Sumire & the Amethyst Jewels

SUMIRE

& the

AMETHYST JEWELS

BY:

MIRIAM POSKANZER

AuthorHouse™ LLC

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: 1-800-839-8640

©

2013 by Miriam Poskanzer. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/05/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-0759-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-0758-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-0757-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013914550

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER’S

ONE

The Storm

TWO

The Morning After

THREE

The Northern Tribes

FOUR

The Hidden Jewels

FIVE

The Magical Book

SIX

Sword and Shield

SEVEN

Sweet Sixteen

EIGHT

The Instructions

NINE

Mr. Naki’s Clan

TEN

The Preparation

ELEVEN

The Mysterious Letter

TWELVE

Under the Stone

THIRTEEN

Leaving the Farm

FOURTEEN

The Mysterious Hawk

FIFTEEN

The Cave of Wealth

SIXTEEN

The Masked Bazaar

SEVENTEEN

Friend or Foe

EIGHTEEN

The Ancient Mystic Village

NINETEEN

The Balamads

TWENTY

The Kazak’s

TWENTY-ONE

The Graveyard

TWENTY-TWO

Summer Celebration

TWENTY-THREE

The Reunion by Archery

TWENTY-FOUR

Bashkir Village

TWENTY-FIVE

Sacred Bones

TWENTY-SIX

Serpent’s Cavern

TWENTY-SEVEN

Zor’s Island

TWENTY-EIGHT

Throbbi and Gwenelyn

TWENTY-NINE

Militia

THIRTY

Magic Vision

THIRTY-ONE

THE FINAL CHAPTER

Tatars Face the Mongols

About The Author:

This book is dedicated to:

Sheri, Steven

Aziza Dawlet

Imagine if I told you a story of a young girl’s life that lead to many dangers that most could not endure; you would not believe me. The love and passion that once existed will bleed within your heart. Who am I to come into your home and bring perilous adventures that will follow you forever? Maybe I have seen the world in a way no one else has even imagined or endured. I will show you, in my view, where no human has ever traveled, only because I was there.

CHAPTER I

The Storm

Can miracles really exist? This was definitely the beginning of a strange day.

It all started on a very cold and windy day in autumn. A big storm was headed towards the farm owned by Mr. and Mrs. Takimoto. The farm was located in Japan and had been in the family for over two centuries. It was inherited by Mr. Takimoto from his ancestors.

Mr. Takimoto was a strong man in his early forties. He tended to the stables where they bred horses. The farm had a lot of acreage within a valley, yet most of it was not used for farming since it was just the two of them. Mrs. Takimoto was the same age as her husband as they had known one another since their childhood. It was an arranged marriage. Their families were best friends from the same village.

His loving wife worked with the chickens in the morning and maintained the vegetable fields with her husband in the afternoons. In between, Mrs. Takimoto prepared the meals for the two of them and tended the house. Friends visited from time to time by horse and wagon. They did not have any close neighbors and the main town was miles away.

It was not always just the two of them however. They once had a son named Toshiro. Autumn had arrived and it was the tenth anniversary of the Takimoto’s losing their only son to nomadic tribes from the north. He was taken by a surprise. These tribes also stole sheep and horses.

So many years had passed and it was still difficult to think about that tragic day. Some days Mr. Takimoto would have to comfort his wife because it was too painful to remember. They never had any more children after that incident.

Mr. Takimoto was also an experienced swordsman as his father taught him from when he was very young. But at the time of the abduction, he did not attempt to fight that many warriors.

Mr. Naki, a close friend from the next town, had come to warn them about the strong winds coming from the north. On his own wagon he brought them food to last a couple of weeks even though they had enough. He was a kind and very generous friend of the family’s for many years. He had heard the storm brought severe damage onto other farmers and wanted to warn the Takimoto’s to find shelter. Mrs. Takimoto had a strange and worried feeling about this particular storm.

Mr. Naki, you can stay at our home until the storm passes. You should not travel so far alone, said Mr. Takimoto.

Mr. Naki thanked them for their hospitality, but was worried about his own family miles away. He did not plan on staying and needed to return quickly.

A few hours had passed after Mr. Naki left the farm. The winds began to pick up and shortly the gusts became powerful. It was difficult to see just a couple feet ahead. They wondered if Mr. Naki made it home safely back to his family.

