Excerpt
The blood-soaked earth groans for peace, and the ground shakes from warriors immersed in battle. The land, usually painted with the smell of coastal air and lavender fields, is covered with the haze of smoke as fire elementals set fields ablaze, burning the opposing side. To the sky are two suns. One that rises and falls signaling day, another that burns red like the blood of the fields. It is the Crimson Sun that signals an epic battle more fierce than this will soon begin.
Beating war drums and battle cries remind warriors and villagers of failed peace talks between the Elders of Zodia and the Ox Nation. After months of keeping Ox Nation to the fields, the front lines are now visible from the Elders' perch. Their villa, a sanctuary built inside a towering oak tree, cast their gaze far and wide. Their dwelling place holds the four who make up the council of Elders and their ruling sage, Onmai.
Protected from the front lines, the Elders debate strategy and safety as Onmai's wise eyes assess the casualties lost and projected lives yet to lose.
An Elder, tall and weary, conceals the shadows under his eyes with his darkened veil, speaks. "Debating is futile. We hear the war drums. Leaving is our utmost priority."
"We have more warriors to send. We will not abandon our home," cries a frail Elder hunched on his cane.
"If we are to move those in the village safely, we will need those warriors," speaks a woman no older than the veil-wearing Elder.
"Where would we go, Navi? Ox Nation seeks to take control of all our lands. Do you think they will not hunt us?" Snips a pixie-looking woman edging closer to Navi.
"If you are so ready to defend our land, Aster, run down to the front lines. Our warriors' lives are blown away as easily as a flame in a windstorm. Our options are few." Navi shoots back.
The two women are upon each other enough to feel the heat leave their bodies.
"Enough, Navi is right. Our warriors are dying, which means we are losing. Ox Nation is far more ruthless and boarish. Slipping away now will save our people. We can repopulate and rebuild from the youth and childbearing that remain."
"Do you hear yourself, Gaia," sneers the frail Elder hobbling closer. "We will not repopulate our people like they are cattle."
"What is the matter, Fin? Afraid you won't be used for that task?" Gaia sneers.
The four Elders' voices raise, their noise, like the war drums, clouds Onmai's thoughts. Shifting her focus from the maps and reports to that of the feuding counsel, she speaks in a tone that silences the room.
"Quiet. I will not have war within my counsel and on the fields."
Murmured apologies leave the Elders' lips as they turn their attention to the maps and strategies. They discuss reports presented by the generals on the field, searching for paths and finding no answers.
Sage Onmai runs her hands over her skin, a shade of brown reminiscent of the afterglow of a dawn sky. Her fingers press down on her cheekbones, smoothening her deepening wrinkles and throbbing bones.
"Elder Onmai!" Roars a scout, seeking her attention.
"Here, child. Speak. What is the condition on the battlefield?"
