The Forbidden

by Lori Holmes

  “How?” Nen’s whisper drew her from her spiralling thoughts. Her friend’s face was eager now.

  Rebaa frowned, confused. “How…?”

  “How you know where animals? How talk them?”

  Rebaa sighed. This was going to be difficult to explain but it didn’t appear that they would be going anywhere for a while. “When the blessed Ninmah came from the skies to create our people, She made us with the essence of KI, the Great Spirit Himself, and gifted us with a sacred awareness of Him.”

  “Great Spirit?”

  Rebaa’s voice grew more hushed. “KI is the very life force of the earth, He exists in every plant, every creature, a great and powerful energy that guides all life. Ninmah’s Gift means that my people can influence and use the energy. We were made a part of the Great Spirit. I can hear him in the wind, in the water, in the murmurings of the animals. They are his Children, the vassals of his wisdom, and it is they who preserve his balance. My people were tasked by Ninmah Herself to learn from them all, to help keep the balance.”

  Rebaa realised she had got rather carried away in her passion and she wasn’t sure how much her companion had followed. She marvelled at the strangeness of her current situation, telling of her people’s origins while sitting with a creature whom those very people would consider an unnatural abomination.

  Nen frowned as she processed Rebaa’s words. “Then… why not talk bear? Tell not hunt?”

  “I tried.” Rebaa rubbed her face tiredly. “Sometimes the will of the Great One is just too powerful. The bear is a Child tasked by the Great Spirit to weed out the sick and the weak. It is his purpose as a hunter and it is not my place to interfere with that.”

  Nen frowned but accepted slowly. Rebaa was sure she did not fully understand. It mattered little. It was impossible to explain Seeing to someone who was Blind.

  “Your task now.” Nen’s eyes brightened. “You become hunter of Great Spirit.”

  She broke off when a snapping noise and a shriek of distress broke the stillness. Rebaa flinched as the animal’s panic washed over her senses. Nen was out of hiding in a flash, running towards their trapped quarry as Rebaa followed.

  A rabbit was caught by the leg, dangling at the end of Nen’s rope from the top of the tree, which had sprung back into place the moment the rabbit had disturbed the noose. A sick feeling filled the pit of Rebaa’s stomach as she watched the hapless creature kick and fight for its life.

  A soft rasp told her that Nen had drawn a flint knife as she moved towards the trapped rabbit, intent on slicing its throat. Rebaa knew that that was a scene she could not bear to witness.

  “No!” She grabbed Nen’s arm. “Let me.”

  Nen appeared confused at Rebaa’s sudden eagerness to finish the rabbit herself but held the knife out willingly. “Yes, need to learn quick. You do.”

  Grimacing, Rebaa pushed the knife away and stepped towards the squealing rabbit. Its terror filled her heart. Tears slid down her face as she reached up and gently took hold of its soft neck.

  Rebaa gasped as the sensations doubled in strength and her own right leg throbbed as though it too were broken. Struggling not to lose herself in the rabbit’s emotions, Rebaa stretched out with her own.

  Now that she had contact, the rabbit’s body became a mere extension of hers. She tuned her awareness to the rush of his blood, the sharp zings of pain and panic firing through his muscles, the pounding of his heart against his ribs. Using her latent healing abilities, she numbed the creature’s pain, soothing the stinging messages rushing through his fragile body. Within moments, the rabbit grew still under her hand; its wide, liquid eyes were fixed upon her.

  Shhh, sleep now. While holding his pain at bay, Rebaa filled his mind with an irresistible sense of calm. The eyes drifted closed. Slumbering, he did not even feel it when she stopped his heart. The vibration of life fell silent under Rebaa’s fingers and the body fell limp.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Go now with the Spirit, little one.”

  Rebaa dashed away her tears and loosed the dead rabbit from its cruel bonds. Nen stepped aside in amazement and not a small amount of fear as Rebaa walked silently past her, cradling the dead rabbit, killed seemingly with a single touch, in her hands.

  Without a word, Nen gathered the trap and they set off for home. All the way back to the cave, Rebaa fought against the revulsion she felt at what she had just done. Survival, survival, she chanted to herself. She pressed her lips together to hold back the sadness and regret.

