Dawn of Sorrows: The Lands of TaReese, #1

By Amanda Phoenix

The Land of TaReese is the perfect utopia. Their providences have lived in peace since the end of the Hundred- Year's War.But not all is as it seems. Villagers must cling together during the dangerous seasons of Monsoon and Drought just to survive. And when villages begin to see unusually severe attacks from raiding outlaws, they start to believe the old evil practice of pagan sacrifices have returned,sending tension and accusations flying. Amidst the fight for survival, in a harsh and primitive world, can Alleyanna a priestess and Jaenon, a theif, end the plague of social injustice that threatens their lands and stop the utter desturction of a world set on ripping itself appart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda Phoenix
• Release date: Apr 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223242079

Book preview

This book is dedicated to my family. Without their love and support, it would not exist.

To err is human to forgive is divine—

Alexander Pope

Chapter 1

The Festival Part 1: Urhattee

Subchapter 1

Light cracked over the shadowed peaks of GuatoMone in the east, letting out a faint glimmer of warm visibility onto the sparse valley below. Jaenon surveyed his bleak surroundings, finding little to distract him from his weakening condition or the arduous journey ahead. The towering pillars of ragged rock scattered around him would give little shelter from the heat of noonday, and only a few stunted brambles clawed their way into the hard surface of the peaks in front of him.

‘Not big enough for shelter," Jaenon thought. He soldiered on, trying to cover as much distance as possible while the air was still cool.

Soon, reptiles and desert rodents would dig underneath the rock or squeeze into the crevices to hide from the sweltering heat, but not Jaenon. All that he could do was pray for rain.

There’s no god in this place, he said aloud. His heart was still weighted with the pain of his punishment. He looked up at the tall peaks, their condescending glare making him feel so small and inessential. Eroding arms reached out from the solid body of rock that made up its mass, piercing deep into the sandy soil. They seem eager to devour his rotting corpse once the birds of prey and the scavengers have had their fill.

...

The words of the Priest’s Council kept echoing in the core of his thoughts. Soon, your life will be over, and our land will heal from the pain of your existence.

...

He noticed a few barely visible mosses among the jagged peaks in dulled hues of green, dark red, and soft gold. These will vibrantly showcase their rich color during the monsoon season and then fade to dark browns and dull grays once the drought season begins. No wonder they called these lands Maenon, the land of darkness. Nothing dares live long. It’s a place of torment where one is banished to receive God’s judgment for his crimes. And beyond the minimal protection of the small mountain basin lie more barren wasteland with only a few dusty brambles and sparse brush. At least it was spring, giving some hope of relief from the heat with moderate rains and the slim chance of survival by catching rainwater.

But what about food? He questioned. He vaguely remembers someone telling him some mosses were edible, but which ones? And how will he manage to climb the steep slopes without risking a broken limb? Let the predators pick me off? No! I’ll just wait until dusk and catch some creature from underneath the rocks. If I have any chance of living through this, I’ve got to be smart. Jaenon reasoned.

As the hot white orb rises higher in the sky, Jaenon moves closer to the base of the peaks to gain the advantage of what little shade it can afford. He will not cross over until the high peaks become less steep and closer to the ground. If he’s lucky, he will reach the EenAnnoi mountains after he crosses over, a much more extensive mountain range that runs parallel to the peaks of GuatoMone. The EenAnnoi mountains contain forests and springs, which could ensure his survival. If only he can make good time, he can cross as the bright orb moves west, allotting him a little shade in the evening and thus providing a little extra travel time before dark. If only.

He keeps walking, limbs aching while hot air burns inside his chest, and his weakening body begs for rest with each strained movement. His head swims with exhaustion and heat as his thoughts drift into dream-like manifestations. He sees in the distance what he believes to be waving grasses, the shuffle of long limbs and slender figures rippling in the distance. He kept trudging onward while the bright orb sank lower in the sky. As his vision shifts, he sees the events from ten days ago replay vividly before him. He sees the faces of his accusers contorted into growl-like frowns of anger as they scream his repeated crimes.

