by Paul Kidd
“What are you doing?”
The Skull-Wing screamed and punched out with his aura, and flame showered into the dried leaves at Shadarii’s feet. The girl smashed her enemy’s head against a tree and hurtled the unconscious body aside into the dirt.
Sparks caught in the tinder, and the ash trees instantly erupted into flame. Shadarii and the Wrens dragged their unconscious enemy aside, too stunned to fight the blaze. The plants were designed to be a fire trap; one by one they lost themselves in an orgy of self immolation. Their seedpods burst in ecstasy, showering seeds all across the blazing soil¹. Kotaru’s corpse was suddenly engulfed by a spreading storm of flame.
The Wrens backed away as bushfires spread into the surrounding forest, engulfing an entire mountaintop in flame. Shadarii stared as the funeral pyre closed over her beloved’s corpse, the whole hilltop disappearing underneath the blaze.
Finally she let the others take her. They drew her into the forest and left the clifftop to its fate.
***
“Snake! Conniving whore! Down on your face and pray that we look on your soul with mercy!”
The High Priestess foamed with rage as she whirled and pointed a commanding finger straight at Zhukora’s heart.
“Did you think we would forgive? Did you think we would do nothing?” The Priestess gave a laugh. “We shall have our due, Zhukora! We shall have either Shadarii or we’ll smash you down into the dust. I can break you more easily than I can snap a twig! Prakucha’s death condemns you; one word from me and you are finished!”
Zhukora leaned against a lodgepost, holding back a fit of laughter. She looked like a schoolgirl trying to hide her giggles from the teacher. The High Priestess looked around her ring of acolytes in shock.
Lamplight made weird shapes in the darkness, and Zhukora’s shadow flickered with an evil energy. No one saw the warning; the High Priestess knew nothing but her own blinding fury.
“Prakucha’s death hangs over thee, girl! From this day forth your life is only at my whim! We were to be a partnership. Hand in hand we could have ruled this tribe! Well now those days are fled from your grasp. We will use you, girl! You will be our puppet. The moment that you fail to please me, your life is gone!” The High Priestess swept out her wings. “Did you really think we - Aaaaahk!”
Something smashed the Priestess into the air and crucified her on a blaze of lightning. The woman tried to scream, her mouth half opening before she choked upon her swollen tongue. Zhukora watched it all with a vague air of amusement; she slowly walked around her victim as though examining a most extraordinary exhibit.
Serpent swirled around her shoulders, filling up the ïsha with writhing shapes of dark.
The Priestess’ fur began to smoke. Zhukora clasped her hands behind her back and coolly turned to face the priests.
“Now I shall tell you the way of the future. I shall tell you because you are stupid creatures driven only by your greed. You have betrayed our tribe; you have betrayed the Kashran race. You will now serve the destiny of the people, or I shall slaughter you like insects one by one.”
A priest beside Kanoochi bared his fangs in rage, then suddenly sent his spirit “rider” leaping through the air.
“Die witch!”
A bolt of lightning lanced straight for Zhukora’s heart. She contemptuously flicked the blow aside. The Priest squawked in shock as his power flashed and died.
Serpent seemed to draw a long slow breath. The Priest who had attacked Zhukora looked about himself in terror as the huge Ka slowly bent above him.
There was an agonised little whimper from the darkness, and Serpent seemed to sigh in delight. The Ka slowly drew away and rippled in delicious satisfaction.
The priests stared in terror at Zhukora’s prey. The Priest sat staring into space just like a corpse, and a long, slow string of drool gradually trailed down from his lips. Zhukora caressed Lord Serpent with luxurious sensuality.
“I will warn you only once. This is the only penalty for defiance. Defy me, and I shall reduce you to a living death.”
Behind her, the High Priestess hung limp and empty. Her Ka was gone, sucked and eaten like a plump, delicious fruit. Zhukora looked up at her and softly smiled.
A dozen Skull-Wings slowly filed into the room. They stood behind the priests and awaited their leader’s words of command.
