The Islands of Sand and Steel

Chapter One: The Rebels of Alkamana Island

Luava stood at the foot of her house, gazing at the peaceful sea. Trees rose from the warm sand, their slender, leafless trunks shrouded by flourishing shrubs. Behind her, beyond the huts of her village, the bulging leaves of the yam vines covered the low tree trunks, promising rich pickings. Here, all was as it should be, free of the corruption of the foreigners.

Luava stood as her mother had stood, and her grandmother before her, with the dignified poise of a chieftain. The wind played with the hem of her long fiber skirt, while the strips of square-patterned cloth around her chest resisted the wind. Her black hair rested in a pair of asymmetrical buns, with a crimson flower perched between them.

A pair of footsteps approached, padding on mud then rustling on sand. Luava recognized the stride of Maliaku, her second-in-command. Unlike Luava, Maliaku had adopted some habits of the foreigners, with her hair tied in a ponytail, and with a shining revolver pistol tucked into her loincloth.

"Mali," said Luava, not turning around. "Has everyone arrived?"

"Yes," said Mali, "they're waiting for you in the planning house."

"Thank you. I will be there shortly."

Mali jogged away.

Some time later, Luava turned her back on the sea and walked briskly through the heart of the village. Around her, men chiseled the first few planks of a canoe hull while women wove an intricately designed sail. As Luava walked past, some of them offered their respects.

"Momma!" said a little voice. "Look, Daddy, it's Momma!"

Luava's eldest daughter Kasavula ran from behind a pile of baskets and leapt into her arms, smiling that innocent, big-toothed smile Luava loved so much.

Luava knelt by Kasavula and let down her mask of sternness. "You've gotten big," she said. "Have you learned anything?"

"Nope!" said the girl playfully.

Luava gave her an unserious glare.

"Sorry," she said "Yes."

"Your teeth are coming back too."

"Then will I have enough to eat like a big girl?"

"That's right."

Enga, Luava's only husband, walked up and scooped up Kasavula. "Good afternoon," he said to Luava. The sun glinted off the keenly-polished amulet that he wore around his neck, which signified his coveted place as a chieftain's husband.

"Likewise," said Luava. "I'll be absent for the rest of the day, and maybe much longer. I hope you'll be comfortable."

"We'll be well," said Enga, patting the little girl's back. "Our little chieftain is a quick learner."

Luava smiled. "I'll be back, Kasavula." Turning, she left them for the edge of the village, where a stone brick temple squatted beneath a tangle of trees. With a deep breath, ducked her head and entered.

Inside, the scent of burning incense filled her with spiritual energy. She knelt on the sacred mat, which she had woven by hand, and closed her eyes. She paused, feeling the presence of the dead come over her, linking her to the next world.

"Mother," she said, "It's been months since I spoke to you last. It's been years since you were with us in person. The tribe misses you, and they would only miss you more dearly if they understood what they have lost. I believe I am a good chieftain. I hold my ground, my people respect me, and my daughter will grow to be brave and wise... but I am not you. I am not as strong as you were.