Daughter of Ninmah

by Lori Holmes

  “Sit with them,” Baarias commanded briskly. “I’ll do what I can here.”

  Nyri froze. She did not want to go to her friend. She did not want to look into Kyaati’s eyes knowing what she did. She was overcome by a sudden urge to run, run away into the night and never stop. But that cowardly way out was not an option.

  She moved numbly to Kyaati’s side as her teacher commanded. She did not speak, she simply clutched at Kyaati’s hand as her father gripped her friend’s shoulders with white knuckles, holding her flat to the ground where she could not see. His frightened gaze flickered to Nyri briefly as they both watched Baarias turn the baby and begin to slap her tiny back. Nyri could feel Pelaan’s hope for his family’s continued existence fading with every fruitless moment. If this infant could not be revived, his powerful bloodline came another step closer to oblivion.

  “Nyri,” Kyaati’s glazed eyes fixed on her, beseeching. “Where is my baby?”

  Nyri opened her mouth and choked on the air. She could only stare helplessly at her friend, blinded by tears. There was still no sense of life in Baarias’ hands. It seemed like forever and no time before he finally admitted defeat and bowed his head.

  It was over.

  “I… I’m so sorry, Kyaati.” It was the first time Nyri had heard his voice waver. Defeat was etched into his every line as Baarias handed Kyaati the little body. “She’s gone.”

  “No,” Kyaati whispered. Her bewildered eyes flicked from Baarias to the baby and back, over and over as if waiting for reality to change. Her shaking fingers brushed repeatedly at the damp downy brow. Then it hit and her body began to shake as the cries were ripped from her chest. “No! No!”

  Pelaan was on his feet. He flew at Baarias and grabbed him by the shoulders. Nyri was on her feet, too, shocked and frightened by the Elder’s loss of control as he shook her teacher. “Do something! You are an akaab healer!” Kyaati’s despairing wails punctuated every angry word. “Save the child! What good are you if you cannot save one child?”

  Baarias did not protest against this treatment or move to defend himself. He waited until Pelaan let go of him. “One man cannot change nature, Pelaan. I do not have the power, no matter how much you or anyone else may wish it. Nobody does. I am so sorry for your loss.”

  Pelaan’s anger burned out in the face of Baarias’ calm. His knees buckled like a broken tree in the wind. Nyri choked on his grief, drowning as she was in her own. Kyaati’s despair could not be comprehended. Nyri heard a gasp and glanced into the trees. She saw Daajir’s form standing away in the darkness. His face was stone as he took in the awful scene. Nyri knew what was going through his mind. The loss of this young life was not just a blow to Pelaan’s family.

  It was a death knell to the tribe itself.

  10

  Flight

  Nyri felt Baarias at her side; she was so dazed that she could not move and he had to physically pull her with him back into the trees, leaving Kyaati and her father to grieve their dead.

  “Baarias,” Nyri could hardly speak. He looked as weary and as defeated as she had ever seen him. The horror began to bubble from her throat like infection from a wound. “That can’t be it? Why… What was…? We can’t—” Nyri tore at her hair. “It’s not fair!” she cried finally. Her grief turned to burning rage in its need for an outlet. In her mind’s eye, she saw the lifeless child in her mother’s distraught arms. Overlaying this image were blank skull faces, waiting in the dark. “It’s not fair! It should never have happened! She was doing fine! It’s all their fault!”

  “Whose fault?” Baarias asked wearily. He knew what she meant but he was going to make her say it.

  “The demons! If it wasn’t for them this would never have happened! Those foul beasts! Those foul, bloodthirsty, murdering beasts! Haven’t they taken enough from us? I hate them, Baarias! I-I-,” her rage struck her dumb. There were no words to articulate what she was feeling. She would surely explode with the emotion. Nyri seized a stick and swung it at a tree, wishing it was a Wove. The stick shattered satisfyingly on impact.

  Baarias, as usual, was unmoved. His calm was simply maddening. Where was his rage from earlier? Nyri would have welcomed it now. “So eager to hate and cast blame, Nyriaana?”

