The Wrathful Mountains Read Online Free Page A

smile to the priestess’s face. I will not fail her as I have my sister.
    Nearing her
sister’s hut, Tashi paused outside the flap. At the edge of her vision, she
spied a shadow, moving in the distance, but when she turned to face it, nothing
was there. She stepped inside, observing first the doula, who cradled the
cooing infant in her arms. Annin lay motionless upon her mattress, her face and
hair dripping with sweat. Tashi’s feet grew heavy as she approached her sister’s
form.
    “Annin,” she
whispered, squeezing the girl’s hand.
    Annin stirred, her
eyes barely opening, but a weak smile appeared on her lips. “My daughter,” she
struggled to say.
    “She is beautiful
and strong,” Tashi replied.
    Annin attempted to
nod, but her head was far too heavy. Her heart yearned to hold her child, to
nurse her at her breast and clutch her to her heart. Those days would never
come. Her life was at an end, and she had made peace with that. “Sister,” she
whispered.
    Tashi leaned closer
to her sister. “I’m here,” she said.
    “You must care for
her,” Annin said, struggling for breath. “She…she…”
    “I swear to you,”
Tashi stated. “She will survive, she will grow strong, and she will want for
nothing in this life.” She combed her fingers through her sister’s hair and
patted her cheek. Tears dripped from her eyes, splashing against the mattress.
Her head felt heavy and thick, throbbing from back to front. Be strong for
her , Tashi thought, squeezing her eyes shut. For both of them.
    Annin fluttered her
eyelids but did not speak. Her sister’s words had not gone unheard. Despite her
weakening body, she could rest peacefully knowing her child was safe. Resigning
herself to her fate, she allowed her muscles to relax. She never spoke again.
    Refusing to let go
of her sister’s hand, Tashi sat cross-legged on the dirt floor despite the pain
in her heart. She wanted to run from the hut, screaming and raving. All in her
path would flee in terror, or she would curse them as she had the gods. Her own
people would fear her, ever believing the High Priestess had power over all
their lives. But she could not leave the hut. There was nothing to do but sit,
waiting for the end that was soon to come.
    Wracked with fever,
Annin’s body faded quickly. Each breath came at great effort, her heart failing.
Tashi could do nothing but watch. As the sun disappeared from the sky, Annin
sighed softly to the evening’s first star, her soul released to the night.
Tashi laid her head against her sister’s chest and sobbed, too grief-stricken
to utter a sound. Her sister and dearest friend was gone forever.
    “Tashi, you must
tend her soul,” the doula whispered softly, still clutching the baby to her
breast. “She must find her way to the life that follows.”
    Tashi shot up from
the ground, a fire in her eyes. “I know my duty,” she spat. Without another
word, the priestess pulled her sister’s arms, forcing the girl into a sitting
position. Bending Annin’s knees, she pushed them against the girl’s chest.
Positioning the girl’s arms around her knees, she whispered a prayer for the
dead. Her sister had been ever faithful to the gods, and Tashi would honor her
as such.
    Wrapping the woolen
blanket around her sister’s body, Tashi pulled it taut. Annin’s body would sit
in prayer posture throughout the ceremony to come. Stepping outside the hut,
Tashi looked upon the faces of her tribe. Many had gathered outside the young
mother’s hut, offering their support to one in need.
    “Annin’s soul has
departed,” Tashi announced. “Who will carry her to the pyre?”
    Three large men
stepped forward, one of them Annin’s mate. Their heads held low, they spoke no
words as they entered the hut and gently lifted the young woman’s body. Tashi
led the procession, followed by her sister’s shell. The rest of the villagers
followed single file, bearing torches to light the darkness.
    High on a hill
stood a mound of