Samara Nightwalker

CHAPTER 1   It was the feast of Samarde, mid-afternoon. Leaves swayed as  the wind teases them playfully. The skies were blue and the birds happily sing their song. Faint sounds of the rushing water can be heard as it mixes the whisper of the breeze. The community was situated in a great location. The abundance of the land made all the residents here live a comfortable life. The constant playing of the tiphor and barla made a melodious and rhythmic music that they all played for the goddess of justice and abundance. Foods and liquors that were prepared only for this occasion was set on the wooden or bamboo tables that rises only about the height of an adult’s knee length. Men and women gracefully danced in the center of the plain. They wore their most expensive garments and flashy jewelries. Assorted bright colors were seen everywhere – most were red, yellow and green. Around a thousand people were there – the whole village that is - and no one is exempted. Even the crippled were brought to the plain to witness everything. They were praying for some miracle so that the sick will be relieved from their suffering.   Zemdre, a mother of three sat on a stone chair near their small hut. She looks older than her age. Body that is worn out from the field works and her skin is already darker than usual. Her husband passed away a year ago leaving her with their three children to raise alone. Mori, the first child, a timid girl who seldomly talks aged 18. Abbu, her second child is a strong warrior of the village aged 17 and Samara, her youngest child who was born this day too – the feast of Samarde, now is already 7 years old. She looked at the sun high risen in the azure skies and sighed. What would life had been if her husband is still alive? Maybe she will not live like this. Her husband was a hardworking man. One day, he climbed up a tree and fell. He hit his head hard on the stone beneath causing his untimely death. Zemdre turned to look at her children. Abbu was outside happily talking to his peers. She smiled. In no time, she knows that her son will have a son or daughter too and so as with her other children.     The ritual started. Men and women put the finest catch on the raised platform that were adorned by wild flowers and leaves of the rare plants.  The Cheiftain started his speech just after the ritual was finished. He raised his golden chalis and he bring it to his lips when suddenly his eyes buldged out and then he dropped dead on the ground. Shouts of men and women errupted causing commotion all over the place.   “Tavolo!” shouted the people. Many of them ran in different directions as blazing arrows rained on them.   Men from other unknown place came to their village with weapons taking them down without hesitation. Some resisted but ended up dead too. The invaders were merciless. Zemdre gathered her children towards their home.   “Abama! We can’t hide here!” says Abbu who was holding a spear. “Abbu, we can’t go out now. The tavolos are there outside taking everyone down. The Chieftain is already dead. No one will lead.”     Abbu held his mother’s shoulder. His mother is shaking and so is his elder sister Mori. Only his little sister Samara does not have any reaction despite of the commotion that just broke. He looked at his mother’s eyes.   “Abama, I promise to keep you safe even if I need to give up the idea of living here. At least, I can die peacefully fulfilling my duty as the only male member of the family. I will never go to Avhertiz. I’ll go now. Take care of Mori and Samara.”   Abbu take his spear with him and exited the hut. His mother tried to stop him but she was taken back in by a force coming from her daughter Mori.   “Abama. Please, let us just flee. Abama, I am so scared.” Mori was pleading her mother. She even kneeled on the bare Earth. Her eyes were teary too, voice shaking. “I can’t leave Abbu here Mori.” “Abama! Abbu will be happy if we flee now. Think about little Samara. Abama, she needs to survive. Let the goddess Samarde bless her soul.”   Zemdre looked at her daughter who was crouching behind the big earthen pot that they used to stock water. Samara’s eyes were the color similar to those precious emeralds. Her frail body makes her look so weak. Only her red hair seemed to look so alive. Zemdre shook her head and faced her daughter again.   “Mori, let’s check outside. I need to make sure that Abbu did not fall.”   As a mother, it pains her so much when her children will all face dangers. Mori nodded. She does not want to argue with her mother now. She is also concerned of her little brother but she does not have high hopes that he is still alive. The chance of surviving in a war is less than a percent. Slowly crawling outside, Mori and Zemdre started to look for Abbu leaving the little Samara behind inside their hut.   Minutes have passed and both of them had a glimpse of Abbu. He was bravely fighting but a sharp sword slashed his neck. Blood pulsated from his veins and his head rolled on the ground. Abbu’s lifeless body dropped on the soil and bathed in the pool of his own blood. Zemdre and Mori shook in horror. They started to go towards the house however Mori was caught by a blazing arrow pinning her chest with it. Mori saved Zemdre’s life by catching the arrow that was about to pierce her mother.   “Abama, save – S-samara.”   