Windwalker_Forbidden Flight

by H. J. Bellus

  Death of a kiraeen? Kiva’s eyes widened with shock. She looked to Jado, who was watching her with smug satisfaction. Kiva remembered back to the trials. Noor must have killed one of the males while defending her. Noor’s unapologetic confirmation came almost immediately.

  “Do you deny the charges?” Daivari asked.

  Even the day before, Kiva would have denied responsibility for the kiraeen’s death. But she and Noor were bonded now—their fates intertwined.

  “I do not,” Kiva said defiantly as a wave of feathers ruffled across Noor’s back.

  Daivari failed to mask his surprise, and Noor raised herself up to full height. Nataniah was frowning, looking to Kiva with furrowed brows, and Jado’s smug smile had grown into a grin.

  “Do you understand clearly the charges brought against you, child? The penalty?” Daivari asked, his eyes imploring her to reconsider her answer.

  “What I understand,” she said gravely, “is that if we fail to recognize when our long held beliefs have become obsolete, we will perish. You refuse to see what is plainly before you. I am a windwalker in all but name. You may condemn me, but in doing so you condemn us all.”

  The entire proceeding fell completely silent, as if every last person held their breath.

  Daivari sighed, and his bushy white eyebrows drooped.

  “The charges stand,” Daivari’s somber voice carried out over the silence. “All in favor?”

  Kiva’s heart pounded in her chest as the four male council members, including the elder Daivari, raised their right hands.

  “Opposed?”

  The four female council members raised theirs, canceling out the men.

  Daivari looked to the women at his left, then right to the men. “It would seem the procedure for a tie will be tested in our very first trial of equal representation…” He stood, raising his voice, “Four votes for, and four against. The final decision falls to our eldest mystic, Sidi Yehiel.” A long pause followed, and the murmur of the crowd again grew. Daivari looked around. “Where is he? Where is Yehiel?”

  A young man in orange robes climbed the stairs at the edge of the stage and waited there. Daivari waved him over impatiently, and they exchanged words, too quietly for Kiva to hear. The young man quickly departed the stage, leaving Daivari with a thoughtful expression on his face.

  After a moment, he spoke, “It would seem Sidi Yehiel is unable to provide the necessary ruling. In his stead, the next eldest mystic, Sufiin Suriel, will settle the matter.”

  A spark of hope flared to life inside Kivanya. Suriel…Yehiel’s sister.

  Honestly, Noor interjected, I don’t see why you would even want to remain here. If these groundwalkers don’t desire our protection from the coming storm, then they do not deserve it.

  This is my home, Kiva responded. These are my people…even if some are misguided.

  Noor communicated the kiraeen equivalent of a shrug, and settled back into a crouch.

  Moments later, Kiva caught sight of the young mystic in orange robes leading a hunched figure in white through the crowd. It was Suriel, leaning on her cane with one hand, and the man’s arm with the other. Slowly but surely, they made their way, and eventually arrived at the stage. As they ascended the stairs and moved toward the center of the platform, the orange robed mystic’s wide eyes were on Noor the entire time. Suriel gave the kiraeen a quick glance, and that was all. As they passed Kiva, the elder tilted her head, giving Kiva a good once over. “Quite the fuss, for one so young,” she said softly enough that only Kiva and the escort could hear.

  The crowd quieted as the young man left Suriel on the stage and backed away, giving Noor a wide berth.

  If the elder was at all intimidated, she gave no indication. To Kiva, she seemed more cranky than anything else.

  “Per the newly established council rules…I, Sufiin Suriel of the sect of mystics, will decide this girl’s fate, since you all can’t make up your own minds,” she said, craning her neck to glare at the council.

  “Kivanya Fariq will not face exile,” she said simply, and the crowd erupted in cheers loud enough to drown out any who disagreed.

  Kiva felt every muscle in her body relax. I can stay! she rejoiced, and Noor couldn’t help but brighten at her reaction.

