The Mask of Tamirella Read online

  Praise for The Mask of Tamirella

  Eric Hoffer Award Finalist

  Indie Excellence Book Award Finalist

  Hollywood Book Festival Honorable Mention

  “Perhaps Dana was writing for the teenage audience, but she manages to capture us all in her timeless novel The Mask of Tamirella. She writes about life in a post-apocalyptic world that is a clear and present danger in today's society…a very good read.”

  ~ Barbara Patterson, KFHX Radio, Mornings with Barb

  “The magic of this tale lies in the straightforward narrative and the authentic, witty dialogue...enchanting, informative...a wonderful adventure story.”

  ~ WriteWords

  “Dana Davis is an incredibly talented writer. Davis does exceptionally well creating a strong sense of place for her novel...a quick read that packs a great deal of action and excitement for young adult readers.”

  ~ Bards and Sages

  Other tween/teen books by Dana Davis:

  Breach of Worlds

  Quest for Freedom

  The Mask of Tamirella

  Dana Davis

  Copyright 2006 by Dana Davis

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher and/or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, incidents, organizations and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  iUniverse edition published 2006

  SynergEbooks edition published 2010

  Kindle Direct edition published 2014

  Cover art by Laura Redman

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  For my husband, Darryl,

  who never doubts my abilities.

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to my parents and siblings: Maurice, Diane, Jamie and Dawn.

  I would also like to thank the following for their encouragement and support

  in the production of this book:

  Sheila Finch

  Suzanne Greenberg and the CSULB English Department

  Marilyn McGrath

  Tara Kirkland-Rainey and Rob Rainey

  Chapter 1

  The Getaway

  Something moved in the darkness ahead and Caitlanna froze. Several curses rested on her lips but she kept silent. Had she been discovered? The movement grew closer and her heart pounded in her ears. Dizziness threatened and she pressed one dirty hand against the cave wall to steady herself. If she extinguished her clay lamp, could she see well enough to get away from an attacker? Would he turn her in before he raped her? Probably not. Her father’s sword rested against her back and she shifted it, the heaviness reassuring her. She had let the others believe she knew how to use it.

  When a ratmouse scrambled past her with a noisy piece of something glimmering from its teeth, she let out a relieved snicker, and wondered whether she could keep her composure much longer. She ignored the pile of useless jewels and reached a shaky hand into the crevice. Her heart thudded against her ribs.

  Concentrate. Don’t drop it. You can do this.

  She pushed sweat and stray hairs from her brow with the single swipe of her arm and withdrew the treasure from its tiny tomb. Lamp light reflected on the face looking back at her. The Mask of Tamirella. It was here, just as her father had suspected. She forced her hand steady as she clasped the famed artifact and drew it from its time-rotted box.

  Caitlanna cradled the find as a new mother would hold her infant. So small was the Mask, barely as large as her hand, and the pale features as delicate as a young child’s. She fingered the ancient, brittle material and wondered at such craftsmanship. Tears flooded her eyes, blurring her vision. She blinked hard and wished that her father had lived to see this. He’d searched his entire life for the Mask only to meet his premature death in a cave-in.

  The others from Cait’s excavation group had gone to camp for the night and she was alone, grateful that the threat of rain had forced them to make camp on elevated ground some distance from this site. No one would hear her, she hoped. If they found her out, they might let her go because she wasn’t yet a full-grown, but she would be beaten for stealing, of that much she was certain. She might not be full-grown but men noticed her developed body, slim as she was. And, as further punishment, every man here would probably take pleasure with her before they released her. The Shore Sanction didn’t have the best reputation. She fought a shiver and reassured herself that she was alone.

  Fear of the cursed artifact tempered many local archaeologists into remaining far away from this entire area, but Caitlanna didn’t buy into all that curse stuff. Mutants, dagbeasts, illness, hunger, those existed. Curses were fables of the ignorant. Her father had taught her well and this find would bring a good price, not to mention a possible promotion from striker status to finder.

  Carefully, she wrapped her treasure in a ragcloth and placed it in a wooden box that had been padded with straw. Her fingers traced the carved initials in the top of the box, FHM, her father and first primary caregiver, Finder Hendrake Mullen.

  “I found the Mask,” Cait uttered in the damp quiet of the cave. Her father’s image popped into her mind, almost void of features now. She fought a sigh that she’d forgotten what he looked like. Her tunic clung to her sweaty body and she adjusted it before taking up the clay, fat-burning lamp. A noise outside caught her ears and her heart sprinted. She waited a moment, shielding the lamp light from the cave entrance, but no one came inside.

  Once her heart calmed, she headed out into the hot, stagnant night with the lamp in one hand and the box under her arm. She took in a long breath of sea air. It smelled of rain. The rise and fall of waves met her ears. Graypony drank from the makeshift trough just outside. He whinnied once, as though to scold her for sneaking up on him. When she smoothed his rump, he turned back to his water.

  The full moon glimmered off the sea and gave off enough light to make out the landscape. Caitlanna scanned the shadows for danger. No one seemed to be around and she relaxed. Thankfully, no one had noticed she was missing from her blankets.