Mr. Takimoto rushed to put the horses into the stables. The heart of the storm was getting near and he felt he did not have enough time to flee to the main house where his wife was preparing food. As he was trying to decide what to do, he heard a big crash against the roof on the other side of the stable. It sounded as though a tree fell upon it, yet there were no trees beside the stable. He had no time to see what had happened.

Up at the house, Mrs. Takimoto waited impatiently for her husband to return to their home. She was reminiscing on the past with a photo of her son in her hands. Tears were falling from her eyes and she was wondering if he was dead or alive. She heard the same crash coming from the stables and was concerned about her husband. She ran to the front of the house and opened up the door.

The wind was so strong that it swept her photo from her hands straight up into the air. She watched as it swirled up towards the sky. It was like a sign telling her something was going to change her life.

She glanced towards the stables but could barely see the structure. She was so worried about her husband not returning. She decided to check to see if he was safe. She closed the door behind her using much of her strength and then ran down to the stables.

It was difficult running against the winds; she was falling and getting up again. The thought of losing another loved one was unbearable. The stinging feeling of her hair hitting her face was painful, but she kept going. She reached the stables and started yelling and banging on the door. She was frightened of what might have happened.

Mr. Takimoto heard her voice on the other side and ran to open the stable door. Are you mad woman?! What were you thinking? You could have been hurt!

She grabbed him and shouted above the sound of the wind, I was so worried when I heard a crashing sound coming from here and did not want to lose my husband.

Quickly they pushed the door shut. The wind was strong and it was not easy. She began to cry and he held her for a moment, but they needed to make sure the door was secure. They needed to take cover right away inside the barn before something fell on them.

The winds grew stronger by the hour. The stable doors began to shake fiercely as they hid for safety in one of the horse stalls. Suddenly, one of the doors came loose and flew open. Gusts of wind went soaring through the stables. Their stallions were rearing up knocking their hooves against the wooden walls. Hay and dust flew everywhere, which made it more difficult to see.

Quickly, they ran to try and close the large wooden doors. Mrs. Takimoto was struck by a strong gust of wind, which threw her off to the side twisting her leg. From the painful expression on his wife’s face he knew she could not get up. He quickly sealed the door as best as he could and ran over to her. He carried her to the empty stall and crawled under the blankets with her waiting until the storm subsided.

They stayed curled up like that for a few hours when suddenly the wind came to a standstill. The horses finally calmed down and Mr. Takimoto slowly crawled out from under the now wet and heavy blankets. He asked his wife if she was able to stand. She was still in pain yet managed to get up putting most of her weight on one leg.

The last time a storm like this hit the farm was about ten years ago. It was a very sad day because, as mentioned earlier, this was the day they lost Toshiro, their son. He was only five years old.

One of the members of the clan struck Mr. Toshiro on the back of the head and he was temporarily paralyzed. His wife found him later, after the storm. The one thing he remembered was watching a hawk diving down at one of the nomads and attacking his face. It was very unusual; it was as though the hawk was trying to protect him.

Ohhh, Mrs. Takimoto groaned. Slowly she started to walk with her husband’s help. They were about to check on the damage and the animals when they heard a faint cry coming from the back of the stables. They looked at each other questioningly. They quietly approached and the crying stopped.

Mr. Takimoto grabbed a pitchfork leaning against the wall. Mrs. Takimoto lit a lantern to shed some light on the dark spot where the sound came from. Cautiously they walked to the end of the stable, slowly opening the stall door to see what was making the noise. The door creaked as it opened.

There sat a little girl, not more than seven-years-old, with her back to the wall. She was wet from the storm and her body was trembling. She was wearing the most unusual clothing. The material was partially armored. It was strange for someone so young to be wearing these types of garments.

Blood was dripping from her wrists and there were deep scratches on her arms. When they looked above her, there was a big hole in the roof. They assumed the injuries came from pieces that fell down from the roof during the storm. But how did she get here, they wondered.

The little girl had her head down and her arms around her head. When she lifted her face towards the Takimoto’s, they noticed her piercing, violet eyes glowing in the full moon’s light. Her black, plum-colored hair hung around her face in disarray. She was sniffling as she spoke words in another tongue.

Mr. Takimoto yelled out, It is the devil!

He became very fearful, thinking the northern tribes put a curse on them. He panicked and felt the tribes might be back again and may be nearby.

He held the pitchfork in his hand and said, We must destroy her to protect ourselves!

As he raised the pitchfork and was about to use it, his wife screamed and pulled his arm back. The little girl gasped and grabbed her shield to take cover, which lay beside her.

