Hassa and the Lion

By Alisa Fomenko

Hassa is a healer, a priestess, and a sorceress. She is also irrevocably happy where she is, in the highlands of Iris Sanctuary. But when wars outside the sanctuary's safe walls threaten her people, she's sent on a quest to ask for aid. Soon everything she knows and believes will be tested. Can all conflicts really be solved peacefully, or are her teachers wrong?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alisa Fomenko
• Release date: Oct 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393508168

Book preview

Chapter 1

Somewhere between work , daily life, and the simple moments, there often exist snakes. Snakes...we don’t think about them so much, but when they are there, they tend to occupy our minds to no end. They represent everything we cannot be. They represent the Gods.

Snakes carry our souls from the void to our newly formed bodies. They carry our souls down to the underworld when our time is up. They connect the elements and hide what is sacred and unknown from human eyes.

It was a tangle of snakes that Hassa discovered when she found the cave.

Their presence, and the darkness of the cavern, told her that she shouldn’t be here. The darkness was the home of demons. Snakes belonged to the Gods. The underground belonged to souls long dead.

But the presence of the plaque told her she did belong. That someone had been here before. The plaque had Mother Fenne’s distinctive linework. Fast and messy carved stones. All it said was, Do not be Naive. What did Mother Fenne know of the Old Gods? What did the Old Gods have to do with being naive?

It was like something called her from within.

She heard a voice, like her mother, calling her from behind...

Her mother? She didn’t have a mother, only the high priestesses.

The door behind her closed, sealed shut like the top of a sarcophagus. She was entirely alone and in the dark, but she wasn’t afraid.

Hassa didn’t know that this place would define her for seasons to come. As water trickled down her black hair and ran down her skin, the snakes parted ways, like water receding during the dry season.

I was meant to find this place, Hassa thought. The snakes wouldn’t harm her, but why? Why would she possibly be allowed to be here?

Neat, colored stones lined the walls, enlivened by moss and running water. Great stairs, perhaps once belonging to a pyramid, lay hidden between darkness and cavern walls. Clouds and steam floated from between them.

The jungle behind her was only a memory. 

She walked forward, despite everything she knew. It was like being in a dream, knowing where you were meant to be but not knowing why.

A library stood here, stone tablets stacked from the floor, and forbidden words etched into the walls. Ancient columns that still held blue and red paint.

Another plaque stood above the ancient shrine, this one with much different linework. Someone other than Mother Fenne wrote this.

No knowledge is evil. Action can be evil. Temptation can be evil. All things belong in the world.

Hassa tilted her head and ran her fingers over the words.

This was a place for the Mothers, the high priestesses, not her, but she knew that she couldn’t stay away. She would never be able to. The shrine thrummed with the heartbeat of the world, with magic, with life.

It beat in the same rhythm as her own.

She reached forward, wanted the knowledge, but found the words slipping from her. Instead, there were snakes covering the words on the wall. A single snake jumped atop her, and she screamed.

The snake was iridescent and blue. It coiled around her arm, its teeth bared. Hassa gasped. If she wasn’t careful, it would bite her and—

It was too late.

The snake pierced her with its fangs, and a searing pain scorched down her arm. It twisted side to side, as if to give her more pain.

She grabbed at it and pulled. The snake kept coming. Hassa screamed out.

She didn’t want to die here.

Then kill it, a voice rang out in her head. Take the snake’s head. Smash it against the wall. Find what everyone in this temple is looking for.

No. She couldn’t.

You can, the voice said.

No!

And just like that, the voice, the snake were gone. She was alone in the dark. Why had she come here? Why had she felt such a call? It felt foolish now.

Her arm stung, like a snake tightening across her skin, but when she felt down, there was nothing. She looked up at a small ray of light as her eyes adjusted.

A mark. The Goddess had tested her, and now marked her—a snake drawing around her arm that would not go away. A tattoo, perhaps one would call it?

But how could she ever show her arm to her friends? To the other Hallar? It would show that she had been here, and would they understand? Perhaps not.

That, she decided, was something that the Goddess would tell her about later. Just like she would be back here. She had to be back here, she had to understand this place, this labyrinth of clay tablets and old spiderwebs.

And she was. She was back every week for eight eclipses, until dry season became wet season, and there were still chambers to explore.

But there would be consequences for her actions. Not necessarily bad, but once you take knowledge from the Gods, they will take the time to give you something to use it on.

She just didn’t know when.

