Daughter of Ninmah

  Lori Holmes

  Daughter of Ninmah

  Book Two of The Ancestors Saga

  Copyright © 2020 by Lori Holmes

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Lori Holmes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  Contents

  Acknowledgement

  Dedication

  Daughter of Ninmah

  1. Prologue

  2. Nightmare

  3. Gathering

  4. Predator

  5. Healer

  6. Blessing

  7. Auscult

  8. Trapped

  9. Tragedy

  10. Flight

  11. Empty Shell

  12. A Line Drawn

  13. The Choice

  14. Friend or Foe?

  15. Stranger

  16. Recovery

  17. Impossible

  18. Bravery

  19. Time

  20. Poisoned

  21. Enemy

  22. Missing

  23. Search

  24. Zykiel

  25. No Turning Back

  26. Protector

  27. Promises

  28. Traitor on the Inside

  29. Vision

  30. Caught!

  31. Finding Trust

  32. Selfish

  33. The Branch and the Mountain

  34. Shaken

  35. Eyes Open

  36. Learning

  37. The Evil Within

  38. Thief

  39. Raknari

  40. Eyes Closed

  41. Tensions

  42. Death of Hope

  43. Prophesy

  44. Betrayal

  About the Author

  Also by Lori Holmes

  Acknowledgement

  A huge thank you to the team at Writing.co.uk Literary Consultancy, for all their hard work and endless advice on editing this manuscript and helping me shape this book into what it is today.

  Another big thank you goes to the team at Damonza.com for their incredible design skills in creating the wonderful book covers for The Ancestors Saga.

  Dedication

  To my mom, Vicki, from whom I inherited my love of reading and whose throw-away comment, ‘what could people have become if we had only followed a spiritual path rather than a technological one’, struck a chord. The seed was sown and the Ancestors Saga was born.

  Daughter of Ninmah

  Book Two of The Ancestors Saga

  Love or loyalty? Destiny hangs upon a single choice…

  Living deep within the mysterious southern forests, the spiritual Ninkuraaja people are being hunted to the brink of extinction by bloodthirsty raiders known only as Woves.

  Nobody knows better than a Ninkuraa that a Wove deserves only death.

  But when a twist of fate places the life of an injured Wove into young Nyriaana’s hands, she is horrified to discover that the destiny of this most hated enemy is irrevocably tied to hers.

  As their burgeoning relationship threatens to tear her whole life apart, Nyriaana comes to realise that she must face a terrible choice: sacrifice the Wove or betray the lives of her own dying people.

  Will Nyriaana find the strength she needs to save her tribe? Or will her love for the Wove ultimately doom them all?

  The Ancestors Saga

  Exciting and compelling, the Ancestors Saga takes readers on an epic journey 40,000 years into our own dark and forgotten past. As the world teeters on the brink of another glacial winter, homo sapiens are not the only human species to walk the Earth. When the destiny of the entire human race hangs in the balance, the prize for survivors will be Earth itself.

  The Ancestors Saga is a prehistoric fantasy romance, combining history, mystery and legend to retell a lost chapter in humanity’s dark and distant past.

  1

  Prologue

  Children.

  The lithe form of a maamit swung high overhead through the trees, far out of Nyriaana’s reach. She giggled as he leaped deliberately into the path of one of his fellows. Bound to him as she currently was, Nyri could feel his mischievous energy and fuelled it with her own. With a piercing squeal, the two furry creatures rolled into a ball, wrestling playfully.

  “Hey!” the child next to her protested. He had been bonded with the maamit hers had just sabotaged. The troop of long-limbed climbers reflected the troop of small, leaf-clad children scrambling after them on the forest floor. All eyes watched hungrily as the maamits bounded closer to the sweet, sticky fruits that grew high in the canopy. The fruit was clearly beyond the reach of even the most skilful Ninkuraaja fingers but not the paws of the nimble maamits.

  The forest was warm, interspersed with shafts of golden light, tinged green. The smell of the rich earth, swirled together with tree sap, enticed Nyri’s senses. The air was alive with the busy chitter of the maamit troop and the shouts of delighted children as fruit was dropped from above into their waiting hands. It wasn’t long before both troops were sticky, dirty and deliciously well fed.

  Fruit consumed, the maamits began to slink away in search of a secure place to sleep. Nyri, however, felt about as sleepy as any child stuffed with sugary fruit. An idea struck as a trailing maamit passed low overhead. A quick intent from her and the creature obediently swung down, landing on top of the nearest boy’s unsuspecting head. Yaanth cried out in shock, stumbled backwards over a tree root and fell with a splash into a pool of water. The maamit bounded away amid peals of laughter.

  Battle lines were swiftly drawn. Nyri wasn’t fast enough and in an instant found herself sprawled beside her victim. Water cascaded everywhere but she barely noticed its iciness as she pulled free and splashed away, squealing delightedly.

  Ninmah’s golden spirit passed unnoticed through the Day Sky and set in a haze of running, ducking, hiding and jumping. Any leftover fruit was smeared on faces and retreating backs; juice dripped from their wild, matted hair. They would be scolded for wasting precious food but no such thoughts crossed their care-free minds, this was just too much fun.

