by Paul Kidd
“I will be there with you. I shall change with you. You will never be alone.”
Zhukora hid her face beneath a gleaming stream of hair.
“I cannot ask it of you. We both know where this must end.”
“I know.” Daimïru’s strength never faltered. “I will never abandon you.”
Zhukora swallowed, then stared into her lap, unable to meet Daimïru’s golden eyes. There was something that had to be said - now, before the time was gone. Zhukora felt her body trembling as she tried to bare her soul.
“Daimïru… In all my life I-I have never had a lover…” Zhukora felt her eyes burn bright with tears. “If-if things had been different… Sometimes I wish The Dream had never come. That I could-could simply be with you.”
Shadows played beneath the roof; Daimïru stared into the coals and slowly shook her head.
“You were never made for me - not like that. I know that now. I-I am content. Every order that I follow, I follow out of love.”
Zhukora slowly closed her eyes.
“Daimïru… I-I’m sorry.”
“Not all love is consummated in the bed.” The golden woman’s eyes shone bright with tears. “Wherever you go, whatever you do, know only this. My love for you will never fail, my faith shall never fade. Whatever path you fly, I shall be there with you.”
The fire crackled as logs shifted in the heat. The women sat side by side in silence, staring at the stars. Finally Daimïru shook herself awake.
“I should go. There is much to do tomorrow.”
Daimïru slowly rose and wandered to the door, then turned and sank into a bow, spreading out her wings in silent worship.
Zhukora stared into the dark and felt the fire glowing at her back; she gazed into the emptiness long after her friend had gone.
***
Far beneath the desert sands, Shadarii danced in astonishment. The stair shaft had opened out into a chamber - a chamber that echoed like a mighty cave. The ceiling stretched high overhead, vaulted like the limbs of a forest tree. Both walls and ceilings were sheathed in fabulous painted scenes. The height and majesty just seemed to go on and on; the people of the desert had once held marvelous powers!
The ïsha was more than thick enough for flight. Both girls rose into the air and stared at the murals, peering in amazement at the scenes of life gone by. The art style seemed simpler than that used by Shadarii’s people, lacking all sense of depth and perspective. Their ancestors had been primitives in the fields of the fine arts; still, the ancients had raised a civilisation of staggering size and power.
It had been a fertile place; flat grassland with little soul but rich in food. The hills were terraced just like steps, with orderly rows of plantlife growing in the soil. Another picture showed women harvesting grain with little metal knives.
“Shadarii, come quickly! Come and see.”
Kïtashii hovered beside another set of pictures, her face blank with horror as she pointed to a string of scenes across the wall. Tiny Kashra tore each other into bloody ribbons. Heroic figures strode through fields of corpses, striking down their enemies with metal clubs. There were women pierced through with darts and hunters slicing at each other’s wings. Shadarii backed away, staring at the walls with new aversion.
Shadarii suddenly straightened up her back and turned around. She cocked her head impatiently and glowered.
~Well? You may show yourself whenever you are ready. I’m quite prepared to wait.~
“Shadarii?” Kïtashii’s antennae jerked and swivelled. “I can feel… Something’s in here with us!”
Oh yes, it was clever. Its patterns had merged with those of the cavern, and the Ka lay in hiding, content to spy upon its visitors. Shadarii tapped her foot, looking for all the world like a school Ma’am waiting to chastise her young.
Something stirred deep in the ïsha as a vast, powerful presence took shape in the darkness.
*There’s no need to be testy! I was going to show myself when the right time came. Moving too quickly only leads to disaster.*
Speech from a Ka! Shadarii regained her composure and swept down in a bow. The little Dancer knelt and offered up a glorious ïsha sculpture to her host. The mighty Ka exclaimed in delight, wrapping tendrils all about Shadarii’s gift.
*How beautiful! How clever! It seems art has flourished across the dusty centuries. You are most polite, child. It is a pleasure to see that good manners have survived.*
Shadarii’s mind felt all a-whirl. Never once had Shadarii encountered a Ka who talked. The little dancer carefully covered her face with her wings.
