I just had to show this on my page.  During Nano 2006 one of the other participants made this for me.  You will see "Underworld" featured on the site in the near future.

CHAPTER ONE

Ciana knelt in the middle of the stone circle glaring at her father and Lord Luric through the long dark hair that mercifully covered her face. All too soon, the negotiations were over.
 
“Lord Luric, ruler of the house of Zircor, I offer Ciana, my eldest daughter to be the first wife of your son, Tendel. With this marriage I pledge to live in unending peace with your land.” Lord Zedick offered a wreath of zimmon leaves to Tendel who yawned as he reached for them.

"Lord Zedick, I accept your daughter as wife for my eldest son, Tendel, heir to the throne of Zircor. With this marriage I pledge to live in unending peace with your land.” Lord Luric handed Ciana a wreath of zimmon leaves. “

Ciana seethed with anger toward the men who decided her fate, but kept her head properly lowered as she went through the motions of the betrothal ceremony. She remained on her knees as Tendel placed his wreath on her head. She lifted her hands as she offered her wreath, which he placed on his head.

Tendel pulled the leather thong from around his waist, leaning down closer to her. He grabbed her hands and leered, his brown eyes full of hate and lust. “When the ceremony has ended I will keep you bound in my bed and you shall beg –“

“There will be plenty of time for that after the ceremony.” Lord Luric interrupted his son.

Tendel said no more as he tied her hands and shoved her down again.

Shando, the village priest, stood between the fathers. “Lord Luric accepts the bride for his son.” He nodded and grinned. “The ceremony will commence with the full moon. Let us adjourn to the jihava tent and celebrate our new found peace.”

The men walked away, leaving Ciana bound and kneeling in the circle. Marita kept her head lowered until the men were almost to the tent, then pulled Ciana to her feet.

“Child, must you look as if a sentence of death has been pronounced on you? It is simply a marriage! Soon you will be the lady of your own land.” Marita untied Ciana’s hands, then handed her the leather thong with a smile. “Keep this for the ceremony.”

In two weeks her fate would be sealed. With the full moon, her parents would bind her hands and drag her back to the stone circle, and happily hand her over to Tendel like a sheep in the marketplace.

Only the week before, her father announced the betrothal to her at the morning meal.

“Ciana. I have decided that you shall be married to Tendel, son of Lord Luric, ruler of the house of Zircor. Next week they will arrive for the pledging.” Then he resumed eating his dish of fruit.

Ciana stared into her porridge dumbfounded. Tendel was not unknown to her. Only last month he had come with a trading delegation to Mandor. As the son of a lord he stayed in guest quarters in Castle Mandor. Ciana found one of the maid bound hand and foot to his bed. She had been beaten with a leather thong all over her body. According to the maid he beat her as he took his pleasure.

“Ciana! What say you?” Her mother demanded. “Thank your father for arranging such a fine match.”

Her throat felt dry as she whispered her thanks – and tried to think of a way to change his mind.

Ciana shivered inwardly at the remembrance of it as she made her was down the lane toward the family home, Castle Mandor.

It would be some time before her father returned. The men would not venture from the jihava tent for many hours yet. They would recline on their pillows, inhaling the smoke of the root as it burned in the center of the tent, filling it with the sweet aroma. The root caused agonizing stomach pain and eventual death when eaten, but to inhale the smoke as it burned was pure bliss. Unfortunately, those who indulged staggered around for a few days as if they had indulged in too much ale. Only the men indulged in thes ritual, as the women were forbidden to go near it.

Ciana shook her head at the thought of how Trisor, her younger brother, staggered for two days after celebrating his manhood. He went into the tent a nervous fourteen year old, a sweet and likeable boy. Two days later, after he recovered, he was dull to talk to, and cared only for the next occasion to celebrate a ceremony. Somehow the root changed him.

Perhaps Tendel had once been a sweet likeable young man before his first ceremony. In spite of her terror at the prospect of wedding him, she could admit he was handsome. He stood taller than she, by at least two hands. His long brown hair curled pleasingly across his broad shoulders. Even tonight as he stood in the circle wearing his sapphire blue tunic over black leggings – he was a striking man. If only he smiled pleasingly, instead of leering at her, and promising the same fate for her as the maid she found.