  Why would they? Unless one of the men decided to take her for his pleasure and found her tent vacant. She hastened her movements.

  A smile touched her lips as she placed her father’s box in the large saddlebag. She extinguished the lamp, secured it in an empty saddlebag compartment and mounted. With one last look at the cave, she urged Graypony over the next hill, toward the cliffs.

  “Let them think I died out here.” She dropped her headscarf over the cliff and into the deadly sea below, tossed a spare saddlebag next and watched the shadows as it knocked rock and debris loose, before catching on a branch somewhere below. The chasm was deep and the jagged rocks would discourage a search. A human body could easily be swept away by the angry sea or torn apart by the giant fish that had survived into Caitlanna’s time. “Looks good, Cait, my dear.” She felt much better now that she was on her horse. She flipped her frazzled braid behind her back as she scanned the night sky. Menacing clouds formed in the west, obscuring the stars, and she knew the rain would wash away her tracks before dawn.

  She squeezed her legs into the horse’s sides and rode in the opposite direction of the camp. The eastern sky was clear and welcoming. Graypony carried her toward a twinkling mass of stars near the horizon. Now that most of the danger was over, Cait fought to keep the laughter from escaping her lips as she galloped into the night.

  Two hours passed before s
he felt safe enough to stop and rest. She’d beaten the rain and wanted a protected place to make camp. After a few moments of searching the map, her father’s map, and the only one that existed for this neutral area between the sanctions, she located the hidden cave between the borders of Shore Sanction and her own Mountain Sanction.

  Stories she’d heard as a child told of ancestors who lived in these caves after The Great War. They had powerful weapons that destroyed nearly all of the people on her world. That was ancient history and Caitlanna wanted what others wanted, artifacts from that lost civilization. Some artifacts, like The Mask of Tamirella, brought a handsome profit. Her hand rested briefly on the saddlebag before she dismounted. And I found it.

  The shadowy mass across the basin seemed to leer at her. She’d deliberately kept her distance from the mutant forests. Mutant tales had been part of her world since she could remember. Tales of how mutants killed healthies like Caitlanna and sacrificed the body parts to their gods, hoping to rid themselves of deformity and disease. They never ventured beyond their forests, though, and that gave her some comfort. She’d heard no dagbeast howls, either. The ancients smiled on her tonight, perhaps guided her on this quest.

  She secured Graypony to one of the few trees near the cave then gathered kindling and lit a small fire. With her saddlebag and blanket, she bedded down just inside and cursed herself for jumping at every little sound, until sleep finally took her.

  In her dream, her father squatted alongside her on her first dig, and she held up the beads and pottery shards she found. “You’ve done well,” Hendrake said.

  Caitlanna smiled. When she realized she could no longer make out his features, she jolted awake, tears running down her face. Graypony’s presence calmed her and she finally slept again, this time without dreams.

  When dawn came, she fed Graypony, ate a quick mornmeal and headed farther into to the mountains, grateful the dagbeasts stayed away.

  No one else traveled the mountain trail today, which didn’t surprise her since the next dig hadn’t been decided on, and she was appreciative not to have to explain her stolen Shore Sanction clothing in an attempt to convince her own people she belonged here. Her heart skipped as she approached the final trail toward sub-sanction M3.

  Although every full-grown watched over children, Hendrake’s sister had been Caitlanna’s primary caregiver since the man’s death two years ago. The woman would undoubtedly be livid, and Caitlanna didn’t look forward to the punishment she would get for running away. One hand slipped behind her to feel the saddlebag. The profit and promotion from The Mask of Tamirella would be well worth whatever punishment Marjordan would mete out. At least, she hoped that would be the case.

  Caitlanna was young, just sixteen, but her training had been intense under her father’s guidance. Her skills were as good as any finder but her age kept her at striker status. That burned in her gut like an under ripe apple. She wanted to locate and remove artifacts for profit, not just do the manual digging labor while someone else took the credit and most of the earnings. She didn’t intend to wait three more years for her finder title. The ancient ones had smiled on her so far.

  Smoke from the chimney fires told her that she was almost home. Each wooden structure, built in imitation of the ancestor houses, was large enough for two primaries and several children. She urged Graypony over the last climb, where homes and gardens monopolized the immense clearing. Her eyes darted around for her primary but she didn’t see the woman. A new kind of fear settled in her gut and she wondered whether coming home was such a good idea.

  Oh, don’t be stupid, Cait. P-Marj would never hurt you. Well, not permanently anyway. She forced a smile as she slowed Graypony to a walk.

  A male figure in leather tunic and leggings made his way toward her from a nearby house. A straw hat sat cockeyed on his head and she recognized Quinpatrik. The man had become full-grown and received finder status just a winter ago. He wore his shoulder-length hair down today, its color a couple of shades lighter than Caitlanna’s.

  Thankful that he was the one to greet her, she offered a huge smile. “Ho, Quin,” she said, forcing her voice steady.

