Windwalker_Forbidden Flight

by H. J. Bellus

  Kivanya found peace, and she decided in that moment that even if it were her last, she would die without regret.

  As if in answer to the thought, she was violently yanked from her experience by a physical shock to her entire body.

  Kiva tried to gasp, and her mouth filled with water. She was still floating, only now it felt that all her movement was slowed and restricted. Her entire body stung, but there was no time to think about it. Her lungs screamed for air, and her mind was on the brink of panic.

  She pulled off her headscarf, which had slipped down over her eyes, and clawed up toward the wavering pinpoint of light above. After what felt like ages, her face finally breached the surface. Kiva gasped for air, flailing her arms in an attempt to stay afloat. She fought to keep calm, taking a deep breath and holding it. With her cheeks puffed out and lungs filled with air, she found it somewhat easier to keep her head above water.

  Kicking her legs, Kiva awkwardly turned herself around in the darkness. Her eyes found a faint shadow that was slightly less dark than everything else, and she floundered toward it.

  Her feet soon encountered a rock surface, sloping upward. The water grew more and more shallow, until she was able to crawl up out of it, onto dry stone. She lay there, panting in the dim light cast from a nearby opening.

  Kiva’s eyes widened suddenly, and she realized her hands were empty. She felt a pang of regret at losing the dagger her father had crafted for her, but the loss of the feather was devastating. Without it she would fail the trials, and all of this would count for nothing.

  She rolled over to find the feather floating lazily in the water beside her. Kiva breathed a sigh of relief and snatched it up, slipping it under her belt. Her headscarf hung unraveled, still barely tucked into the neckline of her tunic. She wrung it out, and re-wrapped her head, covering her entire face except for her eyes.

  She then walked toward the opening ahead. It was another tunnel, sloping upward. The light grew brighter as she followed it, until she reached the opening, lit by daylight. Beyond it, she could hear the chatter of the hundreds of people who would be waiting to see whether she had survived, and who she was.

  She took a deep breath, and realized she had been wrong. The most difficult part of the trial was not windfaith, but facing the windwalker sidi, and her people afterward. Kiva gripped the black kiraeen feather, and stepped bravely out onto the windwalker proving stage. Everything was bright white, as Kiva squinted, waiting for her eyes to adjust. A few in the crowd began to shout and clap. Realizing she had survived, others joined in, and as Kiva’s pupils shrank into pinpoints in the bright light, she took in the vast, cheering crowd surrounding the stone platform.

  Kiva grinned, and thrust the feather up into the sky. The crowd went berserk. None of them had been anticipating a windwalker challenge, which made it all the more exciting.

  Kiva spotted her brother Mica near the front, only he wasn’t cheering. He was watching closely with intense curiosity, most likely trying to discern who might be beneath the headscarf.

  A moment later, Sidi Jado stepped forward, approaching the crowd with arms outstretched. Kiva hadn’t even noticed him standing to her left.

  Jado waited patiently for the crowd to quiet, which it eventually did. Even the musicians paused, eagerly waiting to discover the identity of the mystery challenger.

  “People of the Sahra’,” he projected loudly, and the stone walls of the Madina Basin reflected his words back at him. “As you know, there have been no formal challenges issued to the windwalker sect.”

  “He completed the trials!” someone in the crowd shouted.

  “I saw him make the climb with my own eyes!” another added.

  Kiva could not see his face, but she suspected Jado was displeased by the interruptions. His reputation was one of strength, sternness, formality, and tradition. She had worried he might reject her outright for not having permission to attempt the trials. But she had the crowd on her side…for now.

  After a pause, Jado continued, “I am most dissatisfied with the lack of respect in which this illegal challenge was issued.”

  Kiva’s shoulders slumped.