  “Shame on you,” she said, shaking her cane at the council. “She is a child. Did you make no mistakes in your youth? Or was it so long ago that you’ve forgotten? And they call me old!”

  Kiva frowned.

  Jado was again scowling, and the other councilmen shifted uncomfortably on their benches. Nataniah wore a small, relieved smile.

  For the first time, Kiva caught a glimpse of her mother standing at the rear corner of the stage. She was looking at Kiva sternly, shaking her head.

  A child? Kiva thought. Mistakes? If she were a kiraeen, her tail would have been flicking erratically.

  Perhaps before the bond, Kiva might have held her tongue and accepted the free pass she’d been given. But as it were, she was bonded to a skyhunter—a tenaciously prideful creature of immeasurable strength and majesty. That bond carried with it a fusing of personality, and Noor would never have tolerated being treated that way.

  “Sufiin Suriel,” Kiva said respectfully.

  “Hmm?” The old woman turned to face her, still fully unintimidated by Noor’s imposing presence. “What is it, child?”

  “I am grateful for your decision—”

  “A young person with little experience of the world should not be held to the same standard as a fully grown woman. Remember this as you mature. I expect to hear no more of this windwalker foolishness, do I make myself clear? Your mother should have known better than to raise you as such.”

  Kiva abandoned all pretenses of respect, and her blood began to boil. “You have no right to criticize my mother! She is a strong woman who is not afraid to fight for what she believes in.”

  “I see. It becomes clear to me where you acquired your lack of respect for your elders…for tradition.”

  “If not for her, there would be three women seated behind you, not four.”

  “And I would be at home sipping a hot cup of sahlab, instead of here, speaking to an ungrateful tifl tufuliun. Perhaps I was mistaken to let you off so easily.”

  Kiva could almost hear her mother’s voice in her head, pleading for her to give over.

  “I do not require your approval,” Kiva said venomously. “Despite what you think, I am not a child, and nothing of what I did was a mistake. I am fighting for the future survival of our people, while qadim like you fight tooth and nail to hold us back!”

  There were several gasps from the crowd, and Kiva suddenly realized there were witnesses to the exchange. She knew what she was doing would be unforgivable, but she was sick and tired of being dismissed.

  “If you will not accept what I am,” Kiva declared, “if my only choice is that of false repentance, or exile…then I choose exile.”

  “Kiva no!” her mother cried out, but it was too late.

  “Very well,” Suriel said. “You shall have your wish.” She turned to face the crowd. Those in the front were stunned to silence, but the vast majority were unaware of what was coming.

  “Kivanya Raisel Fariq, you are hereby sentenced to exile. Under penalty of death, you shall never again set foot in Madina Basin. Any foolish enough to communicate with you shall join you in your banishment. You are forsaken.” Without another word, Suriel turned and began shuffling her way back to the stairs, as the younger mystic in orange robes rushed over to meet her.

  The blood drained from Kiva’s face as the ramifications hit home. She looked down at her hands, which were pale and shaking.

  We do not need them, Noor insisted.

  Kiva’s hands balled into fists. She could feel the prick of burning tears, forcing their way past her crumbling defenses. Rather than giv
e Jado and the others the satisfaction, Kiva turned, and Noor lowered herself. In seconds she was again on the kiraeen’s back, and they were launched up into the sky, soaring out beyond the walls of the basin.

  15

  Exile

  Kiva’s tears were wiped away by the rushing wind. She and Noor flew in silence over the desert, drifting lazily on the failing thermals. The sun had set, and sparkling swathes of stars had begun to reveal themselves against the darkening sky.

  As the rest of the world fell away, Kiva rested her tear-stained cheek against Noor’s soft, black feathers. Cool air rushed past, and Kiva clung desperately to the memories of her mother, father, and brothers. Her heart ached fiercely at the prospect of losing them forever, but there was another for which the anguish was nearly unbearable.

