Windwalker_Forbidden Flight

by H. J. Bellus

  Kiva spent the rest of the afternoon going over the flight commands she’d learned the previous day, imagining herself soaring and diving as she pushed and pulled Zakai’s harness. When that got old, she once again sat cross-legged on her bed, hands upturned on her knees, and closed her eyes. At first there was only the darkness of her eyelids. She slowed her breathing, felt the beating of her heart, and found a rhythm. Lights began dancing on the backs of her eyelids, like a murmuration birds flying in a swaying, undulating flock. The light grew brighter, and Kiva felt the wind touch her skin. The light became blinding, and by instinct she averted her gaze. Looking aside, she realized the light was the sun.

  She was standing in the desert, in a place she did not recognize. She took in the vast expanse of sand and rock. Ominous dark clouds, as tall as the sky itself, were drifting toward her. It was a sight she had never seen before, and it brought with it a great foreboding. The thunderheads continued toward her at a speed she never imagined possible, until they blotted out the sun, casting her in shadow.

  Something cold landed lightly on the back of her neck. Kiva reached back and found it wet. She looked at her fingers, which were covered in a thin sheen of red liquid. Another fell, and another, and another, until the storm clouds were upon her, releasing a torrential downpour of blood-red rain from the sky. Great bouts of thunder shook the ground, and bright bolts of energy stabbed down at the desert sand. There was nothing nearby that might have worked as shelter, so Kiva covered her head, attempting to shield her face from the torrent. The water fell so heavily she was driven to her knees. It painfully pelted her back as she willed it to relent.

  After several long minutes, the hammering water abated. Kiva stood, wiping the red rain from her eyes and forehead. The thunder clouds had passed, but she was still beneath a vast blanket of cloud cover. The once sandy ground had become muddy, stained red from the powerful downpour.

  Two footprints materialized in the red mud several feet away, created by something unseen. Kiva tensed, reaching for her dagger. She found it at her waist, and took a guarding stance as whatever made the footprints took a step in her direction.

  It took another step, and then another. Suddenly it was sprinting toward her. Kiva screamed a battle cry as it approached, slicing her dagger where the invisible assailant should have been. She struck only air. Her lungs were robbed of breath as it passed through her, and a disquieting shiver ran through her body.

  She turned, gasping. A wave of hundreds, no, thousands of footprints sprinted away from her through the muddied sand.

  Rising up from the desert before them were the great natural stone walls of Madina Basin.

  I have to warn them!

  Kiva sheathed her dagger and ran after the unseen army, toward the basin. With each step, her feet sank deeper into the crimson mud, until she was fighting through viscous liquid up to her thighs. She watched helplessly as the invisible attackers sped away.

  No!

  From above came the familiar screech of a kiraeen. Following the sound, Kiva found its dark form, contrasting against the cloud cover.

  “Help me!” she shouted at the sky. “I have to warn them!”

  It screeched again, and dove toward her. In a matter of seconds, it was nearly upon her, but had not slowed its descent. She realized then that the kiraeen intended to kill her.

  Rooted to the spot in the thick mud, she did the only thing she knew how. She drew her dagger, preparing to fight, and likely die.

  At the last second, the kiraeen spread its wings, extending its talons toward her. Kiva braced herself as it crashed into her at full speed.

  Instead of pain, Kiva felt weightlessness. She opened her eyes and found herself back in her room, heart pounding rapidly in her chest. Taking several deep breaths, she attempted to calm herself, but even as her heart slowed to a normal pace, the sense of foreboding refused to depart. She had heard of mystics having visions, but she’d never experienced anything like it herself. It seemed so real.

  A shiver ran down her spine, and she stood. Moonlight streamed in through the round opening in the wall. Kiva gasped. The training! She quickly grabbed her things and once again slipped out the window. She climbed to the top of the walls and saw several figures standing at the center of the clearing where she had met Jonah.

