2
The last time Tiyana had stepped onto the surface of the sea, she had worn the Mask of Nama-kwah, and had striven futilely to establish contact with the goddess for whom she had been a Vessel. She had been painfully conscious then of the weakness of her ashuma. And even before the day the Fidi arrived, First Calling had been little more than an empty ritual, although she would never have admitted, or even acknowledged, that truth back then.
And now ...
Now she stood, rather than danced, on the waves. She wore no Mask; there was no need for her to impersonate a goddess who was no longer worshipped by her or her people. Instead of the elaborate webwork of diamonds and silver that accompanied First Calling, she wore only a plain blue chamma that whipped in the breeze. Her braids, decorated with sky-blue beads, descended below her shoulders and flew in the wind. She stood slightly above the waves, and could feel their delicate touch against the soles of her feet.
Tiyana’s face was as serene as the Mask of Nama-kwah had been. She was secure in the power Almovaar had bestowed upon her. And she felt certain in the justness of its use, and in the responsibility her father and Kyroun had given to her and the other Adepts.
She focused on the island before her. It was still a fair distance away, but with the far-vision Almovaad sorcery bestowed, she could see the beleaguered Uloans still fighting hopelessly to survive, even as the relentless mwiti forced the people off the beach.
Byallis stood at Tiyana’s right side, standing on the waves with practiced ease. At her left was a Matile man named Geremu, who was once an Amiya, and now an Adept second only to Tiyana in accomplishment. Tiyana nodded to them. They nodded back. They, too, had seen what was occurring on the island, and along with the other Adepts, they had, in the Oneness, agreed on what they had to do.
Arms spread wide, Tiyana began the task of gathering the magic she and the others needed to accomplish their goal. The others duplicated her stance. No longer was it they necessary for them to clasp hands to wield their collective energy; the link their minds shared in the Oneness was more than sufficient to draw upon Almovaar’s resources, which they now did.
Without warning, blue lightning blazed from Tiyana’s hands. Its crackling could be heard over the waves. The coruscation of eldritch force leaped from Tiyana to Geremu and Byallis, who added their own power, as did all the other Adepts, each in his or her turn, until jagged lines of energy surrounded them like a palisade fashioned from glowing serpents.
Then Tiyana thrust her hands forward, as though she were pushing against a wall. So did the others. And a myriad of lightning-like lines of force arrowed toward the island.
3
Awiwi’s resistance had almost ceased. Sea-water swirled above her waist. Her body, and that of her child, was covered with ubias. The mouths of the vines burrowed into her skin. Rows of teeth pierced her flesh. Her blood began to flow into the ubias’ tubular bodies, which expanded as they gorged greedily on her life-fluid.
Neither Awiwi nor anyone else on the beach cared any longer about the ships that had appeared on the horizon. Who the intruders were; whether they meant help or harm; none of that mattered because it was impossible for them to reach the Uloans in time to make any difference for good or ill.
Then the Almovaads’ magic struck.
Awiwi staggered and fell into the water. So did the others around her. Choking and spitting salt water from their mouths, the Uloans struggled desperately to regain their footing before the tide had a chance to sweep them away. And their eyes widened in shock when they saw what was now happening to the ubias that still clung to their bodies.
Lines of blue, crackling fire enmeshed the vines. The humans felt only a slight tingling from the force-lines. But the energy’s effect on the ubias was immediate and dramatic. The vines writhed as though they were on fire. Like a grotesque rain, they dropped from the Uloans’ bodies and fell into the sea, where they continued to twitch and convulse until they finally subsided and floated motionless. Incoming waves washed them onto the beach, where they lay like limp strands of seaweed.
On the red sands, the mwiti-roots that had sprouted from the ground were also caught in the force that swept the island. They remained frozen in place like a forest of ribs. From the tentacular roots, the lines of force expanded, enmeshing the entire island in a netting of brilliant blue light. The outcome of the Almovaads’ sorcery on the mwiti was immediate.
The grasses stopped waving, their life force suddenly snatched away. Fruits that pulsed like multicolored hearts either ceased their motion entirely, or exploded in bursts of pulp. Flowers that had clenched like hands fell apart in showers of petals that lay in heaps around their stems.
Vines that had engulfed entire towns shriveled and dropped away from walls and doors under the relentless assault of the Almovaads’ sorcery. The branches and roots of great trees ended their growth and movement, and stood still again. Even in the villages of the dead, the desecrating plant-life was cleansed by the blue webwork, leaving the empty funeral-houses uncovered and undisturbed.
In the depths of the Jayaya forest, the lone papaya tree struggled stubbornly against its fate. Its trunk, branches, and leaves were ensnared in a lattice of glowing blue lines. The gigantic mwiti trees that surrounded the papaya had all fallen motionless. For all their size and grandeur, they had proven easy prey for the magic of the Almovaads. The Kipalende part of their consciousness had subsided in the shock of the surprise attack.
But the Kipalende spirit that had found shelter