Zhukora stared at the body of the High Priestess, then walked slowly over to Kanoochi. The Priest screwed shut his eyes, trembling in abject terror. Zhukora stood above him, disgusted by his cowardice.
“The High Priestess has gone into seclusion to spend the last few days of her life. Kanoochi, she has passed her mantle on to you. Be glad, Kanoochi. Be glad! You are now High Priest of the Katakanii.”
Zhukora turned and began to walk away. She paused in the doorway, gazing back towards the priests.
“Had you been people of vision, this would not have been necessary. Your pathetic power games disgust me. Where I saw famine and hardship, you saw only political advantage. You are unworthy to share the earth with the lowest gardener in the tribe.
“There is a power coming to this forest. I will not allow you to oppose the Kashran Dream.”
She jerked her head towards her guards.
“Take them. Guard them well. Kanoochi will now accompany me. He will explain to our King that the tribe must have an emmisary - an ambassador to all the other tribes, and that the only ambassador the Priesthood will accept shall be Zhukora.” She looked coolly down towards the new High Priest. “Kanoochi, do you understand?”
The man shook with fear.
“I-I obey!”
“Good. See that you do.”
Zhukora turned and walked out into the dark. With a last glance towards the High Priestess, Kanoochi scuttled hastily on her tail.
***
A bitter wind swept across an empty hillside as dust rattled from the blackened skeletons of trees. The light of dawn stained the scene with lifeless grey, killing the last flickers of the coals.
Shadarii sat and let the ashes bite her skin. Wind picked at her hair, snapping it out like bright new tongues of flame. Shadarii ignored it all; her mind turned blank, her eyes were glazed, her breathing slowed into a trance. Her whole world shrank down into a wilderness of loss. The ashes swirled, hissing in her ears like the voices of the dead.
Slowly she reached up behind herself, and hands softly drew away her halter, baring her breasts to the morning sun. Shadarii’s skirt and moccassins followed - belt and beads, knives and pouches. Kïtashii took her teacher’s garments in utter silence, until her teacher finally knelt naked in a field of ash.
Two knives lay crossed across the dancer’s lap. Shadarii slowly rose and faced the sun, then dug the knives beneath her ribs and slowly drew them across her breasts. Blood spattered bright trails across her fur. The girl closed her eyes and dragged a long slow slash through either cheek, the blood mingling slowly with her tears.
The girl began to dance. The dead trees wept, the wind moaned, and Shadarii wove her slow ballet through the midst of the destruction. She ripped the knives across her flesh and stared into the clouds.
Kïtashii sat cross legged in the dust, watching her beloved teacher dance. The little girl kept her wings folded down around her body like a velvet cloak, and sat with all the serenity of an acolyte at worship.
The Vakïdurii hunters were appalled. The Wrens watched on in shock as Shadarii slowly tore great bleeding strips across her fur. Tingtraka sobbed in helpless agony, swaying to Shadarii’s rhythm with her hands pressed against her skull.
“Oh Rain and Poison, look at her! Why is she doing this? Why?”
Kïtashii’s voice blew as soft and empty as a winter mist.
“It is the Rekï’ka: The ghost dance. She dances for her dead.”
“It’s only supposed to be a tiny cut! A speck of blood! She’s killing herself!”
“Pain can be a transcendental state. Shadarii will try to cross the barrier.” The littl
e girl never let her eyes wander from the dance. “Her world is dead. She needs to find new answers.”
“Don’t you understand? Look at blood she’s losing! She’ll die!”
“If that is the answer that she finds, then the choice is hers to make.”
Tingtraka reeled in anguish.
“We have to stop her! We can’t let her do this to herself!”
“I swore never to fail my teacher again.” Kïtashii drew her wings more tightly down about her body. “I will not let you interfere.”
Out amongst the ashes, Shadarii’s dance went on. Long trails of blood dripped down across her swirling feet. She threw back her head and ripped the knives across her groin, blood leaking through the softness of her snow-white inner thighs.
