by David A. Willson
Publication date: March 23rd, 2018
Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult
Fifteen-year-old Nara Dall has never liked secrets. Yet it seems that her life has been filled with them, from the ugly scar on her back to the strange powers she possesses. Her mysterious father refuses to say anything about her origins, and soon, she and her best friend must attend the announcement ceremony, in which youths are tested for a magical gift.
A gifted youth has not been announced in the poor village of Dimmitt for decades. When Nara uncovers the reason, she uses her own powers to make things right. The decision sets her on a path of danger, discovery, and a search for the divine. In the process, she learns the truth about herself and uncovers the biggest secret of all: the power of broken people.
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Excerpt:
"Slow down," Mykel
said, clearly winded. "I can barely keep up!"
Mykel's plea made Nara
realize how fast she had been running, but she didn't want to stop. Perhaps she
was propelled by the antici- pation of tomorrow's ceremony, but although the
climb often exhausted her, it was no challenge today. She wasn't even breathing
hard.
Upon reaching the top,
they turned to look down upon the village. They stood far above Dimmitt, past
the altitude where trees gave way to bushes and grasses. It had been months
since they last ascended the mountain, but they had never run so fast. The
fervor of the exertion served as a welcome break from the preparations for
tomorrow's big event.
Mykel came up beside
her, out of breath, and together they looked out over their village. She dared
a glance at him, not wanting him to know her thoughts. He was dark-skinned, and
she was pale. They shared so much in common: their love of the wild, of
animals, and of the sea. Over the years, after completing their school, church,
or family duties, they would race across the island—up the hills or the
mountain, picking berries or fishing. Sometimes they would spy on other
villagers or build a raft and paddle around a cove. They had become
inseparable.
"What's the smile
for?" Mykel asked.
"I've never seen
the village so busy," she answered. “It seems so alive. Has it really been
that long since the last ceremony?"
"Three
years," he said.
The residents of
Dimmitt appeared as tiny ants, and just as busy. They were setting up tables in
the field outside the church and Nara worried that her absence might soon be
noticed. She had been assigned cooking and cleaning duties today, but Mykel's
challenge to race up the mountain just couldn't be passed up.
"Bitty, are you
worried?" Mykel asked. "About the ceremony, I mean."
She smiled. It was an
apt nickname; she was indeed small. He only used it in private, though, and
never meant it to be an insult.
"Not really."
Every few years the
announcement ceremony was supposed to bring great hope to the community—for
magic and for wealth. Sadly, Dimmitt had not announced a gifted youth in many
years. Yet, villagers held out hope that one would come soon. She had heard
many folks speaking this way in recent weeks, about how it had been so long
since a gifted had been announced that it must happen this time, right? Perhaps
their optimism was a blessing, hardy hearts that dwelled on the positive
despite all evidence to the contrary. Or perhaps their hope was a survival
strategy produced by spirits that couldn't bear to consider another three years
of hunger. Another three years of abandonment by their god.
Children who recently
entered adolescence would submit to the ceremony, and if gifted children were
identified, it could be transformative for the village. Not only would they
earn money in royal service or private employment, but the magic was a gift
from Dei. A divine blessing. A reminder that they were loved.
A child announced as a
flamer could produce magical fire. A cutter could cleave flesh or even armor. A
bear had magical strength. Announced as a knitter, a child would attend the
Royal Academy of Medicine, where she would develop and refine her healing
skills. A watcher might become a great hunter, with vision that would detect
animals from far away and could help feed others in the village. If announced
as a harvester, she would collect magic for others to use. That magic would
come from living things such as plants or, sadly, from sacrificed animals. Each
of these gifted youths would earn his or her fortune in the military or serving
the crown, sending earnings home to battle the poverty that threatened to
overwhelm them all.
Nara thought of the
children of her village. It amazed her how resilient the little ones were, and
she longed to bring good things to them. She had heard stories of the rich
folks in big cities who ate every day and whose children always had shoes. If
they could see the children in Dimmitt, if they could know how precious they
were, they would help, wouldn't they? Maybe they just didn't know what it was
like to be hungry and cold.
