A Whisper of Wings

by Paul Kidd

  Zhukora coldly looked down at Javïra.

  “Javïra, you have pursued my sister beyond all reason. You are stupid, and stupidity is dangerous.”

  “Stupid?” Javïra peered smugly sidewise at Zhukora. “Perhaps I am, but I know advantage when I see it. If the priests find out Shadarii is no longer a virgin, her value to you is lost! You need me, Zhukora. You need me to keep our little secret safe and sound. And so I shall, but it will cost. I want to be paid what I deserve!”

  The girl spat down on Shadarii’s face and gaily danced across the stones. Zhukora watched her with sardonic eyes, then lifted up her hand.

  “Javïra.”

  The dancer turned; Zhukora looked down at Javïra and gave a simple smile.

  Light exploded from Zhukora’s claws. Javïra gave a scream as her fur exploded in a sheet of fire. Lightning blasted through her flesh, and with a bubbling hiss her skeleton slammed down to the ground. Javïra’s Ka screamed as it whirled away into the winds.

  Zhukora gave a pretty smile, reaching out to take Daimïru’s hand.

  “Payment in full, just as you deserve. Yes, I should say our little secret is quite safe. Thank you Javïra! You have been most entertaining.”

  The demons triumphantly closed about their Queen, then bore Shadarii down into the forest depths for sacrifice.

  Notes:

  1) Dancing costume includes headresses made from tall sprays of pampas grass and a great many living flowers. Fine weather allows for a more elaborate show of costume than that used in Rain dances of winter time.

  2) Fermented Kashran mothers milk is the only alcoholic beverage known to the tribes. It is drunk only at the height of the sacred totenïha ceremony, and only by the nobility and priesthood.

  Chapter Twelve

  Light flickered on the floorplanks of an empty room, while high above, leaves swayed and flickered in a restless breeze.

  Lost in a daze, a girl stared down at their shadows on the polished floor, her green eyes wide and empty. The treehouse shifted in the breeze swaying back and forth like a mother’s lullaby; the girl sat and listened to the trees, drifting away upon the ebb and flow of sound.

  It was all so nice and restful.

  Sun.

  It felt rich and warm against her fur; warm, like being held so nice and tight. There had been a time once when she had felt a touch like that. Soft breath against her fur and arms about her waist while she had slept in a delicious dream of peace.

  Or had she?

  It was hard to remember clearly. Why bother when the sun was oh so comforting? She felt the warmth stream down across her face and gave a gentle smile.

  Someone was coming. It would be the blonde one again; the one who felt so tight and hard inside herself. She yelled more easily than the others. The girl blinked unhappily and lifted her face towards the door.

  Still, at least it must be food time. Food was always the best time of the day!

  A bar was dragged free of the door, and the blonde one tramped into the room, hurtling down a bucket and a box of food. She was in a shouting kind of mood again. The girl beneath the sunbeams felt her antennae wilt; no matter how small she tried to make herself, she always seemed to be in trouble…

  “Food’s up! Roots and greens. I’m not dragging any more water up here again, so you can just stick with what you’ve got!” The blonde girl snatched up the prisoner’s previous meal box and crammed the empty leaf-plates inside. She went to nudge a bucket in the corner, turning around in sudden anger.

  “What? This thing’s empty again! Have you been yet?”

  The prisoner shrank down, trying to become small enough to hide, but her caretaker was having none of it.

  “Come on! You’re not fouling yourself again, you filthy bitch! Get on with it!”

  The girl sighed and dutifully squatted on the pot. The blonde woman winced in disgust, staying far away until the business had been done.

  The blonde woman sniffed and opened up the box of food. Food time! The prisoner drooled happily, making her guardian back off in disgust.

  “That’s our girl! Eat all your nice food. Eat up and then be nice and quiet for auntie Daimïru!”