THAT TIME CAME TWO eclipses later. She had almost forgotten it. The sound of love and ambition has a shrill voice, screaming in the dark, but the sound of reality lives and breathes, demanding your attention, pushing you down to earth.

Most days, Hassa was more than happy for the work she did. There was lots of it to be done. Maize had to be worn down, goats had to be milked, pacos and vicuñas had to be herded, fleece had to be spun, dirt had to be swept from the homes.

Occasionally, the donkeys were loaded for one of the Mothers to go to the market.

The rest of them remained, and Hassa was the only one not to complain.

Flowers had to be trimmed. The sanctuary’s beauty had to be upheld.

This place was beautiful, and it was her home.

When you’re done with that, will you go fry up some eggs—

And set the table? Of course, Hassa said.

You’re a good daughter. Mother Fenne smiled and wiped her brow. Kast looks down upon you with her blessings. You know that, don’t you?

I try.

And the Goddess remembers, Mother Fenne said.

For a second, Hassa thought about the cave, but it was fleeting.

If the Goddess wanted to strike her down for her trespassing, she would have done it already. She was a true daughter of Kast. She did everything for the sanctuary.

The snake tattoo itched.

Then Mother Fenne left, humming off pitch again. Hassa was sad to see her go.

But there was work to do.

The eggs had to be fried with ground peppers. Pomegranate yoghurt had to be fried, and flower petals would be used to sweeten it. The dumplings, lovingly folded just a little bit ago, would be fried and glazed with honey.

Medicinal herbs, prepared for each person, sat within the dumplings, riddled with spice to block out the taste.

Hassa smiled as she carried it all out on a tray, taking measured steps down the cobblestones. Their homes were carved out of stone, and even when there was no rain, it was slippery.

Look who’s here! Elder Mara called out as Hassa approached them.

Did you catch a husband yet? With all that fishing? asked Elder Leeda. They were having a jolly time, laughing beneath their trees. Their white hair had been lovingly braided by the other daughters.

Of course not! Hassa blushed. A husband is found by the others, not in the river!

You never know! Mara said, and the other women giggled. They devoured the eggs and dumplings. The yoghurt was saved for dessert, and Hassa waited patiently for them to be finished before cleaning up.

The day was busy. It always was. The elders had to be helped to the bathroom, then the daughters helped them wash up. Then the garden had to be tended, the gates had to be prepared to be locked up.

To their east lay the farms, but even they were dangerous at night.

On their west lay the Cloud Jungles. It was safer than living at the bottom of the mountains, the Mothers explained, but it would have been better if the jungle was a little further.

But their wood and stone walls were covered in wards. It had to be maintained often, but it did a good job.

In the evening, the goats had to be milked again. The other daughters, the ones who wandered the mountain today, returned home with the pacos and donkeys, loaded with herbs and berries. There was only one missing.

Get your butt moving! one of the other sisters shouted. I’m closing the gates!

There she was. Ainni was running as fast as she could without one shoe. She carried a pack of herbs and mushrooms, but her frock was dirty and disheveled. One side of her veil was off. She bolted inside the gates, flanked by two lazy pacos with no desire to keep up. Hassa smiled as Ainni was yelled at by Mother Kaha.

Things were as they always were.

When the work was done, Hassa removed her plain red dress and apron. She washed under candlelight, waiting for Ainni to come back to their shared room. She washed quickly; there was no enjoyment in it when she had to hide the snake. But what would really happen if Ainni saw it?

Never mind, Hassa thought. Ainni may have been her best friend, but she also had no idea how to keep her mouth shut. Hassa had no idea how she had hidden the mark for the past ten eclipses, but she hoped she could keep it secret for a bit longer.

The Mother coughed between words as she yelled. There was always lots to say to Ainni, from her frayed skirt to her tardiness, the frazzled hair and torn veil, not to forget her small bounty of herbs, but in the end, Ainni made a joke, and it was all better.

Mother Kaha then stopped to take her tonic, and Ainni said something. The coughing stopped. Another trick up her sleeve—no doubt Ainni had secretly gone into the village and brought her more O’rr weed for the cough.

Hassa was almost done lathering her hard, calloused feet by the time her friend joined her, hiding a mass of ropes in her dress pocket.

What did you get into this time? Hassa asked, hurriedly turning and throwing on her pink nightgown. You know you’re not supposed to—

Oh, come on, it’s the news, her friend said, thrusting the ropes toward her. To Hassa’s relief, she didn’t even look at her arms, and only worried about her own problems. I got a transcription from the cute shepherd boy.

