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 the Summoning, protected and guided by Eyrael, the God of Wind and Sea, the Arawak tribe treks from South America to Jamaica,. This amazing feat actually occurred 2,500 years ago, and 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.
In The Summoning, an obscure branch of the Arawaks worship the hero Eyrael one of their spirit gods. He is the God of Wind and Sea. Of course, the book is fiction.
Heather Morique is a witch. The problem is she doesn’t know it. Her husband Jahill was a refugee from an obscure branch of the Arawak Indians. After his death, mysterious whispers lure her to his homeland of Jamaica. Soon, she finds herself in a web of secrets, lies and illusions.
Jahill’s people worship Eyrael, the God of Wind and Sea, and his brother Sofiel, the God of Fire and Earth. The new Shaman has pitted brother against brother, and these two powerful spirits from an alternate universe fight to become the tribe’s ruling deity. Will light or darkness reign?
When Heather unwittingly summons Eyrael, these two unlikely soul mates face a dangerous fate. The chemistry between them is more disturbing than the long-buried secrets.
Excerpt: (The Scene is a remote beach in Jamaica. The heroine is drowning)
The sea played with his shoulders and his hair. Eryael smiled his Pleasure.
A scream gurgled in the waves ahead. A head split the churning ocean. One of the People. I must rescue. He shook the mane of hair back from his face and considered that, perhaps, he had too much hair. The tiny being reappeared frantically battling itself, spouting water from its mouth. Its cries stabbed him like splinters of darkness, and the pain, as much as any sense of duty, tugged him toward the drowning creature.
“Eyrael!” His name split the night sky, reverberating off the pinpoint stars.
He hated the mortal engaged in a hopeless skirmish with the water. Eyrael was irritated that its despair had somehow torn the curtain between the worlds and brought him over merely to sustain its brief flicker of life.
Silence. She no longer cried. Facedown, the waves washed a slender body toward the shore. A thrill shivered over his entire body. A woman, giver of the utmost Pleasure.
On the beach, dark shapes formed a half-circle around a blazing beacon fire. As one, they dropped to their knees and bent from the waist, their foreheads on the sand. A lone figure remained standing. The primal rainbow of feathers in the Shaman’s headdress danced in the wind of Eryael’s passage. Taino, young and virile, wiseman, witch doctor, a powerful magic user. The Indian sorcerer pinned Eyrael with eyes cold and hard as onyx.
Ah, the woman is a sacrifice. But not to me.
Long had Eryael known this Shaman preferred Sofiel, revering him as God of Fire and Earth. Taino thought to command Eyrael’s dark brother. A generation of the People had grown to manhood while the silence lasted between the spirits and the tribe. The witch doctor had summoned Sofiel, yet Eyrael had been pulled across. How could this be?
Still, he was in the land of the People. Perhaps, there was Pleasure to be had. At the very least, he could enjoy sight in the mortal sense. Sight brought with it emotion. Ah, emotion! Fierce and passionate. Sex with emotion was bliss. Heat throbbed in his loins. An image of a woman writhing beneath him intensified his arousal. The memory lengthened and hardened his shaft.
The drowning woman bobbed on a wave. “Eyrael,” she prayed. “I see you now. I’m coming.”
An invisible cord drew him closer to the sacrifice.
Eyrael. The woman not the Shaman had Summoned him. Indeed, she must be a powerful witch. He would rescue the sacrifice and foil the Shaman’s plans. Delighted, he laughed, the sound startling him. He had forgotten how mirth rumbled from human throats, but laughter like sight was Pleasure.
He lifted on the waves, flowing to the witch. She was still, appeared lifeless but he sensed her essence had not yet departed. He scooped her from the ocean into his arms. Her head drooped over the crook of his elbow, her long, rough gown molding an exquisite body. Golden hair clung to a pale but beautiful face. Eyrael bent and kissed her mouth. At the touch of flesh on flesh, his need intensified to near pain. Such exquisite torture! He opened his mouth over her blue lips, tracing the lower one with his tongue. Fierce emotions and that wonder passion sizzled in him. She sputtered, making a weak sound. He must revive the woman, carry her to the beach and take her hard and fast, the Shaman and his flock watching him not Sofiel enjoy the sacrifice.
He drew back, willing the pretty witch to live. Her eyelids flickered. She choked, another harsh cough wracking her fragile body. Large eyes of a beautiful blue fluttered open, widening. A lightning-like thrill zinged through Eyrael. Blue eyes were his favorite. Maybe he’d have blue eyes this visit. Spellbound, he bent to kiss her again. The woman screamed, struggling in his embrace. Her sharp cry hurt his ears.
His arms tightened, cradling her to his chest. She was soft, her flesh yielding, and the feel of her breast against him exciting. “Do not struggle. You are too weak.”
What did he look like to this creature? Hair the color of sea foam flowed over his shoulders. His eyes held all the shades of rainbows in glass. The People never feared him, but this golden-haired witch trembled in terror when she should be grateful. If he didn’t yearn to discover how she’d Summoned him, he’d allow his ocean to claim her. The drums throbbed, low and angry. The Shaman’s resentment and frustration blew bitter on the wind. Dark emotions haunted the moonlit beach where the People paid homage to the wrong god. Soon, Taino would understand he could not command a spirit.
Later in the first Chapter, Eyrael transforms into a winged black stallion. A new friend Kayelle Allen, also an author, created this image for me.
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Happy Saturday Eve, Ya’ll!