  The prisoner stuffed boiled roots into her mouth. Food was good! Food was when she did something with her day. It was always the same food, though. She remembered other times; tasty things to eat and crunch. There had been wood grubs toasted in the ashes, or clams and codfish simmering in their own juices! And one time, there had been crayfish…

  Crayfish… Shadarii drew her brows in thought; it seemed so hard to think these days. So very hard…

  The drugged food did its work; the girl’s eyelids drooped, her eyes went dull, and her head began to nod. The old tree dreamed ever onwards, while Shadarii slept the dull sleep of a rotting log.

  “A representation! We should make a representation.” Nochorku-Zha’s hands shook as he furiously addressed the council. “I won’t have it! I won’t! Foreigners, coming in here and stealing away our dancing girls? It’s just not done! There are proper channels for this sort of thing.”

  “I agree Lord. The procedure was most irregular!” Counselor Fotoki gave an imperious scowl. “If the Vakïdurii intend cross-marriages, they should place a proposition before the council.”

  “Hear hear!”

  “Quite so.”

  “Damned impertinence…”

  The elders thrashed their new-grown¹ wings in anger; finally a smooth, cool voice reached out to soothe their nerves.

  “Colleagues, colleagues! We must remember our dignity.” Zhukora leaned forward, her figure stark and hungry beneath her hunting clothes. “There is no need for alarm. Why turn the world upside down over the simple matter of a love-struck girl!”

  Gegachii was in fine old form today. The old man was shivering in a purple fit!

  “Love struck? Kidnapped! Poor Javïra’s been dragged off into the wilds by some thieving commoner!”

  “Oh to the contrary! Their departure was calm and planned. Mistress Traveesha had noticed poor Javïra acting oddly just before her disappearance. The hunter must have taken pity on her after her humiliation at Shadarii’s hands. Javïra did have a certain talent for wrapping men about her little finger…”

  Gegachii flapped his mouth open like a gulping catfish.

  “Fraternising? W-with a commoner?”

  “Alas, she always was a headstrong girl…”

  Counselor Lakïka raised a hand up to his brow. He seemed rather at a loss for what to do.

  “So now where are we supposed to stand? Javïra is missing, but she wants to be missing! The Vakïdurii will think poorly of us if we take her back, but if we fail to act they might think us weak. Whatever shall we do?”

  Zhukora gave a wise nod as she listened to his words, then slowly raised a finger as though touching on an inspiration.

  “I have it! I recommend the creation of a sub-committee at once. We shall carefully examine every option.”

  A capital idea! The elders were delighted. Finally their young firebrand was speaking sense! Nochorku-Zha gave a nod of approval.

  “Order! Order! The motion is before the council. All in favour - all against?” He swiftly counted hands. “Done. The sub committee will be organised by Zhukora-kai-Nochorku. With the tribe dispersed, we have six months until our next tribal gathering. I require a committee report before us at that time.”

  Zhukora gave a gracious bow. The council moved on to other business, never once disturbed by Zhukora’s silent smile.

  Nochorku-Zha seemed well pleased; the Totenïha had ended, and after a week’s relaxation, the tribe’s wings had regrown. With the other clans dispersed back to their territories, the strain on local food supplies had eased. All was well and peace reigned - even that little fight during the ceremonies seemed to have been forgotten.

  Oh yes, The fight… Nochorku-Zha suddenly managed to focus upon a memory.

  “Zhukora! How is what’s-her-name? The fat one?”


  “Shadarii?” Zhukora sadly folded up her hands. “Still despondent, I’m afraid. We really can’t give her to the priesthood until she’s thrown off her stomach flu. I’m sure she’ll be quite recovered in a week or so.”

  “Bah. Useless little wretch. Her mother will have a thing or two to say to her!”

  Zhukora’s eyes suddenly went cold.

  “Aye father. I suppose she shall.”

  Zhukora slowly rose up from her place and graciously inclined her head towards the council.

  “I shall take my leave and tend to her now, Father. With Shadari ill, the household duties are all mine.”

  “Eh? Who’s ill? Oh - Yes, quite. Well off you go, then. And remember, I want no roots for supper!”

