth.

To survive, they must train a new generation of shamans to face the coming dangers. Thirteen students to guide the people into a new age. And, of those students, two young sisters will grow to stand at the heart of a legend.

Each episode is written as a short story, to be read in a few hours, but together they tell the story of two sisters growing up in a new world and facing responsibilities and dangers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Robson
• Release date: Nov 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370094332

Book preview

Druan Episode 4: Fissure

By Mark Robson

Copyright 2016 Mark Robson

Smashwords Edition

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Cover Art by Alan Mence

Cover Text by James Eden

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Winter

The Age of the Sun, Year Three.

The pre-dawn darkness carried a biting chill. Jayenne wrapped her arms around herself and hurried through the village towards the glow of the temple flame. People stepped from their huts, breath misting, linen blankets tight around their frames. Winter had stayed late this year, and the cold permeated everything.

A low wall surrounded the prayer field, built on Morvadannon’s orders to protect the open space from encroaching buildings. Breaks in the wall on three sides allowed access to the field, and Jayenne filed in behind a huddled family to join the other villagers.

She found a space on the hard ground and stood, trembling. Her sandalled feet were wrapped in layers of linen, her three dresses thick and bulky, yet still the cold found its way through.

A low platform stood at the southern end of the field. Not quite a temple, not yet, but it was taking shape. A wide shadow of clay and stone overlooked the field and shivering crowd, topped with a flat clay bowl. Flames danced over the bowl, just enough to remind the villagers of spring, of the coming warmth if they could just bear the cold a little longer.

Three figures stepped up onto the dais, dark shapes lit from behind by the flickering temple flame. Though she could not see their faces, Jayenne knew Morvadannon would be at the centre, flanked by Garen and Savat. It was their turn to aid the shaman in the rituals today, both morning and evening. Tomorrow, Andar and Vari had duty, and the day after it was Jayenne’s turn with Zaara. Tending the temple was the newest task the shaman had found for his pupils.

Morvadannon raised his arms and turned to his right, to the flat lands to the east. Cold and shivering, the villagers turned with him. The mass of huts blocked the view of the horizon and the sun god’s arrival. Jayenne pictured the land in her mind. Low hills rolled away and smoothed out in the far distance, flanking the river as it ran – so the shaman said – all the way to the ocean.

Rooftops began to brighten, and Morvadannon called out the morning prayer. As one, the villagers sank to their knees. Jayenne pressed her head to the frost-covered soil, eyes down so as not to draw the wrath of Amuranaten. Around her, she sensed the villagers doing likewise, kneeling motionless while the young shaman completed the prayer. The warmth of the Sun God washed over her back as the ground around her brightened and the day began.

Once finished, Morvadannon bade them all rise. They turned to face him as they shuffled to their feet. Breath misted the air. Feet stamped. He called out again, granting Amuranaten’s blessing on them all. With those final words, the crowd was dismissed.

Immediately the mass broke up. People streamed towards the breaks in the low wall, heading to their tasks. Jayenne stood for a moment, letting the field clear. Morvadannon and his assistants had stepped down from the platform and were out of sight, so Jayenne watched the crowd.

Most did not look happy, though she recognised their determined expressions. They would endure this winter, their faces said, and survive the cold to plant again.

A few of the other students saw her as they passed. Morvadannon allowed them an hour or so to themselves after the ritual before they were expected to meet at the cave to begin their studies. Andar marched off towards the fields, Sali a step behind. The blonde girl waved at Jayenne, who smiled in return. Taya dodged through the crowd, running straight past her sister to disappear into the mass.

Jayenne blinked. Taya definitely saw her, but she ran past without a word. Jayenne found she spent less time with Taya