SHIELD OF THE GODDESS

CHAPTER ONE

SHALA

SHALA WAS TEN when she started hearing voices in her head.

It began on a spring morning, when she was walking alone from her family’s hut to the workshop where she worked with her mother each day. She had overslept and was late. A man’s voice shouted “Hurry!” And she hurried. But she realized there was something strange about the voice, it was too close, as if it was shouted in one ear. She stopped, turned around, but no one was there.

Confused, she walked on, and when nothing else unusual happened that day, soon forgot about it. Then, a few days later, it happened again, a child’s voice this time, yawning, when no child was nearby. From that time she started paying attention, and trying to understand.

She knew that the world was full of spirits. Every hill, stream, or tree had a spirit, and could speak to a person any time they wished, so the storytellers said. If these were spirits, they did not seem to be talking to her.

One day she heard a person close to her think a word just before they said it, like an echo coming before a shout, except that only Shala had heard it. That was when she realized that she was not hearing spirits, but the thoughts of people around her.

Sometimes she overheard thoughts that people did not say. That happened a lot, especially when she played with other children. When she overheard one of her friends think an unkind thought, and not say it, Shala would answer back as if they had spoken, confusing her friends. After a while some of them stopped playing with her.

By her thirteenth year, Shala could overhear entire streams of thought, even though she didn’t want to. The only escape was to get far away.

One winter morning, she told her mother she didn’t feel well, and needed to stay home. Instead, she set off alone to the hilly woodlands above town. She filled a small leather bag with dried meat and bread, and a heavy coat, then walked into the hills until she heard no thoughts but her own. She rested against a tree and looked back where she had come from.

Tinath was a harbor town, with clusters of round stone huts covered by conical thatched roofs and smoke rising from hearth fires inside. Shala lived with her mother and father in a hut close to the center of town. The workshop where she worked with her mother, her aunts, and other women was near the shore. There Shala had learned how to weave sails, sew nets, and make charm necklaces with seashells to protect the sailors.

Her father worked on a fishing boat. He left early each morning, and sometimes he would wake Shala early and invite her to come down to the shore with him. He would answer her questions on the way and tell her stories. She loved to watch the pea-pod sails go out to sea, father waving to her until he was too far out for her to see him.

That very morning he had asked her to come with him to the shore, but she had declined, saying she was too tired. He had accepted her answer without complaint, but she could tell he was disappointed. Why had she done that? She never had before. Now she wished she had gone with him.

Shala cried. She felt sorry for disappointing her father, sorry for lying to her mother, and sad from the burden of what she was carrying alone. She resolved to tell her parents, then fell asleep.

When she woke it was almost twilight. She had missed the midday meal and if she didn’t leave soon she would miss the evening meal too.

When she reached the edge of town she started running, full of excitement and the thought of seeing her mother and telling her the truth. Then, quite suddenly, she was overcome with sadness again and began crying uncontrollably. She heard a girl crying in her mind, and realized this sadness didn’t belong to her. It belonged to the crying girl, wherever she was.

She searched through the village, listening. She heard the crying girl and went to her. She was about six. “What’s wrong?” asked Shala.

The girl said a boy took her toy and ran away. Shala hugged the girl, consoled her, and soon felt better herself. She asked which way the boy had gone, and went that way. As she walked, she heard the sound of children laughing.

She found a large boy tossing a straw doll into the air with two smaller boys. She had seen them before but didn’t know them.

“Give it back!” Shala commanded.

“Make me!” answered the large boy, holding tight onto the doll.

Shala wondered how she would do that. She was small for her age, and always had been. Each of the boys looked to be older and stronger. If she fought them, she could get seriously hurt. She didn’t care. She was right! She crossed her arms, defiant.

The large boy laughed at her.

Shala became angry. Somehow, that opened a door that had been closed to her. She had no words for what happened, but she felt for the large boy’s mind, found it, and touched it, not to hear his thoughts, but to make him hear hers.

I said, give it back! she shouted into his mind.

The large boy screamed, dropped the doll, and ran away. The other boys, surprised, ran after him. Shala picked up the doll, returned it to the little girl, and walked her home. The little girl’s mother thanked Shala.

Shala ran home. Mother was there. Shala sat down by the hearth fire. “Where have you been?” Mother asked.

“I needed to be alone. I walked into the hills and fell asleep. Where’s Father?”

“He hasn’t returned yet. He told me last night he might be gone for a few days.” 

Shala nodded. It wasn’t uncommon for the fishing boats to spend several days out to sea. She would miss her father every night until he returned.

Mother handed Shala a bowl of hot soup. Shala let the heat warm her hands, then consumed it greedily, slurping every bit of it. It tasted wonderful. When she was done, she put her hand on Mother’s arm. “I have something important to tell you.”

Mother smiled, and listened. Shala watched her face. At first Mother seemed doubtful, until Shala repeatedly told Mother what she was thinking. Finally Shala sent her mother a thought, like she had done to the boy earlier.

I love you, Mother.

Mother became very quiet. Even her thoughts became quiet. Then Mother started crying.

“I believe you, Shala. Come here!” Mother said. Shala cried in Mother’s arms until the tears finally stopped for both of them.

“We’ll tell your father when he returns. Until then, promise me you won’t go off on your own again.”

“I promise,” said Shala.

“Good. That boy’s family may not tell anyone what happened. What he did will get him in a lot of trouble. But if the elders find out they may want to talk to you, to ask what happened.”

“But why? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Of course you didn’t. You did a good thing. But what you did is something the elders haven’t heard of before.”

“Why haven’t they heard of it?”

“Because most people can’t do that, Shala. Touch other minds. I don’t know anyone who can. I haven’t even heard stories about it. You might be the first in the world.”

Shala was stunned. It was obvious that most people in the town couldn’t do what she did. It had never occurred to her that maybe no one else in the world could.

“But why do I have to be different like this? I don’t want other people’s thoughts in my head all the time. I just want my own. I just want quiet!”

Mother sighed. 

“Everyone is different, Shala. Sometimes differences are easy to see, like the way people look, or talk, and sometimes they are hard to see, like yours. All differences are gifts from the gods and goddesses. Yours is too.”

Mother got up and stood before their family altar. In the center was a small wooden statue of a woman with flowing robes carrying a round shield. Mother sang.

Daughter goddess, brave Kitani 

Guardian of town and field

Send your strength down to your people

Save us with your mighty shield

Mother was silent for a few moments, then spoke.

“First Daughter of Mother World and Father Sky, wise protector, help my daughter Shala to learn what she longs to know about herself. Help her to find peace. Watch over her and guide her in the years to come.”

Shala stared at the statue, wishing that the goddess would speak to her, tell her what was happening to her. Nothing happened.

Mother sat down again.

“Know this, Shala. You are my daughter. Whatever your gift brings, whatever path you must take, that will never change. This is your home and always will be.”

Shala nodded. She gave Mother a hug. Her mind finally at ease, she laid down on her bed and fell asleep.

*****