This shield was very unique and Mr. Takimoto did not recognize the culture. It had jewels all around it. There was a large amethyst stone set in the middle, with turquoise gems surrounding it. The little girl curled up behind the shield and sat still. They never saw such unique craftsmanship.

Mrs. Takimoto said, Please, my husband. Do not harm her. Can’t you see that she is just a child and afraid? I want to keep her for my own.

She told him how lonely it has been since their son, Toshiro, was taken ten years ago.

I have been praying for a miracle, she said. My dear husband, here she is.

She pleaded to spare the girl’s life. The little girl slowly lowered her shield so that only her face was showing. Again, her violet eyes were so bright and beautiful as she stared helplessly up at the Takimoto’s.

Mr. Takimoto paced back and forth for a moment and placed his pitchfork against the wall. He then said to his wife, She must belong to someone. Her parents must be worried about her. She is a girl and will be useless to me.

His wife clarified that she could teach her to work the stables and help cook.

Looking up sadly at her husband and still in pain, she asked, If no one claims her, can she be our little girl? One day, we will be old and this little girl could help us.

He asked her what would happen if the tribes decided to come back searching for her.

She limped over to lean against the wall and explained to her husband that they would have more of a chance of survival with her alive rather than dead. Mrs. Takimoto said, She may save us one day.

Hmm,

Mr. Takimoto put his hand on his chin and started to pace back and forth again. He didn’t know what to do. It has been only the two of them for ten years and she did have a good point about helping since they were getting older. He noticed how sad and lonely his wife was at times.

He was always so busy in the stables and couldn’t keep her company during the day. After a few minutes, he stopped, turned around and looked at the both of them. He knew how she had been weeping for her son and maybe this would take the void out of her life.

He turned towards his wife and said, What shall we call her?

Mrs. Takimoto, almost dropping to the ground with excitement grabbed her husband and hugged him. He had to hold her up so she would not fall.

She thought for a moment, turned to her husband, and then turned to this unique little girl and said, Sumire. Yes. We shall call her Sumire, meaning violet, for her eyes.

Mrs. Takimoto slowly extended her hand to Sumire. Sumire climbed into Mrs. Takimoto’s arms and held on very tightly. She took her up to the main house for shelter holding her cane in one hand.

Mr. Takimoto stayed to clean up the mess the storm left behind. Feeling partly relieved that he was making his wife happy and yet very concerned about where this little girl came from out of nowhere.

Scratching his head looking up at the big hole in the roof, he could not figure out what happened. Shaking his head, he whispered to himself, What have I done?

Back at the main house, Mrs. Takimoto cleaned the child’s wounds. She noticed how badly the little girl was hurt. Her stomach had deep scratches on it as if a mountain lion attacked her, yet she did not cry when the woman touched them. Out of excitement, Mrs. Takimoto forgot about her own leg injury.

Holding Sumire in her arms, she noticed how exhausted they both were. The storm took a lot of energy out of them. However, Mrs. Takimoto could not stop looking at this beautiful little girl’s features. She was so different from most other children.

Little Sumire, exhausted, fell asleep on her shoulders as she carried her off to bed in Toshiro’s old room. Mrs. Takimoto whispered in Sumire’s ear, An angel has sent you to me.

CHAPTER II

The Morning After

The morning arrived as the sun rose vibrantly behind the mountains. Mrs. Takimoto went to her son’s old room where she put Sumire down to sleep. She had tucked her nicely under the covers to keep her warm.

In her son’s room was a wood stove where she placed lots of firewood so it would last throughout the night. When she peeked in, Sumire was not in her bed. Mrs. Takimoto was scared that she may have left them just as quickly as she came. In a panic, she looked around the bedroom and could not see her anywhere until she noticed little feet under the bed.

With relief, she took a deep breath as she approached her. She bent down to look under the bed and saw Sumire was sound asleep on the floor. She didn’t want to frighten her, and left her in the same position and exited the room. Mrs. Takimoto sighed in relief.

She went to the kitchen and was about to start cooking breakfast when Mr. Takimoto came in from the fields. He had a puzzled look on his face as he asked his wife to follow him to the stables. Her husband wanted to show her what he had found last night.

Mrs. Takimoto put on her boots and they walked together down the hill to the stables. Mr. Takimoto had found a large sack full of unusual items that Sumire apparently had with her. Some were not suitable for a little girl. Since they had decided to keep her, they planned to bring her up properly.

Mr. Takimoto placed the sack on a table in the stables and opened