  “Cait! Where have you been? Marjordan is going to have your hide, girl.” There was no humor on his face. If Quinpatrik had lost his smile, then she was in more trouble than anticipated. He took Graypony’s reins then pulled Cait from the saddle and she landed hard on her feet. “What’re you doing in those Shore Sanction clothes?” he said in a dangerous voice. “Someone could’ve taken a sword to you by mistake.” He pulled her toward her home with one hand and led Graypony with the other.

  “I found it, Quin.” Cait tried very much to detain him. Even with punishment lurking ahead, she had to admit, she liked Quin’s touch. They’d known each other since childhood but she was closer to full-grown status, only three years now. Quin was already nineteen and still saw her as a child. But perhaps she could change his mind over the next three years. Nothing that would get him into trouble, of course. Just subtle reminders that she wasn’t as much of a child as he thought.

  He gave her a sideways glance. “Found what?”

  “The Mask of Tamirella. I found it. Where my father suspected it might be.” According to her father’s journals, he’d supposed the Mask lay in one of several places. Shore Sanction had been the closest area, though one of the more dangerous, that Caitlanna could have searched.

  Quinpatrik stopped. “So that’s what you’ve been up to?” His blue eyes evaluated her.

  “Yes.“

  “It’s Cait!” one of the younger children cried from a nearby garden.

  “I hope for your sake your find will appease Marjordan and the others.” The harshness had gone from Quinpatrik’s voice, and Cait was certain she heard respect from him now. Or, at the very least, curiosity.

  It’s a start.

  She hoped Marjordan would react much the same way. Her primary, the M3 healer, had a nasty temper when crossed. Caitlanna’s heart sprinted as Marjordan stepped from the house. Those long legs brought her to them in only a few strides.

  “Ho, P-Marj,” Cait said in an attempt to sway the woman’s anger. “I’m good for wear.” It took all her reserve not to cringe at that phrase because her primary would certainly wear her down with numerous and nasty chores. Probably for the rest of her life.

  Marjordan grabbed her and hugged her close then roughly forced her at arm’s length. Dark eyes ran up and down her Shore Sanction clothing. “What do you think you were doing going out there alone?” Those dark eyes flashed and she didn’t give Caitlanna any time to respond. “Inside!” she ordered. One hand clamped onto Cait’s arm and dragged her toward the doorway.

  She tried to pull away to retrieve the Mask from her saddlebag but her primary was too strong, and she had no choice but to obey the incensed woman.

  Once inside, Marjordan took the sword and sheath and forced Caitlanna into a chair. “Don’t move,” she threatened. The woman disappeared into the kitchen, her mud-colored braid whipping behind her.

  Cait stayed put and glanced out the window. Quinpatrik unsaddled her horse and placed her belongings just inside the open doorway. He gave her an “I told you so” look and pushed his sandy hair behind his ears before ducking outside again.

  Marjordan entered with a steaming bowl of meat stew and forced it into Caitlanna’s hands. “Eat,” she ordered. “Quin!”

  “Yes, Healer?” the man said as he approached the open door. His straw hat hung down his back now.

  “Get word to the search teams and tell them Cait’s here. Take Warrior Whit with you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Then he was gone.

  Cait watched the exchange but quickly ate when her primary gave her a hardened glare. Several curious young children had gathered at the doorway and she hid a smile.

  Marjordan turned on them. “You children get home. Move!”

  The little ones scurried away and the healer closed the door behind them. One hand flipped her braid behin
d her back in annoyance. Dark circles stood out beneath her eyes and her cheekbones seemed more prominent than Cait remembered. Various white streaks stood out in her dark hair. Her tunic and leggings had dirt stains on the front, and Cait knew the woman had been harvesting herbs. Marjordan spent more time gathering when she was worried about something. Guilt knotted in Cait’s stomach but she forced down the remainder of the stew.

  Afterward, Marjordan took her into the kitchen, eyed her clothing, then stripped her down and inspected the bruises and scratches on her legs and arms before forcing her into a warm bath.

  Cait suffered the ministrations and assured Marjordan that no man had touched her sexually. She would argue and challenge the woman as her primary but when Marjordan performed healer duties, no one crossed her. Healers endured more training than any others to earn their titles and they were well respected. Even if someone had the audacity to object to a healer’s care, that person would quickly be subdued by others. Young children were the only ones excused from protesting a healer’s services. Marjordan simply administered herbs to calm them.

  Caitlanna was only three years from full-grown but she felt like a small child right now, and guilt of what she’d done settled in her gut like an iron weight. “P-Marj?” She winced as the woman scrubbed her filthy hair.

  “What?” Marjordan’s voice was unforgiving.

  “I found The Mask of Tamirella.” She wanted to assure her primary that she knew what she was doing. “I read my father’s journals and followed a hunch. Like he taught me. Everyone was sleeping when I went back to the site. No one knows I found it so no one will miss it. The others didn’t even know for sure whether the Mask was in that cave. It’s in my saddlebag.” Despite her situation now, she chuckled. “They’ll probably be searching those caverns for the rest of the year.”