She began to swirl faster and faster. The ïsha pulsed like a churning storm; sparks spat and crackled at her feet; each fleck of blood began to smoke and steam with power.
Shadarii danced inside a haze of suffering. Slowly the pain began to fade. The rhythm drove her on, the knives sliced across her flesh; she never even felt the cuts. It was beautiful! Shadarii lost herself within a mist of light, soaring high upon glorious wings of fire.
The world shifted - flowed like tree sap - and suddenly there was only silence. Exultation raged through Shadarii’s heart as ïsha flowed around her like a living stream of water - each shape and current filled with endless meaning.
She looked out upon utter serenity; a world of peace and drifting dreams. A loving presence shone down towards her from above, and Shadarii smiled and turned her face towards the light. She knelt in obeisance, raising her face towards the warmth.
<>
The light shone down upon her with its love, lifting her, absolving her, filling her with peace. Rain streamed down into her fur, feeling cool and soft and soothing. The girl lifted up her arms in adoration, sighing as she felt its ïsha pour into her soul. The Great Mother looked down upon Shadarii’s face and slowly raised a smile.
Shadarii’s thoughts ran clear as water; she felt her mind free itself from its pain. Shadarii marvelled at the simple love that blazed inside her soul.
It was the peace that came with meaning. It was the beginning of a mission.
Mother Rain had blessed her with new questions; riddles that might take a lifetime to answer. Shadarii turned them over in her mind, her soul blazing bright with wonder.
I must discover why. What makes us want to kill? Why does my sister have the power to make us destroy each other? Why has a thousand years of peace now come to this?
As my sister has become the instrument of death, so I shall become the instrument of life. I must become a leader and a teacher; I must find a path to set my people walking hand in hand with Mother Rain.
I must do all these things, and then I shall finally be allowed to join my Kotaru in his grave.
Shadarii bowed down before the light. She felt the mists begin to swirl about her as she returned to the forest world.
Rain began to hiss into the ash, and Shadarii lifted up her face to smile at the benediction. The little dancer slowly stood, her green eyes looking out upon the world with joy. It was as though she had never truly seen before. Shadarii walked towards her friends and wrapped them all within her love.
Mrrimïmei backed away in fear. Shadarii’s skin was utterly unbroken; not a single wound or drop of blood showed out against her fur. The Vakïdurii gasped, only to be held in place by Shadarii’s loving smile.
Only one person showed no fear; Kïtashii knelt and covered her face up with her little wings. Shadarii drew her student up and kissed the tears back from her eyes. Kïtashii held Shadarii’s hand and swayed in utter adoration.
“I will follow you, my teacher. Teach me the dance you dance.”
Shadarii turned and wandered slowly north, heading towards the highest mountain peaks. Kïtashii gathered up their goods and followed her in silence; the two strange figures rose high into the air and softly fluttered out across the forest green.
Totoru stared after them in absolute bewilderment as ten Vakïdurii looked to him for leadership. The hunter shook his head and tried to make sense of it all.
“Where is she going? Across the mountains? There’s nothing there but desert!”
Tingtraka jittered, eager to be off and flying. The girl’s eyes were bright and full of joy.
“Follow! She knows where she’s going. Follow her!”
Mrrimïmei hissed in fright.
“Don’t be stupid! The girl’s gone insane!”
“Insane? Didn’t you see it? Didn’t you feel it?”
Mrrimïmei glared up at Tingtraka’s eager face.
“See what?”
“The Rain! The Rain fell on her. It only fell on her!”
Tingtraka stared after Shadarii, then gave a gasp as a rainbow sprang out across the clouds. A wondrous arch of colour sparkled in Shadarii’s wake.
“Look! A rainbow! A rainbow flowing from her tail!” The girl whirled and stared down at the others. “I’m going! Stay here if you want. Where she goes, I want to follow!”
With that Tingtraka dashed off in Shadarii’s path. One by one the others followed, until finally only Totoru and Mrrimïmei still stood on the ground. The lovers clung together, staring anxiously at their departing friends.
Totoru twitched his tail.