  Finally, Nyri had to stop to catch her breath; the air rushed sharply through her lungs. Dusk was falling fast, drawing the chill behind it. Ninmah retreated lower behind the frilled fingers of the trees, the sky now a cool mix of blues and golds. Her breath plumed before her in a thick mist. It was late in the Blessing, almost time for the Fall, and Ninsiku, Ninmah’s greedy mate, was keen to extend his icy grasp. Already his slitted silver eye was peeking amidst the gathering darkness. A sliver of apprehension snaked through Nyri’s previously untroubled thoughts. They shouldn’t have strayed so far from the safety of the tribe. Juaan would be worried.

  She pictured him pacing back and forth inside their dwelling. He would be angry with her; she had promised to be back long before nightfall. She couldn’t guess now why she had made such a promise. She didn’t want to be cooped up yet. She was having too much fun with the other children.

  The demon Woves had not returned to prey on their tribe for a long time now. Many of the Elders believed they might never come back, that they had perished in the terrible Fu
ries further north. It was a growing hope and the children were now let to play beyond the watchful eyes of the protective adults. They had begun to relax, if only a little.

  Not Juaan.

  “Nyriaana!” His voice sliced through the cold air. Nyri’s head sank into her shoulders. Uh oh. It was worse than she had imagined. He had gone beyond pacing and had come to seek her out.

  Deep indigo eyes glanced sheepishly in the direction of the tribe. Juaan was marching towards her, weaving between the thick trees. The forest was dark behind him but his tall form cut in and out of the golden light cast by the girru moss, spores glowing forth from the trees themselves. “Nyriaana, you come here right now!”

  A nervous giggle broke the disbelieving silence that had fallen over the group. A girl’s voice breathed in Nyri’s ear. “You’re not going to let him order you around like that, are you?” Kyaati whispered. “He’s not your mama.”

  Nyri gasped. Pain chased away the last of her high spirits and emptiness followed swiftly in its wake. No, Juaan was not her mama. Her mama was dead. The Woves had killed her. Her father, too. Nyri barely remembered them but the need for her mother’s warmth and comfort, her love, were never far away, always lurking beneath the surface. Kyaati’s words broke that surface and everything gushed forth in a fierce tide. Anger flowed strongest and it had focus. Juaan was embarrassing her in front of her friends.

  She felt the weight of the others’ eyes upon her as they anticipated her reaction. Lifting her chin, Nyri straightened to her full eight-Blessings-old height and readied for battle. He had no right to order her. He was not her mama, he wasn’t her papa. He was nobody.

  Juaan was drawing close. Close enough for her to see the tense set of his shoulders and rigidity of his stride. She did her best to keep a hold on her resolve and not cower before him.

  It was hard. He was old. Thirteen Furies old and he towered over her. He was taller than all of them even though some of the other boys were of the same age. His rich, reddish-gold skin was several shades darker than theirs, too. Smooth, brown hair flowed wildly around his face but it could not hide the fact that his brow was devoid of the tattoo that marked all Ninkuraaja from birth. His eyes were a startling green.

  “Abomination,” Kyaati hissed.

  Nyri had the sudden urge to turn and smack Kyaati in the mouth but her anger could only be directed in so many ways at once and Juaan was still the target. This was entirely his fault. She was sure Kyaati caught the dangerous undercurrent in her mood because the older girl drifted away without another word.

  Juaan came toe to toe with her and she bent her head back to meet his gaze.

  “You promised me you’d be home before dark.” His annoyance lashed against her tender senses. “What are you still doing out here?”

  His frustration was met with anger. “Just who do you think you’re talking to, Forbidden filth?” Another voice spat. This time it was a boy’s voice and it brimmed with loathing. “Why should she keep promises to you? She is Ninkuraaja, a Daughter of Ninmah. You…” a bitter laugh, “what? We don’t even know what you are.” Daajir was the eldest of the boys here and his hatred for Juaan was no less than that of the rest of the tribe. Out of the corner of her eye, Nyri saw Daajir’s fists clench. He was itching for a fight.

  Juaan turned his head very slowly from Nyri, keeping his eyes upon her until the last moment before fixing them on Daajir. The silent threat was clear. The smaller boy was unnerved but daringly held his ground. “You can’t do anything to me, you a-abomination,” he stumbled over the big word. “I’ll-”

  Whatever Daajir was about to do, no one had the chance to find out. One moment he was on the ground, next he was dangling in the air, the green leaf-leather covering his chest clutched firmly in Juaan’s powerful grip. Juaan held the smaller boy at eye-level before him. He lifted an eyebrow enquiringly. “You’ll what?”

  Nyri thought Daajir might explode like an over-ripe seedpod. His face burned. His eyes bulged. Too furious to form words, a strangled cry emerged from between his teeth.

  Tension vibrated on the air. The whole group was holding its breath. Yaanth and a few of the other boys took a step forward. Nyri’s heart squeezed painfully. She didn’t want them to fight. Daajir had been looking for his chance to provoke Juaan for as long as Nyri could remember.

