The Lightglider Origins series written for middle grade readers continues with the story of a strong-willed teenager who wants to save her tribe from violence and restore peace but instead finds herself in the land of Glideon.
Tambika and the Shield of Wisdom, the second book in the series,begins in Tanganyika, Africa, in 1896. As long as she’s been alive, Tambika’s tribe, the Hehe, has lived in conflict. She longs to be a leader who stands up for her people, but her desire for vengeance endangers her destiny. When Tambika and her friends break into the German armory to take back their tribe’s silver, she attacks a young soldier and flees the scene.
As she escapes into the bush, Tambika sees a cosmic light that fills the sky and transports her to another realm, the land of Glideon. She discovers an old journal with clues that lead her to an abandoned training facility, where her purpose in Glideon is revealed. She has been chosen to resurrect Lightglider Academy and to equip teenagers from all over the world to rescue Gliddles and restore the land. She must first locate the Shield of Wisdom, a crucial component of the Armor of Light, which will empower the next generation of Lightgliders.
With each story in the Lightglider Origins series written by Derek Holser and Zach Fay, young readers ages 8–14 will embark on a journey through time and space to the world of Glideon. Each book features the story of a teen from a different time period and location around the world who has been transported to the mystical land of Glideon to become a Lightglider. In Glideon, they will meet up with their fellow Lightgliders who are tasked with saving a mysterious land filled with Gliddles, talking spiders, and diabolical Machines.
Instead of telling you more about Tambika’s story, we invite you to read to read a little bit of it. We hope you enjoy the first chapter of Tambika and the Shield of Wisdom.
Ancient Origins
I can never return home.
Tambika clutched her knees to her chest. Her body quivered underneath the leafless arms of the acacia tree. The moonlight, like an apparition, darted behind the passing clouds as she stared at the puddle of tears between her bare feet. It was never supposed to go this far, but these things always do.
Like most collisions, theirs had been swift and brutal, and though perfectly predictable, it had still taken her by surprise. Half an hour after it happened, Tambika’s hands were still shaking. She folded them firmly together, a vain attempt to quell the adrenaline coursing through her body. Her mind zipped through a series of images, replaying the key moments that led to this one—running for her life, all alone in the middle of an acacia grove, hoping against hope that it was all a bad dream. Tambika looked back down the winding trail. Silence. By sunrise, the area would be swarm-ing with soldiers. The terrain ahead felt familiar, but she’d never gone into the bush alone. She knew Mother Nature would bring no comfort.
Where to now?
Thirty minutes earlier, Tambika stood over the crumpled Fritz, a lead pipe in her raised hand. The frenzied rage that consumed her suddenly shattered when Adla, her little brother, screamed her name. Blood oozed down Fritz’s face, onto his collar. The wild terror in his eyes pierced her heart. A mere boy masquerading as a mercenary. Wounding him had not been part of their plan.
Imperial German forces, stolen rubber exports, illegal taxation, Uncle Mkwawa’s revolution, a treasure chest of silver rupies—these ingredients swirled in a stew of hostility that boiled over, scalding the lives of the East African teens. For several weeks, they fixed their sights on revenge. Tambika released their collective rage into Fritz, the teen-aged German recruit who wanted to be there even less than they wanted him there.
She wiped her tears. Her practical nature swapped the bittersweet comfort of homesickness for the spartan garment of survival. It was something she wore well, woven through her lineage for centuries. Every instinct summoned. Every well-honed sense heightened. She straightened from her crouched position and prepared to run. As she did, a revelation gripped her heart and shaped her quest: We did the wrong thing for the right reason.
One Week Before
German East Africa, 1896.
The blazing bonfire at the center of the village of mud huts lit up the sky from far across the plain, through the ruins of the once impenetrable walls of Kalenga. It could be seen as far away as the banks of the Great Ruaha River, where the wildebeest hordes assembled to drink during their annual migration. Tambika hovered close to the heat, this furious tower of orange and red, with streaking gold sparks that flickered and disappeared in wisps of black smoke. It was a night of temporary peace, ushered in by a month-long truce between the Hehe Tribe and the German troops.
The cool September evening provided temporary relief from the conflict. Back and forth the fighting went. For five years now, Tambika’s family and her people, the Hehe tribe, yearned for life the way it was before her grandfather Chief Munyigumba died. At least tonight, almost everyone relaxed and enjoyed an evening of festivities and feasting.
As bellies filled and eyelids drooped, the children huddled together to hear the ancient stories once more. The elders sat before them, bony hands curled atop walking sticks, eyes twinkling in anticipation of oohs and aahs, giggles and shrieks. They told tales of adventure, mystery, and hope. The young ones sat like stone carvings, their eyes fixed upon the tale-tellers. Even the babies, slumped on their mothers’ chests, eyes aflutter, rolled their heads so they could hear their elders’ voices. As the old stories were told anew, the spirits of those who remained were infused with the lives and lore of legends.
