Devil’s Mate
CHAPTER 1:
“Mo dir Devel si kushko, t'a nai o Beng basavo kek odolen kai kamela.”
Translation:"God is good, and the Devil is not so bad to those whom he likes.”
The music was loud and intoxicating. It swirled up high into the clear night air. Colorful silk scarves spun around the women’s bodies as they danced before the flames. The orange, red and blue of the fire added even more color to their dance. Their bare feet stomped and their hair whirled around their sweating faces. The click and clatter of the bells around their ankles created a counterpoint to the violins and drums the men around them played wildly.
The Elders sat watching. They had seen this dance many times before, and would see it again, but it was sacred, a part of their blood rights, and rites. This dance would determine which of the women in their midst would take the place of the dying Queen of the Tribe.
The women knew what they were dancing for. The caravan had stopped just for this occasion. The Queen had fallen ill, and she would not live past the night. Before dawn, there must be a new one, or the old spells would not hold. They all knew the price of that. Without a Queen, the spells that held them safely would falter and they would scatter like so much dust in the wind. The Tribe would fall; it would die out and be no more.
Each of the Elders was from a family, but all the families put together were Tribe. They had gathered here tonight: Kris, Manoli, Boia, and more — all the families of the far-flung Tribe. Each family had brought one woman to the dance, one who had magic stronger than any other women in her family.
This dance was a serious one. The strongest woman here would become Queen, and that woman would have a heavy load on her shoulders, because the Fallen were already approaching. They sensed the Tribe’s weakening spells and the imminent death of the Queen. The creatures who were Fallen from the grace of God, and outside of nature, knew that this might be their only chance to shatter the Tribe. Even now howls rose against the night sky and there was an occasional cry from a rogue wolf that had stalked to close to the wards around the Tribe’s camp.
And it was not just the Tribe at stake — it was the entire world. If the Fallen were allowed to have free rein, no human would or could survive. There was not a man, woman or child in the Tribe who did not understand these things.
The music came to a rapid crescendo. Now was the time. The women had been dancing in a circle, their bodies moving around and around the fire as they gathered every ounce of energy they could summon from the night, Nature and themselves.
Each family leaned forward eagerly. Which woman would prove that their family still had the bloodlines, the ability to create a woman powerful enough to hold sway over Nature and the Fallen?
The women began to space out, one by one coming forward to stand in front of the Elders.
The first woman stopped and stood. Fire danced from her palms, ran across the ground and touched the lips of the oldest of the Tribe’s Elders. It did not burn him; he smiled and inclined his head in respect for her gifts.
The woman behind her was barely twenty two. Her black hair hung like a veil to her waist and her eyes flashed as she stomped one foot on the ground, causing her body to sway even more seductively. She began to speak, her voice strong and clear and the spell she cast held them all captive, literally. She had the power to make people be still. Nobody could move. When she finally broke the spell there were cheers and uneasy laughter as well.
One of the Elders leaned forward and whispered quietly to the others, „She has a strong power, a power that could be a weapon against the rogues.“
The next woman came forward. She said,“I carry the gift of the sight.“ Then she went to one of the Elders, pressed her hand to his forehead and whispered words that made the old woman smile but tremble. The woman stepped back and bowed then returned to the dancing.
Others came forward. Many cast spells and others created wind, or fire.
There was one woman, however, older but with a face as lovely as any ever seen by the Tribe. She reached her hands high into the air and when she pulled them down again she held what looked like moonlight gripped within her palms. The bolts of energy flew out of her hands, striking the ground causing it to shudder before it cracked open.
Small children actually screamed as the miniature earthquake the woman had caused rippled through the circles, both inner and outer.
There were at least two now that were so strong that the Tribe felt hope rising up again. There would be a new Queen and she would be able to keep them safe.
The last woman stepped into the firelight and a gasp went up.
