Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
She felt her father’s gaze on her, and she sent him a small smile, which she hoped was reassuring. When Safia’s mother was alive, Gwafa Meziane had laugh lines around his startling blue eyes and a ready smile for his six children. He teased his wife continually, and she was his constant companion and adviser. He worked harder than any other on the farm. He was loving toward his children, but when it came to teaching them to wield weapons and defend themselves, he was every bit as fierce and demanding as Amastan, her grandmother and mother, and even her friend Aura.
Since the death of Safia’s mother, Gwafa’s laugh lines and smile had faded. Several of the “accidents” on the farm seemed to have been directed at him and Amastan, but the majority were definitely aimed at Safia. He’d grown even quieter, and he and Amastan had taken to staying up and talking for long hours into the night. She lay in her bed and stared up at the ceiling or paced back and forth in her room, wondering if she should reach out to her closest friend, Aura, while her father and grandfather were whispering in the other room.
She couldn’t talk about her fears to her family, not when they would have to depend on and look to her for guidance. It didn’t matter that she was the youngest of the six siblings. She had been born with the gift. Amastan had decreed it was so. Her grandmother and parents concurred. That meant she carried the burden whether she thought she could or not.
“We have many things to talk about before night falls,” Amastan announced once the dishes were cleared. “Everyone needs to gather close.”
Dread filled Safia as they adjourned to the wide-open room they preferred, where they could sit in front of the open fire on the carpets woven by their ancestors. There was a connection always felt from past to present. Safia found it comforting to be in the room with her family, sitting on the carpets surrounded by other keepsakes from those who had gone before her. She felt their presence stronger than ever, as if they were there to give her courage.
Amastan waited until everyone had settled comfortably and looked up at him expectantly. So many nights, this had been storytelling time. This had been a favorite time for everyone as they gathered together to hear stories that had been handed down for generations. Children sat on laps and listened with wide eyes. Safia remembered sitting on her mother’s lap and snuggling close to her father’s side when Amastan regaled them with tales of brave men and women defending their lands from invaders.
They were Imazighen, free people and very peaceful, but they would defend themselves fiercely when needed. They were proud of who they were and, with their last breath, would always declare to the world they were Imazighen.
“All of you studied the history of our country and are aware that many wars have taken place here. One of the most significant for our family started with the continual political wars as one faction after another invaded Algeria. In AD 17 to 24, the Romans invaded. They cut a road right across the migration route. Where there was once wild grass to feed livestock, there were fences to keep out the nomads’ flocks from wheat the Romans needed for their supplies.”
Safia knew a little of the history of that war, but there had been so many invaders.
“An entire way of life was disrupted. The Romans sought to take the tribal lands and divide them up for settlers,” Amastan continued. “The free people rebelled. The fighting became quite fierce, and those living here refused to bow down to outsiders. As Imazighen, we do not accept the dictates of any other.”
Amastan paused for a moment and looked around the room at his family. “Had the tribes been fighting only humans, the battle would have been won very quickly, but that was not the case. It was not mere mortals our ancestors fought. The underworld chose that time to enter our world and turned neighbor against neighbor, sending an army of vampires and demons mixing with the invaders from Rome.”
An icy shiver crept down Safia’s spine. She glanced out the window. The sun was beginning to sink, and small fingers of fog began to drift in from the sea. The gray fingers looked like bones long dead and pointed straight at their farm.
“Our male ancestors have gifted us with their presence and wisdom. They share, through the elders, advice and knowledge. Through the female side, handed down for centuries, we have been given the wisdom and direction of the cards. The gift of reading is given to only one female in the family. She not only holds the power and responsibility of the cards, but should the demons rise to attack again, she must lead us to slay them. Without her, this will be impossible.”