Mori’s last words ringed on the head of the poor woman. She madly ran to their humble home where her youngest stays safe. An arrow pierced her left leg but that did not stopped her from saving her child. Blood was constantly poured on the bare soil that now looks like a plain drizzled with strawberry stain. Men’s shouts were growing wilder as the people of the village have fallen one by one.   “Samara! Samara!” Zemdre frantically called her daughter and hugged her tight while her tears were streaming down on her face. “You need to leave Samara. You need to promise me that you will leave abe. Promise me.” Zemdre’s words were barely heard. She held her daughter’s face with her shaking hands. “Abama. Why do you want me to leave you alone? Where is Abbu and Mori?” Samara was still puzzled.   Zemdre’s tears flows like a freely running stream. She just shook her head and kissed her daughter’s forehead. A sudden banging in the closed wooden door made them halt.   “They are here Samara. Run now abe!” “I will not leave you alone Abama. I won’t let them get you.”   Just as when Samara finished her sentence, the door abruptly opened and soon three men came inside their house. One was holding an arrow, another holding a sword and one of them who looks like the leader of the tavolos was holding a sharpened short blade.   “Ha! So this is the last human standing eh? Say goodbye to Earth now,” says the one that holds the arrows. “Stay back tavolos! I will not let you get us. Never!” Zemdre shouted as she grabbed a long wooden pole.   The three men laughed as if she just uttered a sick joke.   “Who are you threatening woman? Me? In the name of Virka – our mother land, we are undeafeatable. Remember my name until your death and until your stay in the Avhertriz. It is me, Revon!”   The man mercilessly swung his sharp sword and cut the pole into half crosswise. He then slashed the woman’s throat with the very same blade and the blood stained and pooled on the floor.   “A little chimp is all we have here. Ah! I never knew that killing a village will be this easy after all my brothers.” “Yes, this is so relaxing. What do you think Tavir?” “This is not the time to joke around. I want your life little chimp. I will end the last life of this cheap village. I, the Chieftain of the land of the warriors – Virka sentence you to experience the most painful death.”   Tavir raised his short blade and it landed on the child’s right arm. Samara’s cry reverberated to the now silent community. He  pulled the bloody  knife whilst making more blood drip down. The frail child held her bloody arms and soon another pierced on her right hand. She cried more as Tavir twisted blade causing her weak bones to break. She started to run towards the back of the hut stumbling down as she went. Tavir followed her and each step he makes causes the poor child’s heart to palpitate more. The two men started to set the  community ablaze letting the whole place look like hell come to life.  As Samara runs, she trips. Cuts from her fall starts to bleed. Another pierce will land on her body, her shoulder, her legs – and she fall down again.     “As much as I want to make this more interesting but you are consuming my time.” Tavir crouched down and he looked at the shaking child with his piercing eyes. He sinisterly smirked and played with the short blade in between his fingers. Samara’s lips quivered and her throat hurts. No voice came from her throat.   “Where do you want to get pierced next? Here?” Tavir pointed her neck with the sharp edge of the blade. Samara’s breath hitched. “But I still want you to taste the pain using my blade. I want your muscles to be ripped apart so you can feel my wrath.”     Tavir raised the blade again and stuck Samara’s left shoulder with it. The child’s voice and cry echoed again.   “Please, stop. I am begging you. Stop!” Samara’s voice was hoarse. Her breathing was labored. “You don’t need to beg little chimp. Begging is only for the weak… oh! I forgot you are weak just like the rest of this rotten place.”   Tavir pierced Samara’s stomach with the blade. He mindlessly stabbed the poor girl until she moves no more. He watched her with disdain and he kicked her hard causing the limp body to roll on the ground. He watched her fall from the cliff. He watched her lifeless eyes started to close like it was on a slow motion. The heat  from the blazing houses radiate to his skin but he did not moved an inch. The cracking sounds of the burning wood filled the air and the rising black smoke together with embers of the ruined community filled and rise in the air. Samara’s eyes trained on the fallen place. One second it was still lively, then it became dead the next. Heat from the burning place radiates to her skin. It was painful and scorching. She can feel her blood  that drips from her wounds – hot. She looked at the sky above. It started to become grey. She looked at Tavir’s eyes, she made sure that her prayers will be heard. He, the proud leader will fall too someday. The gushing wind against her skin did not give her comfort but it made her feel like hell. In a split second, she fell on the cold water below. The water instantly stained red as her blood mixes with it. Slowly and painfully, she let her last breath go, ending her pain, ending her suffering. From above, Tavir dropped his blade and the angry waters below was overwhelmed to swallow it. As the last sun’s ray hit the sharp blade, it glimmered for one last time and darkness came after it. Gone was the blade. Gone was the child, gone were the people of this place that will soon be forsaken.