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Archway Publishing - Susan Tracy

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Mahri has no plans for her future other than helping her family, but fate steps in, a powerful secret emerges, and Mahri is devastated. She must make an immediate decision for her future because her life is threatened.

Mahri is sixteen—attentive, happy, eager to learn and to know herself. She finds joy in family, horses, cooking, and helping others.

Mahri and her family assist the refugees arriving in the Halyean Lands from Zarpahz, across the Narrow Sea, fleeing from war and famine.

Then overnight her quiet life in the small seaside village near West Harbor changes abruptly when she and her family are forced to flee from dangerous raiders adverse to the refugees. After the raiders attacked their village, Mahri and her family escape to Forest Springs Village, where Mahri discovers a powerful gift and a disturbing secret as she faces new challenges to secure her future.

Sujets

horses

Young Adult Fiction

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Publié par	Archway Publishing
Date de parution	31 mai 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781665737647
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

The Halyean Legacy

Book One Scars and Gifts

Susan Tracy

Copyright © 2023 Susan Tracy

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.archwaypublishing.com
844-669-3957

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3763-0 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-3762-3 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-3764-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023901337

Archway Publishing rev. date: 05/05/2023
Contents
Dedication
Part One Forest Springs Village
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
Part Two THE HORSE FAIR
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
Part Three INJIRQUA
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Dedication
For all the many authors of all the many Young Adult novels I have read. You inspired, uplifted, and gave me dreams. Now I have written a Young Adult novel. May it do as well all of yours.