You’re not supposed to—

Oh, come on, you obedient vegetable! Ainni said. He’s cute, leave me alone!

Bells tolled, reminding anyone still outside the sanctuary that the doors were closing. Demons were already starting to stir from between the rocks. Inside the sanctuary, they would be safe.

Hassa sighed. Ainni was so irresponsible! She had already nearly been exiled once, and now she—

Come on, I can’t read Quipu! Ainni urged. I know, I know. I should have paid attention when they were teaching us, I was just—

Ainni couldn’t think of how to complete that sentence.

Hassa shook her head. After everything, all she could do was smile. Her friend was unfailingly herself. Besides, how could she judge? Once again, she thought of the cave.

It was the same. Wasn’t it?

Fine, give that to me, she said, taking the long rope strands from Ainni’s hands. She drew her long fingers over them, fingering the knots.

They say King Hositar requests aid for the raids again, Hassa read. They request a thousand soldiers for another war against him.

She drew her fingertips over the frayed ends.

This news is old, she said. It came about two eclipses ago.

We’re living in the middle of nowhere, what can you expect? Ainni grinned. I doubt they’ll come all the way out here, anyway. Who comes to this side of the mountains?

Nobody, Hassa said, almost to herself.

She wondered the same thing. Why did nobody come? The Mothers said that not everyone liked the Hallar, but why wouldn’t they like healers?

Girls! shouted Mother Kaha. It’s almost the crack of night! Get to bed!

When they were in their beds, they read the rest of the news under candlelight until they were fast asleep. Life in paradise was just a hard day's work, so Mother Fenne said, and after a hard day's work, there was restful sleep.

In the middle of the night, when the two moons shone purple in the sky, Hassa got up to relieve herself. She didn’t light a candle, so not to wake her sisters, and crept through the cold rooms, heading outside.

Her feet tapped against cold stone and clay. Her hands drew against carved walls and over tapestries. She walked outside into the courtyard, where the carrots were planted.

There was the soft sound of crickets chirping, and the wind blowing through their garden. Bell charms at the gates and walls clinked softly, repelling demons.

And there was the soft sound of conversation.

Conversation? Who was speaking this late at night? Curious, she tiptoed around the corner, finding not only voices but a light. The hearth in the Mothers’ quarters was lit, and was faint; the coals were the only things that remained.

The normally white, plain walls were lit red and orange.

The soldiers getting closer and closer—

—reinforce the walls, but would we have the time?

No need, they would not come here to conquer. What do we have? Some elderly women and a farm.

Don’t be so naive, said one of the Mothers. Hassa could recognize the voice now, it was Mother Fenne. We have women and food, what else do a bunch of soldiers want? We should ask for help, reaffirm our loyalty.

Loyalty? What do they care that we’ve always stood by the king? You know how it is.

Men are men, and kings are kings, Mother Kaha said, and coughed like she always did. There’s a difference.

Mother Fenne laughed. Is there really?

They say King Hositar’s line is filled with honor, because of their lion heritage. If they can shift to the most noble of creatures, then surely, they will listen to our pleas.

Mother Fenne let out a long, mocking laugh.

We can always retreat to the jungle. The old sanctuary—

Is entirely unusable, interrupted the third Mother. Hassa knew it was Mother Zola, who spoke little. We would die to hunger and demons first. We’re already spread thin; the daughters pick up much of our work. If we lose any of us, we risk losing everything, and the girls will lose what we can teach them. Yet it’s too much of a risk to simply ignore. I return our thoughts again to showing the kings that we have—

Out of the question, Mother Fenne said. If we are to expand ourselves here, we must do it through support. Revealing all our cards at once is the same as showing a thief our shiniest ring. 

So rude, with your history, Mother Zola grumbled. If I were in your place, I would still be groveling for forgiveness.

Your desires are not my problem, Mother Fenne said and turned up her nose.

Then what are we supposed to do? Mother Kaha spat. I’m sure we’ll be fine but—

The Town of Ayzan is only two days from here and they’re burning. We can’t be sitting pacos. We’ll send one of the daughters, Mother Fenne said.

The other Mothers laughed, but Mother Fenne didn’t.

You laugh at me for ‘outlandish ideas’ but yours are not that much better, Zola said. Sending one of the girls?

They’ll trip over their own feet, Mother Kaha said. "They’re too curious, not to mention some of their origins. Some man will fall in their lap and they’ll forget the whole