The thoughts fed a
guilt within her that had been growing for years. Tomorrow's announcement might
be very different for her. Although she had never endured an announcement
ceremony, she had manifested gifts long ago, and not just one talent. She had
several. Would the ceremony reveal her magic to all? Reveal that she had been
hoarding it rather than using it to help feed her neighbors? Would they
understand that it wasn't her fault, that she had been forced to keep it secret
from them? Would they care? Would Mykel care? Would he judge her for her sins
and abandon their friendship because of it?
She wondered how it
would feel to have the sharp blade pierce her skin. "I've heard it doesn't
hurt much," she lied, rubbing her right palm.
"I've heard that
too."
A thin-bladed dagger
called a ceppit was the instrument used by the priest to reveal a youth's magic
potential. The priest would intone a prayer and use the ceppit to impale each
child's palm. The ceppit acted as a catalyst to awaken dormant talent in the
child.
With a non-gifted child
there would be pain, no power would manifest, and they would be bandaged and
forgotten. Poverty would pave their future as they assumed a mundane role among
the villagers, a lifestyle of subsistence and struggle, as their parents had
done.
Some children had a
different destiny entirely. Eons had passed since the last cursed child was
identified in Dimmitt, but several years ago one had been announced in the
village of Fulsk. A prosperous town, Fulsk sat on an island to the south.
Fillion was a tall, affable boy, so they said. Nara knew someone who used to go
fishing with him. But Fillion was dead.
Nara hadn't been
present, but she had heard about it from others. The ceremony started as they
all did, with screaming, crying, and the blood of children dripping onto the
stage. Then it was Fillion's turn.
As the story went, when
the dagger pierced the boy's palm, everything changed. Fillion fell to his
knees, his face went white, mouth open in horror, and a stifled squeal left his
throat. Blood oozed from multiple fissures on his head, neck, and arms. By the
time the priest pulled the dagger from his palm, it was over.
The boy's death reminded
folks of the gamble all children took when they participated in the
announcement ceremony. Not that they had a choice; participation was compulsory
and must be completed between the ages of fifteen and eighteen. It was an act
of service mandated by the crown, and according to the church, by Dei.
"If you are
announced with a gift, what will you do?" Nara asked. "I don't know,
but I won't stay here."
"I would miss
you."
"No you wouldn't,
because you'd come with me!"
Nara smiled at him.
"Of course I would." But she wasn't so sure. Bylo was here, the only
family she had ever known. She would also miss the mountain and the lagoon, the
dogs that played in the streets and the smell of fish on the docks. As poor and
simple as it was, Dimmitt was her home.
"We should head
back," Nara said. Dimmitt's priest would return late tonight, and little
time remained to finish preparations before tomorrow's feast.
"I'll race you
again!" challenged Mykel.
It took far less time
to get to the bottom of the mountain than it had to climb up, but it was not
without difficulty. Sweat dotted Nara's brow, and her hair became even messier
than it had been atop the windy peak.
As they entered the
periphery of the village, Mykel waved goodbye and headed home. Nara waved back,
glancing over her shoulder to watch as her friend disappeared over a hill. She
walked slowly, not because of her fatigue but rather to calm her anxious heart.
For tomorrow may reveal
the secret she had been keeping for years.
David A. Willson has worked as a restauranteur, peace officer, and now, author. Taught by his mother to read at a young age, he spent his childhood exploring magic, spaceships, and other dimensions. In his writing, he strives to bring those worlds to his readers.
Much of his material is inspired by the “Great Land” of Alaska, which he has called home for over 30 years. He lives there with his wife, five children, and 2 dogs. He is passionate about technology, faith, and fiction—not necessarily in that order.
Looking for Dei is Willson’s debut novel, set in a land where many more adventures will take place. Stay up to date with his ongoing efforts through the Looking for Dei Facebook page or visiting the website at davidawillson.com.
Beautiful cover, thanks for sharing :)
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