The Phoenix of Kiymako

by Ashley Capes

  “I know this valley,” Ayuni said.

  “As do I,” Muka added. “It was called the Vale of Lights, a place where travelling performers came from all corners. Only the most famous singers, musicians, rudama and acrobats would visit. As a child, I once saw a woman shatter glass with only her voice.”

  “Ayuni?” Never asked.

  She was nodding. “Let’s go down; there’s something here.”

  Chapter 33

  Never paused to look up at the wide stair that had been cut from one of the trunks.

  The fallen tree was one of many that made up the support for the village-sized platform above, every trunk at least half again as tall as he. Between each one rested huge wedges to prevent movement, though the floor of the valley was level. The butts of the trunks had been worn down by wind, rain and forgotten saw marks; he rested a hand against the one that had the stair cut within. “Who made this place?”

  “Supposedly the Divine Throne did,” Muka said. “A century ago at least, and now probably a decade since it was used. The performers stopped coming after a disastrous storm as they considered it an ill omen.”

  Ayuni was already climbing the steps. Never hurried after her, Muka close behind.

  Wind carried the scent of stagnant water across the vast platform, and with it, the dull sound of torn canvas snapping. Ayuni had paused at the nearest ring of steel posts, running her fingers across the chain link, where once rope must have stretched.

  “I have definitely been here. There was laughter and light and music. I remember gasps of awe too... and darkness on our way. Or as we left?” Her expression softened. “I can almost see the performers and their costumes again. They seemed so glamorous; I wanted to be like them, to travel and see the land.”

  “Then we are on the right track,” Never said.

  “I’m sure of it.”

  She led them across the boards, which barely creaked beneath their feet despite their faded colour. A circular tent of leeched blue, half in tatters, stood nearby, tall letters painted on its side. It seemed most were missing, but it was enough for Muka to identify the tent as that of a painter. “When I visited, the man within was painting a horse with wings... it slept within a field of golden grass.”

  Ayuni pointed to the next decaying tent as they neared, this one much larger. Part of the roof sagged with standing water. “What of this one, Muka? I seem to remember one of the red tents had animals?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  Inside was only the skeletal remains of a pen, not even the hint of straw or even ancient droppings. The central column had been scratched but Never found the marks to be old when he bent to examine them.

  The next pavilion had kept far more of its canvas; a bird exploded from the corner, feathers drifted from the nest. It clung to the edge of the roofing and looked down at them, beak snapping as it chirped.

  “Forgive us,” Never said, sweeping a bow.

  Similar scenes were repeated as they drew closer to the main pavilion, which had borne the brunt of time better than other tents. It concealed something of an arena, the ghosts of raised seating encircled a clear floor littered with debris now, but which must have once been the focus point. Of the chairs that remained, all were rotten or broken, some little more than kindling. Vandals or folks desperate for firewood in cold times?

  Here, the central column helped support the roof. Birds still roosted high above, their... gifts clear in piles across the floor. Yet something shone in the light. “I see something,” he said, approaching the gleaming object.

  It was long and thin... a silver cane. Something of such value would hardly have remained in plain sight for so long. He slowed as he neared it; the floor around was littered with writings. Some in faded paint, some that might have even been blood and yet other words had been scorched into the very wood. The writing was hard, jagged, writ large too.

  He bent down, hand outstretched.

  “Best not to touch it,” Muka said.

  Never stopped. “Is it cursed then?”

  “So say the words around it, yes,” he replied.

  Ayuni’s eyes were a little wide as she read. “Is this the cane carried by the Master of the Vale? The man who betrayed the performers?”

  “Yes.” Muka folded his arms as he spoke. “During a great storm that claimed the lives of many, it is said he ran forth – releasing pegs and lashings, driving animals free and calling the lightning down upon the Vale. Supposedly, he was rudama and could have eased the storm but instead, he fanned the flames. None know why.”

  “No wonder it has not been touched.”

  “They say his stomach was filled with stones and his body buried headfirst.”

  Never shook his head. “Well, enough of that delightful history lesson perhaps. Ayuni, you said you had been here. Is it possible your village lies beyond the valley, higher in the mountains?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Then we’ll have to find a trail somewhere.”

  “I remember darkness – but it didn’t seem to be night,” she said with a nod, gaze caught in a far-off place. “And before we reached this place the light was so sudden and so bright. It hurt my eyes... I think there was a cave or a tunnel.”

  “Then let’s keep going,” Never said.

  Outside, the abandonment continued until only a handful of tents remained between them and the edge of the giant platform. Beyond it in turn waited dense forest creeping across the empty space, animal trails visible at its edges but nothing that screamed ‘main road’ or ‘highway’.

  “I suppose one is as good as any other,” he said. “So long as it’s near the next set of steps. They must be a little farther—”

  “Wait,” Ayuni said. She was staring at one of the sagging tents – it might have once been a bright yellow, but it was a poor reflection of its former self now. Nothing about it seemed distinctive, compared to any other. It had a little less canvas perhaps.