  The moon was obscured by high clouds, casting everything in shadow. Kiva quietly crept forward to one of the stone formations surrounding the clearing. She watched a moment, and realized that none of the figures were moving, and many were strangely misshapen. She continued carefully forward, peering ahead, and understood that these were not people at all. They were training dummies, propped up and balanced on the stony ground.

  Walking toward one of them, Kiva breathed a laugh. She grasped the white cloth draped over it, and lifted.

  “You know—”

  Kiva jumped and spun at the voice from behind.

  She found Jonah looking at her with raised eyebrows. “Uzi might not appreciate you poking around beneath his robes.” He attempted to suppress a smile and failed.

  “Uzi? You named him?” she asked, smirking.

  Jonah shrugged.

  “Must you always sneak up on me like that?”

  “Not always,” he said. “Once you learn to sense with the wind as opposed to your eyes and ears, you will know I’m here without even turning around.”

  Windsense. Windwalkers were said to be so in tune with air currents, they could sense the contents of a room with their eyes closed.

  “Will you teach me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Jonah said, “but not tonight. Tonight, we focus on attack. With what’s to come, we must be ready for anything.”

  “What’s to come?” Kiva asked. “You mentioned something about signs the other day. What did you mean?”

  Jonah’s jovial smile faded. “Are you familiar with the Hikaya Sharun?”

  “The fable of the sandshades?” Kiva recalled tales of the horrifying creatures that would rise up from the sand and cut your throat while you slept. Her older brothers loved to tell stories of them, tormenting her on nights they camped out in the desert.

  Kiva nodded. She shifted uncomfortably as the uneasy feeling from her vision returned.

  “The Sharun are real, and I believe they are returning.”

  Jonah adopted an uncharacteristically serious tone and began to recite,

  “The sands rose up and named us foe,

  The plains wept blood where nothing would grow,

  Upon dunes painted white, the Sharun take flight,

  Reaping death and despair, in the absence of light.”

  “But…those are just stories,” Kiva insisted half-heartedly.

  “Not stories,” he said seriously, “Warnings.”

  “How so?” Kiva asked.

  “Garra flowers,” he answered simply.

  “Garra flowers?” She furrowed her brow.

  “Have you ever heard of the Mujdab Plains?”

  Kiva thought for a moment. The name did sound familiar, but nothing came to mind. She shook her head.

  “They are said to be the sacred place where our ancestors first set foot on this world. They are also completely barren—bereft of life. I’ve flown over them hundreds of times, and never seen so much as a blade of grass…until now.”

  “Garra flowers?” Kiva reasoned.

  Jonah nodded. “By the thousands. Their crimson petals stain the once barren plains, as if it were weeping blood,” he finished poignantly.

  Kiva pursed her lips. “How do you know it’s connected? Couldn’t that just be coincidence?”

  “It could,” he conceded, “but there’s more. What do you think it means: The sands rose up and named us foe?” he asked.

  Kiva thought for a moment, then took a guess. “Sandstorms?”

  “Precisely,” he answe
red. “Normally they only appear during the windy season, but I’ve encountered four in the past two moon-cycles, well into the withering.”

  “What about ‘dunes painted white’?” she asked. “What does that mean?”

  Jonah shook his head. “I’m not sure…”

  Kiva frowned. The prospect of the storied shades returning chilled her to the bone.

  “I’ve been reading the histories,” Jonah explained. “The grandparents of our great grandparents endured decades of siege by the Sharun.”

  “The darktime,” Kiva said, recalling the stories.

  Jonah nodded. “I can’t say for sure, but I fear we are heading for a second darktime,” Jonah spoke with conviction, and a shiver ran down Kiva’s spine.

  “Have you told any of this to Jado?” she asked.

  Jonah scoffed. “Many times. He refuses to listen…which is why we need to be ready,” he said. “And that means learning how to fight.”

  Kiva sighed. “I already know how to fight,” Kiva said, throwing an elbow back into the dummy, then following it up with her fist. It rocked on its stand, then slowly toppled over.