The Halyean L ands

The garden was large and gloriously designed to have all the varieties of native Halyean plants and flowers—different shapes, sizes, and colors—all living in harmony with each other. The garden represents the Halyean Legacy of the Halyean Lands where people live together harmoniously, no matter where they are from, the color of their skin, or their shape, size, or bel iefs.
Part One Forest Springs Village
1
They came in the night.
Shouts woke Mahri from sleep. She sat up instantly, her heart pounding.
Her mother, Sharla, hurried over and whispered to her urgently. “We have to go to the beach cave now . Remember what we practiced.”
Horses whinnied, hooves pounded, and shouts came closer.
Mahri rubbed her eyes and remembered that her father had warned that people who were against refugees might attack their village. This was real . Suddenly, Mahri felt panic enveloping her and swallowing her up. Paralyzed with fear, she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to do next.
“Hurry, Mahri!” her mother whispered. “Are you still asleep?” She gently shook her, and helped her stand up.
With trembling hands, Mahri took the pack her mother handed her, then turned and grabbed her quilt from the sleeping mat. Stumbling in the dark, she followed her mother to the back of their small cottage. They went out the back door and closed it behind them. Her grandparents and father were already outside. In single file, they hurried from grass to trees to beach path. She looked back and saw her mother pull a pile of brush over to hide the entrance to the path. Then they reached the rough, steep steps down to the beach. Her father went down first and helped her grandparents with the last and steepest step.
Shouts came closer, and Mahri heard rough, angry words. “Try to grab that boy. Let no one escape!”
Her friends. She had to help them, because they had to live too.
She turned back. “Ma, my friends . We have to help them.”
“Mahri, they’ve gone to hide. Now we have to hide.”
Gently, she turned Mahri to face forward. Her tears made it hard to see and she slipped on the rock steps, but her father caught her and set her down gently. As her mother climbed down the steps, Mahri looked up and saw red and orange flames leaping into the sky beyond the trees.
Whose house was that in flames? Mahri’s heart clenched. She turned away and stifled a sob.
“Follow me,” her father told them. “We’ll walk into the sea and turn right. The sea will cover our tracks.”
They followed him into the shallow surf of the incoming tide; cool water swirled and foamed around their legs as they hurried to the rocky point that hid the cave. At the point, the waves crashed against their legs, pushing them toward the rocks, then tried to pull them back and out to sea. They bent forward, their legs struggling with the pull of the water and the soft sand being pulled out from under their feet, and then they finally made it around the point and lumbered through the surf up to the entrance of the sea cave.
Mahri and her father came last.
He caught her when she stumbled and helped her move forward through the strong push and pull of the surf. Then they ducked and waded inside the cave entrance. The rumble of waves muffled the sounds from above. Now inside, they trudged up a short, sandy slope to a rock ledge. Her father climbed up and turned, took the packs and Mahri’s quilt, and helped each of them up onto the dry sandy ledge.
The cave was quiet and cool.
“Mahri, come and sit here by me,” her mother said and handed her a cloth to dry her wet legs. She sat wrapped in her quilt and tried not to cry while she dried her legs.
“I never thought this would happen, but it did. I feel scared for us and our friends,” said Mahri. Her mother’s arms tightened around her. “Why?” Mahri continued in an anguished voice.
“We have always had refugees come to the Halyean lands from the Zarpahz Kingdom and other kingdoms too,” said her mother. “But now, with war and famine across the sea, many more from Zarpahz are coming to the West Harbor region because it is the point of land closest to them. The West Harbor people see them settling in their area, working diligently to survive and sometimes taking work from them, so they have started to oppose the refugees—they fear the different culture too.”
“We escaped tonight because West Harbor people are also opposed to those who support the refugees, like your grandparents and I, who have been helping them with childbirth and sickness, and your father, who helps them build homes. On trips into West Harbor, he saw that anger was growing and predicted an attack might come; he told every family in our village that he saw trouble brewing and told them to have a safe place to hide. I hope they took his advice.”
Mahri asked, “Is it like this everywhere in our country?”
“No,” said her mother, shaking her head. “In the north, it’s peaceful.”
Her grandmother came over and sat. “Mahri, you’re a brave girl. I never had anything like this happen to me when I was your age.” She gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I made these sweet cakes for you this morning. Eat some now, because sweets are good for a shock.”
Mahri began to eat and felt herself relax.
“We are refugees too, because our region is many days north of here,” said her grandfather softly. “It’s peaceful there because the tradition is to be welcoming and kind; they have peaceful ways to resolve conflicts.”
“I want one of those sweet cakes too,” said her father. “Then let’s sleep. I’ll lie nearest the edge and keep an ear open in case anyone comes. I doubt they will because it is almost high tide and too dangerous to come round the point.”
Mahri lay between her mother and grandmother. She felt exhausted, worried, and sad as she listened to the sounds of the surf pushing into the cave opening and flowing back out. Their soothing sounds were settling, and she finally fell asleep.
The next morning, the sounds of quiet talking woke her. She remembered the night before and, feeling alarmed, sat up quickly. She noticed her father was not there and asked anxiously, “Where’s Pa?”
Her mother came over with an apple and some water. “He’s gone to see if it’s safe to return home.”
After breakfast, they repacked the food, their packs, and waited.
Suddenly, they heard someone moving fast into the cave.
It was her father.
He climbed onto the ledge, gasping from exertion, soot on his clothes and face. He tried to catch his breath as he said, “The whole village was burned to the ground; I could not find anyone. I hope that means they all hid or escaped. The tools and supplies I hid in the trees are still there, though.”
He paused and took a deep breath. “The tide is lower now so attackers could return soon and decide to search the beach coves. We need to pack up and move now.”
2
TWO YEARS LATER
“I see the creek ahead!” Mahri called out.
“And I see the Narrow Sea through the trees!” added her friend Meliq, coming up behind her.
Their families had sent them off for the day because they had to assist with a complicated childbirth. They gave Mahri and Meliq the task of collecting herbs and willow bark near a large spring in the forest to the east. It was a warm and sunny late spring day; the forest was lively with birdsong, and a sea breeze rustled the new leaves. The trees were thinly spaced except for the bamboo trees, which grew in small groves. Wildflowers bloomed in the grassy clearings.
As they walked, Meliq pointed out different varieties of trees and