By Linda Nightingale (Guest Blogger)
The Arawaks are indigenous peoples of South America and the Caribbean. At various times, the term Arawak has been used for the Lokono of South America and the Taino of the Caribbean, all of whom spoke related Arawakan languages.
In my novel The Summoning, protected and guided by Eyrael, the God of Wind and Sea, the Arawak tribe treks from South America to Jamaica. This amazing journey actually occurred 2,500 years ago, minus the help of my main character, of course. The Arawaks are credited with being the initial inhabitants, naming Jamaica ‘the land of wood and water’ – Xaymaca.
Michael Heckenberger, an anthropologist at the University of Florida who helped found the Central Amazon Project, and his team found elaborate pottery, ringed villages, raised fields, large mounds, and evidence for regional trade networks that are all indicators of a complex culture. There is also evidence that they modified the soil using various techniques such as deliberate burning of vegetation to transform it into black earth, which even today is famed for its agricultural productivity.
They grew cassava, sweet potatoes, maize (corn), fruits, vegetables, cotton and tobacco. Tobacco was grown on a large scale as smoking was their most popular pastime. They built their villages all over the island but most of them settled on the coasts and near rivers as they fished to get food. Fish was also a major part of their diet.
By nature, the Arawaks were a mild and simple people. Physically, they were light brown in color, short and well-shaped with coarse, black hair. Their faces were broad and their noses flat.
The Arawaks led quiet and peaceful lives until they were destroyed by the Spaniards some years after Christopher Columbus discovered the island in 1494. When they came, the Spaniards tortured and killed the Arawaks in order to claim their land. They were overworked and ill-treated, and within a short time they had all died. The process was aided by the introduction of European diseases to which the Arawaks had little or no resistance.
In The Summoning, the Arawaks—an obscure branch who were the product of my imagination—worship my hero Eryael. They and their young Shaman figure prominently in the book. The Arawaks are called Tainos, but I adopted this name for the Shaman. His name is Taino, and this misguided soul is a devotee of Eyrael’s brother, the God of Earth and Fire, a not so nice fellow.
Advisory Warning: If you’re a witch but don’t know it, never summon a powerful spirit from another dimension. Harmful side effects include falling in love and becoming embroiled in a fierce battle of extraordinary powers, suffering injuries up to and including death.
Blurb
Heather Morique, romance writer, is a witch. Trouble is she doesn’t know it, but she’s about to learn. When her husband, a refugee from an obscure branch of the Arawak Indians, is killed, mysterious whispers lure her to his homeland of Jamaica. Soon, she is tangled in a web of secrets, lies and illusions--and thrust into a battle for sanity and her life.
Eyrael is the God of Wind and Sea. Sofiel is the God of Fire and Earth. The new Shaman has pitted brother against brother, and these two powerful spirits are at war. The deity who prevails will rule the tribe—and its powerful young Shaman. Will light or darkness reign?
When Heather unwittingly summons Eyrael, these two unlikely soul mates become allies on the verge of falling in love…or death’s cold clutches.
Excerpt (Deleted section from the published text)
How could Eyrael explain to the expression of shocked disbelief on her face? She was a child of the modern world, did not believe in spirits or the Old Ones who controlled them. She wanted so desperately to think him merely a man that she doubted her own senses. Even now, she was reassuring herself, with little shakes of her head, that because she wanted it so badly, she had imagined him to be Jahill.
The beautiful woman glanced down at his naked body. She inhaled slowly as her gaze journeyed from his toes, over rounded calf muscles, to linger below his waist Her eyes jerked back to his face. Eyrael sensed her approval and admiration even though she was still afraid of him and the melee surrounding them—whining wind, clattering palm leaves, glorious thunder and lashing rain.
"What is your name?" That, too, seemed very important to him.
"Heather," she breathed, her voice quivering.
It was a happy name. He smiled, tasting the joy of her name. But why was she shaking?
From the distance, beyond the horizon, came the peel of unearthly mirth. He recognized the scintillating feeling of his brother's coming. Sofiel was poised on the brink of departure. Waiting for the Summons.
The witch drew up straight, turning to stone, “What was that?”
“My brother,” he said.
The wind, the rain and the sea were behaving as if the world had begun its final days. Armageddon had come to Jamaica. Not a human soul, nor the one alien spirit on the beach, failed to feel disaster's premonition. The wind and the sea was his to command.
“Would you like for me to stop the wind, tame the rain and sea?” He reached a hand to touch her cheek, but Heather flinched away. He’d frightened her again. Perhaps, another shape would please her.
Sofiel hovered on the verge of coming across into this universe. Eyrael felt the power converge in his solar plexus and his human shape begin to melt. He’d transform into the shape he preferred to meet Sofiel’s raging bull. This man-body was clumsy and more difficult to maintain. He shimmered, glowed. The pain came, went. He trembled, shivered, and when the metamorphosis was complete, he faced his witch as a magnificent black stallion. The cruel wind whipped his long mane and tail like a flag behind him. The rain polished his coat shining ebony. He felt his magnificence and power.
Heather raised her hands in front of her, stumbling back a step. The horse shook his thick forelock out of his eyes and inclined his head toward her. Hands covering her mouth, she’d become an ivory statue. Worshipped by the wind. Regal as the rain. Compelling as the tides. Eyrael's equine shape assumed an immobility impossible for the inhabitants of this world.
His transformation from man to beast had frightened and shocked his witch. Here blue eyes were wide. Water sluiced off her gilt hair framing her pale face. Her lips and her hands trembled. In fact, her entire body shook.
She mouthed, “What the hell are you?”
As the wind made sails of her white robe, she shivered and hugged herself, continuing her terrified retreat. She shook her head as if she could dislodge a nightmare.
And Eyrael could not speak comfort to her.
The Shaman's voice ripped a hole in the universe. Chanting warred with the pounding rain. Supine on the sand, the People were calling…and his brother Sofiel would answer.
The battle for ownership of the lovely witch was about to begin.
Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Summoning-Ancient-Gods-Book-ebook/dp/B075ZJWS9J/
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2 comments:
Thanks for hosting me, Lisabet!
Hello, Linda,
This is fascinating! I love books that have some basis in historical fact.
Actually, I remember when I was in Jamaica (MANY years ago!), we were told about the Taino who had been the original inhabitants... but who had vanished completely.
Thanks for being my guest!
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