~Pray forgive our intrusion. If we have offended, we offer our apologies. We were motivated only by reverent curiosity.~
*Offended? Why no, child, hast thou not guessed? I have been waiting for thee. I have been waiting for a thousand empty years.*
Shadarii jerked her head up as the spirit came to swirl graciously above her.
*Thou art the little teacher - the Silent Lady. I have felt thee blazing through the desert like a star. Finally we meet.*
~Felt me! From all that way?~
*Why yes. For a thousand years I have slept to heal my wounds. I awoke only when I felt thy touch of beauty stir against my soul.*
Hurt? It had been hurt? Poor thing! Shadarii sat up on her haunches and stared up into the swirling ïsha clouds.
~Spirit, my name is Shadarii, daughter of the Chief Nochorku-Zha. I am of the tribe of Katakanii, the clan of Swallow-Tails. I was a dancer of the second circle before my journey into exile.~ The girl held her bow with a dancer’s fluid grace. ~Whom do I have the honour of addressing?~
*I have never been such a one for labels. If thou like’st, thou may call me Starshine.*
Kïtashii stared at the spirit with great wide eyes. Clearly Kïtashii could not hear the spirit speak. Shadarii turned back to the Ka, losing herself in the wonder of communication.
The spirit danced and filled the air with song.
*Thy curiosity blazes in thee like a fire! A kindred spirit! After all these years a scholar wanders to my lonely lair. What can we teach each other, my little one? Shall we make a trade? Let us swap knowledge for knowledge, truth for truth! I shall answer any questions thou desire. In return, tell me of the world of life! Ask; ask and I shall speak.*
How old was such a Ka? Thousands of years? Millions? Think of all the secrets it could tell! Shadarii leapt to her feet and spread open her arms.
~Tell me, Lady Starshine! Tell me of this city. Who lived here, and where have they all gone?~
*The city has had many names. As a mere watering hole it was known as “place of reeds”. The village became a city over many long, slow years. The Kashra of the Northern kingdom called this place Jho-Kori-Jho. This means “Many trees within the wilderness”.*
Shadarii’s eyes blazed bright.
~More! Tell me more! How did they live here in this empty desert? Why did they live in such awful desolation?~
*Desolation? Oh no. It was once green and beautiful.* The spirit swirled like a summer rainbow in the sky. *The Northern folk dug trenches to bring water to the desert. Alas, the canals were cut by Serpent and his minions; the plants withered and the city was abandoned to the dust. The city fell because the people would not fight. They thought they could ignore their danger and have it merely pass them by. They paid the price for foolishness. Serpent came for them, and now there is only sand and empty bones.*
Shadarii’s ears lifted high in wonder.
~Serpent? What is “Serpent”?~
*A spirit of evil. A creature that thrived on holding power over others. He was finally slain in a war long, long ago.*
~The war! You saw the war?~ Shadarii felt a chill ripple down her spine as her mission blazed inside her soul. ~What was it like? Why did the people turn to such wickedness?~
*Wickedness? Perhaps. Your race were once powerful warriors, child. When the Kingdoms of the North and South finally went to war, the very earth trembled with their might! Se
rpent worked destruction on an entire world! I could not stop him! Finally we met in single combat. We clashed, and he fell away in mortal agony. Though I was nearly slain, I had some small powers yet. I crept into this place and gave myself to sleep, hoping time might cure my wounds.*
The spirit shrugged away her mournful mood and let new light steal through her aura.
*Tell me, little sister. Speak to me of thy world. Do the flowers still shine deep in the grass? How do they feel against thy skin? How does the water sound as it goes spilling down the rocks. And-and Rain, and Wind, and autumn leaves beneath thy feet! Tell me! Tell me what it is to be alive.*
The little dancer cleared her mind and tried to show the spirit visions of her forest world. She thought of deep, cool glades and silent ferns; the lazy drift of dragonflies across a mossy pond…
Suddenly, quite gently, she began thinking of Kotaru. Not the rotting, blackened thing high on the cliffside, but Kotaru the man; sharp and clever, bright and gentle, with his funny lop-sided smile. She remembered long, slow walks hand in hand and grilled crayfish eaten by a fire. Dancing for him while he played his wonderful little flute…
Lady Starshine seemed to give a little sigh. Shadarii polished her memories, reaching out to feel the forest deep within her soul.