  Jado looked out over the crowd, and Kiva suspected he was waiting to punish any who might interrupt again. He let the words hang long in the air, before continuing, “However…it would seem the spirits do not share my disdain. The unorthodox challenger has survived.” The crowd again began cheering exuberantly as he turned back and leveled a hard gaze at her, then once again faced the throngs. “Beyond this, the challenger bears a kiraeen feather…Come forward!” he commanded.

  Kiva’s heart was racing. It threatened to explode from her chest. She stepped forward toward the edge of the platform where Sidi Jado stood.

  They stood facing each other. Jado’s piercing light blue eyes gripped her, as if seeking to probe the very secrets of her soul. Kiva held his gaze. She had stared down a kiraeen as it prepared to disembowel her; she could stare down this man.

  Eventually, he spoke, “Who then, so brazenly beseeches the windwalker sect, without so much as a whisper of a challenge?”

  This was it. The moment that would determine whether she would achieve her dream, or be shunned by her people. Everything boiled down to what happened next. Kiva had imagined it hundreds of times, and even practiced what she might say. It was fortunate she had, for she was under such stress she’d have remained silent otherwise.

  Kiva gripped the end of her headscarf, and began to unravel it. As she did, Sidi Jado’s eyes grew wide in shock, and his stern look of disapproval was replaced with outrage. She could hear the whispers of the crowd as they realized what she was. Kiva prayed the crowd would judge her by her accomplishment, and not her gender. It was her only hope.

  “I, Kivanya Raisel Fariq, have completed the proving, and humbly request to join the windwalker sect.” Kiva knelt down bowing her head, and presented the feather to Sidi Jado.

  She was motionless, waiting. She had done what she could, the rest was out of her hands. A faint screech came from above, and Kiva felt the wind tugging at the feather she held out before the windwalker sidi.

  It was suddenly snatched out of her hands. She looked up to see Sidi Jado glaring down at her. In his eyes was a whirlwind of indignation and disbelief.

  At least I have proven that it can be done, she thought. I am the first woman to pass the windwalker trials.

  “Stand,” he said, still scowling.

  Kiva slowly stood, sparing a glance at the crowd. The faces she glimpsed were not nearly as upset as Sidi Jado, however there was no approval in their eyes either. She caught Mica’s eye, and his expression was one of fear and worry.

  The tension was thick as Kiva again met Sidi Jado’s eyes.

  “Even if I were to ignore your blatant disregard for the proving ceremony, I cannot ignore the fact that you are a woman. You, who would disrespect me, and every windwalker before me, now wishes to join our sect?”

  Kivanya swallowed. She had anticipated such a response, but imagining it and experiencing it were two different things entirely.

  “You have no right to attempt the sacred trials. Your mere presence among the kiraeen is a grave insult to all that we stand for.”

  “You are wrong!” Kiva shouted, before realizing what she was doing. There was a brief moment of shock on Jado’s face, and Kiva took advantage of the opening.

  “The windwalkers exist to keep watch over our people,” Kiva turned partly toward the crowd, addressing them as well. “Is a warning of danger worth less coming from a female? Are fewer lives spared as a result?” Kiva felt her blood rising. It wasn’t fair that she should be judged as less worthy, simply because she wasn’t a man.

  “The answer is no!” she shouted. “I do not disrespect the windwalker sect, I honor it with every part of my being. I have peered into the soul of the kiraeen, and found my own reflected w
ithin.”

  “Enough! Blasphemous girl!” Jado yelled, finally snapping out of his shock.

  Shouts had begun coming from the crowd, though Kiva couldn’t tell whether they were in support of her, or Jado.

  “I am no girl,” she said, focusing all of her anger and frustration to a razor’s edge. “I am a skyhunter.”

  Jado’s surprise returned once again, and was quickly replaced with red-faced rage.

  “Enough!” he shouted. “You will never be one of us. Your challenge is denied!”

  Jado spun on his heel and stormed away, disappearing into the entrance Kiva had come out of moments ago.