  Kiva turned back to him, hoping he’d view her confidence as a challenge. She was far more interested in sparring with him than with the training dummies.

  “With your limbs and fists, perhaps. But that is not what I had in mind.” He tossed her the harness. Kiva caught it, and grinned.

  Jonah put his hand to his mouth and whistled, and Kiva stepped into the harness, buckling it in front. Zakai arrived a moment later, buffeting them with wind as he set down.

  “We’re going to start simple. Talon attacks. Gain enough altitude to get a good speed up, then dive toward the dummy. Just before you are upon it, pull back on the harness, and Zakai will do the rest.”

  “Altitude, dive, pull back. Got it,” Kiva said, barely masking her excitement.

  “No aerobatics, understand? We are here to work.”

  “Understood,” she said with a nod, but she was looking eagerly at Zakai.

  He chirped an answer to Jonah as well.

  Jonah raised an eyebrow at his kiraeen, then shook his head.

  “Well? Go on then,” he said, waving a hand.

  Kiva approached, and Zakai brought his head toward her as he lowered himself. She placed a hand on his beak momentarily, then climbed up onto his back. He rose to full height, and she felt a wave ripple through his feathers. She clipped her harness to Zakai’s.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Jonah said, rooting around in the pouch at his waist. He removed a small strap attached to something Kiva couldn’t make out, and tossed it to her. She caught the strap, and the two glass lenses attached to it clanked together.

  “Put those on. Can’t hit a target if you can’t see it.”

  Kiva nodded, and strapped the clear glass goggles over her eyes. She wrinkled her nose, trying to get used to the feeling of them on her face.

  “Talon attacks, three targets. Got it?”

  Kiva leaned forward and clipped in at the shoulders. “Got it,” she responded.

  “Zakai—”

  “Zakai Yatir!” Kiva gave the command, and the great kiraeen sprung high into the air and flapped his wings. They soared out over the desert, and Kiva gave a gentle pull on the harness, sending Zakai into a climb. Rising higher into the sky, she grinned and breathed deeply. There truly was nothing that came even close to the experience of flight. With the moon shrouded in clouds, the desert appeared all shadows and darkness, far below. Kiva leaned gently to the left, and Zakai tilted his wings, circling around in a great arc.

  Kiva found the basin, and scanned for the dummies. She squinted. They were so high now that she was having trouble pinpointing their departure point. A small fire bloomed to life atop the walls, and Kiva pointed Zakai toward it. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and pushed forward on the harness. Zakai gave a powerful sweep of his wings, then tucked them in as they dropped toward the flame.

  The wind blasted by, and Kiva was suddenly grateful for the glass covering her eyes. They’d have been watering to blindness at this point. As they drew nearer to the flame, she could see that Jonah had placed it at the center of the circle. She picked out one of the shadowy target dummies and gently leaned toward it. Zakai responded, adjusting his descent toward the target.

  As they closed in, Kiva’s doubts began circling. What if I wait too long to pull up? Zakai will fly us into the ground!

  They grew closer, and she could clearly see the details of the target. The stuffed ball of cloth that was its head. The white sheet covering its lumpy body, blowing in the breeze. They fell closer…closer.

  We’re going too fast! Kiva yanked back on the harness, and Zakai screeched, spreading his wings and extending his talons. He swooped back up with such force that her stomach dropped and her limbs felt twice their weight.

  “Trust Zakai, he will know…” Jonah’s voice carried faintly over the wind before fading.

  “Uff!” Kiva muttered once they leveled out. “Sorry Zakai. Let’s try again.”

  They once again climbed and curved around, taking aim. Kiva pushed on the harness and Zakai dove. This time they were perfectly lined up. Kiva just had to keep a handle on her nerves and trust that Zakai wouldn’t fly them both into the ground at top speed.