  She wondered just how Ninkuraaja she really was anymore. She had violated too many things that were sacred to her people in the name of survival. Taking the life of a Child of the Great Spirit had been the last bond to break. She hoped with all her heart that Ninmah could forgive her and understand. Her baby chose that moment to kick inside her and another tear escaped her control.

  There were some things she was certain would never be forgiven or understood.

  It was dark by the time they reached the cover of their cave. Nen stoked the fire back to life, giving Rebaa space as she laid the rabbit on the ground and stared numbly down at it. A bag of fur, muscle and bone. That was all it was. No life remained. Fur. Muscle. Bone. Rebaa kept this firmly in her mind as she grabbed one of Nen’s flint knives and began to clean the carcass. She could not let herself think on what she had done.

  By the time she had finished, the fire had grown hot enough to cook the meat. Nen spitted the rabbit and held it over the fire until it browned and blistered. They ate quietly, Rebaa still did not feel like speaking and Nen seemed to understand her need to work through the thoughts in her head.

  Only when they had finished their meal did the Thal woman rise and move to squeeze Rebaa’s shoulder. “Know hard to go against teaching of People but you learn well. Keep you and baby alive.”

  One corner of Rebaa’s mouth lifted in response but she let it drop again as soon as Nen left the cave. Rebaa’s son rolled over inside her, elbowing for room, causing her to wince and her anxiety to spike. If only Nen knew just how far she had gone against the gods’ teachings. If she did, she was sure her friend would not be so sanguine. Bearing a Forbidden child of two Peoples was punishable by death; a curse not to be suffered lest it evoke the wrath of the gods. Rebaa dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. Couldn’t she have at least been permitted to preserve one small part of her soul? She stared listlessly at the bones of the rabbit. It seemed the answer was no.

  Her eyes were growing heavy but she did not want to sleep. The horrors of her nightmares, which melted into the dark corners of the cave each morning at Ninmah’s first light, were there lurking in the shadows, awaiting the first sign of weakness. Rebaa felt suddenly cold despite the glowing of the fire.

  The sound of singing floated in from outside and tugged at her. Keeping the heavy fur blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she got up and crept out into the night. Nen was sitting on a jumble of rocks, her face upturned towards the dark sky as she sang. This nightly habit seemed to be a custom of Nen’s. Rebaa usually allowed her her privacy, preferring to remain in the warmth of the cave but she did not want to be alone in that moment. Choosing a rock, she sat close beside her friend, taking comfort from her steady presence. Nen fell silent.

  “No sleep?” she asked in a hushed voice, her deep eyes shadowed in the darkness.

  “No.” Rebaa shivered. It was so cold out here beyond the warmth of the cave. The smell of frost was strong on the crisp air. “I don’t want to dream.”

  “Talk?” Nen offered.

  Rebaa shook her head in one quick motion. She did not want to put words to the horror she had witnessed or the loss she had experienced. If she tried to speak, the thin walls she had built around her emotions since she had lost Juran would crumble. She had to keep them at bay. And she certainly could not confide in Nen about the desperate fears she carried for her baby.

  “Shalanaki,” Nen murmured.

  Rebaa cocked her head. She had noticed Nen use the
word several times since they had met. It was the first word she had ever heard her speak. “What does shalanaki mean?” she asked.

  Nen shrugged her shoulders. “Thal use as greeting and parting. Means close like ‘peace’.”

  Rebaa smiled. “That’s nice.” The silence of the night began to press in on her. She wanted to ask more questions to keep Nen talking. Her friend’s voice kept her numerous sorrows and fears in check. “What were you singing about?”

  Nen blinked. “I sing praise to Eron. Ask him to forgive and watch over.”

  “Eron?”

  “Great being,” said Nen. “Like your Ninmah, came down from sky and made the Thal people.” She tilted her face towards the blackness with its many burning spirits. She waved her hand against the endless purplish line that glowed through the middle. “Came here following sacred sky path. Gave people life.”