  She was left alone on the stage, facing the unsettled crowd. Some of them appeared concerned, perhaps they even agreed with her. But others, nearly all of them men, wore looks of anger and disapproval. Something flew up toward her from the crowd, and she ducked. Soon there was more shouting, and Kiva took a step back. She glanced behind her and saw a large stone rolled across the opening behind.

  Someone else threw a piece of fruit at her, catching her in the shoulder. Kiva took another step back, as fear rose in her belly. She’d known her plea might be rejected, but had never imagined people would turn on her like this. She looked to find her brother Mica, but he was gone.

  More waste was thrown up toward her, and the shouting grew more intense. Kiva’s eyes darted back and forth. She was surrounded, with nowhere to run. An angry man with a full beard covering most of his face climbed up onto the stage. He quickly dashed toward her and grabbed her by the hair.

  “No!” she shouted, swinging her fists and trying to shove him away.

  Suddenly he released her and collapsed to the ground. Kiva looked and found her brother Mica, standing protectively before her.

  “Quickly!” he urged, “Come with me.”

  He placed his arm around her shoulder, shielding her from the refuse, and led her over to the side of the stage. Waiting there were several men, all with the sides of their heads shaved. These were the men of Mica’s sect, Kiva realized—shadestalkers.

  They formed a protective barrier around her, and led her through the raucous crowd. Even the angriest of those knew better than to tangle with the shadestalkers. The crowd parted like water to allow the deadly escort passage.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “We are taking you somewhere safe,” Mica answered.

  The moment was surreal, and Kivanya was beginning to understand that many of her people, if not all of them, had rejected her. She would never again be free to walk amongst them without fear of reprisal.

  She and her escort eventually reached an area of the basin that Kiva was unfamiliar with. They slipped inside a discreet opening in the stone wall, and all the shadestalkers save Mica departed. He led her in silence along a passage and up a set of stairs. They continued through an empty common room, down yet another hall, and up several more flights of stairs, until they finally arrived in a long hall with several large, wooden doors. It was rare to see anything other than a curtain at the threshold of a room, and Kiva might have asked about it under different circumstances.

  Mica unlocked and opened one of the doors, revealing a simple yet comfortable room with bedding, sitting pillows, a water jug, and a shakh pot. There was a small circular window hole looking out from high above, onto the desert. The floor was covered in a plush decorative rug that Kiva immediately recognized. The pattern was one her mother often used in her own weaving.

  “Is this your room?” Kiva asked.

  “You will be safe here for the time being. I have to get back out there and try to sort out this mess,” he said. “Do not leave this room, Kivanya. If you are caught outside it, they will put you in the prisoners’ cells below.”

  He turned to leave, but Kiva grabbed his sleeve. “Mica wait…” she looked at him, fighting back the tears. “Are you angry with me as well?”

  Mica sighed, turning to look her in the eyes. “I am not angry at you, Kiva, but I worry what those who are might try to do.”

  “You think I’m foolish, don’t you? That I don’t deserve to fly?”

  “Without question, what you did was foolish.”

  Kiva slumped, hanging her head.

  “But it was also incredibly brave,” he continued, “and more excitement than there has been in the past ten proving ceremonies.” Mica smiled. “People will be talking about this for years to come.”

  “Jado was so angry,” she said hopelessly. “I just thought if I could…”

  “Jado is always angry,” Mica responded, placing a hand on her arm. “Were it up to me, I’d have accepted you then and there.”

  “Really?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “Really. But unfortunately, it’s not my choice to make. At this point I just want to make sure no one does anything rash. Just do me a favor and stay put. I’ll come back once I know what’s happening. Promise me you’ll wait here.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I promise.”

  “Lock the door,” he said, before turning to leave.

  Kiva stepped inside, and her brother closed the door behind her. She locked it, and walked over to the bedding, collapsing into it. It was as if her body were only now realizing how physically and emotionally exhausted she was. Her eyes drifted closed, and by the time she opened them again, moonlight was streaming in through the high circular window.