*The man Kotaru - he inside thy dreams. Wilt thou wed? Wilt thou bear young to him? I should like to meet him one day. He seems a fine, strong boy.*
Shadarii felt her heart grow chill.
~No. You will never meet him. He was murdered by my sister. He is gone, and I am condemned to remain behind. Now I wander through the world wondering if my grief has made me strong.~
The Ka rippled with a quiet flow of rainbows.
*Has it made thee strong, girl? Did’st thou ever find the answers that thou seek’st?*
~I don’t know. I set out upon a quest to find why violence happens. All I have found is dust and fleas, and hollow towers of mud…~
Shadarii miserably hung her head. The spirit seemed to pause in thought.
*Shadarii, what would thou do if thou had’st power? Real power! Power to heal any sickness with a simple touch. To make life bloom all around thee like a song of joy!*
Shadarii sniffed and sighed.
~An idle dream. Peace has no power in the world.~
*No! Not so! A miracle can move men’s hearts. Find miracles, and thou shalt have thy power!*
Shadarii’s ears slowly rose.
~Miracles? What do you mean?~
*Miracles are made, not found. Join with me! Let me escape this dreary land of dust! Let me see and hear and feel through thee. In return, I can give thee sorcery beyond thy wildest dreams! Think of all the good that we can do together! Let me help thee in thy quest for peace.*
Starshine looped and whirled in desperate eagerness, and Shadarii felt a sudden blaze of greed. Here lay the key! Perhaps this was why Mother Rain had led her to the desert. The girl reeled in excitement, barely able to stand straight.
~I-I want… I need to talk to Kïtashii. Please! Just let me speak to her.~
*Of course child! Speak with thy acolyte. Take thy time.*
Shadarii staggered over to Kïtashii and swiftly told what she had found; the power of it, the majesty - all that it could mean to them! The spirit offered miracles - sorcery such as the world had never seen! Their mission could finally go on.
Kïtashii put her hands behind her back and slowly paced the floor, and Shadarii watched her nervously, waiting for her advice. Kïtashii finally whirled, her little face alive with joy.
“Yes. I say yes, take it! Oh Shadarii, think what it means! It’s a sign; Mother Rain must have led us here herself!”
Shadarii went stock still. The decision quivered there before her. This would change everything. No more little dancer moping in the moss. This would be an end, just as it was a beginning. The old Shadarii would be laid aside forever…
Kïtashii saw the thoughts inside her teacher’s mind.
“Don’t fear it, Shadarii! The world cries out for something new. What’s left to us? Kotaru’s gone, our tribes reject us. Since you have another destiny, I say embrace it! Take the mask and wear it. Dance the dance, Shadarii! Dance and see where the music leads!”
Shadarii whirled and faced the Ka, then threw out her hands and opened up her soul. The spirit seemed to shriek in ecstasy. Shadarii threw back her head and offered up her body to the flames. ïsha plunged down like a knife, and power poured into the dancer in blazing stream of light. Shadarii swelled in triumph and rose against the storm.
Mrrimïmei rose shrieking from her blankets as grass bloomed beneath her bed. The sand erupted into life; flowers shot like comets from the sand. The pilgrims shouted in alarm, snatching up their blankets and dashing for the rocks.
Ancient seeds exploded with new life. Springs thrust sweet water high into the air, showering like rain across the sands. The pilgrims stared in amazement as a naked figure danced above the miracle with ïsha swirling all about her in a daze.
Shadarii!
Kïtashii was laughing dizzily as the desert bloomed. Shadarii flung out her hands, pouring life into the wilderness. Plant Ka squealed in ecstasy as she drew them from the ground, swirling all about her in a dance of selfless love.
Mrrimïmei’s jaw dropped down in astonishment as a tree beside her suddenly swelled with ripened fruit.
“Kïtashii! What’s going on? Where are Shadarii’s clothes?”
