Shadowed by Moonlight (SAMPLE)

Chapter 1.b

I skidded into my place in front of the line just as the village orator came to the entrance of his hut, looking over the nine of us. Alani, the daughter of the high chief in the War Village, sniggered as I tried to control my labored breathing.

"There's our little sunspot," she muttered under her breath, "About time you showed up."

I gritted my jaw, ignoring her. Orator Raʻi let out a grunt before stepping aside, allowing us to enter. I bowed low, excusing myself as I walked in front of him. The hurried whispers behind me told me the eight other future chiefs were doing the same. 

There were nine masts holding up Orator Raʻi's circular hut, each one carved to represent the nine villages. Sitting cross-legged in the center were the high chiefs, each one aligned with the mast that represented their village. 

My father was easiest to spot, the multicolored lei strung across his chest making him stand out from his eight councilmembers. As I stood in my place over his left shoulder, I noticed our leis were nearly identical. The braided leaves and flowers had been cut bigger on Father's to match his larger stature, but other than that it looked like Masina had used the exact same stitching on his lei as she had on mine. Grudgingly, I had to admit she had done a great job. Standing behind Father like this, I could almost pass for a future chief.

I waited as everyone else filed in, taking their places around the circle. Alani stood behind her father, the war chief. Next to them was Tāwhiri, who wore a woven cloak that matched his mother's, the high chiefess of the Wind Village. Beside them were high chief Moe and his son Ori from the Navigator Village.

I did a silent headcount as the heirs from the remaining villages stood behind their parents. Song, Fire, Heart, Sunset, and finally Puana, a girl a few years younger than me who moved behind her mother from the Earth Village. Once Puana was in place, Orator Raʻi stepped away from the entrance and stood with his staff near the edge of the circle, behind the high chiefs from the Song and Navigator Villages.

Outside I heard four blows of the pū shell sounding from the four sides of the hut, signaling to the rest of our village that this hut was not to be disturbed until the pū sounded again.

As the song of the pū faded, Orator Raʻi beat his staff against the ground. "We begin our meeting by giving thanks to the ancestors," he said, his elderly voice barely more than a rasp.

I knelt down and turned with all of the other future chiefs. The high chiefs on the inner circle also pivoted towards the masts.  

I looked up at the carved image of the light god Havaiki. He was our ancestor and the patron god of our village. As the next high chief, I was expected to exemplify his ideals of leadership and being a shining example to others. According to legend, if I did this right I would find favor with him and be granted a portion of his power.

The same was said for all of the other villages, as well. Those who brought pride and glory to their patron god were greatly rewarded and their village thrived. This was how the people from the Navigator Village were able to find their way back home after crossing uncharted oceans, and how Alani's father from the War Village fought off foreign invaders even though his troops were outnumbered four to one.

Orator Raʻi claimed my father had earned a place in Havaiki's good graces. After imprisoning the demon Mā, he was promised an heir with the strength of a thousand suns.

To this day I wonder if my father felt like he'd been cheated once he saw the kind of heir the gods had actually given him.

I bowed low to the wooden image, trying not to think about it.

"Praise to the ancestors," I murmured in time with the others. Then I turned around and bowed to my father, acknowledging him as the head of the village and the standing representative of the god Havaiki.

Orator Raʻi thumped his staff again and I waited for my father to face the middle before pushing myself up. I swung my feet around and sat cross-legged, awaiting Orator Raʻi's instructions. With today being my last day of protocol, it was time for me to complete the exit exam, which was required to begin my formal one-on-one chief training with my father.

"To be a high chief is a sacred responsibility that comes from the gods themselves," Orator Ra'i began, "It was a task given to our first ancestors, passed down from one generation to the next. You children ought to recognize and appreciate the sacred mantle you will be asked to bear one day.

"While the title of high chief will grant you the greatest amount of power in your villages, there will be times it will bind you like a stone sinking in the ocean. For the high chief's life is forfeit for the village. The day you become the high chief is the day you no longer live for yourselves."

A few of the younger students, including Alani, shifted uncomfortably. It was a scary thing; knowing that someday the entire village would be looking to us to solve their problems. I myself didn't fear the responsibility, but more that the village wouldn't think I could handle it.

"Today marks the final protocol meeting for one of you," Orator Ra'i said, his cataract eyes focusing on me. The other high chiefs and their children looked, too. I kept my chin up and my gaze forward, pretending not to notice.  

"High chief Alai," Orator Ra'i said, motioning with an open hand at my father.

Father rose to his feet, turning to wrap an arm around my shoulders as he guided me to the middle. Built like a mountain, my father could've easily wrapped his arm around me twice if his bones would allow it.

He rested his fingertips against my bony shoulders, careful not to mess up the flowers Masina had sewn on my lei.

"I present to the council my firstborn, son," he said, his voice deep like the rolling tides, "Tomorrow he completes his fifteenth year and will be presented to Havaiki as the next high chief of the Light Village. He has completed all of the necessary protocol lessons and is well-versed in our lineage. I find him to be worthy of the position and the timing to be right. Is this agreeable?"

"Agreeable." said everyone in unison.

I let out a small sigh of relief. Of course, there were signs that not everyone truly agreed with the words that had left their mouths. Alani had her nose wrinkled and Puana's mother gave me a pitying look, but the important part was that they hadn't said no. I didn't need them to trust me yet. I still had years before I would officially become the high chief. Surely that was more than enough time to prove I had what it takes.

"Young Toa," Orator Ra'i said, "Have you anything you'd like to say to the council?"

Father let go of my shoulders and took his seat in the circle. He gave a tight-lipped smile, eyes silently pleading for me not to make a fool of myself. I cleared my throat.

"I give thanks to our ancestor Havaiki and to all the great chiefs who came before me," I started, doing my best to follow the speech Father and I had practiced yesterday, "To be a high chief is a humbling opportunity, one that I plan to use to serve my people to the fullest. I will labor with you in the fields. I will walk with you through the mountains. And in times of trouble I will—"

A shriek thundered outside of the hut and I stopped short. The high chiefs and their heirs sprang to their feet—startled, yet alert. Alani pulled out the bone daggers tucked in her dress, eyes scanning for a target. Her father brandished his club as he rushed out of the hut, his daughter and the rest of the council behind him.  By the time I had collected my wits enough to realize what was happening, I was the only one left inside of the hut. Even the elderly orator was gone. Cursing, I rushed to follow them.