  She had to do something before everything went badly wrong. This was her argument anyway.

  “Juaan, put him down. I don’t wanna go home yet!” She shifted their attention back to her. “You can’t make me!”

  To her relief, he did as she asked and lowered Daajir to the ground. He added just enough of a nudge to topple the angry boy onto his backside.

  Daajir scrambled to his feet. He made to fly at Juaan but when the larger boy readied himself for this, he changed his mind. Instead, he settled for a dreadful threat. “I’ll kill you for this! You do not belong, Forbidden. One day, I will kill you!”

  Amidst the shocked gasps, an icy hand slipped around Nyri’s heart and tightened. Juaan took a step forward and Daajir quickly backed off.

  “Nyri,” Juaan growled. “We’re going home right now.”

  “No!” Nyri burst out. She was tired, hungry and very disturbed by what she had just witnessed. She had been so happy only a moment ago. It was all his fault. He had had no right to come after her. “I’m not going! Leave me alone! You’re not my mama!” All the tension inside her broke and she suddenly felt like bawling her heart out. She bit her bottom lip, too proud to let herself go. “You don’t belong here!” She lashed out. “Leave! Go away! You’re no one!”

  Through blurring eyes, she saw Juaan stiffen as if struck. His rich skin paled. Nyri sucked a sharp breath, shocked by her own cruelty. She had gone too far, she knew it. Her anger drained away and she shrank down. Juaan looked like he had been stabbed through the heart. The pain in his face was almost more than she could bear.

  Unconsciously, she reached a hand towards him but he pulled sharply away from her touch. It was her turn to be stabbed. Her eyes stung. She opened her mouth, trying to think of something to say to make it better but no sound came out.

  “You heard her,” Daajir drawled. “She does not want you anymore. You have no place here. Leave.”

  Juaan’s wounded expression vanished beneath a mask. Now Nyri could sense nothing from him. Not one flutter of emotion. His eyes were green stones.

  He found his voice first. “Have it your way,” he said. “Stay out here and freeze. I don’t care. Woves take you.” Wrapping his long arms deeper into his ill-fitted coverings, he strode away and did not look back.

  “Well done, Nyriaana,” Daajir congratulated after a moment’s silence. “You shouldn’t mix with that. I don’t know why the Elders won’t cast him out. He’s no Ninkuraa. By the Will of Ninmah, he shouldn’t even be alive.”

  Nyri was barely aware of his harsh words. Her bottom lip trembled dangerously.

  Calls came floating through the trees. The other children began to slope away back to their waiting parents and the safety of the tribe. No voice called for Nyri and soon she was left all alone.

  Alone.

  Tears slipped down her flushed cheeks as the extent of her stupidity hit home. Juaan’s departing form had already disappeared into the dark. Nyri was not surprised. Juaan could move fast.

  Sniffling, she shuffled off in the direction of their home, avoiding the thickest growth by treading in the slight track he had made. The deepening chill pinched at her skin and her tears gathered in strength. She was only lightly dressed and what she did have on was damp from her play. Nyri tucked her hands into her armpits, whimpering softly. She wanted to call out and make Juaan come back for her but she feared his rejection.

  The undergrowth became more manageable as her home came into sight. The grove of massive eshaara trees buzzed with night-time activity. Girru moss glowed from inside their bulbous forms, golden spores spilling into the dark. The great trunks and branches twisted together in various forms again
st the deepening sky. The trees had been trained to grow like this for as long as anyone could remember, creating protective dwellings that lasted for many lifetimes.

  This forest was where her people had lived for generations. The Ninkuraaja were made for trees and the trees were made for them. Nyri sometimes wondered what lay beyond the forest but she could never imagine being brave enough to leave her home… or Juaan. Instead, she satisfied herself with listening to the stories he told her before sleep and wondered at the fantastical people in them. Tales of others like the Ninkuraaja, but not like them. The Thals of the North. The wily and clever Cro clans from the West, whom she had never even glimpsed. Nyri was fascinated by them all.

  Juaan forbade her from sharing these tales. The Elders would punish her, he said. They did not like to hear. It was blasf- blasphemous. That was it. His own mother had taught Juaan these stories from her travels outside the forests. Nyri couldn’t imagine such a thing, a Ninkuraa beyond the trees. She felt cheated not having met Rebaa. She had died when Juaan was eight Furies old. Nyri had of course tried to wheedle more answers from him but any mention of his mother would send Juaan into a deep sulk and so she had given up.

  No one had ever seen Juaan’s father. The Elders did not speak of it. The story among the children was that Rebaa had left to join another tribe away to the north before returning with the baby Juaan. Daajir had tried to frighten her, spinning stories that Juaan’s father had been a monster. He claimed he knew this because his own papa had told him so, smug that he was now old enough to know such things. Nyri did not believe him. She was not a baby and Daajir was just mean. Juaan’s father could not have been a monster. How silly.

  She was curious of course and had been relentless in her pestering. Juaan had somewhat reluctantly told her that his father had been part of a Cro clan.