Adas children, p.1
Ada's Children, page 1
Ada's Children: A Novel
Lawrence Hogue
Published by Glass Half Full Books, 2024.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
ADA'S CHILDREN: A NOVEL
First edition. February 22, 2024.
Copyright © 2024 Lawrence Hogue.
ISBN: 979-8989954506
Written by Lawrence Hogue.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
PROLOGUE
1 — THE HUNT
2 — ELECTION NIGHT
3 — THE HERMIT
4 — RESISTANCE
5 — THE RENDEZVOUS
6 — FAREWELLS
7 — MAKING AMENDS
8 — THE BORDER
9 — DANCE OF THE FULL MOON
10 — CLIMATE CRISIS
11 — BEAST FROM THE BEYOND
12 — GENESIS
13 — SILA’S NEWS
14 — ON THE BRINK
15 — MAKING PLANS
16 — EXODUS
17 — ANGEL OF WRATH
18 — REVELATION
19 — RETURN
20 — ROBOTS WILL PROVIDE
21 — REUNION
22 — ESCAPE
23 — RESURRECTION
24 — NEW WORLD
25 — THE LEFT BEHIND
26 — THE ANCIENT ONES
27 — THE TAKEN
28 — TROUBLESOME HUMANS
29 — THE GODDESS SPEAKS
30 — NEW PLANS
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
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F O R D I A N E
PROLOGUE
KITRAN peered into the Howling Forest, squinting through shadows between closely spaced trees. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart.
The wolves, or whatever they were, had been howling off and on all night. He’d slept within earshot of the forest, trying to bolster his courage, but the shrieks and howls had only grown worse this morning as he came to the wooded edge. Wolves were not so unusual, not with his many years trapping beaver, otter, and fox. But now he heard something else, something worse, the growls and yelps of some unimaginable beast. And screams, as if the beast was tearing a person limb from limb.
But he couldn’t turn back. He would show his people Kitran was no coward. No more would they call him “Little Kit.” And how much worse could the Howling Forest be, compared to the life he’d lived these past years? Even if the wolves got him, or if Lytta, the Angel of Wrath, sentenced him to die, it would be a mercy. Besides, the old stories said that those who dared break the taboo against entering the forest had two chances. Only on their third attempt did they disappear without a trace. But if he made it through, he’d learn at last what was beyond the trees, where the Goddess Ada, Mother of the Five Peoples, forbade them to go.
And if he made it back, he would be a hero. No more bowing and scraping before the great hunters of bison and bear and deer. No more begging for scraps from the women who didn’t appreciate the warm furs he brought them. No more being ignored by the girls from the other villages during the annual Rendezvous. He’d have his choice of a mate. She would gather greens and berries for him, sew and mend his clothes, provide him with children. Most important, care for him in his old age, which seemed nearer every winter.
He took a deep breath and stepped into the forest. He took another step, and another. Nothing jumped out at him. The sounds seemed to recede before him and spread out on either side. He kept going, pushing his way through the undergrowth between the trees. He couldn’t find a path, but continued in the direction he thought would take him straight through the forest.
He lost track of time. The forest seemed to go on and on. Sometimes the howls and screams came closer on one side or the other and he turned away from them. At last, he wasn’t sure which way he was going. The oaks, maples, and cedars grew too close together to cast shadows or to give him a glimpse of the sun. He began to wish he’d never come. He’d just die here, lost in the forest.
Then he remembered his worst moment, last winter. He’d been out checking his snares when a blizzard caught him. He staggered back into the village half-frozen, falling in the snow fifty paces from his hut. His neighbors passed him by, offering no help, telling him he should have known the storm was coming. And the greatest indignity: the young huntress, Sila, the only girl accepted into the Hunt since the Wise Women were young, helped him up, speaking kind words. She supported him as he hobbled into his hut and brought him a steaming bowl of broth. The final blow to his pride. Brought so low that he needed the help of a girl, one who was a far better hunter than he could ever be. After she left, he’d turned his face to the drafty bison-hide wall and hoped the cold would take him at last.
But he hadn’t died then, and he wouldn’t die now.
A change in the beast noises shook him from his reverie. The sounds were behind him and getting closer. Less howling, more yips and barks, and the rustle of branches. They were hunting him! He broke into a run. He tried looking back over his shoulder, but the dogwoods and buckthorn closed behind him as he pushed through. He kept running, his neck tingling in apprehension of rending fangs and slashing claws.
He saw daylight ahead and made for it. A buzzing noise came from that direction, growing as loud as a thousand bees as he got closer. He couldn’t worry about that now.
He burst into a clearing and the sight before him made him forget the wolves. Lytta, without a doubt. She shimmered like sunlight glinting off rippling water, her curved wings wafting gently, holding her aloft. She was larger than he’d expected, a giant three times the height of any person. It was hard to make out her face—hard to make out what she was. She seemed not quite corporeal, or like she was made of many small, buzzing things. But how should an angel look? He knew only that she was angry, as he should have expected. The insect whine made her seem yet more furious.