  Rebaa followed Nen’s gaze into the vastness above. “Yes,” she whispered. “Our most holy came from the skies at the beginning of time to create the Ninkuraaja people and teach us how to be one with the Great Spirit and his Children.”

  Nen’s face brightened. “Maybe Ninmah one of Eron sisters from the sky?”

  Rebaa smiled. “Maybe. Does Eron guide your people still?” she asked.

  Nen shook her head. “Left us. Our spirit men say Eron took to sky when we fail his teaching and went to live alone in forbidden Mountain. We not see him. Do not know where to find. He ignore us. We anger him. Your people anger Ninmah?”

  Rebaa folded her arms against her chest. I have, she wanted to say but to do so would raise too many questions. “No, I don’t think so, but she had to leave us, too. Our teachings say that her mate, Ninsiku, grew jealous of my people and sought to destroy us out of spite. He brought about the Great Fury that nearly killed us all. Ninmah fought him and was forced to leave us lest their battle destroy the world. She dragged her brother with her and imprisoned him in the sky. She remains there also, guarding against his return as she watches over us, continuing to give us life. She is the great Golden Mother of the Day Sky.”

  Rebaa shuddered and pointed to the silver eye staring balefully from the far horizon. “The night is Ninsiku’s, his spirit trapped forever in that great eye. He watches us in the darkness of the night, ready to expose the unwary. He and Ninmah are doomed to chase each other through the heavens until the end of time, holding each other in balance. Heat and cold. Day and night. It is said if Ninmah ever falters, if she ever falls to her brother, the cold times that come will last longer than even the Great Fury and our people will cease to be. Only Ninmah’s power protects our way of life and keeps us safe from our enemies.”

  Watching the bitter landscape rolling out before her, the fear of the previous days crept back into Rebaa’s heart. “I am afraid, Nen. Afraid that that time is already upon us. The Furies grow longer and our enemies, the children of Ninsiku, grow bolder. My people are weakening. Our forests are dying.” She stared helplessly up at the sky. “Maybe our time has come.”

  Nen reached out and engulfed Rebaa’s hand in her own. “My people grow weak, too. Cro get stronger. Eron not protect us. I sing for his return along the sky path. Save people.” She smiled sadly. “He not answer yet. Maybe our time come, too.”

  Grimly, Rebaa returned her friend’s grip and for a while they both stared up into the endless night, Thal and Ninkuraa together. It was easy to imagine they were the last of their kind sitting there alone in the vastness. Nothing more than dust motes caught up in some vast plan. The world was changing and Rebaa wondered if her people were even meant to be a part of it. It was a saddening thought.

  “Sleep now?” Nen offered at last, bringing Rebaa back to earth. “I watch. You need rest.”

  Rebaa squeezed Nen’s fingers. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to go back to sleep.” Only death awaited her there. “I’ll watch tonight and keep the fire going.”

  Nen’s eyes searched hers for a brief moment before nodding her consent. She rose and went back inside the cave, settling down on the furs next to the fire. Rebaa remained outside for a while longer but she could not stand the loneliness for long. She felt in danger of floating away, like the dust mote she was, and becoming lost in the vastness above, to be swallowed up and forever forgotten. Ninsiku’s silver eye stared on unforgivingly.

  Rebaa rose and hurried back into the embrace of the cave. This solid, immovable rock was a far cry from the living, whispering canopies that had protected her through childhood, but at least it blocked out the unnatural, terrifying openness. She added more fuel to the fire and sat down beside Nen, wrapping the heavy covers more tightly around her slight shoulders.

  Rebaa stared into the flames, letting the warmth and light banish the gnawing fears of the dark. It could not do so fully. Her nightmares sat in the nooks and crevasses where the light of the fire could not pry and waited. Reaching out, she took hold of Nen’s hand once more. It remained firmly in hers all through the long night.

  13

  Threat

  The next day dawned with the promise of snow in the air. During the night, the clouds had rolled over and the skies were a flat, endless grey, stretching from one horizon to the other. Ninmah’s sacred face was entirely masked.

  “Lot of snow coming.” Nen commented, as she reached out of the cave to bring in more meat to thaw by the fire for later.

