Excerpt from Cursed in Love, Chapter 1 — Unlocking Secrets
In the gathering twilight, Silveron Oktalonli stood upon the Tonnach Shelf and gazed out to sea, a silhouetted figure facing the wind, the South Wind — Akawi. The wind’s damp chill pushed into the thick blue wool of his cloak. He tugged the hood down to cover his head from the penetrating sea wind howling across the edge of the world upon a tang of salt.
As he stood watch, the sun sank into liquid fire, a quick extinction drowned in the molten sea. On the swath of beach below, a small village hugged the gray sea cliffs. Among the shelter of jutting black rocks, an octagonal tent woven from felted mats of goat hair stood pitched against the night. The tent’s black shape offered a stark contrast against the white sand.
Up and down the beach, Silveron counted the evening campfires where the women cooked, the flicker of their lanterns and the flare of their campfires a warm invitation. He listened to their voices buffeted, disjointed by the overwhelming skirl of Akawi and the pounding heartbeat of white surf bashing against the sea wall.
Here, among the deep cracks and crevices of the sea cliffs the Onega tribe of the Objishanda dwelled in hollowed out caverns, each home marked by the twinkling lights of their evening lanterns. Here, the River Sky poured into the vastness of the Forsaken Sea after twisting through desolate, empty lands from its headwaters high in the Mountains of the Sky.
Over his left shoulder, the thin crescent of a new moon slit the sky. Off shore, white surf foamed in the trailing wake of feeding dolphins. A mile further from shore, Silveron’s gaze swept the darker shapes of tree-clad islands that formed a barrier reef stretching for miles along the rugged coastline.
A shadowy movement on the path climbing toward him caught the swift flight of his keen gaze — Minaku, the Berry Woman. Toothless and wrinkled, her nut-brown face bore the lines of many seasons and the pocks of countless years Minaku had lived, the oldest of the Onega’s folk.
Long ago, she lost count of the number of summers and winters she had walked upon the shores of the Forsaken Sea. She no longer remembered. Despite her forgotten age, she climbed the steep grassy path, exhibiting a spry agility, and stood beside him upon the Tonnach Shelf.
Swaying in the wind, Minaku clutched the coarsely woven shawl that draped her white head beneath the knot of her chin. His gaze skimmed the wrinkled skin puffed around fading gray eyes and sagging in deep creases about her mouth.
Lowly, she began crooning a prayer chant to Akawi. Silveron listened to her ancient song as his gaze shifted from Minaku to study the island reef across the undulating waves. Through his thoughts, the Onega’s sea song wove strands of flowing spindrift.
Copyright 2013 © by Elizabeth A. Monroe