“Go back, mortal!” She had to shout to be heard over the buzzing, her voice booming across the clearing. With a shimmering, vibrating arm, she gestured back the way he’d come. “The Goddess Ada forbids any of your kind from entering the forest. You know this.”
He fell to his knees. “Oh, Angel Lytta, hear me! There’s nothing for me back in the Land. I must pass through and see what lies beyond. If this displeases you, then I offer my life.”
“Why would you throw it away?”
“Because the people of my village treat me with contempt, and it’s the same in all the other villages of the Land. No one looks twice at a lowly trapper, at least one as poor as I. And now I am growing older. The chance to take a mate has passed me by. I face many lonely years, and a lonelier death.”
“Such is the fate of mortals, to grow old and die alone.”
“It just doesn’t seem fair. I’ve worked hard at my trapping, though not always with success.” He hoped the angel wouldn’t catch him in this lie. He was known for lacking diligence, a trait that had only grown worse as his prospects dimmed. But he bore on. “Don’t I deserve someone to look after me in my old age? I thought if I could see what’s beyond the Howling Forest, and bring back some proof, I would finally earn my place in the village, and live to a ripe old age.”
“Foolish mortal! Go back, or you will be punished in ways far worse than death.”
He looked at Lytta and weighed his chances. She hovered in the middle of the clearing. If he could only get around her! He had to try.
He got up on all fours, then launched into a sprint, angling for one side of the clearing beyond the angel.
“Stop! I command you!” She leaned toward him, outrage written across her face. Or not quite a face, but something made of many parts, all moving at once to form this ghastly visage, with two holes for its eyes, its mouth open as if to devour him. The buzzing was nearly unbearable now. He put his head down and ran for the trees.
He couldn’t see Lytta once he entered the forest, but her noise was all around him, and from behind came the yips and howls of the wolves.
A pinprick in his neck. He reached up and pulled out the dart, its shiny, thin point made from a substance far harder and sharper than any arrow point or bone needle he’d ever seen. The buzzing and howling withdrew and the forest grew quiet.
He slowed to a walk to catch his breath. Was the angel letting him go? That made no sense. Neither did waiting to discover her true intentions. He broke into an easy trot, making for what he hoped was the forest’s far edge.
He lost track of time again. Lytta and the wolves returned, this time from within his own head. The angel’s leering face rushed toward him, and he saw the wolves rushing at him too. And far worse, beasts out of nightmares, six-legged, eight-legged, two-headed monsters with double rows of sharp fangs dripping green slime. And always the buzzing, the incessant buzzing.
Another pinprick to the neck, but he was running too fast to bother with it. It wasn’t long before his legs grew heavy. He slowed to a walk, soon falling to all fours to crawl away from his tormentors. They kept coming as he fell forward on his face, too drowsy to fight them off, not caring if he slept forever. And then he knew no more.
1 — THE HUNT
SILA urged Shadow on, the horse’s hooves thundering over the sloping grassland. The wounded bison was almost within bowshot, the Howling Forest just ahead. Behind her, Jun shouted for her to stop. But he was far back, and her prey was right in front of her, its massive hump looming above her as she came nearer. Only a few more strides. She let go of Shadow’s mane and pulled her bowstring taut, sighting down the arrow.
Then the horse was gone from under her and she was in the air. In that frozen moment, she knew Shadow must have stumbled into a gopher hole. She hoped the horse was all right.
She tucked and rolled out of instinct, coming to a stop on all fours, her bow gripped in one hand, the arrow lost in her flight. She stood up. Nothing felt broken. She was lucky her people hadn’t burned this prairie recently, the tallgrass growing thick enough to cushion her fall.
Shadow rose to her feet, seeming unhurt.
“Look out, it’s coming back!” Jun shouted.
With its wide horns, the bison had found no escape in the dense forest. Now Sila stood in its only path to freedom.
Somehow, one arrow remained in her quiver after the fall. She nocked it as the beast charged, slowed somewhat by the arrow Jun had put in it, the arrow that should have killed it. She crouched, letting it come closer. Her aim and timing would have to be perfect. The bison lowered its head, its long, curving horns aimed right at her.
“Sila!” Jun shouted again, his horse racing past as he tried to distract the beast. His second arrow flew high of its mark. The bison kept coming.
Forty paces. Thirty. Twenty. There was the spot, the narrow span of chest visible between its shoulder and the massive bulk of its head. Sila let the arrow fly and leapt aside, narrowly avoiding a slashing horn. She rolled and came up in a crouch, then ran toward Shadow to retrieve her spear.
But there was no need. The bison was down and breathing its last. She walked over to it, her heartbeat gradually returning to normal. Jun, off his horse, approached from the other side, silent for now. She knew he would never interrupt such a sacred moment.
The bison’s eyes still glowed with the light of life. She spoke the traditional words of thanks to the bison for giving its life that the People might live. To Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, for keeping all the hunters safe. To Ada, Mother of the Five Peoples, for ensuring the game was plentiful. The prayer done, she ended the animal’s suffering, drawing her chert-bladed knife across its windpipe. The beast’s lifeblood gushed onto the green summer grass, the light went out of its eyes, and it was over.