  For the first time ever, she wanted to strike him. She wished she hadn’t wasted that stick on the tree. “Don’t start defending the monsters again, Baarias,” she seethed. “I do not know how you can stand there now and deny that they are the cause for every wrong that has befallen us.”

  “The baby’s chest was malformed. She could not breathe.”

  He may as well have punched her in the gut. “W-what?”

  “The baby could not breathe, Nyriaana,” Baarias repeated. Had he always looked this old? “All that I have told you is true. I would not lie. Our condition is getting worse. Kyaati’s baby would never have survived, Wove attack or not.”

  Nyri was shaking. Robbed of her fury and outlet, she sank to her haunches, head in her hands, trying to absorb what she was hearing. The baby had never had a chance. She swayed.

  “I’m s-sorry, Baarias,” she whispered meekly. She did not know what else to say.

  Baarias touched her shoulder. He stepped away, pulling herbs from the pouches hanging on his staff and mixing them in the hala shell that always dangled from his garments ready for use.

  In the end, all Nyri could think of was Kyaati. Whoever was to blame, her child was dead and nobody could bring her back. A sob escaped her lips. She dug her fingernails into her scalp, biting back a shriek of despair.

  Baarias passed her by, heading back to where Kyaati and her father remained. Daajir was now with them. Numbly, Nyri rose and trailed her teacher. She leaned weakly against a tree, watching as Baarias administered his remedy, urging Kyaati and her father to take it. Nyri could not look at the motionless bundle still clutched protectively in Kyaati’s arms. She fixed her eyes instead on an object lying forgotten on the ground next to the tragic scene.

  It was a mistake.

  Nyri’s already splintered heart shattered at the sight of the toy hare. She knocked aside the calming remedy Baarias was now offering to her and gave in to the call of the night and the escape it promised. Nyri did not hear Daajir shout. She just ran. Ran from that terrible place. Ran from death. Most of all, she ran from the sight of the abandoned gift with its red feather and the baby who would never play with it.

  * * *

  Nyri did not know where she was going. The frigid air stabbed her lungs as she fled. Her tears froze painfully upon her face. She ran until her legs burned fire. She did not care. She wanted the pain. She welcomed it. These were sensations she could handle. Sensations she could comprehend. The forest blurred by, on and on.

  In the end, her body betrayed her will. Nyri stumbled and collapsed against a tree, gasping and trembling. Alone in the darkness, she let herself go. Every stone and fallen branch within her reach went flying, smashing into tree trunks and shattering against rocks. Nyri screamed her pain and confusion to the night.

  She stopped only when her bleeding fingers clawed at the empty earth in futile search. There was nothing left to throw. Raw, Nyri sank to the ground. The darkness settled around, cloaking her. She closed her eyes.

  She remained that way for a long time. She did not know how far she had run or where she had come to rest but she did not care. The forest went on, unminding of her presence in its midst, uncaring, like her fury had never been. How symbolic. Leaves whispered and creatures passed until finally the sweat grew cold on her body and she shivered against the night.

  Opening her swollen eyes, Nyri looked around. The trees were grey sentinels in the darkness, whispering to each other in their own peculiar way. A night bird swooped soundlessly overhead.

  The silence was oppressing, all encompassing. Nyri got up and wandered swiftly on. She did not want to think. She could not let the pain catch her.

  She had never been this far away from the rest of the tribe after dark before.
The thought crossed her mind idly, not really caring if it was heeded or not. She stared unseeing at the ground as it passed beneath her feet. The cold was starting to hurt her toes. She should really take to the trees where she would be safer but she could not bring herself to care.

  Gradually, Nyri began to notice signs of disturbance in the earth. Scuff marks here, large footprints and a snapped branch there. Over-laying all were impressions of paw prints. The Woves must have come this way in their flight from the pack.

  That thought sent a chill through Nyri’s body, shaking her a little from her daze. Woves. She wondered how far the wolves had driven them. For all she knew, they could still be here, lurking in the darkness just waiting for a foolish victim such as her to cross their path.