  A muffled voice came from behind the door, “Kiva, it’s me. Open up.”

  Kiva sat up, rubbing her eyes. She stood and unlocked the door, allowing Mica in.

  He carried a tray of fresh fruit, chava bread, and dried aga flesh. Kiva took the tray with thanks, and set it down beside the floor pillows. She collected a cup of water from the jug in the corner, and the two of them sat down.

  Kiva was ravenous. She took an over-sized mouthful of bread. “What did you find out?” she asked, her words muffled by the food.

  “It’s bad,” he said, “but not as bad as it could be.”

  Kiva set down the bread. “Bad? What do you mean?”

  Mica’s expression was serious, but there was hope in his eyes. “I was hoping things would blow over…that people would dismiss the whole thing as a prank.”

  “It was not a prank!” she said, glaring.

  “Listen to me Kiva, you know how I feel, but there are many in the basin who do not share the sentiment. If you wish to avoid their wrath, you must abandon that line of thinking.”

  “Why should I care what they think? Let them seethe. I completed the trials. I have proven that I am worthy!” she argued.

  “If you want to remain in Madina Basin, then you will have to take their opinions into account,” he said somberly.

  “If I want to remain? Do you mean…” Kiva couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  Mica nodded gravely.

  Exile.

  It was like a punch to the gut. Her worst nightmare was coming true. No one as young as she had ever been exiled from the basin. How could the very people she hoped to protect renounce her so completely?

  She wilted, and Mica’s expression softened. “It is not likely to happen,” he said. “You are young, and haven’t caused any physical harm. There will be a council meeting in ten days. If you play it right, you will get off with a light punishment and nothing more.”

  Kiva put her face in her hands. There was no stopping the tears now.

  Mica put his arms around her and pulled her close. “It will be okay,” he said soothingly. “We will show them this was all just a big misunderstanding.”

  Inside, Kiva was a whirlwind of shame, fear, and anger. Most of all anger.

  She shoved Mica away. “No!” she glared at him. “You are acting like it is I that have done something wrong.”

  “Kiva, you broke the rules—”

  “The rules are wrong!”
/>
  Mica took a deep breath. “That may be, but breaking them is not going to change that.”

  “And why not?” she argued. “Do you honestly think Jado would have accepted a challenge from me? He would have laughed and sent me to the weavers.”

  “You could have brought it to the council,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced.

  “Right, a group of wrinkly old qadims are going to change centuries of tradition because a sixteen-year-old girl asked them to? No,” Kiva said, shaking her head. “This was the only possible way. I have to show them I am worthy.”

  “It’s over, Kiva. It didn’t work. You must let go of this foolish dream. The only way the council will absolve you is if you admit it was a mistake.”

  “So that’s how it is then, is it? You would take their side?”

  “I am not taking their side!” he said, throwing up his arms in exasperation. “I am on your side. I just want what’s best for you, and our family.”

  “And I suppose you are the right person to decide what is best for me? You’re just like mother.”

  “If you can’t see that avoiding exile is the best thing for you, then yes! You need someone else deciding for you.”

  “I do not need your help. I will prove to them that they are wrong. If I am exiled…then so be it.”

  “Selfish girl! Do you not see what your actions do to those around you? Our family is shamed. They shout insults at us in the open. Amir’s place in the stonemelters is at risk.”

  Kiva looked away, attempting to hide the shame on her face. “Get out,” she muttered.

  “It is time to grow up, Kiva, and start thinking about people other than yourself.”

  “I said get out!” she reached for the closest object—the remainder of her bread—and threw it at him.

  Mica stood, clenching his jaw tightly, his fists balled up at his sides. After a tense moment, he stormed out, slamming the door.

  Kiva collapsed onto the bedding, sobbing. She hated to admit it, but he was right. The whole time she had been thinking of what she wanted; of the consequences she might face. She hadn’t considered the possibility that her family would pay for the risks she took.