All Priests’ Council members are tasked with handing down punishment by Tareesian law. Jaenon is a repeat offender; under God’s law, he deserves punishment. It’s also considered a sacred duty, but it seemed to Jaenon they were ruthless in their decision and unforgiving in its execution.

With the village looking on, they stand circling him and shouting in chant-like rhythms as they verbalize his sentence. Their sharp words and jeers pierce like daggers through the heart. He remembers each face. He knows them well, and many of these elders he called grandfather, working at his side every harvest season and sharing laughter and tears as one of his family clan.

The memory of their words pierces fresh wounds into his soul. He begins to feel the guilt and shame of his crimes for the first time. He kneels in the sandy soil grasping at invisible robes. I’m sorry! I want to take it all back. Forgive me, please! Take it back.  Tears flow in heavy streams as he sobs his pleas with each ghostly-robed figure in his hallucination. All at once, his strength fails him, and he collapses hard. Straining upward, he sees blurred bits of sky, then indistinct figures above him speak in muffled whispers. At that moment, time loses all meaning, and all goes black.

Subchapter 2

Alleyanna settles herself into a chair along the far wall in her father’s study and lifts a leather-bound book from the side table nearby. She stares thoughtfully at the cover, sweeping free a thin layer of dust with her long graceful digits. It’s a simple book, free of visual distraction and marred with years of heavy abuse. The leather, by close inspection, is worn to a dark waxen finish, with varied minor cuts and scratches along the bound edge. One word, History, is engraved on the front cover in the pictographic text. She begins to trace the inscription with her forefinger as she did many times as a young female. The room contains countless memories from her youth. Each piece of furniture and each trinket holds its’ own colorful tale, woven from the many misadventures of her youth. A smile begins to curl from the corners of her lips as she notices the primitive script carved into a section of chiseled stone wall beneath the window base. Seeing the names Raheese and Alleyanna sparked a memory hidden deep inside a pocket her mind had long forgotten.

‘We started school that very year,’ she remembers. It was a time when the worries of life had not weighed heavily on her mind, a time when friendship grew from play, not an obligation or need. 

Alleyanna’s smile fades. ‘How often as an adult do we leave behind those things that are so important to us when we are young,’ she thought.

Being an adult does not altogether agree with Alleyanna. At times she finds the responsibilities and the many expectations of others overwhelming. Some days all she can think about is escape. 

Alleyanna glanced out the window to behold the beginning of daybreak. She sees slender figures scatter wildly in preparation for the Spring Harvest feast and festivities from her perch near the window's ledge. The warm ambient light of the sun’s rays casts flickering shadows amid the dome-shaped dwellings. Raised tents and hand-crafted decorations soon begin to speckle the landscape with random splashes of color. One can see a similar spectacular display on a warm spring afternoon on the plains. From a distance, the scene is reminiscent of a field of wild plains flowers. To Alleyanna, the slender forms look much like the long gracious stalks of Dandrill plants, their blossoms bowing and swaying in the wind. She is entranced by the rhythmic dance of color, warm light, and soft shadow. As her daydream becomes lucid, she awakens to a rattling commotion from the adjoining kitchen. This shifts her attention to the book. She peels back the cover, thumbing through the preface languishingly. As the pages lag to a halt, her eyes halt on a bold heading that reads TaReese Providence History: the beginning.

Her gaze pivots upward as the door creaks open to reveal a small face, followed by the short spindling figure of a young one slipping timidly from behind the door into plain view. Aunt Reanuu nudges in softly after him with an angelic expression lighting up her pleasant face. Avianne’s parents are artisans and help with the costumes for the festival each year. Without help from the other villagers, they would not have the time to prepare, and the worship portion of the festival would be incomplete. Alleyanna let out a shallow breath. Her posture dropped; she knew there was no way to refuse without receiving ridicule from everyone in the village. Alleyanna sucked in a deep breath, drawing in as much enthusiasm as possible for the difficult task. Cooperation meant survival in Urhatte. Alleyanna acquiesced to the chore with a forced, happy smile.

I want to help too. I help Ma bake. the young one protests, his face wrinkling into an ugly scowl of disapproval and folding his limbs in defiance.

I know you do, reassures Alleyanna. But you can’t work all day and win the big race for me tonight. You’ll get tired. You need rest if you expect to win.