  Zhukora turned on her heel and slowly left the council lodge. She flicked her wings out with an imperious snap and waved them in the sun.

  Daimïru’s slender figure speared down from the canopy above. The girl landed in a stream of long blonde hair, bowed, and raised her face up to report.

  “Shadarii has been attended to, Zhukora. I checked on her myself. The poison roots are working perfectly.”

  “Good. Good…” Zhukora took her companion by the arm. Far below them the village prepared for evening. “I take it she’s quiet?”

  “Oh aye. Quiet as a baby. She’ll be fast asleep by now.”

  “Excellent!” Zhukora’s ïsha flared. “Then let us go and see her, shall we? It’s time to let our friend Serpent have another little chat.”

  The two women grinned together. With a flash of wings they sped off into the trees.

  Little Kïtashii sat in the grass, warming-up for her dance rehearsal. She bowed her head down onto one straightened leg, gritting fangs against the painful stretch. The other girls all made their moves with effortless grace. Why was she the only one incapable of bending? The skinny little creature blinked back tears and tried again, pushing herself far past her limitations.

  Without Shadarii to look after her, Kïtashii felt alone. She was surrounded by noble girls; caustic, superficial bitches whose only joy in life came from slashing one another down. Their greatest wish was to see Kïtashii hurtled from the dancing class.

  Kïtashii’s days bloomed into a nightmare. She worked on chores around the lodge, caring for the baby when her mother went away. She did the family’s cooking, tended the garden plots and wove mats to trade for food. Each day she grew more tired - a little less able to keep up with the strain. Her mother sat back and waited for Kïtashii to bow down and admit defeat.

  She would never give in! Never! It was her only chance to be a dancer; if she gave up now, her dreams were finished. The girl switched legs and tried to hold another stretch, the physical strain proving almost more than she could bear.

  All around Kïtashii, the other dancing students whispered back and forth. The girl felt a sly glow of delight; by now Shadarii’s disappearance must be known. A noble girl had taken a commoner as a husband! The scandal was too delicious to ignore.

  “Girls girls girls, gather round!” Mistress Traveesha swept through the clearing as if a storm brewed beneath her tail. “Girls! Come here please. I have a most upsetting announcement.”

  Traveesha pressed her fingers up against her face. The girls rose from their exercises and silently gathered around.

  “My dears, I have the most dreadful news. Absolutely dreadful! The council have officially announced that one of our sisters of the tribe is missing. Gone! She’s run off with the Vakïdurii team. Gallivanting around with a commoner for a lover!” Traveesha suddenly looked down at Kïtashii and clapped her hand across her mouth. “Oh I do beg your pardon child. Still, it’s just not done. It simply isn’t done! There are rules of conduct we all must follow. Girls, let this be a warning to us all! We must never, ever allow our passions to over rule our common sense. Now one poor girl has lost everything that matters in her life!”

  Kïtashii gave a little smirk as she thought about Shadarii’s joy.

  That’s what you think!

  “Oh girls, I just can’t think of what our poor Javïra could have been thinking of…”

  Kïtashii’s face fell; her jaw almost hit the ground in shock.

  “Javïra? You mean Shadarii!”

  “What? Don’t be foolish child! T’is our beloved Javïra who’s been spirited off by those Vakïdurii beasts.” The tall old dancer wrung her hands. “She was unbalanced! The fights had cracked her mind! Now some villain’s taken advantage of her - made her all sorts of unspeakable promises to drag her off into his filthy hovel.”

  “Shadarii! What about Shadarii?”

  “Shadarii?” Mistress Traveesha couldn’t have cared less. “Wretched little freak! She’s the one responsible for this! Driving my poor Javïra clean from her senses. Well I’ll have no mercy on her this time. She’s finished in this clan as far as I’m…”

  “Mistress! Shadarii - Where is she?”

  “Oh she’s shut away ill somewhere. Ashamed to show her face now that she knows just what she’s done. Her sister’s looking after her until she recovers.”