  You barely know him, she berated herself, hoping for logic to win out over emotion.

  Noor remained silent, occasionally flapping her great wings as they traveled. Kiva stared aimlessly down toward the dimly lit desert floor. It was of little consequence to her that the landscape had changed from jagged rocky buttes to great unmoving waves of sand.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered that Noor was taking them home. The great stone wall where they’d had their first encounter rose up out of the sand in the distance, and Noor began descending toward it. Moments later, she held her wings out and they glided into the blackness of her den.

  Kiva should have been blinded by the utter darkness, but through Noor’s sight, she could sense the faint outlines of the cavern. The kiraeen set down within, and lowered herself. Kiva slid over her side. The strain of her loss was too great, and her legs collapsed. Noor caught Kiva gently with her wing, and lowered her to the soft down surface of her nest.

  Kiva drifted in the black, cradled between Noor’s wing and her soft body. It was only the anchor of Noor’s presence and warmth that kept Kiva from drifting forever in a sea of hopelessness.

  Eventually, even the feathers faded as Kiva relinquished her grasp on consciousness, drifting into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.

  ***

  “Kivanya!”

  Kiva blinked, still trapped within the hazy limbo between waking and sleep.

  “Kiva…you there?”

  Noor’s head rested on the cavern floor, though she was awake, and keenly aware of the presence near the mouth of her den.

  Kiva squinted, peering toward the blindingly bright cavern opening. As her eyes adjusted, a dark silhouette came into focus.

  “Jonah?” Kiva pushed herself up, unsure whether to trust her senses.

  “Kiva!” he called, climbing up onto the uneven floor of the cavern.

  She stumbled to her feet and half-staggered, half-ran toward him. They collided in an explosive, ardent embrace. Kiva gripped him tightly, pressing her face against his chest. He held her just as tightly, and for a brief moment, they were no longer pupil and teacher. They were Kivanya and Jonah, two windwalkers who had found something more powerful even than the bond of a kiraeen.

  They parted, and Kiva realized her cheeks were damp.

  As relieved as she was to see him, she thought him foolish to come.

  “You can’t be here,” she said. “If anyone were to find out, you’d be exiled—”

  “No one knows where I am,” he assured her.

  She turned away from him, ashamed at having failed. “I thought I’d never see you again.” Ever since their first meeting, Kiva had done her best to ignore the powerful feelings he evoked in her. Given everything she’d been through, denying how she felt about him seemed small and pointless.

  “Hey,” he said, gently turning her chin forward. “This isn’t over.”

  “Didn’t you hear?” Kiva asked, “I’ve been exiled. I can never go home again. I’ve failed.”

  “Jado has been removed from the council,” Jonah said bluntly.

  “He what?”

  “Once word got out that he was hiding signs of the Sharun’s return, he lost his seat on the council. Nothing else has been decided as of yet, but there’s a good chance he’ll lose leadership of the windwalkers as well.”

  Kiva was stunned to silence.

  Jonah smiled. “You did well, Kivanya Fariq. Preparations have begun. The sects are banding together to withstand what comes.”

  Kiva felt a weight off her shoulders that she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying. Whether or not she was there to help, her people would now have a better chance for survival.

  “Now all that’s left is to convince them to lift your exile,” he said, as if it were a simple household chore.

  “They don’t want me,” she argued.

  “Most do…and besides, it doesn’t much matter what they want. Right now, they need you. There’s something special inside you, Kiva. I knew it from the moment I first saw you. If we are going to survive the coming storm, we are going to need your strength. I am going to need you.”

  Kiva felt a wave of warmth pass from the top of her scalp, down to the tips of her toes. Without thinking, she stepped forward into his arms, and pressed her lips to his. Her heart raced in her chest, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and goosebumps covered her arms. It was nearly perfect…but something was off.

  Kiva stepped back, nervously biting her lip.

  Jonah’s expression was uncertain.