  Never rejoined her.

  “This one is familiar.” She led them across the floorboards and inside, revealing a typical pile of debris, wood, steel and rotting ropes. Again, nothing to separate it from any other tent. She pointed to the mess in the corner. “Can we move that?”

  “Of course.” Never set to work, joined by Muka and Ayuni, and in short order they had cleared the floor. It was grimy, slick with the rot, a darker shade than the rest of the flooring.

  Ayuni was pacing, muttering to herself about a ‘trigger’. Finally, she stopped and moved to a spot beside the newly revealed floor. Once there, she clasped her hands together and closed her eyes, as if in prayer. She took a single step to her left then, and stomped her foot down, hard.

  Something clicked.

  A trap door had popped open – it rested within the floor where space had been cleared.

  Ayuni beamed over at them. “I knew it!”

  “This leads to your village?” Never asked.

  “I think so. Now that I’m here I’m remembering... the tunnel is below the Vale and we used it only when the travellers were here. I think it leads up into the mountain, to my village.”

  “I hope it wasn’t the only way in or out,” Never said, “since it obviously hasn’t been used for a long time.”

  She paused. “No, I believe there was another way... a river? I think Mother and I used to wait at the water’s edge for a raft. It’s hard to be sure, but I know we’ll find her there.”

  Never exchanged a glance with Muka, whose expression was hardly a mirror of Ayuni’s hope and confidence.

  “I saw that,” she told them. “And I have faith, so you have to as well.”

  “We have faith in you, Ayuni,” Muka said.

  Never nodded.

  “Then let’s get moving,” she said, her smile just as bright as before.

  Chapter 34


  After closing the trap door behind them, they started down a dark tunnel. The passage was as well-constructed as it was long – after a series of wooden supports gave way to carven stone walls, Never began to wonder whether the entry point at the Vale of Lights was actually the original end point of the tunnel?

  But more important for now was their destination. It was becoming increasingly likely that Ayuni’s village did wait at the end of the steadily rising passage, or at least a place that had been made by human hands.

  Very occasionally they passed skylights set high above; these seemed to be open to the elements but were too narrow for any to climb down. What little light they provided was enough to drink from their flasks and move on, once more needing to rely on the single lantern Muka carried. By the fourth such patch of light it was clear the afternoon was wearing on, but here was a point where the slope became steps.

  And again, well-crafted.

  Never couldn’t help wondering about the possible Amouni influence on the island – they had been everywhere else, it seemed – but simply because it was old and built to last did not make it Amouni. The stair still seemed ancient at least. It was wide enough for four to walk and regular landings provided moments for rest.

  When it finally came to an end at a wide door of stone, Never discarded his theory of the Amouni. Kiymako writing spread across the sealed door.

  Ayuni ran her hands across the chiselled words. “It says ‘to those who seek to pass beyond this point know that a pure heart has naught to fear’.”

  “I might not be welcome then,” Never said.

  Ayuni waved a hand at him. “You’ll be fine – we all will, but only if we can open it.”

  “Any memories?” Muka asked.

  She shook her head.

  Muka rested the lantern against the door and began to search his pack for his flask. Never rubbed at his neck. “I assume it’s not going to be a simple matter of pushing or pulling. No handle, no levers on the wall, no panels, nothing obvious. What about the floor?”

  Ayuni crouched. “Nothing likely.”

  Muka was peering at the writing, tracing each word with his hand, pushing against them but nothing changed. On the top step, Never sat and tapped his fingers on his knee. It didn’t seem that any Amouni trick would be enough, but he could always try some blood, just in case.

  “Look,” Ayuni cried.

  Never twisted. A soft yellow glow was spreading across the stone, starting from the point where Muka’s lantern sat near.

  “It’s heat,” Ayuni said. She removed the lantern and after a moment, the glow began to fade. “See?”

  “Let’s try something hotter then,” Never said with a grin. “Would you like to try some fire?”

  Ayuni cupped her hands and closed her eyes, mouth moving soundlessly, a slight furrow in her brow. Light flickered, flashes of blue and green – just like during the caravan attack. He took a step back, as did Muka. The light grew, heat pouring forth with it as Ayuni lifted her arms and placed her hands upon the door.

  The fire swirled in place but swiftly the doors responded, turning yellow, orange and finally a searing white. Never gave more ground against the heat, until he and Muka were half a dozen steps back down the stair.

  “Ayuni?” he called, shielding his eyes.

  “I’m not hurt,” she replied. A grinding followed her words and the light dimmed, heat eased. Never squinted up at the still-blazing doors, where her silhouette stood, shoulders heaving.

  He joined her, Muka at his side.

  Tears stood in Ayuni’s eyes and her hand was free of flame when she pointed. “I can hardly see it.”

  Light was fading beyond the door, a wide stone cavern open to the elements, and beyond it rested a domed shape of polished stone, one side bright with the pink of a setting sun. Even as he stared, the light continued to slide from the surface, dwindling.