  The wind whipped by violently as they descended, a streak of black in the night. They drew closer, and a voice in Kiva’s head began shouting that they would crash. This time she managed to ignore it. Resisting the urge to close her eyes, Kiva watched the target as they swiftly approached. Then, just before they’d have crashed into it, she pulled the harness, and Zakai spread his wings, extending his talons. She felt a dull thud as his powerful legs connected with the dummy, and they once again swooped up. The force was no less powerful, but Kiva was ready for it this time.

  “Wooohoo!” Kiva cried. She heard Jonah cheering her on from below.

  “Okay my friend, two more to go,” she said with a grin. Once they climbed high enough, Kiva leaned back hard, and Zakai climbed vertically, then tipped back further until she was upside down. He continued the loop until they were angled toward the target, and Kiva applied pressure with her right leg, causing Zakai to roll so that she was once again upright.

  They sped toward the target, and this time Kiva found it easier to ignore her fear. She even managed to throw her own weight into the impact, sending the dummy flying even farther than the last.

  The third dummy fell just as spectacularly, after which they descended to the center of the clearing, landing gently. Kiva unclipped the front two rings of her harness and sat up.

  Jonah walked up, wearing a small smile. He was holding the stuffed head of one of the dummies. “Well done, Kivanya.”

  Zakai chirped with annoyance.

  “Yes, yes,” he amended, “You too Zakai.” He gestured for Kiva to hop down.

  Zakai lowered himself, and Kiva unclipped the thigh harnesses and slid over the side. “Except I missed the first one,” she said, annoyed at having let her fear get the better of her.

  “It took me three tries to hit the target,” Jonah responded. “Four to hit it squarely.” He tossed the head to her.

  Kiva caught it and looked over to where one of the dummies lay. It had broken apart after smashing into one of the rock formations across the clearing.

  “If only we could take care of Jado so easily,” Jonah muttered.

  Kiva smiled, but it faded once she realized he wasn’t joking. “Is he not your family?” she asked.

  Jonah looked down. “No, not really. Real family doesn’t treat you like a burden. If my father were still around, he would have talked some sense into Jado by now.”

  There was a pause, and Kiva tossed away the dummy’s head, stepping closer to him. “Is it okay…I mean, can I ask—”

  “What happene
d to my parents? Sure, I mean it’s no secret,” Jonah turned and walked toward a small stone formation, and sat, leaning up against it. Kiva followed, sitting cross-legged facing him. He uncorked a skin bloated with liquid, and held it out to her. Kiva took it and wet her parched tongue with the cool water before handing it back.

  “I have no memory of my mother,” he said, taking a drink and corking the skin. “Though my father used to speak of her bravery and kindness. She died giving birth to me. After that, my father decided to become a tabie—a man on the path to become a mystic.” Jonah looked up at the sky. “He had the patience of a mountain, my father. It was infuriating!” Jonah smiled.

  Kiva smiled back, waiting for him to continue.

  “Anyway…” his smile faded. “When I was ten years old, my father had the dream.”

  “The dream?” Kiva asked.

  “Ahn Ket Suun,” he said.

  Kiva nodded. She had never been one for mysticism, but every last Sahra’ was raised with the teachings of their desert deity.

  “He became convinced that he had to go on a pilgrimage, deep into the Miralaja. When the time came, I begged him not to go. A large part of it was that I’d miss him, but mostly it was because I knew whose care I’d be under in his absence.”

  “Your Uncle Jado,” Kiva said.

  Jonah nodded. There was a long pause, and his eyes appeared far away.

  “I can still remember so clearly the last time I saw my father.” There was an expression of such sadness on his face, that Kiva had a powerful urge to place an arm around him.

  “He had only a small satchel, a staff, and the clothes on his back. ‘I will see you again’ was all he said before he left me.” Jonah did nothing to hide the resentment in his voice. “Turns out that was a lie,” he said, looking away.

  Kiva’s heart went out to him. She understood at least the nature of his pain, having recently been faced with the prospect of losing her own family. Unable to restrain herself any further, she reached out and put a hand on his knee. “I am sorry,” she said.