  Rebaa’s heart sank. This was bad news. She could not afford to be trapped here before the baby was born. She reminded herself again that Nen’s easy acceptance would end as soon as her friend witnessed what it was that she bore. Nen would be compelled to enforce the sentence laid down by her precious Eron. But if Rebaa went back on her promise to Nen and left the shelter of the cave now, she would get caught in the coming blizzards and she would surely die.

  She should never have given in to temptation and remained here in the first place. Her weakness had once again trapped her between two impossibilities. She stared up at the ominously silent skies. Ninmah was indeed punishing her for her forbidden heresy.

  Nen was busy scrutinising Rebaa’s clothes. “Not enough,” she spoke. “You journey. Need better.” She moved over to the giant bear skin that was ready for tanning. “Bear skin good. Great tough. Warm. Better chance.”

  It seemed that Nen had made up her mind to spend Rebaa’s remaining time in the cave preparing her fully for the journey ahead, making sure she had the best chance of survival. Rebaa’s heart swelled with fondness and gratitude. She wished she could do more for her friend than offer a few scant days of companionship.

  “Why are you being so good to me?” she asked, absently.

  Nen frowned. “Want to make sure you find people. You baby survive. Most important thing.”

  Rebaa grew conscious of the heavy swell of her belly beneath her wolf furs. Yes, he had to survive. It was important. More important than anything else. Somehow, that knowledge transcended even her own maternal instincts. Whatever he turned out to be, no matter her fears, she had to make sure this baby survived. He was the only reason she had made it this far. She looked to the remains of the rabbit carcass. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him. She smiled up at Nen. “You are a blessing from Ninmah herself. Maybe she isn’t abandoning me after all.”

  Nen blushed as she handed Rebaa crushed bits of bark and leaves. They rubbed these into the dried skin until it was deeply stained with the essence of the trees.

  “Tell me about your people, Nen,” she asked to distract herself from her worries. “You seem to know a little of mine but I know nothing of yours.”

  Nen raised an eyebrow. “No?”

  “No, my people do not take much interest in anything beyond our forests.”

  Nen was silent for a long while. Rebaa guessed she was gathering her mastery of the words. She wondered distantly how Nen had come to know part of the Cro tongue and their hunting techniques. She got the impression Nen knew quite a lot of the world. It was hard to guess at her companion’s age. The few thread
s of grey standing above the blistered scar upon her forehead and the faint lines on her face suggested that she was older than Rebaa, though both could be the marks of hardship rather than the passing of seasons.

  Nen handed her the tools needed and instructed her on what was necessary to make new garments. The snow started to fall outside and the world took on the peculiar silence that came with the blanketing. Nen used her sharp flint knife to cut up the bear pelt into the needed sizes. Rebaa tried not to wrinkle her nose when the Thal woman started chewing on the edges of one piece, softening it up in preparation for stitching.

  “People live where Eron lead us long ago.” Nen said at last, softly spitting bits of stray hair from her tongue. “Vast places further up. Dangerous. Life hard. Eron want us to be tough, tougher than any other People. We live in caves like this or in bone and skin shelters. Eron showed us how to make flame, how to make tools. Hunt the Great Ones.”

  “Great ones?”

  Nen pointed to her etchings on the cave walls and Rebaa saw again the image of a massive tusked beast with a snake for a nose.

  “Mighty spirits,” Nen murmured. “If young man kill one, greatly revered by people. He become worthy warrior. May choose any woman he want.”

  “I see,” Rebaa murmured.

  Nen’s hands faltered in their work. “M-my Alok killed Great One. He was going to choose me. Make strong children.”

  Rebaa was quick to catch the shift in Nen’s energy as she spoke. The great sadness that she had felt when they first met yawned open like a bottomless chasm. “What happened?” she dared to venture though she was not sure she wanted to hear.

  Nen opened her mouth to respond but was cut off when a sharp howl split the muffled air outside. Rebaa flinched as Nen’s head snapped around towards the cave mouth, her ordinarily gentle face twisting into a terrifying mask of anger. Rebaa shrank away as her friend leaped to her feet, grabbing her spear from the cave wall. She threw the flint knife in Rebaa’s direction. “Weapon. Need.”