That’s right. I’m the best. The young one puffs out his chest and flexes his muscles; the scowl is replaced by a cheerful grin.

Reanuu gives Alleyanna a nod of approval as she slips out silently, a silent thank you.

And who shall I tell the elders, is the name of my champion? Alleyanna teases.

My name is Avianne, the swift and strong. He says, swinging his limbs in quick jerks to imitate a runner. His movements reminded Alleyanna of a field rodent. He kept demonstrating various exercises, though his point had been made, and ultimately pretending to run through the victor's banner.

No doubt. Alleyanna covered a snicker with her palm just in time to hold back a guffaw that nearly spilled into uncontrollable laughter. Avianne glowed at the thought of winning the race for Alleyanna. He stretched upward, showing his full height and feeling fully grown. His proud grin spreads wide across his face but disappears quickly when he notices Reanuu is gone.

Alleyanna sees his expression turn sour, knowing his disappointment will soon bring tears.

She had to work, Alleyanna cooed. But you and I can play. How about hide and seek?

No good. I will find you, Avianne exclaims in an obstinate tone.

We shall see. You may be Avianne the swift and strong, but I am invisible when I need to be. Alleyanna’s rouse had worked; Avianne began to swing his body from side to side and made a funny face. Alleyanna’s laughter now burst forth with complete abandon, despite her heart’s guarded objections. She reached out to tickle his ribs, but he wriggled free. Avianne’s grin returns, and a squeal of laughter accompanies it.

I will hide first, Avianne declares. He darts out the door as quick as lightning. Alleyanna tried to stop him, but he was gone before the words could escape her lips.

I need to keep my eye on this one, she thinks.

Alleyanna wedges the door open and peeks around the corner. In the next room, Reanuu is turned, humming softly to herself and working quickly, kneading bread for the festival. Several fires are lit at once in the center of the large room on the oversized, two-sided hearth. Each side is utilized for the festival, and both bread ovens are lit. A potpourri of smells fills the kitchen, but Alleyanna doesn’t have time to reminisce. She slips through the kitchen unnoticed to the door of the adjoining main room and then quickly out the front door.

"I need to find him, but where? Maybe someone has seen him. He is bound to get into a lot of trouble or get me in trouble if I don’t find him." Anxiety hung in her throat, hot and tight. She feels a panic flow over her whole being and thinks of Raheese. She stumbles directionless through the thicket of beings, tables, and carts until she glimpses what looks like Avianne far into the distance. The white orb is peeking over the horizon, and the villagers are starting to congregate in small groups.

"If only Raheese were here. He has a gift for working with young ones. He would have made a better historian than a warrior. She imagines him with his quiet nature, researching historical texts and teaching children. Quite suitable, If only those choices existed for the warrior class," She thought. He will be at the festival, she said aloud. This was not the first time her thoughts had spilled out unintentionally. Realizing what she had done, she finished her sentence in her head.

For now, I must keep my mind on finding Avianne, she says.

Subchapter 3

The air was filled with sounds of mock battle. Chants and shouts mingled with the clang of swords and the shuffle of armored bodies. In the northeasterly corner, clusters of Warriors were gathered atop a sizable plateau for training and daily maneuvers. From the rise of land, all of Urhatte was visible. The arena stood to the north, its’ large walls showcasing a grandeur of monumental scale.

Further north, the structure was crowned by a ringlet of trees with gnarled arms bent upward in worshipful supplication toward an ocean of blue sky. The southern region was sparsely populated with diverse dwellings. From the plateau, their rounded domes looked like boulders scattered on a grassy plain. In the eastern corner, a valley lay cradled among two bordering hills and held the Warrior dwellings. Atop those hills stood two twin watchtowers, where Warriors carefully watched the village below. Amidst the clamor of shields and swords near the eastern corner of the plateau, Raheese stood leaning against the bent trunk of a Jado tree, his head nearly touching the entanglement of twisted branches above him. He seemed, at first glance, a keen observer, carefully studying the movement on the proving grounds of the plateau. His gaze, however, was transfixed on the ringlet of trees in the distance. Their waving green leaves and blue blossoms faded in his daydream into a