Hidden Arrow of Maether

One Take the path, Linnet! Take the path!" Linn jerked awake, instinctively clutching the worn leather-bound book that lay on her chest, her breath pounding out in short, quick bursts. Long tendrils of dark hair clung to her damp face and neck. She groaned and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of her bedstead and burying her face in her hands. The dream had come last night--again. It always started the same way. As soon as she fell asleep, a tornado of emotion snatched her up in a dizzying whirl. Then Farr's voice pushed through the dream-storm, rising and falling in an unintelligible stream of sound, tantalizing her with just one clear word here and another there. "Linnet! . . . I . . . Great One . . . always . . . Rane . . . flee!" And then the dream-storm tossed her down, down, down until she landed, swaying and trembling, atop a towering needle of stone. It felt so real. . . . Sweat ran down her face now as she remembered the dream-wind cuffing her, yanking hairs from her plait, teasing her with the little shoves that threatened to push her off the pinnacle. And then, from across a deep chasm, her father appeared, alive and well. His urgent voice exploded in her ears, almost deafening her, shouting out the phrase that had awakened her once again that morning-- Whump! The worn curtain that separated Linn's loft room from her stepbrother Carey's space swayed in the breeze of his wake. Too impatient to take the steps one at a time, Carey had jumped from the middle of the loft ladder to the floor below on his way to mornmeal. "Girl! Get down here if you want a bite before you take the goats out to pasture!" Linn cringed as her stepfather's hard voice surged up the ladder. Shuffling over to the basin, she splashed her face with water and plaited her waist-length hair. She squirmed into her undershift and tugged on her scratchy goathair overshift. Then, as she did each morning, Linn plucked the worn leather book from where it lay on her mattress, rubbing her cheek against its cover. Her father's old Lysetome, filled with the wisdom of the Great One. Farr had gotten it from his father, and his father from his father. Linn's great-great-grandsire had seen the first uprising of the Ranites in Maether, the first attack against the Truens. He'd fled the island of Col to come to Laefe, where he hoped his family would be safe. To ensure their safety, Great-great-grandfarr had hidden the Lysetome away and taught his children to worship the Great One in secret. But the worship of the demon Rane had spread, stamping out the Truens wherever it went. Within a generation, the Truens had waned almost out of existence. Now only a few remained, hiding their allegiance from their neighbors. If their beliefs were discovered, the Truens found themselves ostracized or attacked and stripped of all their possessions. Sometimes they were killed. Not everyone in Maether worshipped Rane. In fact, most held halfhearted allegiances to minor household deities that hadn't enough power to keep a hearth fire lit. But these ordinary people lived in fear of the Ranites, of their violence, and of the tyrannical demon they worshipped. Who knew what Rane might do, when the Ranites might attack an innocent man or woman? Even now, Linn sometimes heard of the Ranites calling up the demon, torching far-off villages because they refused to welcome Ranite leadership. Was it any wonder that most people tried to placate the Ranites and avoid conflict? Farr had taught Linn to keep her Truen faith and her counsel. The Lysetome had become her own rare jewel, one she'd managed to conceal since she'd first found it on her eighth birthday, hidden beneath her bedclothes. Her mother must have put it there. It was the only gesture Mam had ever made that told Linn she remembered her first husband. At first, Linn had kept the sacred book under her thin mattress, even duBeaverson, Aiden is the author of 'Hidden Arrow of Maether' with ISBN 9780440416937 and ISBN 0440416930.