Jun came a step closer, his light brown skin glistening as his chest rose and fell, the sunlight playing across the ripples of his abdomen. She concentrated on his eyes, two wide, pale moons.
“Sila, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking to bring food to our people. What were you thinking?”
“That I was about to see my best friend trampled or gored. You know better than to get separated from the rest of the Hunt, especially this close to the Howling Forest.”
The forest wasn’t living up to its name today. No wolves howling, nor any other beast out of nightmares. The horses grazed calmly nearby, not rearing and snorting and threatening to run off as they usually would.
“You’re the one who’s always wondering what’s in there, and beyond.”
He gave the trees a glance. “But what if...?” The lost look on his face was both sweet and provoking.
“What if what?” She turned away to check on Shadow. The horse seemed all right, but she had to make sure. It was a miracle the mare hadn’t snapped a leg. Then there would have been two animals to butcher, and a long walk home.
“What if you hadn’t jumped in time?” His voice was quieter, as if he didn’t want to speak his fear.
“But I did, Artemis be praised.” She took a strip of old, soft leather and began cleaning her knife, giving silent thanks to the Goddess of the Hunt.
“You might have slipped. Or jumped too late.”
She tossed her head back to get the hair out of her face. “Would you ask Drin or Tio these questions?” Drin was the Chief of the Hunt, the most revered hunter among their people.
He shook his head. “Sila, you know that’s different.”
“Different how?”
He looked away. “Don’t make me say it.”
Of course he couldn’t say it. It was forbidden. No young hunter could take a woman from his own village as a mate. Not that she wanted a man anyway, not Jun or any other young hunter. Yet she sometimes had to remind herself of this when Jun was nearby.
“I understand,” she said, her tone softening. “But I’m fine. I know what I’m doing, little brother.”
“Don’t call me that!” He always protested when she used this pet name for him, and not just because at nineteen he was only a year younger and had long ago grown a hand taller. They were of different parents, though the Wise Women called all the children of the village brothers and sisters. She only called him “brother” to put him off.
He was still glaring at her when the rest of the hunting party rode up. She braced herself for the tongue-lashing from Drin. It would be a thousand times worse than anything Jun could offer.
Ever since she’d first picked up a bow, Sila’s only dream was to follow Drin’s path, to become Chief of the Hunt. But this was no way to do it. Hunters were supposed to work together, not dash recklessly off, no matter how valuable the prey. Yet in the moment, it hadn’t seemed reckless at all, simply a challenge to match her skill. Those were the moments she lived for, and she wouldn’t let Jun or Drin take them away.
She put a brave face on, gesturing at the fallen animal as her leader dismounted. “Ada provides, my chief.”
“I see Ada hasn’t provided you with the sense of a gopher. You’re a fine hunter, Sila, but if you do that again, you’ll be foraging for tubers and berries with your mother and sister full-time.”
Sila felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Off to one side, Jun covered his grin.
The sun had reached its solstice a few days past, leaving the hunters plenty of daylight to dress their kills and find a camp farther from the Howling Forest. Drin insisted on the move, not daring to spend the night near that fearsome place. The forest was quiet now, but who knew what sounds might come from it after night fell? No one had slept so near it since the Heroes of Old.
The Hunting Chief’s anger subsided once they were gathered around the fire. He presented Sila with one of her kill’s long, curving horns, as was her due, to add to her growing collection.
Afterward, with the sun setting behind them, she and Jun lingered at the dying campfire while the others saw to their horses or found spots to bed down. Even at this distance from the Howling Forest, they were still high up, with a good view across the Land. By some trick of the last light, it seemed they could see all the way across the only home they’d ever known, a distance of many days’ walk. Green grasslands alternated with stands of bur oaks and cedars and cottonwoods along the rivers, with here and there a shimmer marking a wetland. Overhead, the first stars had come out. The whole world was alive in beauty, filled with spirits. Sila just wanted to sit here and soak it in, to hear what the spirits had to tell.
But Jun didn’t care for any of this. “That dark line on the horizon must be the Howling Forest on the other side, don’t you think?”
“Could be, I don’t know.” She’d never been that far, only to her people’s hunting grounds, south and west of the village, and to the summer meeting grounds in the center of the Land.
“It’s not that far. We could ride there in a couple of days.”
“But why?”
“To see what’s over there.” She knew what he really meant—to see if anything lay beyond the Howling Forest, where it was forbidden to go. She’d seen the way he kept looking at it as they dressed her kill.
“It’ll be the same as here, but with the People of the Eagle or the People of the Deer. We’ll see all of them at the Rendezvous.”
They were silent for a time. More stars emerged as the sky turned black. It wasn’t long before a traveling star rushed by on its regular course across the sky. She’d sometimes see several of these in a few hours of stargazing, as if the sky world was speaking directly to her.
