1st 5 Pages October Workshop - Willis Rev 2

Name: Latrice Willis

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy

Title: The Wayfarer's Chains

PITCH:

For sixteen-year-old nomad Mika, “being adventurous” usually means “being reckless.” Risking her mother’s wrath to run off with her martial arts instructor is no big deal. So, she doesn’t think twice about attacking a noblewoman who insults her tribe. Her actions lead to their eviction, but she couldn’t have known kingdom guards would turn it into a massacre.

Traumatized, Mika flees to another kingdom, only to get detained due to self-destructive behavior. She gains an ally in a guard named Amblyn. When she decides to avenge her tribe, Amblyn doesn’t believe she has the physical or emotional capacity to do so. She suggests Mika gets the strength she needs—by becoming a guard.

Mika’s mind and body are on the line as she faces xenophobic commanding officers, and strenuous training and athletic games. She becomes a political pawn for Amblyn, putting a strain on their allyship. And her own reckless behavior and grief threaten to send her down a more dangerous path of self-destruction. Mika is determined to one day face the men who slaughtered her tribe. But guard life could destroy her before a plan for vengeance even comes to fruition.

PAGES:

The plucking of the linti strings were complemented by the soft drumming and melodious voice. Mika’s arms moved in tune with each lyrical inflection. She spun around, thrusting her arms upward, and accentuated each rotation with the stomp of her right heel. She leaped into a split, her arms up again as she landed. The only sound from the crowd was the shifting of bodies on the crudely built benches.

Mika stepped back, now in line with her two close friends, Lewa, and Malani. She scanned the crowd in front of them. An intimate group of just over thirty people, all family and friends. And on a bench to her far right sat one of the most important people in her life, looking right at her, giving her that smile.

That smile.

That same smile pushed her through training. Working hard was the only way to see it over and over again. She wanted to keep staring at those encouraging, parted lips; they gave her the confidence she needed.

Certainly, she was making the right decision that night.

But she couldn’t put her focus on that right now. The crowd was enthralled and they hadn’t even started it. Mika forced herself to look at her friends to get back on track.

It was time.

The voices of the crowd rose and hands came together as the drum thundered. With leaps, body rolls, foot stomps, and shaking hips, the three friends made use of the small area between the crowd and the musicians. The bright red tassels attached to the sides of Mika’s black shorts slapped against her thighs, and her thick braids bounced around her head. The drums were getting louder and louder. She launched herself into the air one last time.

With one final pluck of the linti and softening drum roll, Mika’s feet hit the ground. She smiled through her heavy breathing as they received a standing ovation. Their first performance in front of everyone was flawless. It took four weeks of practice, sore bodies, and a few missed meals, but their hard work had paid off.

She glanced at her friends again, giving them each a slight nod. Malani backed away, leaving the two girls alone. Mika faced Lewa, crouching slightly as she waited for the cue. Her hand-painted headband did little to prevent the sweat from dripping down her forehead. Her cropped shirt clung to her shoulders. Why did it have to be such a hot, humid night? Stains covered Lewa’s own shirt. It was fortunate Mika had talked her into braiding her tightly, coiled hair for the night, who knows what the air and dancing would have done to it. Unlike her, Lewa had decided not to add the decorative beads to her hair.

The sixteen-year-old girls stood about five feet three inches. They were members of a Sanga tribe, one of the nomadic groups from south Khalavan. Like most southerners, each girl had plump lips, and dark amber colored skin. What made their tribe stand out was their bright green eyes and hair, the color of malachite.

The drum started again, signaling the most anticipated part of the night: The rutha battle. The traditional martial art was usually taught to young boys, with only Malani and three others being allowed to learn at that time. Mika’s mother, who learned through her husband, advocated for the girls to learn after catching them imitating the training on their own. In a matter of four years, they mastered the complex moves that incorporated swift arms, elbows, kicks, flips, and cartwheels. Their impressive skills got them chosen by the tribe leader to perform that night.

The two girls rocked back and forth, putting one foot behind the other. Mika had just a few seconds to look over Lewa’s shoulder and get a glimpse of him.

Datani. Her rutha trainer. The man she was going to run away with that night.

She exhaled, and set her focus back on Lewa. Her friend gave her a knowing look and mouthed the words quickly, but Mika knew exactly what she said:

“I’m destroying you tonight.”

Such bold words. They were equally skilled, and matches between them were often unpredictable. But Mika was going to put everything into that match tonight. She had to shine. She had to win.

"Amijo!" Malani shouted. Lewa made the first move with a spinning kick aimed for Mika’s right shoulder and chest. She felt Lewa’s leg brush her hair as she ducked, and retaliated with her own spinning kick at Lewa’s shoulder. The series of kicks between the girls continued. That was the choreographed part of their routine, simply for the crowd’s own pleasure. Once Lewa backflipped away from Mika, they would have to rely on their own abilities to win the battle.

The girls fought furiously, grunting, and yelping with each hit. One-handed cartwheels and flips targeted the upper body, and sweeping legs were directed towards ankles and shins. Mika regretted putting the beads in her hair as they smacked her in the face, blinding her temporarily. Lewa took advantage of the moment and got her right side with a knee.

They had only been fighting for five minutes, but the girls began to slow down as their bodies grew fatigued. Mika knew she wasn’t going to last too much longer. They hadn’t fought this long before. But her determination to win gave her the strength to ignore her pains just a little while longer. Lewa was struggling to keep up. Her kicks and elbow shots had lost their fierceness. Time for the take down.

She dove feet first, opening her legs just enough to envelope Lewa’s left leg. With the slight twist of her body, Mika used her weight to pull Lewa down to the ground. Her friend groaned as her back hit the dirt.

"Mika bota!" Malani declared Mika the winner. She extended a hand to Lewa, who glared at her for a second. She rolled her eyes. One of them had to lose, obviously it couldn’t be her. But the pride in Lewa’s eyes gave it away; she wasn’t upset at all.

As the girls limped away from the cheering crowd with their arms around each other, a tired smile crossed her face. Datani would be proud of her. A reminder to him that she had paid attention to every word and every lesson he taught. Her eyes might have lingered on his face and lean body a little too long sometimes. But she still learned something!

He needed to see her as a great fighter. After all, she was going to confess her love for him and wanted to share all of his adventures. She had to be someone who could take care of herself and be his support whenever he needed it.

"Mika! Lewa!" Her mother, Alaya, pushed her way to through the group. "Come on girls. Let’s get you taken care of." Many people outside their tribe assumed Alaya was actually Mika’s sister. They were the same height, but Alaya’s green eyes turned slightly upward on youthful face.

Alaya led the girls to a blanket near the food. A small, overturned box with a large ceramic pot of ootuga paste, gauze, and flat string were set up on top of a blanket. She anticipated slight injuries, and had the foresight to prepare the area for them.