  A sense of self-preservation, if nothing else, began to resurface beneath her numb shell. Every shadow now hid a sinister secret. A sudden movement in the trees made her flinch. Like a spooked animal, Nyri stumbled into a run but, in her senseless flight, she had gotten herself completely lost. She did not know what she was running into. Panic began to set in.

  Nyri bit back a yelp as she tripped on something soft, falling hard into the leaf mould. The scent of earth and decay filled her nostrils. Coughing, Nyri pulled herself up and came face to face with the staring eyes of a cat. She hadn’t even sensed its presence. Crying out, she reflexively grabbed a rock from the ground and scrambled backwards, trying to put as much distance between herself and the predator as possible. A futile effort. She knew it was already too late and she was as good as dead.

  But the cat did not move. Nyri halted her hasty retreat, confused. As her blind panic subsided and instinct gave way to rational thought, she realised why she had not sensed its presence. The cat was dead. It was just an empty shell of fur and sinew lying stiff and unmoving on the ground. Nyri recognised it as the same creature that had attacked Omaal that very morning, a lifetime ago now it seemed. She turned away from the grizzly sight, made even more unnerving in the dark.

  She knew where she was now. Her flight had brought her all the way to the Pits. She was lucky not to have fallen prey to one of the hungry maws. Nyri shuddered at her own foolishness. Ninmah must have been watching over her. She had to get a hold on herself before Ninmah washed Her hands of such a foolhardy Daughter. She breathed through her nose, once, twice…

  “Hhugghh.”

  Gasping, Nyri raised her rock, spinning to face the noise. The hand that held the makeshift trembled as she gated a terrified whimper between her teeth. That had not been an animal. Leaves rustled. Whipping her head around, she tried to keep her eyes on everything at once, searching for the owner of the disembodied moan.

  Then the presence she had missed until now brushed across her senses. Not an animal. Not Ninkuraaja. The energy was different, off, muted. A Wove. Her breathing quickened. She wished with all her might that she was back at home, safe within her tree.

  Snap. Crack!

  Nyri twisted. The sound of movement was coming from the Pits. Only now did she notice that the sticks and branches covering the nearest hole were broken and tumbled inward, mere strides away.

  Nyri burned with the need to take flight but an inexplicable compulsion drew her forward. Before she knew it, she was peering carefully over the edge, rock at the ready. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the deeper blackness below. A shadow was lying right at the bottom of the Pit. A demon Wove captured in the trap. The empty eye socket of the grishnaa shaped skull stared balefully up at her.

  Nyri flinched and jumped back as the dark figure stirred then stilled. It was unconscious. It was a miracle the demon creature had survived the fall. She wasn’t about to wait around for it to wake up. She backed away, intent on retreating swiftly into the night, leaving this monster to its fate. It deserved nothing but death. She should never have left her people.

  She had taken but a step when the voice snared her. Soft, barely there, it whispered.

  “Nyri, Nyri, Nyriaana.”

  The rock slipped from her numb fingers and tumbled lifeless to the ground.

  Juaan.

  11

  Empty Shell

  “Nyri!” her mother’s voice broke into her sleeping world. She mumbled a protest. She was cosy and warm. She did not want to get up just yet. “Nyri!” A hand nudged at her. “Come on, sleepy cub.”

  “Mama.”

  “Come on, wake up, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “Mmmpphh.”

  A soft laugh. Hands lifted her. She was being carried. Her mother made her way unerringly down their tree, despite her burden. Nyri tightened her arms around her mother’s warm neck happily. She kept her eyes closed, clinging to the sleepy cocoon.

  “Nooo,” she protested softly as she was plopped into a sitting position upon the ground. She blinked her eyes against Ninmah’s light and the green, green trees.

  “Nyri,” her mother’s soft voice whispered. “I want you to meet Juaan.”

  Nyri stiffened. Someone was looking at her. She met eyes as green as the trees themselves. Strange eyes. She turned her face away shyly, hiding from this stranger. She did not like being looked at. Tottering to her feet, she moved to hide behind the protection of her mother’s legs. She spotted her father standing not far away. His arms were crossed. He was not happy. Nyri frowned back.