One of the Elders asked, „What is tis madness? She’s but a child, barely eighteen!“
“Mo dir Devel si kushko, t'a nai o Beng basavo kek odolen kai kamela.”
Translation:"God is good, and the Devil is not so bad to those whom he likes.”
The music was loud and intoxicating. It swirled up high into the clear night air. Colorful silk scarves spun around the women’s bodies as they danced before the flames. The orange, red and blue of the fire added even more color to their dance. Their bare feet stomped and their hair whirled around their sweating faces. The click and clatter of the bells around their ankles created a counterpoint to the violins and drums the men around them played wildly.
The Elders sat watching. They had seen this dance many times before, and would see it again, but it was sacred, a part of their blood rights, and rites. This dance would determine which of the women in their midst would take the place of the dying Queen of the Tribe.
The women knew what they were dancing for. The caravan had stopped just for this occasion. The Queen had fallen ill, and she would not live past the night. Before dawn, there must be a new one, or the old spells would not hold. They all knew the price of that. Without a Queen, the spells that held them safely would falter and they would scatter like so much dust in the wind. The Tribe would fall; it would die out and be no more.
Each of the Elders was from a family, but all the families put together were Tribe. They had gathered here tonight: Kris, Manoli, Boia, and more — all the families of the far-flung Tribe. Each family had brought one woman to the dance, one who had magic stronger than any other women in her family.
This dance was a serious one. The strongest woman here would become Queen, and that woman would have a heavy load on her shoulders, because the Fallen were already approaching. They sensed the Tribe’s weakening spells and the imminent death of the Queen. The creatures who were Fallen from the grace of God, and outside of nature, knew that this might be their only chance to shatter the Tribe. Even now howls rose against the night sky and there was an occasional cry from a rogue wolf that had stalked to close to the wards around the Tribe’s camp.
And it was not just the Tribe at stake — it was the entire world. If the Fallen were allowed to have free rein, no human would or could survive. There was not a man, woman or child in the Tribe who did not understand these things.
The music came to a rapid crescendo. Now was the time. The women had been dancing in a circle, their bodies moving around and around the fire as they gathered every ounce of energy they could summon from the night, Nature and themselves.
Each family leaned forward eagerly. Which woman would prove that their family still had the bloodlines, the ability to create a woman powerful enough to hold sway over Nature and the Fallen?
The women began to space out, one by one coming forward to stand in front of the Elders.
The first woman stopped and stood. Fire danced from her palms, ran across the ground and touched the lips of the oldest of the Tribe’s Elders. It did not burn him; he smiled and inclined his head in respect for her gifts.
The woman behind her was barely twenty two. Her black hair hung like a veil to her waist and her eyes flashed as she stomped one foot on the ground, causing her body to sway even more seductively. She began to speak, her voice strong and clear and the spell she cast held them all captive, literally. She had the power to make people be still. Nobody could move. When she finally broke the spell there were cheers and uneasy laughter as well.
One of the Elders leaned forward and whispered quietly to the others, „She has a strong power, a power that could be a weapon against the rogues.“
The next woman came forward. She said,“I carry the gift of the sight.“ Then she went to one of the Elders, pressed her hand to his forehead and whispered words that made the old woman smile but tremble. The woman stepped back and bowed then returned to the dancing.
Others came forward. Many cast spells and others created wind, or fire.
There was one woman, however, older but with a face as lovely as any ever seen by the Tribe. She reached her hands high into the air and when she pulled them down again she held what looked like moonlight gripped within her palms. The bolts of energy flew out of her hands, striking the ground causing it to shudder before it cracked open.
Small children actually screamed as the miniature earthquake the woman had caused rippled through the circles, both inner and outer.
There were at least two now that were so strong that the Tribe felt hope rising up again. There would be a new Queen and she would be able to keep them safe.
The last woman stepped into the firelight and a gasp went up.
One of the Elders asked, „What is tis madness? She’s but a child, barely eighteen!“