Surely there must be a way to escape the fate of marrying him. If only she knew the lands outside of Mandor. Once home she stealthily entered her father’s library and rummaged through his papers and found a map. The house of Zircor, Tendel’s house, controlled the neighboring land to the south. Nebel, her eldest brother, married a daughter of the house of Nindes, and now controlled the land to the east. To the west lay the ocean. That left north and Ferinegar.

Ciana felt a chill go down her spine. Few who ventured to Ferinegar, the savage lands, returned to tell of it. Growing up she heard stories of the dangers there. Wild animals would tear you limb from limb, if you made it through the desert. The desert held oases filled with acidic water and bands of thieves who would kill you for your canteen. If you passed all the rest, Lord Tador’s men would catch you and take you to stand trial for trespassing. He was a vicious, bloodthirsty man who killed only for his own amusement. No one dared send an envoy of peace to him, so no treaty existed.

Ciana placed the map back with her father’s papers. It was hopeless; there was no way of escape. Someone blocked her exit on all sides. Her choices were death in Ferinegar or the living death of marrying Tendel. She shuffled, defeated to her bed and flung herself on it, tears leaving streaks in the dust on her face.

“Why would he give me to such a horrid and cruel man? Would that they all rot in that tent and leave me in peace!” Ciana punched her fists against the bed. “That root takes their brain and leaves only smoke and ashes in its place.”

Marita stood in the doorway, listening to her daughter’s angry outburst. She shook her head as she walked toward Ciana, “That one is going to be trouble.”

“Ciana, it is the way of our people. The men take the root, and it takes them. You will learn, as I have, and all the women before us. The man thinks he rules, but you put the thoughts that should be there into his head. Learn to act humble; it is, after all, only an act. Have patience, and you will see that it turns out for the best. It is your place in the world. It is how it is done.”

“Mother, it is degrading. How can I respect a man who cannot speak intelligently? Or give myself to a man who would toss me aside for the nearest jihava root? And that after beating me senseless? You saw what he did to the maid. I want none of them.”

“Daughter, keep your tongue as is becoming of one soon to be the lady of her land. You will learn to love Tendel, much as you do your favorite quivet. Learn to stroke him right and he will curl up on your bed and purr. You must choose to be happy. Save your strength for the ceremony.”
 
“You would see me beaten on my wedding day and tell me to be happy?” Ciana turned away from her mother.

“It is the way of things. I refuse to fight with you any further. You know your place. Accept it.”

Ciana thought of her sister-in-law, Niele, on the day Nebel married her. Niele’s father bound her hands and took her to the circle, forced her to kneel down, and held her there, while Nebel whipped her with a leather thong to show his control over his new wife. The entire family and village watched and smiled. It is the way things are done. Then she thought of her three younger sisters who would be forced to submit to the same humiliation after her.

“Never.” Ciana whispered to herself. Suddenly she sat up. “I must go to the temple and pray.”

“Ask God to give you strength and a more civil tongue.” Marita smiled as Ciana left the house.

She walked the dusty path gazing at the half moon hanging in the sky. The fragrant night flowers opened their faces to the sky, and filled the air with a sweet aroma. The temple, at the edge of the village, was empty since the priest remained in the jihava tent celebrated.

The fire in the sanctuary burned low as she entered the temple. In the center of the room stood the alter holding the book of holy writings. God required a sacrifice of time and devotion, not animals. Villagers came to the temple to read the book and talk to Him throughout the week. Well… the women did, as the men concerned themselves only with the jihava. Ciana found it curious that there was no mention of jihava in the holy writings, but the men preferred it to reading.

Ciana knelt beside the altar, and bowed her head. “God, I know you can hear me, and you know my devotion to you. Please look upon me, your humble servant, who has nothing but her self to offer. Deliver me from this marriage to Tendel. You know that he is not a good man, and I don’t want to marry him. Please provide-”

A loud crash from outside the temple interrupted Ciana’s prayer. It sounded as if the moon had crashed to the ground. She ran from the sanctuary to see a fire blazing in the field.