  “Nyri, Juaan lost his mama last night. He is going to be a part of our family now. We have got to look after him because no one else will.”

  Nyri heard her father snort. She was confused. This strange boy was joining their family? But her papa was not happy. She did not move.

  “Nyri?” her mother questioned. “Nyri.” She gave her a nudge with her heel. “Nyriaana!”

  “Nyri, Nyri, Nyriaana.”

  Nyri giggled suddenly. The strange boy had spoken, turning her mother’s call for her attention into a silly rhyme. She dared to peer from behind her mother’s legs. He was still standing not far away, watching her carefully. Some of her shyness left her and she crawled further out from behind her shelter.

  He was very tall. His skin was dark beneath deep brown hair. Strange boy. She looked closer and saw with a shock that he was sad; his eyes were red. He had been crying! Nyri’s heart twisted. She didn’t want him to be sad. He needed something. Someone to hold him. Being held always made her feel better. Taking to her feet, she tottered the rest of the way to the boy who was now part of her family. She threw her arms around his legs as far as they would go and clung to him. What had her mama called him?

  “Hello, Juaan. Don’ cry. I be your friend. Make it better?”

  The boy took a shaky breath. He was crying again. Nyri held him tighter. Maybe she was doing this wrong. But then she got the sense that the boy was feeling better, if only a little. She did not let go of her hold on him.

  “Hello, Nyri, Nyri, Nyriaana.”

  * * *

  Daylight touched Nyri’s eyelids, stirring her unwillingly from her troubled sleep. She opened her eyes and stared up at the familiar boughs twisting above. She did not move. Exhaustion pulled on her every limb. One image after another chased through her mind as she tried to rationalise her thoughts.

  Everything from the night before was an unreal blur of darkness and despair. Everything except the voice. A voice that had cut through death itself, speaking the rhyme that had comforted her, amused her and distracted her as a child. A secret between two friends spoken from the unconscious mouth of her enemy.

  Nyri squeezed her eyes shut again. As soon as she had recovered from her shock, she had fled, terrified to hear or feel anything more that might make that terrible illusion a reality. She had not stopped until she had reached her home and climbed into her tree, throwing herself into the protective cocoon of her bower, shaking and crying until exhaustion overtook her.

  Nyri could not believe now that it had been anything more than a trick of her senses. In the clean, cold light of day, the deception was that much easier to throw off. That was not Juaan lying at the botto
m of the pit. That was not Juaan, skull-faced and wrapped in black furs, carrying a deadly weapon against them. That was not Juaan, her beloved Juaan, become the thing of her nightmares.

  All she had heard was the desperate imagining of an overwrought mind seeking an impossible comfort. Juaan was dead. He had given his life to save hers. That twisted thing dying out there in the forest (if she hadn’t indeed imagined the whole thing) was something else entirely. Nyri refused to believe anything else.

  If Juaan had been alive all of this time, he would have come back to her. No matter how much her lesser self yearned for the illusion to be real, Nyri would not go back to look on this creature and taunt her heart. She would not.

  She was proud when she almost believed herself.

  Nyri rolled over. Ninmah was fully risen. She was just wondering at the phase of the day when true reality came crashing down upon her. Kyaati. Nyri balled up as the pain and the horror of the night’s events found her at last. The emotions were as raw as ever. She had not let herself face it. She had not worked through it. She had fled. Now it was all the worse because beside the pain another emotion was growing in strength. Guilt. She had abandoned Kyaati. She had left her friend in the middle of the forest while she screamed over her lost baby. Such a crime should never be forgiven.

  Nyri staggered to her feet. She had to find her. She would do or be anything Kyaati needed now.

  Still dressed in her tattered clothing from the night before, bruised, scratched and bloodstained, Nyri climbed very stiffly down her tree. The night’s running had taken its toll. Hard physical activity was not a wise choice when food was in short supply and her people always did their best to avoid overexerting themselves where possible. Nyri stepped gingerly to the ground.

  Hardly anyone was around. Even so, the energy hanging over the eshaara grove weighed upon Nyri like a death shroud. She shuddered and hurried on as fast as her aching body would permit.