  The shape was a mighty egg of stone. It stood larger than any inn where it rose above an overgrown garden, the sides smooth, gleaming.

  “This can only be one place,” Muka said reverently. “Home of the Great Phoenix.”

  “Truly?” Never asked.

  He spread his hands. “I believe so, but we will soon find out.”

  Never took Ayuni’s hand. “Should I lead you?”

  “Thank you, but no.” She blinked away the tears. “My vision has returned. I must see, quickly.”

  Ayuni started forward and Never followed close behind. Something was becoming clear – something he should have realised well before this point, yet he held off asking Ayuni about it a little longer. If he was correct, it seemed better for her to come to the same conclusion herself – if she hadn’t already.

  Muka touched Never’s arm, lowering his voice. “Do you think she has realised?”

  “No, but I think we should let her figure it out on her own.”

  The warrior nodded. “We will watch her.”

  Ayuni was already passing through the garden’s fringe. Paved paths were being swallowed by grass and moss, near to purple in the evening shadows that fell courtesy of the giant stone egg. Bamboo sprang up from between stone fences and pale white benches arranged in circles, the litter from old leaves crunching underfoot. The trickle of water came too, from somewhere behind the egg.

  She had reached the base now, one hand resting against it. A warm glow of orange spread from beneath her fingers, spiralling until each tendril hit an invisible barrier in the shape of a doorway. The entire slab was soon criss-crossed with light – at which point stone began to slide open.

  The light faded, revealing a darkened entryway.

  Ayuni strode forward without hesitation.

  “Ayuni, wait.” Never drew his knives as he followed, Muka pulling his sword free as they passed into darkness. But the passage was not long, and a glow waited beyond, warm light smouldering within stone walls of a vast chamber.

  The room was lined with low stone benches, all facing a mighty nest. Crafted of black marble, it was the work of a master artisan. Every detail seemed as though it had but-recently been completed. The bend and gnarl of each twig, the textured pattern of bark visible on larger branches or the solid base of mud and dried grass was intricate; a few pieces seemed to hang free from the tangle, so real it seemed.

  Only its gleam and colour gave it away as marble.

  Ayuni sat in the row of seats nearest the nest, head in her hands. She looked up, tears in her eyes, when Never reached her. “I remember now... Mother and the other women, the feathers in their hair... I remember carrying my own tiny pail on the way back from the river, trying to help.” She swallowed. “There are small homes of stone behind the Shrine...”

  He sat beside her, taking one of her hands. “You have succeeded, Ayuni.”

  She smiled but drew a shuddering breath. “Have I? Never, I fear I know now exactly what I am – who I was destined to become – but I do not know if I can accept it.”

  “You speak of the Great Phoenix,” Muka said, his voice soft.

  She looked to the nest. “Within lies generations of ashes. Cold coals and the memory of fire, of songs of pure joy and chants of determination. It’s all there, my past and my future – my birthright. But it is cold and empty, what did Mother want me to do? Why did she leave me? I believed with all of my heart that when we finally found this place I would see her again. Am I a fool to have thought it possible?”

  Footfalls echoed in the passage. “You are hardly a fool.”

  Brother Hiruso entered the light, carrying no weapon.

  As before, he moved like a young man, taught with a hidden strength that lurked beneath silver and grey robes. His long hair, no longer white but now an inky black, hung beyond his shoulders, woven with dozens of silver beads. His face was barely lined now; he was a man in his prime – and all of it on the price of Ayuni’s blood.


  Flanking him were three warriors – the Hammers.

  One Hammer wore a headband marked with Kiymako runes, he carried a bow. Another held a spear with a curved blade and the final man wore a sisan and carried a shorter sword in one hand. All bore impassively calm expressions.

  “You will have to come through us,” Never said as he stepped in front of Ayuni.

  Muka joined him, the man was already breathing deep and evenly. Preparing his lunai? Never kept his attention on Hiruso. The fellow did not seem perturbed – why would he after their last encounter – but rather, quite pleased by his wide smile.

  “Oh, I do hope it will not be so, Never.”

  “I will die before I let you take her, you know that.”

  He laughed. “Perhaps. But I don’t think that will be necessary. For the Great Phoenix clearly favours me.”

  “That’s comforting to know.”

  “Isn’t it? Ah, Never. You cannot understand how gratifying it is to have so many pieces fall into place at once, with so little effort on my part – especially considering how long I have wanted to enter this Shrine, but fortunately you and your sister were considerate enough to lead us here and Ayuni herself kind enough to open the way.”

  “I did no such thing!” Ayuni charged forward with a shout but Never caught her arm. His own jaw was clenched – no wonder the bastard had not pursued them too closely, no wonder escaping from Yalinamo went so smoothly. Hiruso wanted them to succeed; he needed them to uncover and then unseal the Shrine of the Great Phoenix.

  “You certainly did, my dear. Seventeen long years I waited for your Awakening, but you have performed even better than I’d hoped. I owe this moment to you – no-one else could have opened the egg, only the daughter of the Phoenix herself.”