  Kïtashii whirled and made to race into the bushes, only to be grabbed by the wing-roots and hauled back into line.

  “Not so fast, young miss! There’s a dance to rehearse.”

  “But…”

  “I never want to hear of you consorting with that-that creature Shadarii ever again! She is an evil, twisted girl and we have had enough. You will not seek her out. You will not speak with her. You will not speak of her. That is my direct order.”

  Kïtashii rolled her eyes in panic. Mistress Traveesha held the little creature off the ground.

  “I will be watching you, young lady. Every minute of the day, every moment of the night. You do want to be a dancer, don’t you girl? Make your choice. Follow orders or go right back to what you were.”

  Traveesha dropped her victim in the grass. The little girl gave a sob, and her hand trembled as she pressed it to her mouth.

  When the other girls moved back to class, Kïtashii turned and followed close behind.

  It was cold - so very cold. Shadarii shivered, curling down into a fearful little ball as she felt the stir of icy winds against her fur. A vast emptiness stretched all around her, soaring off into the dark. Shadarii looked around herself and felt afraid.

  Winds moaned; the ïsha creaked and splintered in the dark. Shadarii quivered as she felt an evil presence slithering nearby.

  *Daughter…*

  Shadarii gave a convulsive jerk and tried to hide as the evil voice swirled beside her like a polluted stream.

  *Thou art alone, daughter. So alone. It is how it was always meant to be. Alone within the darkness…*

  Shadarii sobbed for breath, her hands jammed tight against her ears.

  ~ No! There was someone! Someone who cared! Someone who loved me…~

  *No. There never was! See? Look into your mind and try to find the memories.*

  The presence coiled closer as Shadarii desperately sought for memories of love. She snatched them from her mind like pictures scored on ice. Even as she tried to hold them, they melted clean away.

  *See? No unsightly memories. Nothing but the emptiness.*

  Shadarii reeled, clawing at her skull.

  ~They will come back! They will!~

  *They were never there, daughter. Only fantasy. And fantasy is best left in the dust to die.*

  ~I hate you! I am light. Light withers darkness!~

  *Light can never reach all of the darkness, little fool. All light eventually must fail…*

  The presence rattled through the husks of empty dreams and then was gone.

  Zhukora opened up her eyes and smiled, drawing in a smooth, deep sigh. Lord Serpent seemed to purr as he coiled above Shadarii’s sleeping form.

  *It is done! The creature’s memories of love are all but gone.*

  “Good. You have done well, my friend. We have all done extremely well.” The huntress opened up her arms and gathered Serpent i
n against her heart. “And how may I reward you for your skill?”

  *Let us fly! Go with the girl of gold and soar high into the sky.*

  Zhukora laughed, then turned to Daimïru and reached out to take her hand. Daimïru brushed a trailing lock of hair from Zhukora’s eyes.

  “Is he speaking to you? What does he say?”

  “Nothing of consequence. Senses still delight him. He is like a child with a new toy.”

  “What’s it like? How does it feel to have that-that thing inside you? Does he read your mind?”

  “No, not really. I don’t even know he’s there until he speaks. He can only hear me when I decide to call on him.”

  “I fear for you, Zhukora. Be very, very sure you can control him.”

  “He’ll not harm me. We share the same needs - the same desires. Serpent is in my thrall.”

  Zhukora knelt down by Shadarii. The plump little dancer lay huddled in a ball, her fur dulled by drugs and long neglect. Zhukora stroked her fingers through Shadarii’s tangled hair.

  “Love… Physical love is so ephemeral. Already she has forgotten his face, his smell, the sound of his voice. One by one we shall slice the memories from her mind.”

  “Will she still be useful? The High Priestess will fast for three more days. When she returns, she’ll expect her prize. What happens if we hand her a dreaming idiot?”

  “Oh my sister will be whole in mind. We’ll just wall away a few memories which might be embarrassing to us.”