  “I…sorry,” Kiva said looking away. “I thought—”

  “No,” he said. “It’s my fault…I…” He stammered, running a hand through his hair.

  “You don’t have to explain,” Kiva pursed her lips. She grasped for something to change the subject…anything. “The female combat sects,” she said, “Is there any word on whether the idea took hold?”

  Jonah shook his head, clearly grateful for the diversion. “Not outright, but there is talk of it. You’ve quite the knack for controversy,” he said with a small smile.

  Kiva smiled back, but on the inside she was still cursing herself for her brashness.

  Kiva sensed Noor rising. I could remove his head, she interjected. Would that please you?

  What? Kiva thought, aghast. Absolutely not! What is wrong with you?

  Suit yourself, Noor thought, settling back down into her nest.

  Jonah continued, unaware of the exchange, “I should probably get going. The windwalker and shadestalker sects are mounting an attack.”

  Kiva’s eyes widened. “Already? How?”

  Jonah nodded. “The council ordered verification of the Garra bloom on the Mujdab plains. Once we arrived there, we found more than just flowers. Twisted black stone spires had grown up from the rock. We think they are connected to how the Sharun travel here.”

  Kiva furrowed her brow.

  “But the plains are far to the northeast, and the sandstorms have been strongest here in the southwest…it was here I witnessed the frozen ash,” Kiva insisted.

  “Once we’ve toppled the spires, we will begin searching for shade signs out this way. The last time our people faced the Sharun, the struggle lasted for decades. If we can stop them early this time—prevent them from growing in number—maybe we can end the attack before it begins. The council has asked me to lead the windwalker attack, while they decide what to do with Jado. This time, we bring the fight to them.”

  “I can help,” Kiva said. “There could be resistance.” Kiva recalled the fables of the long dead heroes who fought the towering Sharun shades rising up from the sand and shadows.

  “Not this time,” Jonah said. “If Jado is removed as windwalker sidi, then the council may be willing to dismiss the charges he brought against you. That might not happen if you suddenly appear alongside the attack party.”

  Kiva sighed.

  “We will beat this, Kivanya,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I promise. One way or another, you will bear the title of wind
walker.”

  “I hate sitting around waiting. I want to fight.”

  “And you will. Just not today,” Jonah said, glancing back. “I have to go, but I will return with news after the attack.” He turned and walked back toward the den’s entrance.

  “Jonah,” Kiva called, and he turned back. “Good hunting.”

  He smiled, turned, and leapt out from the cavern opening. Seconds later, he and Zakai swooped back up, climbing high on the thermals.

  I don’t understand, Noor thought.

  “What?” Kiva asked aloud.

  Why you tolerate the males of your species.

  “I wonder that myself, at times,” Kiva admitted. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s find something to eat.”

  Noor climbed forward out of her nest, and Kiva pulled herself onto the skyhunter’s back. She had discarded the bonding harness, which was no longer necessary. Instead of pushing or pulling on straps, Kiva only had to think, and Noor obliged. They soared out into the sunshine. Being more familiar with the landscape, Noor choose their path. Kiva looked down at their shadow, speeding up and down the sand dunes below. After several minutes of drifting, Noor began to descend toward a small oasis, spotted with trees and sparse grass.

  It was there she deposited Kiva, before lifting off again to hunt. Kiva walked up to the calm pool of water and filled her skins. She drank deep, and washed her face. A spring such as this was exceedingly rare in the Miralaja. Finding them was another benefit of flight.

  Once refreshed, Kiva set about gathering brush from nearby scraggly shrubs, and sticks from the occasional stunted and gnarled tree. She was in the process of building a fire when she felt a primal surge of satisfaction. Somewhere to the east, Noor had caught her prey.

  Soon Kiva could see, as well as sense the kiraeen soaring toward her, something large dangling from her rear talons. Noor descended, landing nearby. Locked into her razor sharp claws was an enormous snake, easily twice as long as Kiva was tall.