Tambika stood behind a row of crouched youngsters. At fourteen years old, Tambika inhabited the in-between space of life. Almost full grown yet still holding the heart and hopes of a child. Daydreams were for the little ones. It was time to be practical, to take on the responsibilities of a young woman. Her uncle, Chief Mkwawa, said these were days for action, position, and power. Tambika agreed.
Her dear Papa encouraged her to seek wisdom, to learn, and to dream. He reminded her that a wise imagination is the evidence of Mulungu because a holy imagination leads to harmony. Tambika listened. She was curious to discover the mysteries of the past unveiled in the stories of today, and she was vigilant to find herself in those stories—to be the hero, to be the champion, to inspire her people to rise above.
Tambika’s grandmother Ambokile stood to her feet. The chattering of the children ceased. Ambokile told the very best stories. Her pock-marked face and scarred fore-arms told many tales without her saying a word. She’d lived a long life in the ancient ways, rearing seven children and losing two husbands—one to war, one to disease—all while attending to the vitality of her village. Ambokile’s nerve was stronger than the machete she’d used for decades to clear the brush. Her eyes were the deep gray hue of a gathering storm cloud, and they flashed with equal measures of passion and poise.
She raised a polished antelope horn to her wrinkled lips and puffed. A soft bellow announced the beginning of her tale. She hung the horn over her hunched shoulders and began to speak.
“Tonight, I shall tell the tale of Anansi and the Shield of Wisdom.”
“Woo-hoo! Ya! Ya!” the children erupted.
“Shush now, or I shall be unable to speak.”
“Yes, Bibi,” Adla whispered. He glared down the row of his compatriots, demanding silence. Adla played off his grandmother’s status a bit too often for Tambika’s liking.
“There, there. Let us begin. Anansi and the Shield of Wisdom. As you children know—and those adults who haven’t forgotten—Anansi is the father of all spiders. All agree that he is an ancient rebel. Some say he was a fallen angel. No one knows for sure, but the legends tell that Anansi was one of the first to commune with Mulungu. Mulungu created the universe and all within it: the majestic mountains, the long-necked giraffes, the powerful lion, and of course, man and woman. But shortly after that day, the Garden of Goodness, the cradle of life, was lost by the first humans.
One afternoon, Anansi used his webbing to catapult from the mountain peaks to the Great Golden Palace, above the clouds that encircle Kilimanjaro. There, while Mulungu listened to angelic reports of life around the world, Anansi silently scurried over the wall. Unseen, he entered the Crystal Chamber, the vault that contains symbols, icons, and glyphs detail-ing the greatest mysteries of creation. Many dazzling wonders are explained there, out of reach of any creatures who might abuse the powers found therein. They were to be kept hidden until humans were ready to use them as designed, or for some, until the day that sin and death are no more. Anansi noticed several large scrolls on which were written all the languages of the world. The ink was barely dry, as these scrolls were finished after the Tower of Tongues diaspora. Anansi heard footsteps and quickly shuffled into the next room.
He found himself in an enormous marble cavern. Though it was a rather large space, it held only two items, both encased in a glass obelisk at the center of the room. Anansi approached the towering case, mesmerized by the refracted light shining from its edges and its pyramid crown. A giant pearl, nearly the size of a ripe jackfruit, rested on a silk pillow in the lower half of the case. Like a translucent eye, it turned this way and that, cataloging and projecting every good deed done on earth. In the upper half of the glass case, on a polished mahogany shelf, rested a stunning object that captivated his treacherous heart. The Shield of Wisdom.
“Ooohhh,” several children cried.
Tambika smiled. Her light brown eyes glistened as she remembered being enchanted by such stories. Even now, a part of her hoped the Shield was real.
“Yes, the Shield of Wisdom,” Ambokile whispered, leaning forward on her walking stick. “The Shield is a large disc, much like those carried by our very own warriors. Mulungu created the Shield as protection and provision, which are often one and the same. He shaped it from the pristine water and clay of the Nile and hardened it in the volcanic fires of Mount Nyiragongo, deep in the heart of our land. Mulungu commanded that it be inscribed with ingredients and instructions for monumental inventions. A dazzling blue and yellow glaze was applied, and it was thereater placed in the blazing Sahara sun for a season. Like all things of goodness, it was both beautiful and true. It held a place of high esteem in the Great Golden Palace and was stored in the Crystal Chamber until the hearts of humans were humble enough to receive its secrets. As Mulungu often says, ‘Virtue leads to valor; integrity must inform invention.’
Anansi could not wait for virtue. He had little regard for integrity. The desire for power poisoned his soul. ‘Spinning silly webs to trap tiny flies!’ he hissed with disregard for his gift. “Soon, I will be greater than even the elephant or the tiger!”
Anansi snatched the Shield and tucked it under his abdomen. He spun webbing that held it against his body as he left the Crystal Chamber. Silently, he padded out of the Great Golden Palace. As he crept out, the angelic report revealed a rift between the world’s first brothers. Anansi heard a cherub bemoaning the fate of brother Cain.