“I can’t take you out there. We have a baby to think about! A future to plan!”
Mrrimïmei wept in utter agony.
“We can’t just leave them! They’re all we have! What have we got to go back to?”
The lovers stared at one another. Finally they rose into the air, leaving the hillside to its memories and bones.
***
Beneath bright open skies, far from the forbidding edges of the forest, a young woman stood digging in the river mud for clams. She was a pretty little thing; a girl of gold with amber eyes and honey coloured fur. Her blonde hair swept about her face, trimmed shorter on the left than on the right. A woollen skirt hung kilted up above her muddy thighs, and bare little breasts shone free and pretty in the sun. The teenager sang gaily as she sank her wooden shovel in the silt, and a basket brimming full of clams spoke of a morning’s work well done. The girl whistled tunelessly through her teeth and bent to sift more tasty morsels from the muck.
Something heavy drifted slowly in the current. The girl stopped her whistling and gave a little frown, then set aside her shovel and waded through the river reeds.
Her jaw dropped as she saw what slowly swam towards her. A gigantic catfish thrust downstream - a creature fully four spans long. Vast yellow eyes stared balefully up into her face, glaring straight into her soul.
A naked man lay draped across the creature’s back, his green wings trailing in the water. ïsha discharge arced up from the fish, wrapping the man in a wild blue net of sparks. He lolled deliriously, whimpering as he pawed the fish’s scales.
The girl stared in shock, hardly flinching as the enormous fish cruised up beside her. The wounded man’s breath rattled in his throat, and the Kashran girl reached out to touch the poor man’s back. Raw ïsha power alone must have kept the man alive; blood leaked from a blackened scar, trailing down to stain the water red.
She couldn’t help herself; the girl reached out to drag him into her arms. She clutched him hard against herself and stared around in panic.
He was so beautiful - and a nobleman! Grey fur and a fine face with red blood smeared upon his mouth. The girl dragged him up onto the banks as the fish slowly backed away. Roaring with the strain of it, she hauled him to the mud, then tore off her skirt and crammed it up against the bleeding wound.
“Xartha! Xartha, come quickly!”
She blinked back tears, smearing one bloody hand across her face. “Xartha you little bastard! Now! I need you, hurry!”
A tiny girl stared out fr
om the grass with owlish eyes. She saw her naked sister straddling a nobleman; Xartha’s mouth flopped open, only to snap shut in shock as her eldest sister grabbed her by the tail.
“Don’t just stand there! He’s dying! Go fetch Papa.”
The clam-digger tore off Xartha’s skirt and slapped her sister’s naked rump.
“Go find Papa. Tell him to bring the healers! Get your brothers to bring a stretcher. Quickly!”
The girl used her little sister’s skirt to seal her patient’s wounds. Xartha ran for home as the clam digger clamped the makeshift bandages hard against her patient’s side.
“Hold on my Lord, Harïsh is here! I’ll not let you die! I’ll not fail your fishy friend!”
Blood soaked across her hands, and the girl wept and held on for all that she was worth. Far off in the distance, the village came alive with shouts and panic. Harïsh ground her teeth together and poured her power down into the stranger’s dreadful wounds.
Please Rain - don’t let him die…
Behind her, Grandfather Catfish swam down into the darkness. His duty done, he drifted back into his peaceful world.
Notes:
1) The most spectacular of the flowering trees are children of the Fire spirit. The seeds are actually germinated only after passing through the intense heat of a fire. The cycle of fire and regrowth is thus central to the ecology.
Chapter Fifteen
The wet season came and went, bringing summer in its wake, and the world sizzled as cicadas filled the air with noise.
Daimïru and Zhukora hurtled themselves into their work. They gaily dashed from clan to clan on a dizzy tour of recruitment. Zhukora gathered up the young folk, the impoverished and oppressed, giving them new hope through the simple power of her voice. Where she went, cheering followed; where she came to rest, followers appeared. Day by day the people loved her more. She reached out to touch them with her Dream, filling their empty hearts with purpose.