“Look, someone crawls from the fire. Quick, get water.” A voice shouted from the edge of the field. Several women grabbed buckets and ran for the stream.

Ciana grabbed a damp blanket from a clothesline and ran to throw it over the burning figure, smothering the flames. She could hear her mother shouting instructions as the women came running with buckets of water. Ciana, with the help of three other women, struggled to pull the limp body further away from the fire. Another explosion knocked them all to the ground. When they stood to their feet the fire was out and there was no sign of what caused it.

Marita instructed Ciana and the other women to carry the helpless man into the house where they laid him on a bed normally reserved for guests of importance.

Ciana poured a pitcher of water and begin bathing the unconscious man. She carefully washed the dirt and ashes from his face, expecting some sort of reaction from him, however small, but none came.

“You might want to wash yourself before he wakes up and you give him a fright.” Marita touched her daughter’s chin and motioned toward the looking glass.

Ciana dropped the towel into the basin next to the bed and walked toward the basin in the corner and looked into the mirror above it. Her dark brown hair, usually braided neatly and hanging down her back, was dirty, pulling free from its ties and littered with weeds. Her creamy skin, the asset she felt was her best, was smudged and dirty. Her usually vibrant green eyes were rimmed in red, both from her earlier crying and the smoke from the fire. She shook her head at her dirty dress and tried to brush some of the dust from her apron to no avail. She quickly washed her face and hands and returned to the patient.

“Vadra take over his bathing. Ciana, bring my healing book and herbs, and perhaps gather more of the ones we will need. I know I needn’t tell you.” Marita gave her a weak smile, betraying her weariness.

Ciana passed the damp cloth to her younger sister and dried her hands. “You have trained me well. I know what to do.” She returned the smile and tried to look more cheerful for her mother’s sake as she left the room.

As she stepped into the hall she shivered, and realized that in all the excitement no one had started a fire in the room to keep the patient warm. Ciana turned back into the room and motioned for her youngest sisters, Keira and Rynnis to build the fire, then quickly left again. She entered her mother's sitting room, where the medicine pouch lay on her work table and was pleased to find it well stocked. She wouldn't have to go out to pick any more herbs tonight. She picked up her mother’s book of healing potions and hurried back to the guest room.

For nearly an hour Marita stood next to the patient, explaining to her daughters as she examined him thoroughly, and testing them with questions. Ciana listened intently, following her mother’s demonstrations with her own prodding examination. The younger girls listened with much less interest, but were careful not to let Marita see their teasing looks. “Well, we have put the poultices of affra grass and gyrum leaves on his wounds, and symish on his chest to relieve any congestion from the smoke he inhaled. The plaster of affra grass and chayote for the lump on his head. Ciana, see that they are changed each morning and night until he regains consciousness. We must take turns sitting with him until he rouses. Your sisters will help you.” Marita patted her arm as she picked up her things to leave the room.

The younger girls rolled their eyes and giggled, trying to muffle the sounds so their mother wouldn’t hear. Ciana glared at them and smiled to Marita as she turned around.

“Is something amusing Vadra? Keira? Rynnis?” She looked sternly at each one and paused. “No? We are the only healers in this city, and we must take our position seriously. If this man dies it won’t bode well with those who look to us for care. Now, Vadra and Rynnis, you will watch until the 3rd hour, then Ciana and Keira will relieve you. Am I understood?”

Vadra and Rynnis knew better than to disagree, and they nodded in unison, while Ciana gathered her things and followed Marita and Keira from the room.

Ciana smiled weakly, “Blessed sleep, mother, Keira.” and walked to her room, exhaustion finally overtaking her body and fell asleep. She felt like her head had just touched the pillow when Keira shook her awake.

“What is the matter? Is something wrong?” Ciana sat up in a daze.

“We must go now, to relieve Vadra and Rynnis. They are both nodding off. We must go.” Keira pulled Ciana from her bed, and handed her the robe hanging at the end of the bed.

Thus began the nightly trips to watch over the patient. Each night Keira woke Ciana, when she felt she had just fallen asleep, and they spent the next several hours watching the patient, looking for a sign that he would awaken. Ciana spent her days in the temple, searching the sacred writings for references to the prophecy, and her nights at the bedside of the strange patient.