Kïtashii laughed and danced her dance, too far gone in merriment to hear. Tingtraka pressed her hand against her throat and slowly walked down into the grass.
“Clothes? She doesn’t need them any more! Don’t you see? A primal spirit is never clothed. She’s taken on the power - taken on the role!”
“But-but she’s not a spirit! She’s just Shadarii!”
Tingtraka didn’t heed. The girl joined Kïtashii in cavorting by the pool, and Shadarii laughed as her followers came spilling down onto the soft green grass. She had the power! She was the chosen one, the Avatar of Mother Rain. The girl danced for joy, thrilling to the feel of moonlight across her naked fur.
She would make a legend. She was given to the ages. Now the story of Shadarii would begin!
Notes:
1) The alpine Kashra recognise 6 seasons: Many-wings (The high of summer, with plentiful insects and woodgrubs), Sky-grey (full honeycombs and overcast skies), Frog-sing (a warm wet season), Rain Weeping (heavy rains, flooded rivers), Chill (the deep, cold winter), and New-flower (when the world warms and the wattle trees bloom). To this the High altitude clans will sometimes add “Wind-Battle”, a time of wild rain and wind storms, which are taken as evidence that even the marriages of gods can sometimes be stormy.
Chapter Seventeen
The creek shone cool and sparkling clean, while overhead a band of cockatoos clowned in the trees. Keketal gazed up at their antics and gave a funny smile.
A line of old clay potsherds leaned against a fallen branch. With a flash a broken milk jug passed on to meet the otherworld, and Harïsh laughed as she flicked her sling back into her hands.
“See? Easy! Now you try. Go on.”
Keketál stood watching the young shepherdess. She stood slim and long and lanky - all great bright eyes and laughing boyish curves. Her breasts were new enough to still be an embarrassment; she was trying to learn to live with them.
All of the village women wore nothing but skirts wrapped about their hips, and the occasional water jug balanced on their skulls. Though the sight of bared breasts should have been completely commonplace, Keketál still found his eyes drawn in blushing fascination.
Keketál awkwardly hefted his sling and tried to keep his mind upon the job. He picked a rose-quartz pebble from the stream and shook it free of water. This ‘sling’ device seemed easy enough to use; he need only whip the stone around his head and let it fly. Keketál poised the sling, took careful aim and fired. He stared eagerly at the target, waiting for it to shatter into a thousand little bits
.
“Keketál! Look out!”
The man gave a squawk, then frantically dashed aside as his slingstone crashed down into the grass behind him. Keketál tripped and fell straight into the stream.
“Keketál!”
Harïsh dashed to her patient’s side as he cursed and smashed his fist against the water. Harïsh sighed and shook her head; accidents and Keketál just seemed to go together. She calmly made the offer to help him rise, but Keketál sniffed and tried to hold his fragile dignity.
“I can be helping self, thanking very much!”
“Oh no you can’t! Now I’m not having you strain yourself, so accept my hand or you can just sit in there and suffer!”
The nobleman took Harïsh’s offer with poor grace and allowed himself to be dragged from the stream. Harïsh seemed rather strong for a girl her age; she had also picked up a vulgar habit of laughing at her elders. Keketál gave a sniff and haughtily wrung out his tail.
Harïsh usually wore two or three slings about her forhead, each optimised for a particular range. She ran one weapon’s thongs between her fingers as she spoke.
“Look, you just whip it, see? It’s just like throwing, only your arm is longer.”
She demonstrated once again, hurtling a heavy stone into a shard of pottery with depressing ease. Keketál glumly looked down at his sling and heaved a mighty sigh.
“Maybe sling is not meant for I. Keketál make accident again.”
Poor Keketál. He tried so hard to be a help. Clearly he was not used to freeloading on his hosts; he had tried to get up early to tread the clay, but father wouldn’t hear of it. A noble, labouring? Never! What did he think daughters were made for?
It had not stopped Keketál from sneaking out to chop the wood. Harïsh had been furious when she’d found out. A man with a stomach wound swinging a stone axe? Absurd! She had told him off quite thoroughly until he had wilted like a dying flower. Her heart had softened in an instant; the poor girl was quite hopelessly in love.