In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Book 2): Chapter 11-- Ah-mah

"...Daughter..."

Buoyed by the sound of that sweet, lyrical voice (Ziuta knew that voice-- it was Ah-mah!), Ziuta popped right out of her light slumber like a bean sprout and sprang out of her side-bench bed. The voice had come from the half-moon window, still covered with one of Sashek's pearl-pink cloths...and it had been her Mother! After all this time, of course it would be Ah-mah, come to whisk Ziuta away from all of this foreign wilderness, where strange creatures called dragons either played with, spoke to, or shredded the poor People with whom they came into contact.

It's all been a dream! Yes, that is what it must be...once I tear aside the window-covering, I will have my first glimpse of the beautiful woman who gave me birth and sheltered me from the World-- and I will find that this has all been a macabre, fanciful narrative of my over-stimulated mind. Mother isn't dead! She never has been! I can live again!

Ziuta tripped over something that snored-- it was Gormaq's huddled body-- and pounced on the lattice covering like a kitten.

Ah-mah!

Outside, the courtyard of the Evening Folk had disappeared. From without spilled a great wealth of warm, ethereal bands of cobalt that filled the little cottage like a mystical pond of blaze. In the center of all that blueness stood a lithe, whimsical figure from which those magical bands radiated, and Ziuta recognized this figure with an errie longing that pierced her little body, like the sharp edge of a cooking knife. Never could she mistake that figure! It was as though she had slipped from the womb and straight into those lovely hands all over again.

Ah-mah! Oh, Ah-mah, let me come to you!

Ziuta scrabbled and fought with the lattice covering, finally whipping it to one side so she could hoist up her skirt and prepare one leg for the climb.

"No!"

Siuntla, draped in the same exquisite, dark finery in which she had sought refuge in on Kiwa so long ago, held out a warning hand. In confusion, Ziuta stopped and sought her mother's face...but it was hidden, tucked just beyond the wealth of midnight-colored locks.

What--

"This is your home for now, Daughter. As much as you miss me, and as much as you need me, I am far from you. It is here, on Weema, where you must stay."

But-- but Ah-mah! I thought Erd was my home! That is where Joo-Lee and I are supposed to be! Not here on this damp, dark, musty planet that fools me with its beautiful blooms and countryside! I want to go to Erd! I want to be with you!

"Your time with me is past, child."

That voice was so lovely and surreal that Ziuta-- never one for outward emotions-- felt warm tears on her cheeks. Her fingers grabbed desperately at the window-frame.

But Ah-mah! Everything is different here! The People stare at my dark skin and red hair, as though I were alien to them! Even though they speak our tongue, I have never felt so estranged...and the People never smile! I am a prisoner here, with no friends, no hope, no way out!

"Is not Joo-Lee one of your friends? And what about little Amek?"

Ziuta recognized that quirk in her Ah-mah's voice...and she hated it. She wanted her mother; she wanted her father; she wanted her home, Kiwa, as it had always been: the familiar paths, the comforting plaza, the place where she could laugh and skip and be herself, never minding the ever-present whispers behind hands because she had her mother, Siuntla, who loved her. Who would always love her. She buried her face in her arms and sobbed.