Sentimental seraph, Anansi thought. Humans are weak and foolish. Why spend so much energy trying to aid their redemption? Besides, Cain got caught. I never will.
Anansi continued through the clouds, down to Kilimanjaro. When he had traversed a comfortable distance from the Great Golden Palace, he paused on a plateau. He surveyed the land below him. As far as his six eyes could see, the world was wide open, full of possibilities and promise.
“Tell the part where he makes the fire!” an eager little girl squealed.
“Yes, dear, just a minute,” Ambokile said.
“And when Mulungu catches him! Tell that part!” Adla said. Tambika rapped her little brother on the top of his head with a walking stick. “Ow,” he cried, rubbing his scalp. He glared at Tambika. She held her finger to her lips, signal-ing for Adla to hush. He folded his arms and scowled.
Ambokile paused as several Hehe warriors moved around the circle’s edge. They remained vigilant. The truce couldn’t be trusted. She lowered her voice as she continued to tell the tale.
And so, Anansi carried the Shield down Mount Kilimanjaro. For hours, he sought the perfect hiding place. Finally, he came upon the largest baobab tree he’d ever seen, a Muri Kunguluwa. Gnarled and twisted branches, too numerous to count, spread a vast canopy overhead. Hundreds of wooden elbows were waiting to secure the Shield. As Anansi stared at the bent branches, he realized that he had to consider another spot. He couldn’t leave it exposed, even for a moment. His six black eyes turned to the baobab tree’s trunk. It was as wide and bumpy as the road to Nairobi.
That’s it! Anansi thought.
The baobab trunk could easily hold the Shield within its hollow center. He stood on his four back legs. Using his two front legs, the ends of which were as sharp as tent spikes, he carved a hole into which he could drop the Shield. As he finished carving the opening in the trunk, water seeped out and dribbled to the ground.
“Before I stash you in this secret place,” Anansi said to the Shield, “I must see your power revealed.”
The sun had nearly set. Anansi placed the Shield on the dirt below the baobab tree. He crouched low and turned the Shield in place, reviewing the options before him. Symbols and text etched in abundance—great ideas, powerful inventions, and world-changing words—awaited Anansi’s inquiry.
After a few minutes, he chose a small panel with an intriguing image. It was marked with the outline of a single flame. He read the words aloud, a simple recipe of two sticks and bits of straw. As he recited the recipe, the Shield shook. The moment he finished reading the panel, the Shield rotated and spun. It spun so fast it became a blur of colors. The dry soil stirred and swirled upward. Soon, the entire Shield was hidden behind a tornado of dust. Anansi was enamored. He watched and waited. Objects began to pop out of the top of the dust cyclone. First, a long flat stick with a notch in its center. Then, a shorter stick, its end as sharp as a spear tip. A bundle of straw and three logs followed. The objects fell to the ground beneath Anansi, and the Shield stopped spinning. The dust settled.
Anansi followed the instructions on the Shield. He fluffed the straw into a small pile and arranged the logs above them, like a tepee frame. He grabbed the spear-shaped stick and positioned its tip into the notch of the flat stick. He rotated the stick rapidly, its friction increasing the heat until a bit of smoke appeared. He spun the stick more vigorously, and a spark flew out. A flame leapt from the sticks to the straw. The straw began to sizzle. He puffed a gust of air. Woosh, there was fire!
“A bonfire like this one, Grandmother?”
“Yes, dear mdogo,” Ambokile replied to Tambika’s younger sibling.
“But Mulungu’s coming; Mulungu’s coming!” “Shhh . . .”
The children tittered and squealed, excited for the story’s climax. The slumbering babies stirred on their mothers’ chests. Everyone leaned in, except the warriors patrolling the perimeter. All remained quiet beyond the bonfire, for now.
The straw crackled and popped as the fire spread through the entire bundle. At first, the flames danced against the logs, seeking a dry spot to consume. Soon, the flames found that tender core, ripe for burning. Anansi found himself standing before the first fire ever started on planet Earth. The light was mesmerizing and the new warmth washed over him. He closed his eyes and reveled in the pure bliss on a chilly night.
Of course, the flames attracted attention, especially since night had fallen. High overhead, far above the baobab tree, the message of Anansi’s deed was quickly transmitted to the Great Golden Palace. In a blink, Mulungu appeared beside Anansi.
Excerpted from Tambika and the Shield of Wisdom © 2025 by Derek Holser and Zach Fay. Used with permission of New Growth Press. May not be reproduced without prior written permission.
Read a preview of the first Lightglider Origins book!
Tambika and the Shield of Wisdom
As long as she’s been alive, Tambika’s tribe, the Hehe, has lived in conflict. She longs to be a leader who stands up for her people, but her desire for vengeance endangers her destiny. When Tambika and her friends break into the German armory to take back their tribe’s silver, she attacks a young soldier and flees the scene. As she escapes into the bush, Tambika sees a cosmic light that fills the sky and transports her to another realm, the land of Glideon.
